prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ WP ] A scientist discovers a message whilst scanning deep space radio frequencies . It is a timer , counting down .
|
*Eleven... *
`` Mission control, I uh... I'm at the end. Over.''
`` The end? Over.''
*Ten... *
`` Yeah. Yes, sir, I mean. There's... well, there's nothing else here. Over.''
`` What do you mean, Sergeant?''
`` I mean there's nothing left, mission control. It's... well, it's white. Nothing but white... over.''
*Nine... *
`` Uh... Sergeant, did we hear you correctly? Over.''
`` I think I'm at the edge of the universe, Control. Over.''
*Eight... *
`` Sergeant, have you checked your Oxygen connection? Over.''
*Seven... *
`` Sergeant? Over.''
`` Control, I'm serious. I... I ca n't go anywhere else.''
*Six... *
`` Alright, Sergeant. Have you found the source of the signal? Over.''
*Five... *
`` Well... it's louder. It seems to be coming from past the edge. Over.''
*Four... *
`` Control?''
*Three... *
`` Hold, Sergeant. We're... we're working out some numbers. Hold. Over.''
*Two... *
`` Control? Over.''
*One... *
`` Control?''
-- -
`` Dude...''
`` What?'' came a shout across the kitchen.
`` Is this your shit in the microwave?''
Padding across the floor, `` yeah?''
`` Dude. You gon na' eat this?''
`` Yeah? You want some.''
`` Fuck no, dude,'' he said, handing the bowl off, `` shit looks fucking *sentient*.''
|
[ WP ] You 're a CIA interrogator trying to get information out of an alien officer , following a failed invasion .
|
I took a good hard look at a this scummy piece of shit alien sitting in front of me. I bet he thinks that he's real clever. Sitting all high and mighty in that wooden chair. He looked calm and collective and that really pissed me off.
`` When's the next invasion happening, you little three eyed, green, motherfucker!''
It said something in some unfamiliar, alien language. I could n't understand it cause I do n't speak no goddamn communist languages.
`` Speak English, Bitch!''
This time the alien sighed and slunk down further into his chair.
`` What's a matter, huh? You gon na cry like a little pussy?''
It did n't understand me or something so I figured some good old fashioned water-boarding ought to help him out.
I watched the alien presumably scream as the water trickled down its disgusting, slimy, terrorist throat. I ripped the rag out of its mouth and it coughed and sputtered water everywhere.
`` This is the last time I'm going to ask you, you fucking cunt. When is the next invasion!''
`` EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee'' was all the alien could squeal.
`` I tried to help you out, buddy. But you just did n't listen. I told you that I do n't understand your silly little `` Allahu Akbar'' language. Well, guess what? Your life is gon na be nothing but pain and misery from here on out. Better learn some English real quick, boy.''
I regret to say that after three months that little terrorist gave no information about the next invasion. Even after we sleep deprived him, drugged him, and sodomized him with an eel, he just would n't give up with that silly language of his. Welp, looks like I'm gon na have to delete this page of the official report. Do n't worry, America, we'll get them next time.
|
[ WP ] You are a scout unit in Civilization stuck behind closed borders .
|
I'll never forget the day the invisible wall appeared. We had been sent out from our city, one of the few points of civilized culture in a world of barbarians and Egyptians, to search for maps or remnants of ancient flint spearheads. What we had found was far greater. A long stretch of sand stretched out towards a single red hill standing above all else in the area around it. Just seeing it made us feel as if this were a place truly connected to the spirits themselves. It would be a fine place to found a small religious hamlet.
Those plans were unfortunately cut short when the damn gypsies arrived, claiming the holy place for their own bloody heathen gods and ways. The wall went up soon after. Ever since then, the patch of land not cut off by the wall has shrunk year by year.
Perhaps one day there will be nothing left for us at all. But for now, I sha n't think about such things, I simply remember the taste of a warm meal and a soft bed, that should be enough to see me through to tommorrow
|
[ RF ] Closure . Sometimes you wait so long to hear anything , you reach the point where you 've accepted both outcomes and just want to know which it is .
|
*I saw it on the news, *
*They've shot a man today*
*They've tossed a ragged sheet o'er him*
*An' they've carted him away*
*An' where once a proud man stood*
*Is but a bloody stain*
*An' all o'er the town it rends itself*
*In rage, and grief, and pain*
*You can hear them marchin' now, *
*All in the foggy gloom*
*All singin' an' chantin' an' swearin'*
*An' paradin' to his tomb*
*I'm a-starin' out me windows*
*Down on them mourners' lines*
*For they're carryin' his coffin*
*An' droppin' flowers behind*
*'Oh what's'is name?' I ask myself*
*An' a fearin' for the fact*
*For my brother has gone missin'*
*An' I do n't think he'll come back. *
|
[ WP ] In a surprise unanimous decision the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled in favor of the defense , cementing the `` I licked it , it 's mine '' precedent into law . The Great Lickening has begun .
|
Jessica laughed at the TV. CNN was on with the latest in ridiculous politics. The conservatives were mocked by the reporters for believing that the transfer of property should be governed with old fashioned paper documents called leases, contracts and bills of sale. As if a piece of paper could ever determine ownership.
Google had released long awaited biological enhancements to allow you to see the presence of DNA on an object and to smell another persons scent. The new law determined that if your DNA and scent was on something, it belonged strictly to you. The law had to be enacted prior to use of the enhancements so today they had established a legal precident and it would be the first day the enhancements would be activated. Jessica was in Washington DC and they had insisted on rolling out the upgrades from east coast to west coast. Everyone already had them installed, it was just a matter of Google activating them.
Jessica had about ten minutes until her new sensory upgrades would be active so she decided to take her dog Lily for a walk.
`` LILY!!'' she called. Despite her older age for a dog, Lily bounded down the stairs ready to go outside. She jumped up and licked Jessica's hands and feet. `` Good girl!!''
As they were walking outside, the upgrade went live. Jessica was aware of immediately being assaulted by all kinds of smells. Urine and saliva and feces flooded her nose and she could differentiate all of their sources. Her nose was inundated with the stench of all of the neighborhood dogs. She smelled her hands and began to succumb to an overwhelming feeling of servitude. Lily smiled and looked up waiting for the realization to sink in.
The dogs of the supreme court justices had done it. They now owned everything and everyone in the world.
|
[ WP ] After pirating music , you hear your doorbell ring . It 's you .
|
`` Coming through!'' I yelled as I walked past myself. I need to get to my computer. Past me was in shock, as I had been when this happened to me. `` Wait what are- `` I stopped and turned around, `` I'm here because of that damn song! I know exactly what you're going to say, so do n't bother me. You'll understand in a few hours.'' That shut past me up and I continued to my room. Past me followed me into my room. `` What are y- am I- what's happening.'' `` I do n't have much time so I'll give the short version. Pirate music. Time travel. Paradox created. Shit happens. Good luck.'' I opened the internet and looked at my recent downloads. `` See you in a few seconds.'' I turned to myself and smiled as I downloaded the song again.
Ding!
`` Who could that be?'' Past me asked, `` It's me again... also you... and him.'' I got out of my chair and headed downstairs to open the door.
`` Coming through!'' He yelled as he walked past me and past me. `` I need to get to my computer.'' Past me zero was in slightly less shock, as I had been when this happened to me. `` Wait what are- `` I stopped and turned around, `` I'm here because of that damn song! I know exactly what you're going to say past zero, so do n't bother me. You'll understand in a few hours.'' That shut past zero me up and I followed me two to my room. Past zero me followed me and me two into our room. `` What are y- am I- what's happening.'' `` I do n't have much time so I'll give the short version. Pirate music. Time travel. Paradox created. Shit happens. Good luck.'' Me two opened the internet and looked at our recent downloads. `` See you guys in a few seconds.'' I turned to myself and smiled as I downloaded the song again.
Ding!
`` Me again?'' Past zero me asked, `` It's me again... also you... and him.'' I got out of my chair and headed downstairs to open the door.
`` Wait... wait... wait...'' Is n't this an infinite loop? `` Almost, but not quite.'' Me two and I answered at the same time. `` We're waiting for the doorbell to break. Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to greet ourself.'' Me two and I walked toward the door to let in an impatient me three in. `` Coming through! Do you guys remember where we keep the hammers?'' `` A hammer is in the the bottom drawer in the kitchen.'' Me two said. I did n't even know that. `` Wait! You are n't going to break my computer are you?'' Me zero cried. `` Hey it's my computer too. But no, I'm not here to break my computer. I'm here to break the door bell.'' `` Not a bad idea.'' Me two replied. `` Yea, I'm glad I thought of it.'' All of us said in unison.
Me three smashed the door bell as hard as he could, smashing the door bell into tiny pieces. `` So... why are we breaking the door bell.'' `` To prevent more of us.'' Me three said. `` But how will that prevent more mes from coming here. It would have made more sense to break the computer.'' Me zero said. `` Oh crap! That makes much more sense. I remember now that I only learned that on this iteration. If I break the computer now, everything should go back to normal.''
Mes zero through two were confused at the massive jump in logic. You're going to have to explain it. So me three sat me's zero through two down on the couch to explain:
`` So we have Me zero, Me one, Me two, and Me, Me three. We will be code named as zero to three respectively. So on this iteration I learn that breaking the computer can stop this and I explain to you guys the solution. Once I break the computer, Me four can not appear because the thing that activated the time travel is gone. That caps off our number at the third iteration. Right?'' Me zero, me two, and I shook our heads. `` Alright, `` he continued, `` Because of this loop, me two would have eventually taken my place as the explainer, except the loop is now broken. We are pretty sure that the download is what activates the time travel. Resulting in a me being at the door. That has stopped because the computer is now broken.'' `` Wait, wait wait. You just explained the same thing three times and it's going nowhere.'' Me zero interrupted. `` I was getting to the solution, now let me continue. As I was saying, because what activates the time travel is now broken we need a solution to decrease the amount of iterations. This is the solution: Let's say I, three, were to break the computer. That would prevent Me four, code name four, from appearing. But what if two broke the computer. I would n't be here. If one broke the computer, two would n't be here and if you, the bastard who started this, broke the computer, one would n't be here.'' `` Would n't a simpler solution be to not pirate the song in the first place.'' `` Nah, piracy is too tempting.'' We all agreed in unison. `` So my suggestion is that, it is too late for me to do anything once I break the computer. So then we will have to wait until everyone time-shifts, which will happen after I break the computer because the loop will be broken, but it needs to continue until we all move forward into fourths time-slot. It does n't matter what happens in the past, because this type of thing will continue forever, but once you're past being me three, the computer will be broken, you can move on with your life after your final time-shift.'' `` Any questions?'' Me, myself, and I shook our heads even though none of it made seemed to make sense. `` Alright, lets smash some stuff!''
Me three lead the group to our room, `` Guys, once I break the computer, the time-shift will start, and I will be left alone in this room. You guys will disappear and appear outside the house. You know what to do.'' Three let out several mighty swings with the hammer, effectively destroying the computer, and then he was alone. I looked at my computer, which was now in shambles. `` Fuck... my computer's broken.''
|
[ WP ] After renting a fully furnished apartment for a few months , you decide to rearrange the living room . You then stumble upon a small , hidden door behind the large entertainment stand . When you go in to investigate , you find a room that has signs that it was very recently occupied .
|
I wake up and immediately feel the pressure of the headache. I take off my sleep mask and ear muffs. I probably do n't even need them anymore, but I've lived in a city my whole life and it's just habit now. Time to get some Advil.
Life has been great for these last two weeks. I left my stressful job in the city to retire early out in the country. I got a great deal on a huge colonial era home because the last owner went crazy and I guess that scares off buyers. Not me though! It's great being a mile away from your nearest neighbor. It's great looking out at a forest every day. And it's really great not to have to work anymore. But I need to figure out how to get the headaches under control. Maybe I need more sleep. Or cut out the salty snacks late at night. I do n't know...
I take a sip of my coffee. I add some wood to the wood heater and look out at the trees. I see a speck of yellow or orange out in the foliage. I've heard there were hooded orioles in the area but have n't seen one yet. I run back to the spare bedroom. I have n't unpacked yet, and I'm pretty sure my binoculars are in a box there. As I open the third box, I notice a faint light coming from the closet. I walk into the closet and run my fingers across what looks like a crack in the wall. It's a concealed door!
I carefully open the door and peek inside. The walls are covered in a dark wood and the floor is a rustic looking stone. It's fairly dark inside except for a small lit candle sitting on a wooden table. It looks like a dwarf lives in here. I try to think how this fits into the floorplan of the home, but I just do n't know it well enough yet. Wait! I run back and stare at the candle. It's lit! It looks like it must have been lit in the last three or four hours at most too. I feel a tingle in the back of my neck as I realize somebody else must be around. I turn around quickly, but nobody is there.
An hour later Sheriff Hunter and I have done a thorough search of my house, attic and surrounding area. We found nothing.
`` Well, I can write up a report. Mr. Jeffries who used to live here complained about somebody breaking in and moving things around. Or he did before he was too far gone. We figured it was just him going crazy so dropped it.'' He picked up a few of the papers that were in the room. There were just incomprehensible scrawling all over them. `` Best thing I'd do is change all the locks and secure those windows.'' He looked around the ceiling, and added, `` You should get some smoke detectors too. These old houses did n't have them built in, but they still burn up.''
I was doing a quick survey of the exterior doors and windows within five minutes of him leaving. An hour later I was walking the lock aisle at the not-so-local Home Depot. I was about to leave, when I remembered the smoke detectors. I went over to the aisle and started grabbing a bunch of the cheap $ 7 detectors. One of the store associates walked up, `` You know, it's recommended that non-kitchen areas be monitored for carbon monoxide as well.''
I looked at him and smiled, `` Thanks. That's a good idea.'' I picked up a combo smoke/carbon monoxide detector and look at the box. `` It says it talks. It's $ 50 through. I'll just do my bedroom.''
A few hours later, my house had a new set of locks. I went to sleep feeling content that I'd be just me in here all night.
I wake up at 9:30AM with a throbbing headache. While I'm swallowing the Advil tablets, I remember the room. I run over to the bedroom and peek inside. The wooden table had been tipped to its side. There are papers scattered everywhere. I pick one up and see more indecipherable notes. All my windows and doors are shut. I systematically go room by room and find nobody. I think I see what caused Mr. Jeffries to go crazy!
Time for another shopping trip. This time I come home with a security camera. I carefully place it in the spare bedroom, pointing into the secret room. It's motion activated, so anything that moves will be recorded onto an SD card. We're going to figure this out! While I have the ladder and screwdriver handy, I decide to install all the smoke detectors too. It was a little harder to fall asleep at night, but eventually I drift off.
I wake up around 10:00AM. I have a throbbing headache again. I take off my sleep mask and ear muffs and can suddenly hear a loud alarm. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! WARNING! EVACUATE! CARBON MONOXIDE IN BEDROOM! EVACUATE! HIGHEST CARBON MONOXIDE WAS 832 PPM.
I silence the alarm. That does n't sound good. I'll figure that out after we see what happened with the camera. I feel drowsy even though I just woke up. I feel lightheaded as I practically run to the spare bedroom. I look inside and see that the table and papers have moved. I'm actually happy this time! I climb up the ladder and take the SD card out of the camera. I can feel my heart beating through my chest a minute later as I'm opening up the first movie file. Oh, it's just me setting it up. I feel like throwing up as I open the second file. The timestamp says it was at 1:20AM, so I was definitely asleep. Suddenly I see a figure walk into the video. Suddenly I lose all control over my body and just collapse. I'm still conscious and my head is facing the laptop. The alarm starts beeping again. I see the figure in the video turn and look straight at the camera. It's me! I lose consciousness as I try to figure out what happened.
***
At 2:32PM on February 13th, 2017, I, Sheriff Hunter, was dispatched to the old Jeffries home located on Maple Drive regarding an unusual smell reported by John Oliman, a UPS delivery man. There was no response to knocking. I performed a quick examination of all doors and found them all secured and locked. Given my familiarity with corpses, I suspected the odor may have been related to the commission of a crime and entered the residence by forcefully breaking through the front entry door. I found the body of the owner slumped over in the kitchen. A carbon monoxide detector was active and so I left the residence immediately. Analysis of the home's interior found carbon monoxide levels in excess of 1,000ppm in the master bedroom. An autopsy was performed and cause of death was found to be due to carbon monoxide poisoning.
The sheriff closed the report on his computer and opened up the video file. `` That poor bastard. It was him all along. He just did n't remember doing any of it.''
***
You can read other stories I've written at https: //www.reddit.com/r/neromike/
|
[ WP ] You get a call asking for 5 minutes of your time . Thinking it was a sales person , and you being in a good mood , you agree . The person on the other side immediately hangs up . You look up at a clock and realize it 's 5 minutes ahead .
|
“ Hi is this Steven Kalco? ”
Normally, no. Not to a telemarketer. To a telemarketer this is a youtube clip of fart noises that will play until they get the picture. But today, Jess agreed to go out for drinks with me so sure, “ This is him. What can I do for ya? ”
“ How would you feel about owning your own place in Hawaii? ”
Ah, terrific. “ Well – “
“ Shirley, ” chimed the voice on the phone.
“ Well Shirley, I think that sounds sublime. How much is gon na ’ cost me? ”
“ That ’ s the best part Steven, it doesn ’ t cost you a dime. Just a little bit of time and… ”
Man I ’ m such an awesome guy. Seriously though, how many people are gon na ’ give this chick the time of day. I am the kind of guy that gives telemarketers a break. I ’ ll hear them out. Offer a little human connection. No wonder Jess said yes.
“ …So it never actually costs you any really money, just a couple seconds here or there. ”
Ah, no money. Classic. The Gate or Off the Wagon… Definitely Off the Wagon. More of a classic dive bar feel. Perfect for hooking up. Nice and causal. Just like me.
“ If that all sounds good, can I take five minutes of your time. ”
“ Yeah Shirley, I ’ m game. ”
“ Great so that five minute deposit will… ”
Crap I got ta ’ pick up laundry. Damn now if I bring Jess back she ’ s gon na ’ see my blue sheets which have that stain… well we ’ d probably be too drunk to deal with… but what about if she spends the night? Maybe I could leave work a little early, pick up laundry, then text saying I had an outside meeting…
“ Ultimately, you ’ re making a commitment to support the brightest minds of our generation. In return, you ’ re provided with all the luxuries money can buy. ”
Woah it ’ s a quarter past four. I ’ m a good dude but a man ’ s got ta ’ eat.
“ Shirley, Shirley. This all sounds great but I really need to go. I ’ d love a place in Hawaii, but I really can ’ t afford – “
“ Let me stop you there Steven. Before you make any decisions, we ’ re not asking for any money. Just time. ”
“ Listen doll, I ’ d love to keep talking to you but I ’ ve got a seriously busy day. I listened to the whole deal. No money. Island living. Love it. But I don ’ t have any more time today. ”
“ Not a problem, Steven. We ’ re just asking for a couple years down the line. ”
“ Haha, sure. Island living. No money. You got it. ”
“ Excellent! You ’ ll be sent keys in the mail. The property will be yours for the two years as an exchange for the years you give us. ”
This lady is a serious trip.
“ Great, you have yourself a nice day… - “
“ Shirley. ”
“ That ’ s right, Shirley. Have a great day. ”
“ You too, Steven Kalco. Thank you so much for your time. ”
|
[ WP ] give me your most nihilistic story
|
Disappear. Reappear. Disappear again. The lights started to flicker but I decided that the dark might be worse. I found my arms, they were spread out besides me, exactly where I ’ d left them. Good. I like my arms, excellent for grabbing things.
I can ’ t believe I never realized that this was the way the world worked. It ’ s so obvious, how did I not see the signs? Nobody ever told me… I looked over at my friend laying on the couch, he gave me a shushing sign and started laughing his ass off. Holy shit. How did he? Oh right.
Everything will be okay. I can literally do anything, go anywhere, experience whatever I want to experience. There are so many possibilities, the world is my oyster. Mine, my oyster. As in, oysters only exist so that I can fittingly use the phrase “ the world is my oyster. ” But where will I go? What ’ s the point of even leaving this bed. Everything will still be just as real or as unreal as it is in this bedroom. I ’ ll still be trapped in this bubble of reality. Oh great, so there ’ s a different picture on the screen and the vibe ’ s a bit different. Exciting.
Disappear. Maybe this wasn ’ t such a great idea. Reappear. At least I ’ ve still got my arms. Disappear. Did I fuck it all up? My friends on the couch nodding vigorously, starting to laugh again. Holy shit I did didn ’ t I? It ’ s ruined, I ’ ll never be able to return to reality again.
I mean, this is pretty fun but there ’ s nothing left now, nothing left to strive for. All of those things I had going, hobbies and goals, my love life, my career, all redacted to a meaningless shell of their former magnitude. I started laughing at the irony, all from a tiny, innocuous little tab of blotter paper. I laughed my fucking ass off.
|
[ EU ] Give me the life of a simple fiend or raider in Fallout .
|
A man lay wounded on the ground. Nicks and bullet holes all throughout his body. A pool of blood had already been formed beneath him and by now was starting to dry. The wounded man lifted his head to the figure that stood before him. The man opened his mouth as if to speak, but could only produce a low, raspy utterance. Before he could attempt again the figure that stood before the man spoke.
*It's been two weeks Rodent and you still have n't paid me. That was primo shit you shot yourself up with. One of a kind all that's left is the bunk shit which you know damn well wo n't sell. Not even a sorry sack of shit junkie like you would buy it* The figure then chuckled and spat at Rodent.
*You talk alla' this smug shit and now look at ya'. Lyin' on the ground like a fuckin' new born baby. You lousy fuckin' sack of....* The man started to hyperventilate, pacing back and forth infront of Rodent. He stopped, knelt down, and made eye contact with Rodent.
Rodent shook violently as the man's cold gaze looked through him. He sputtered viciously trying to say something, but the man simply raised his hand as if to silence Rodent.
*Rodent, I do n't care. I'm going to kill you Rodent. I'm gon na smash your head in with this hammer* The man spat angrily. Rodent lunged forward in a rage, but was too late the man had already placed his hand on the handle of the hammer in his jacket and was poised to swing. A loud crack followed and Rodent collapsed to the ground motionless. The man spent the next ten minutes mashing Rodent's body into the consistency of mush. He then stoop up, threw the hammer ontop of Rodent's body, and strolled off whistling.
|
[ WP ] You 're entire mirror begins to ripple . When you look up at yourself , he winks at you .
|
`` You've got to be kidding me, Five. The board will never approve of that M & A.'' The man in the leftmost panel sighed and rested his forehead on palm. `` Do you have any idea how many laws that would break?''
`` I'm with One on this one.'' The man sitting next to Six stated his opinion with a straight face. `` It's far too risky, even with the market share we could grab, we would be putting our very livelihood on the line.''
`` Even Four? Goddammit, are all of us this meek nowadays? What about you Zero? You've got the final say after all.''
Zero sat for a few seconds in silence, surveying the five men arrayed in an arc in front of him. `` I think it's fairly clearly where the correct choice lies. After all, I've got to watch out for all of us. I think this meeting is done for today.''
Zero stood up and buttoned his suit-jacket; the men in the panels did the same. He left the door and locked the room behind him.
`` Debbie! Arrange a meeting with the board for this friday.''
`` Right away Mr. Nums.''
Zero stopped and looked out the window at sprawling metropolis below him. His faint reflection in the mirror revealed his smiling face. It had been a pain getting the mirrors into the 50th floor, but it was definitely worth it.
|
[ WP ] You are an atheist and on the three hour long train journey you start arguing with a stranger sitting beside you . That stranger is Satan .
|
The woman across the table was stunning. Her curly brown hair draped over her unblemished black skin like melted chocolate icing dripping down the sides of a rich chocolate cake.
`` Is it possible to get the mediterranean chicken salad, but without the chicken or the dressing?'' she asked the waitress, pointing to the menu with a long outstretched finger.
Lucas scoffed. He could not stand vegetarians, and it was far too early to be listening to this bitch's high pitched voice. Sure the woman sitting in the seat next to him with her legs crossed was beautiful, but she was probably just as annoying to fuck as she was to listen to. He could n't tell if she was Indian or some type of mixed black, but it did n't matter, blacks these days were so diluted that he could never tell the difference anyways.
`` No not at all'' the waitress responded, turning her gaze to Lucas. `` Anything for you sir?''
`` Yah I'll just get the fillet, and could you make sure it's cooked this time? The last time I had a steak on this train the blood got all over my shirt.'' Lucas was still very upset about this; it took a week to get it back from the dry cleaners.
At this comment, the waitress began frantically writing on her notepad, as if to make a point that she understood the gravity of the situation. `` Absolutely sir! I'll make sure to tell the chef.'' The waitress's eyes were tired and her hair was dishevelled, and as she walked away, Lucas could not help but notice the piece of underwear poking out of her disgusting black skirt that did her flat ass absolutely no favours.
The woman beside him noticed his gaze, and quietly scoffed in disbelief at the man sitting beside her. Men were such pigs, did they have any respect for the women they so blatantly and publicly objectified. Lucas noticed this and, already annoyed with the pretentious pair of legs sitting beside him, quickly stated: `` You know that the chicken is what constitutes the whole price of that salad?''
`` Did YOU know that the whole point of a steak is to enjoy the blood of the animal you just paid to have abused and murdered?'' she lashed back.
Lucas could n't believe it, he knew that women were getting bolder and bolder in this God forsaken day and age, but to be challenged, on a morning where he just wanted to relax before he was forced to endure another day in congress, was particularly angering.
`` I'm sorry'' he said with a forced smile on his face `` I did n't catch your name?''
`` My name is Sarah'' she said confidently, turning her face towards his. He was quite handsome, and even though he wreaked of privilege, she could n't help but notice that neither of his hands bore any jewellery. She was intrigued by him, and was bored anyways, so she decided to indulge. `` You know it's rude to criticise the lifestyle choices of people you do n't know, right?''
Lucas shifted in his chair, leaning into her `` I just can not understand how people think it's OK to deny themselves of the meat that is their God given right to eat.''
Light flashed across her eyes while he said this. `` You're'right', you say? Can you elaborate on when it is exactly you were informed of this'right'?''
Lucas was in no mood to be questioned about the specifics of his faith, but the scent of her perfume and the sheer size of her perky breasts enticed him to continue. He was definitely no Christian; he had been raised as one, but had soon realised that God was a hoax used by people for power, and upon realising this, he decided to use this revelation to his benefit in his political campaigns -- publicly, he was a churchgoing republican, and that was just fine with him. It's what got him into congress anyway.
`` Well, the way I see it, humans earned their way to the top of the food chain. If God had wanted everyone to survive off of lettuce, he would n't have given us animals in the first place!''
The woman smiled, her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly and she bit her lower lip. `` So you're religious then? How's that working out?''
`` Absolutely I'm religious'' he retorted. `` I take it you're not? You know, that's what's wrong with America today. Hippy atheists are ruling our country and we've become the laughing stock of the world because of it.'' Lucas pursed his lips in the usual way he did when he spewed his conservative rhetoric in order to convince people of his religious devotion.
`` Now I never said that'' she responded calmly. `` I know God better than you think. I just wanted to know where it is you were made aware of your'divine rights' is all. You see, mine were made clear to me when I was forced to live with'righteous' foster parents after I was kicked out of my house at age fifteen. My father was just like you: a republican, God-fearing, all-american man with too much pride to love the daughter who had a knack for fucking boys and girls after school''.
Lucas winced. His face contorted with discomfort, and he was n't sure what to say.
`` Awe do n't act all offended now'' she said, moving in her chair, sliding closer to him. `` Big strong men like you have nothing to fear. You'll be fine after all, why give a fuck about animals, or anything other then yourself for that matter, when you'll just die and enjoy heaven anyways, right?''
Lucas was really uncomfortable now. He buttoned up his jacket and shivered -- the train had gotten quite cold. `` Listen lady, I'm sorry I bothered you, but there's no reason to be going around taking your daddy issues out on strangers.''
The woman threw back her head and laughed. The diamond necklace she was wearing reflected a ray of January sunlight into his eyes. He flinched. She was well aware of his politics after all, she knew about how he voted to build the pipeline that displaced thousands of Aboriginals in North Dakota, and how he voted to invade Iraq simply because of the gifts he received from oil company lobbyists. She also knew of the rape allegations that his father silenced with money during his time as a frat boy at Yale. Men like him made her sick. All they wanted was power. Why have someone love you for who are when you can simply force yourselves onto them? Why do anything if it does n't further your status as a man of power, knowledge, and respect. She was all too familiar with the type.
`` You know, you're right. I'm sorry I got carried away.'' She was so close to him now that she could feel the air flowing out of his nostrils and onto her cheeks. She looked up, leaned her lips into his ear and pushed her chest forward onto his bicep. `` Maybe you could help me work through those daddy issues in other ways.''
Lucas felt something crawl up his leg. Her hand was now resting firmly on his crotch, and he definitely did not mind. Sure she was fucking insane, she was hot, and he did n't care.
`` Uh... oh yah? And how do you propose I do that?'' he muttered.
The woman had him. She squeezed his leg with her hand and bit his ear. She pushed her breasts firmly on his chest and in response, he turned his head and kissed her lips. They were firm, but ice cold. He did n't like the kiss at all -- in fact, he was pretty sure he hated it. He felt all air leave his lungs, and his feet went completely numb. Before he could react however, she had already pushed herself off of him and was in the process of getting up to leave.
`` I just need to go to the washroom, give me one second'' she said as she grabbed her purse and slid out of her chair and down the aisle to the next train car.
Lucas was bewildered. He had no idea how things had escalated so quickly, but he knew for damn sure that there was no way in hell he was letting this go any farther. Fifteen minutes passed, and the waitress had returned with his steak and her salad. As the waitress leaned in to pass him his plate, she smelled something so treacherously sour that she dropped his plate onto his lap.
`` Sorry sir, sorry, it's just... oh never mind. I really am sorry.'' Her eyes welled with tears at the stench. She could n't stand it anymore, and she quickly scurried off to find some napkins with both hands up to her nose.
`` Stupid bitch'' Lucas mumbled to himself as he cleaned up. Little drops of steak juice had yet again made their way onto his shirt, and he could not believe his luck. Even more strange was the waitress's reaction: a grown woman crying over a simple mistake? He really could not stand this train.
As he was cleaning up his shirt however, he noticed blood around the pin of the American flag that he wore on his chest. He was n't sure if it was blood from the steak or if he had been pierced with his own pin. Either way, he knew his shirt would need to be replaced. As he reached for his phone to call his assistant and tell him to prepare a new one for him when he got to the office, he noticed something in the reflection of the screen. The clock behind him was stuck at 6 o'clock, which was strange because it was just before noon. He rolled his eyes. This train really needed to be shut down and replaced, along with the staff.
Thirty more minutes passed, and the woman who was sitting beside him was still not back. Honestly, he reasoned that she was probably too embarrassed to return, and frankly, he prayed that she did n't.
|
[ WP ] You are having a conversation with the monster under the bed , when it realizes that beds are just made of flimsy wood and fabric
|
The concept of sex rarely features the physicality of bedding. Sure, people think of it in phrases like, “ in bed with, ” “ slept with, ” and “ pillow talk, ” but thoughts about sex are mostly about the people, the actions: a hand here, a kiss, bodies fitting together.
The reality is that sex takes place on and around real things. There is the bed, sure, and the sheets that wrap around, intermittently alluring and comically frustrating. There are the pillows, so crucial to prevent someone ’ s neck from craning down too far and getting bitten off by the monster.
Rose had disclosed an admirable number of things to Mark: no, she had never slept with anyone before. Yes, she had serious boyfriends in the past. Yes, she really was ready for this. Yes, she was fairly moderately relatively sure that her parents were out of the house until, like, 11-ish. But she didn ’ t really feel like discussing stuff from her childhood: her old crushes, who really needed to know that? And the imaginary monster under the bed, that was certainly material better suited for when they were more familiar with each other. Even though the monster in question was corporeal at this point.
They walked through the foyer, its white floors and forked entirely useless antique table a symbol of its status as a Parentally Controlled Zone. Left fork, up the carpeted stairs, the landscape subtly shifted, approaching the border to the Republic of Teenagers. The door to her room ( closed ) its formal checkpoint. Peter Murphy, his outstretched arm, microphone in hand, the welcoming sight that she was once again home.
Mark seemed significantly more nervous than she was, which makes sense for someone out past his curfew. Expectation and nervousness intruded into the boner-creating parts of his mind. Rose had assumed, going into this, that she ’ d be more anxious than she really was. But she knew basically what was supposed to happen now: holding hands. Muttered jokes, which they ’ d chuckle at to themselves between light kissing. Finally laying down.
They did those things according to script. She continued acting out her part, the “ oh, Mark ” a perfect beat and a half after his groan. His, hers. His, hers. His, hers, monster ’ s from under the bed.
She ceased moving other than her now-frantic heart, and her eyes darting side to side. Did he notice? He backs slightly off. Oh, no. But he smiles devilishly, eyes widening a bit. *He thought it was her! * She tries to imitate its lower utterance. That will certainly work. Uhh… *mmmrrgghh. *
This perceived burst of enthusiasm encourages another round of kissing, and credit to Mark, he ’ s actually pretty good at this. A bit unsure with the hands, but what ’ s a person without flaws?
Events occur. Prelude to Sex: the Sexening. Mark attempts a few clothed exploratory thrusts. The bed develops a nice gentle rhythm all by itself, pushing them slightly back and forth with just slight movement along the Z axis.
“ Could y ’ all cool it a bit? I ’ m feeling some of that pressure down here, might wan na back off. ”
Mark rears up and stares down. Rose lays absolutely still as her mind turns on every alarm it can get its little mind-hands on.
“ That ’ s, um- ” she tries to think of absolutely anything to say other than that it ’ s the mosnter under the bed. “ -the monster under the bed. ”
“ You have a what? ”, Mark queries reasonably. He shifts to lay face-down, perpendicular to her, and starts to crane his head to look under.
“ No! ” Rose reaches up and grabs his shoulders. “ It ’ ll eat you! ” Pause. “ Well… I mean… it ’ s always threatening to eat me, at least. But. Yeah. ”
“ Really? ” Mark looked at her in a non-sexual manner for the first time in about four hours. “ I had one of these under my bed as a kid. ”
“ What happened to it? ”
“ I dunno. It just kind of… went away? I never told anyone. ” A shrug. “ Sort of stopped thinking about it. ”
“ Well, ” comes the strangely American South accent, despite their northern locale, “ she hasn ’ t stopped thinking about you. ”
“ Would you stop? ” Rose hits the wood at the bottom of her bedframe with her first, which only hurts slightly more than she expected. “ Ow. ”
“ I would not normally be one to intrude in such sensitive matters, ” explains the monster, “ but y ’ all ’ s actions have come close to disturbing my domicile. ”
“ It ’ s never been yours. This is *my room. * ”
“ And this, young lady, is my under-the-bed. ”
“ Well, uh… monster? Sir? ” Mark seems to have formed an idea. “ We ’ re really sorry, honest, but maybe just this once we could- like for a minute- ”
“ I certainly hope for the sake of the young lady it ’ s not just- ”
* “ I will vacuum your face off! You know I have one! ” *
The monster seems to ignore the threat. “ It is not a simple prudishness that causes me to speak up, ” it defends itself, “ but simply an acknowledgement of the fragility of the locale. In fact, if I were to… ”
A bump from underneath, and a soft bang ( a different one than they had envisioned ).
“ Why, yes, the construction of this does seem to be rather poor. Perhaps those years of jumping, and the lack of repair, have not been kind. If you ’ d rather discuss this in closer proximity… ”
“ You would not dare, ” says Rose. “ There is no way you only just thought of that. ”
“ It simply wasn ’ t of interest to me before, ” it elaborates. “ I am not one to intrude into the affairs of human teenagers. I ’ ve more a taste for the younger ones. ”
Mark wrinkles his nose. “ That ’ s kind of- ”
“ And I believe I have been of the utmost discretion these many years. Did I utter a word about those years of lonely moans- ”
“ That is precisely none of your- ”
“ -and I certainly didn ’ t break any sort of confidentiality when you kept saying ‘ Greg. ’ ”
Mark and Rose look at one another again until Mark speaks.
“ Who the Christ is Greg. ”
|
[ WP ] When a parent dies , their knowledge and skills immediately pass on to their eldest child . An adoptee is shocked at what they discover when they receive their inheritance without warning .
|
`` So you're her first-born, huh?''
`` Yeah, I guess so. I never knew her, though. She gave me up only a few hours after I was born. My parents took me in... and that's all I know. I'm really sorry for your loss.'' The young man extended his hand to Matt as an offer of his condolences. Matt took it and shook it twice, his own dropping limply into his lap.
Matt tried to speak, but could n't find his voice. He cleared his throat. `` I have five younger siblings. I love each and every one of them. My dad's a drunk. He ca n't take care of us...'' Matt paused, holding back tears. `` I just needed something to help me take care of them... anything.''
The young man sitting across from Matt did not look so young anymore. Dressed in a tailored navy suit with slicked back hair, he looked the complete businessman. His desk was tricolored, with inlayed wood decorating the workspace like a mosaic. This was a man without time for a pity party.
`` For what it's worth, she knew that this day would eventually come. She had faith that you were capable, that you would be a good role model for your siblings, and that you would be successful. When she died, memories of you were the strongest, the most emotional, and the most hopeful. She knew that you could handle it. Call uncle Brian and Aunt Lorrie if you need any help. Apparently they can help you.''
Matt slowly looked up. `` Yeah. They're great people... but I guess you know that now.'' He sat up straight and wiped away the tears welling in his eyes. `` If my mom believed in me, I guess I do n't have a choice. My family is depending on me.''
The young man nodded, smiled warmly, stood up and glanced at his watch. `` What do you say we get some lunch? Popeye's?''
`` Sure, that's my favori... oh yeah.''
|
[ WP ] It 's a post apocalyptic world , you find the last film camera in the universe . You take a journey to fill the camera with the last pictures that will ever be taken .
|
“ But… How will you decide? ”
“ You know, that ’ s a really good question. ”
The old man chuckled, wrinkling the leathery skin of his wind-burnt face. “ Boy… ”
“ Boy? I ’ m forty-two! ” I smiled at him.
“ You know how old you are? ”
I looked down at the embers of our campfire. “ It seemed worth remembering. ”
“ Well, I don ’ t know how old I am, but it ’ s a hell of a lot older than you, boy. ” He chuckled. “ Now, you have the last camera on earth, and you don ’ t know what to take a picture of? The last picture that will ever be taken? ” His voice was soft and raspy.
I smiled. “ Not quite the last. There ’ s enough film for five pictures. ”
The man frowned. His eyes turned to slits against the cold wind and the scarce smoke that blew into them. Our fire was a few hours old and starting to die down. The warmth was leaving with it, and I was feeling the coming winter chill more and more with each passing moment.
“ I don ’ t know. How do you pick the final pictures we ’ ll ever take? ”
He didn ’ t question the finality of the statement, and I stood by what I ’ d said. In the thirty years since it happened, along the tens of thousands of kilometres of road I ’ d travelled and oceans I ’ d crossed, this man was the third person I ’ d run into.
We weren ’ t coming back from this.
“ Well, ” he asked, settling deeper down into his aging coat, “ what do you remember seeing these last few years? ”
“ How do you mean? ”
“ I mean, what memories stand out? I ’ m thinking, start with what seemed worth remembering and find out why. Maybe you ’ ll find some things that make it worth taking out that camera of yours. ”
I thought back. I ’ d seen plenty of things, but none of them seemed worthwhile in this moment. How do you decide what ’ s worth keeping, when there ’ s no one around to keep it after you ’ re gone?
I couldn ’ t think of a single damn thing. “ Nothing ’ s coming to mind. ”
The man burst out laughing. “ All these long years of travelling an empty world and nothing seems memorable? ”
A flash of frustration bubbled to the surface. “ Well, what have *you* seen then? ”
He smiled. “ I ’ ve watched a meteor shower from the Empire State Building. I was passing through New York City about ten, eleven years ago. I ’ m not sure what I was looking for. The place was empty, like I ’ d known it would be. Let me tell you, there aren ’ t many things more… *discomforting* than walking through an empty city that used to hold ten million people. ”
I nodded. “ I was in Tokyo when it happened. Seeing the whole place empty… I ’ ve avoided big cities since then. ”
“ Tokyo? ” He let out a bark of laughter. “ You ’ re a long way from home, son. ”
The smile faded from my face. “ I was there with friends. We had just graduated, and decided to go on a trip. Tokyo sounded fun, sounded… different. It was a chance to try something new, before we started working for a few decades. ”
He chuckled. “ You make it sound so bad! ”
“ I was young, and work sounded like prison. Well, as it turns out, I never had to work. It happened before I could get on with my life. ” I paused, hesitating as the thought came to mind. I wanted to ask but… “ What about you? ”
“ Hm? ”
Taking a deep breath, I pressed forward. “ Where were you when it happened? ”
He stared into the coals, the deep red edges reflected in his eyes. “ Home, in Vancouver. It was my retirement party. My whole family was there. My parents, kids, grandkids just a few months old… Must ’ ve been nearly a hundred relatives there. ”
I winced at the image, shaking my head. “ I ’ m sorry, I shouldn ’ t have brought it up. ”
“ No, no, don ’ t feel bad about it. I ’ ve had a long time to come to terms with it. In the end, nothing I could do. Hell, just another roll of the dice and it might ’ ve been one of them that lived, not me. ”
I nodded. “ So what about that meteor shower? ”
The change of topic hung painfully in the air. To his credit, the old man went with it. “ So, whole city ’ s empty. Takes me a day or two, but I get over the creepy feeling of walking through the place and decide to enjoy having the place to myself. Swim in the ocean, walk through Central Park, take the fancy booze out of the restaurants, that sort of thing. Wish I ’ d had a guide with me. And that the power was still on.
“ Since I can, I stay in the penthouse suites of the fancy hotels. These places are swanky, I can ’ t believe people could ever afford to stay there. One night, I ’ m out on the balcony of some place, getting drunk off a hundred-year-old bottle of wine, when I see a shooting star. After so many years walking, I realize that I haven ’ t looked up at the night sky in ages. And here ’ s a shooting star. So I make a wish. ”
“ Gon na tell me what you wished for? ”
The smile was completely gone from his face now. “ No. But I ’ ll tell you it hasn ’ t come true yet. ”
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. “ Sorry. ”
He nodded. “ Anyways, right then, I see another shooting star. And another, and another. Soon, the whole night sky is… *awash*, in these stars. Now, the hotel I was in wasn ’ t the tallest, so the sky ’ s a little hard to see, what with all the buildings. I ’ m just a few blocks over from the Empire State Building. So, I go over, drunkenly running down the stairs and out into the street. The whole way over, I ’ m staring up at the sky, not wanting to miss a single minute of it.
“ Let me tell you, it ’ s a pain in the ass climbing the Empire State Building when the power ’ s out. I was terrified the whole way up, terrified that the shower ’ s gon na end before I can reach the top.
“ I come out on the observation deck, and it is the most beautiful sight that I have ever seen. The sky, coated in shooting stars, with every star in the universe right there with them. No lights, so I can see every detail of the Milky Way stretching across the sky. All of it, playing out in absolute silence. I fell to my knees and I cried. ”
The old man smiled, a tear rolling down his cheek as he stared up at the sky, trying to catch another glimpse of that moment. I felt my heart in my throat, and I felt like crying right along with him.
That was it.
My motions were slow as I reached into my pack. I didn ’ t want him to notice, to move, to shift a single inch from where he was now. Slowly, so slowly, I lifted the viewfinder to my face, and took a picture.
He jumped a little at the click and looked back at me, the camera in my hands. “ You… took a picture of me? ”
I nodded.
“ Last camera in existence, and you took a picture of *me*? Why? ” He sounded angry, confused.
I smiled, struggling to find the words. “ All the… all the beautiful things in the world, they aren ’ t leaving. The Grand Canyon, the Pacific Ocean, the peak of Mount Everest… they ’ ll all still be here, thousands of years from now. I don ’ t need to preserve them, because they ’ ll go on, regardless of if I take a picture or not. But the people… we ’ re leaving. We won ’ t be here for long. So that ’ s what I ’ ll record: people, remembering the beautiful things that they ’ ve seen. *That ’ s* worth preserving. ”
His mouth hung open slightly. A long pause stretched out between us. “ I… My wish, that night, was for the bravery to throw myself off that balcony. I missed my family. Still do. I wanted to be with them, but I couldn ’ t bring myself…
“ When I saw what I saw, I cried, cause I realized what an idiot I ’ d been. I was still here, and there were still things out there worth seeing. And my family would want me to see them. ”
The moment stretched out with the confession. The old man looked uncomfortable.
He turned and looked through his pack. I heard odd sounds coming from it, sloshes and clicks and dings as a lifetime of objects bumped into each other. After a moment, he let out a chuckle, and pulled out a bottle of wine. He stared down his nose at the label. “ 2012 Cabernet. I grabbed it out of one of the restaurants. I ’ ve wanted to try it for years, but I didn ’ t know the right moment. ” He twisted off the cap. “ Toasting one of the last pictures ever taken seems like a good enough reason to me. We ’ ll have to drink it without glasses, I ’ m afraid. ”
I smiled and rummaged around in my pack, revealing two wooden cups. “ No problem. ” I handed one to him.
“ Ah! Thank-you… ” He paused and chuckled. “ I don ’ t know your name. ”
“ Hi. My name is Lee. ”
“ My name is Ben. Nice to meet you, Lee. ”
“ Likewise, Ben. Likewise. ”
|
[ WP ] Treason shall kill the last of the bold
|
He asked for an explanation.
I gave him none whatsoever.
Pulling the trigger, I relished the look of terror on his face.
More so the look of surprise when he was still alive a moment later.
As the blue paint dripped down his chest, he looked back up at me.
Then his pupils widened as the acid took hold.
I held up my finger over my lips and made a shushing sound.
Walking out of the room I paused as I passed him whispering in his ear.
`` Treason shall kill the last of the bold.''
Crossing the hall I entered the next room.
She had been stripped to the waist as well, but she'd also been bruised.
Our bosses would hear about this whether or not I told them.
But they'd be angrier if I kept silent.
A call was made.
A decision was given.
A paper tablet was handed to her.
I told her to swallow it as I gave her the bottle and pointed the gun.
Then I wrote one sentence on her bed side note pad.
I held the pad in front of her face for one full minute.
It read `` Treason shall kill the last of the bold.''
In the 3rd room, I made him put in the ear buds.
There was only one track on the mp3 player.
It lasted 5 seconds and had one sentence in french.
`` La trahison est interdit de tuer le dernier des gras. ``
It took me 12 hours to visit every room in the hotel.
After that, I went up to the penthouse suit in a building across town.
On the way I stopped and purchased 15 bags of hardshell chocolate candies in bite sized pieces.
The candy bags were handed over to an old looking woman who looked to be in her'80s, but was actually in her late 30s. She smiled at me.
When she asked if I wanted to know why she was doing this I shook my head.
When she asked if I wanted to watch I also shook my head.
Finally she asked if I'd indulge her long enough to share a drink and a joke with her.
I nodded my head. `` Why did the chicken cross the road?'' I asked her. She raised an eyebrow and played along asking why.
The answer I gave her sent her into a fit of laughter. She'd never heard that one before.
Which was n't surprising, most people have n't. It's the only joke I've ever invented that gets a genuine laugh.
I finished my drink and stood up. As I got to the door, she called out my code name. I turned. She blew me a kiss and thanked me for cheering her up.
I walked out to the street and made a journey of 15 blocks east and 50 blocks north.
Arriving at a park, I sat at a bench and reached underneath to retrieve the envelope with my payment.
Putting it in my inner jacket pocket I stared at the statue in the center of the park. The glorious general who'd held the city watch together all through the shelling and mounted the resistance to keep the enemy from breaching our walls.
I walked over to read the placard. I'd seen it hundreds of times before, but this time it felt special. I ran my fingers over the raised letters.
`` Honor shall not save our women in their beds.
Loyalty shall not spare our children in their cribs.
Courage shall not keep our friends safe in the factories.
Valor shall not vouch for our elders in their rocking chairs.
Naught but our blood and bone and muscles kept in tact,
while we rend the same apart from the hide of our foe shall save this day!''
`` I know many of those you once called brothers in arms have fled their post. Some have even abandoned the city and head for the hills as we speak. Why should you poor sods stay here to die when those men will live to see another sunrise? I've heard more than a dozen of you bastards ask that question in soft voices when you think you're far enough away that I ca n't hear!''
`` I tell you this here and now you craven bastard, those men are not living and they will not live. They're dead inside their hearts, and in two months time I'll see that every single one of them is dead in the more permanent sense of the word. Each and every one of those curs will be hunted like the scared prey that they are, and not a man among them will leave to see next years first dawn!''
`` I tell you this men, courage and loyalty wo n't save your lives tonight. Boldness might though. Be bold in the face of death, and you might just spin it round the other way into the guts of our foes. Boldness is all that can save us tonight, but treason shall kill the last of the bold!''
I rubbed my fingers over the last sentence again and again.
An old man walked up to me and patted me on the shoulder. `` It is good that you do this. Too many of the young people today... they forget what it was like in those days. I was just a boy, but I carried water and bread to the lines every day. I saw the men who held the walls. It is good that you remember them.''
He walked away weeping silently.
After awhile I walked away too.
When I got home my husband was waiting for me. He knows that I do secret work for the head families in the ministry, but he does not ask questions.
He had already made dinner, which was something that always angered him to do, even though he was a better cook than I.
After dinner he inquired about possibilities for bed time. I gave him maybes and well sees. I know he wants a baby, and he knows why I can not grant his desire.
I went into the study and pulled out a sketch book and began to draw the statue and the placard.
A single tear slid down my cheek. All those brave men died holding the walls... and for what? So that an uneducated woman with a natural inclination for actions which should not be natural could give into her dark desires on behalf of leaders who do not deserve the power they inherited?
Treason might kill the last of the bold, but why should it bother when triumph has ruined them already.
|
[ WP ] - Create a character who has committed one or more of the worst sins you can imagine . Try to make the reader forgive this character .
|
Look, yeah, I raped, murdered, and ate my daughter. But that is n't the point. You do n't know what happened, why it happened.
I know it seems crazy, but it was n't rape. She wanted it. She is... was 17, she could make her own decisions. She came onto me, I did n't want anything at first. The news just likes drama, it gets ratings up, you know? I never wanted for any of this.
The murder part looks pretty bad, I'll admit it, but again, just hear me out. She said she was on the pill and she usually was. But one night she was n't and lied to me, I thought it was just a normal night and we could do whatever we wanted. A few months later, turns out she was pregnant. I could n't take that, I think I lost it a little the night I found out. But I loved her so much, I could n't bear the kids calling her a slut, and the child? My kid, my only grandkid? Who would want to murder their baby? But I had to, I knew about inbreeding and what could happen to him. All those feelings, those thoughts in my head, they all messed me up that night, I could n't think about any other option. That night... she asked me what was wrong, if she could help. I said she could n't, I pushed her away. I... I killed her. I cried for the next few days, I considered killing myself, too. I did n't know what to do. She would have wanted me to keep on living, I knew she would, and so I did what I had to do. I did n't know how to get rid of her body so that I would escape, I knew she would n't want me in prison for my whole life, so I had to eat her, it was the only way! I heard her that night, that first one, the hardest one, telling me that it was ok, she understood. She knew I had to do what I did. And so I did. I cooked her up and ate her and I hate myself for it. I deserve the worst punishment I can get, and I deserve whatever I get after I die. But please understand, I did all of it out of love.
|
[ WP ] Your SO is immortal and you reincarnate with memories intact . However , you have never told this to your SO . They finally catch on .
|
`` Hi, mind if I take this place?'' I ask as I casually slip into the comfortable leather chair, my eyes on the girl seated opposite. She is wearing a bright pink beanie, her copper brown hair hidden partially beneath it. Her eyes stare at me, then around the busy cafe, before returning to the newspaper before her.
`` Sure, go ahead.'' She says nonchalantly. I mutter a thanks, and place my cup of coffee and the sketchbook that I am holding on the table. Her eyes dart momentarily to the sketchbook, which I had expected to. She always had this soft spot for artists.
`` So... are you new here?'' I ask, trying to start a conversation. She lifts her head up, seemingly annoyed that I was bothering her.
`` Yeah, just moved here,'' she says. She's lying. This was the town that I had lived in my previous life, along with her. The cafe that I am in right now, the first place that we met in my previous life. And also the one before that. This is the third time I am meeting here again, right in this cafe.
I smile as I open my sketchbook, revealing the different types of dragons that I had drawn earlier. I notice her perking up, because after all, she is a fan of dragons. She had made me collect tons of dragon sculptures in the previous life. I wonder where is she keeping them now.
`` You know, I had someone close once who loved dragons too,'' she says.
`` Oh, is it your boyfriend?'' I reply, knowing fully well who she was referring to.
She shakes her head. `` Nah, just my dad.''
So she's referring me in the previous life as her dad now. I pretend to be busy adding final touches to my drawing. It's what I always do for each of our first encounter for each life. Slowly interest her while not giving away too much. Works like a charm every time.
`` So,'' I say, my attention still on the drawing beside me. `` What's your favourite dragon then?''
It is her turn to smile now.
We exit the cafe soon after, talking happily about our favourite books now. Hers has been the CS Lewis and Tolkien classics for the past life cycle, and there is also Harry Potter added into her list now. I made sure to start from there. Conversations with your crush is always easier when you know what are their favourite topics. And I had an eternity to practice.
As we pass an ice-cream shop, I suggest that we get an extra drink, which she agrees to. Wanting to impress her even further, I proceed to order her favourite flavour before I passed away in the last cycle. Rum and raisin mixed with cookies and cream, topped with a sprinkle of rainbow sprinkles.
Her eyes widen as I pass her the ice-cream cup. `` I have never told anyone about my favourite ice-cream flavour before except...'' she stops her sentence halfway, a hint of recognition flashing over her face.
I grin. `` Took you a while to figure it out.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
*Constructive criticisms welcomed! *
/r/dori_tales
|
[ WP ] Children are allowed to live until the age of five at which point they are put before and tested by a committee to determine their potential to contribute to society . Those deemed unfit or sociopathic are terminated .
|
`` Thats the last one,'' Master Revo stated.
`` Yes, name of Marcus. The last one,'' I replied.
There were no more children left now. All surviving women were above childbearing age, and it was clear the human race had no future.
`` Do you think the rules were too strict?'' I asked.
Heresy of course to even think it. But even though Supreme Leader Randolf had the best intentions all those years ago, the 100 percent termination rate, surely, surely, that showed we were not doing it right?
Master Revo turned to me angrily and stated `` Article 15 is very clear on the matter!''
`` Yes, but...''
`` No buts,'' he countered.
Opening the Yellow book, he read out loud:
`` Sociopath. Noun, Psychiatry.
1. a person with a psychopathic personality whose behavior is... often criminal, and who lacks a sense of moral responsibility or social conscience.''
I sighed.
`` Yes, Master Revo. You are right.''
|
[ WP ] Podcasters sound like a type of wizard
|
The door opened and three hooded figures entered the inn. The raucous crowds quickly silenced and stared at the new arrivals. Roff used his massive arm to hold his son Penta against his thigh.
The visitor wearing a dark blue cloak stood in front of the other two. He was obviously the leader of the trio. His face was pointed towards the ground like the others so that the his face was masked in shadow. A goblet struck a table by stairs. A pair of eyes appeared in the darkness of his hood and followed the upturning head to hunt the source.
A large man with a pale face, made more so by fright, trembled in his chair.
`` I meant no'arm. Honest.''
The shadows took over and the men continued their march on the bar. They did not seat themselves, preferring to stand.
Roff pushed Penta to the rear of his leg as he stepped forward to welcome the guests.
`` Can I help you gentlemen? An ale, perhaps?''
The leader's head lifted and the hood fell back. A stream of green hair breathed in the freedom of open air. The face was young, hardly of age to receive whiskers. It bore an insincere smile, the kind a wolf shows before striking.
`` We do not drink,'' he answered in a wispy tenor. `` We merely require a quiet room for the night.''
The other two men turned to look at the pale-faced patron, clarifying the leader's implication.
Roff balled his hand once before flattening it out on the wooden surface.
`` I'm terribly sorry, gents. We do n't have any vacancies for you lot.''
`` Is that so?'' the man replied. He turned to face the room. `` Who here is spending the night?''
There was silence.
`` Nobody? Anybody?''
The pale-faced man slowly raised his quivering hand.
`` Ah, a patron. Innkeep, how many rooms does this establishment have?''
`` Three,'' responded Roff.
`` You there. The fat man. How many rooms does your sizable girth require?''
`` O-one.''
`` Who then, Innkeep, is using the other two rooms?''
`` I s-suppose you are.''
`` Do you two mind sharing a room?''
The other two stood motionless.
`` I did n't think so,'' the leader continued, making his way towards the patron. `` You, fat man. Do n't you think it's a lovely night to sleep outside under the stars?''
`` B-but it's raining, sirs.''
`` Pardon?''
`` A lovely night. Yes, sirs.''
`` Very well. We shall take all three rooms.''
`` You ca n't do that,'' shouted a boy's voice. Penta had climbed on top of the bar.
`` Do you know who I am, boy?'' the man snarled.
`` You're a podcaster, are n't you?''
`` I am.'' The caster lowered his left hand to a pouch hanging from his belt. `` And you know what we can do?''
`` I do and I'm not afraid of you. You ca n't just push us around like that. You ca n't.''
The man pulled a bean from his pouch and held it out in front of him. Penta held his ground, while Roff was paralyzed, only able to watch.
`` In this little pod, I can capture your being, your very soul.'' He started rolling the pod around on his fingers. `` I can crush you without a second thought. Hold you to the hearth to burn. Or swallow you whole and shit you out when I'm done with you.''
`` Please,'' pleaded Roff. `` He's just a boy. You ca n't. Just take your rooms, no charge, and leave us in peace.''
The man's eyes shifted between the boy, the innkeeper, and the bean. With a wide smile he covered the bean in his hand and stuffed it back into his pouch.
`` Of course not. I'm not some monster, after all.''
He walked to the stairs, followed by the other two casters. He stopped on the first step and held up his hand. His two followers halted in response.
`` I'd never harm a child.''
With a snap of his fingers, one of the followers furnished a pod and tossed it at Penta, still on the bar. It flew with an orange trail in chase. There was a blinding flash as it paused in the air a hair from the boy. The figure of the child pulled into the floating pod. As the last remnants of the kid disappeared into the shell, the pod burst into flames. The ashes fluttered to the bar top.
The man laughed and continued up the stairs.
`` But they would,'' he finished.
|
[ WP ] You hire a hitman to kill your doppelgänger . You did not think this through .
|
Poor fella. He had no idea what was coming for him, simply for looking like me. It was hard *not* to feel sorry for him, even an egomaniac like me felt the pangs of sadness creep into my mind.
He had the same blue eyes and same gorgeous smile, but I was more handsome. I'm almost sure, as I looked through his profile on my phone, that I made more money than he did as well.
I was in the midst of reconsidering his fate and dialling Mr. X when I caught my reflection in the front window door of Albert's Cafe and Bar. As I checked my hair, which was perfect of course, I started to turn my head in a futile attempt to once again see my profile without using a mirror. As I did so I was confronted with the sickening realisation that somehow, in some sick twist, Theo Polinsky, yes *the* Theo Polinsky smattered on my phone screen, had just walked in, completely oblivious of my plans.
The bastard, he had some big stupid smile on his face, and my heart began to thrash as I realised Mr. X could have followed him here! This could be the moment he had decided to strike!
In an attempt to leave incognito, I slowly rose from my plate of untouched endive soup ( with sourdough ), the heat of the plate sweating my face in an instant. My legs felt like jelly as I stumbled towards the exit when a tall man, dressed in black leather from head to toe, his white bald head mimicking an inverted lightbulb, came crashing through the door, a menacing look smeared across his countenance.
It was Mr. X!
I froze, unsure if our one meeting two weeks ago was enough for him to distinguish me from Theo. I mean, I knew he had eleven more freckles, a slightly rounder face and yellower teeth than me, but did he know? He should, it was obvious!
He did n't.
Immediately he unsheathed a 9mm glock, his arm rising towards me without hesitation. I screamed and instinctively overturned a cheap dining table before me, the condiments and plates thrown aggressively skywards. Using innocent bystanders as cover I ran, crouched, towards the kitchen, ramming seated patrons and tables in desperation.
He was extremely professional, as he did not take a shot until he knew it would be clear.
A moment passed where I realised I had brushed past Theo. His wool pants smelt of dirty laundry. Yuck, I was dying confused with a slob!
I raced into the kitchen, white chefs were scattered around industrial appliances like pawns, the geysers of boiling ingredients enveloping their faces.
I smashed through more hinged doors, knocking over several waiters and waitresses, Mr. X had eyes for me only. For all I knew Theo was sitting cheerfully back at Alfred's, probably with a delicious endive soup! Bastard!
I'm outside. An alleyway. Rubbish bags are piled high towards cold brick facades and a polluted stream splits the path. I take off, my shoes slapping the shallow puddles.
I reach for the phone, and dial Mr. X. I hear the door behind me crash open and..Bang! Bang!
He's firing!
I crouch behind an industrial bin, in awe of the power heard from Mr. X's weapon. I'm shaking, and I throw up in shock of my fate before me. i do n't even care that it went all over my gucci jeans.
`` It's me! Mr. X it's me, I hired you!''
But it's his voicemail, of course he has n't answered, he's here to kill me first...
|
[ WP ] Every morning , your alarm clock has a slider that tells you how important this day will be overall in your life . After a few weeks of very unimportant days , you awake to the slider far to the right ; today is going to be one of the most important days of your life .
|
I can only stare at the bar, a breath caught in my throat.
The bar quivered on the very edge of my clock, threatening to burst right out of its tube and bounce across my nightstand. `` Today'', it said, `` was very important.''
Not just that: it was the *most* important day of my entire life.
My heart raced; cold sweat formed on my brow. What could it be? What would happen, today? Would it be good, or bad? Too bad the bar could n't tell me; in my groggy state I even considered asking it, for a moment.
The possibilities weighed on me like a stack of bricks; I was overcome with anticipation all morning. Even brushing my teeth was a roller-coaster chore. The tram into work felt like a mine cart plunging into some exotic cavern. Everywhere I went I kept sharp eyes out for'the event': the thing that would make this day so special. I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning!
The work day ends and I'm exhausted from my anticipation; I grab a quick coffee at the shop around the corner. As I'm stirring in my cream I turn and accidentally bump a woman carrying her own coffee. She drops it, but I'm so wired that I make the save, deftly snatching the cup out of free-fall and handing it back to her.
`` Woah!'' She chuckles in disbelief. `` Nice moves!''
`` Mmm-hmm,'' I put sweetener into my coffee.
She watches me as I work, emptying precisely half a sugar packet, then licking a few stray grains of the stuff from my fingers.
`` Hey: that's really weird,'' she says. `` I do that *same* thing.''
Again I grunt, setting the lid on my coffee.
`` Y'know,'' she says, `` I bet you grew up back East, right-''
`` I'm sorry,'' I look back at her, `` but I've got important things to attend to.'' I quickly walk out of the door, leaving the woman blinking in surprise. I did n't mean to be abrupt, but I had to get on with the rest of my day; something *important* was coming my way!
I got home quite late, and I walked through my doorway with a puzzled frown. It was odd: nothing really important had happened, yet. I check my watch: it's 11:35. Well, 25 minutes to go, right?
I kneel down beside my bed and stare at the bar beneath my alarm clock. It told the story; something was coming. I knew it. Any minute now. I just *knew* it!
I can only stare at the bar, a breath caught in my throat.
.
EDIT: grammar
|
[ CC ] [ PI ] Choices
|
Alright, fine. Let me get my Rum first, and coke... bit more rum there...... bit more...... more, okay, splash of coke, good to go.
This is going to get nitpicky since it really is pretty good.
> Biggest offer of your life, and you said no, just like that? ” Nikolai hisses.
Not sure that I agree with the `` hisses'' here. I'm trying to picture the setup and hisses feels off to me. I think that you're trying to go for that shouting in a whisper thing, subject matter being assassination and all, but hisses throws me off of that here.
> He seems a bit nervous at that.
`` seems a bit'' seems a bit of a dull way to express that. If they have been together long enough I'd go with something like, `` That nervous tick at the edge of his mouth twitching again.'' or if not long friends/colleagues, `` His brow furrowing, nerves, all the new blood these days were so twitchy.'' The first gives insight into the relationship, the second reinforces the age/expertise of the man. Always think through your word choice, sometimes you can give your reader more than just the face value of what's happening and I think that this is one of those instances.
> And that ’ s all it is, really. Murder. Some try to sugar coat it; Assassination they call it.
I do n't think `` sugar coat'' is the best term here. From what you've written I'd go more with `` embellish'' maybe. Tough word choice, but sugar coat implies to me just a waxing over the bad things and the next part where you mention `` an art'' `` a science'' sounds more like people trying to not just wax over the bad, but revel in the pursuit of perfection. Maybe something with grandeur or grandiose? Not sure, but maybe think about it a bit.
> “ Why? ” Nikolai whispers, more to himself than to me.
With the `` more to himself than to me.'' I'd see if there is a more vivid way you can phrase this, maybe something like, `` Nikolai turned his head down and into himself, `` Why?'' a whispered internal musing more than anything.'' That's longer, which maybe is n't appropriate in the moment, but it's something to perhaps play with and see what you like.
>'' Why not just do it? ”
I feel like if you do n't stress the moment this might be read too quick. I'd suggest putting in something to slow down the pace and punctuate this. Like, `` His head rose, eyes still down. He raised a hand and briskly seated his hair out of eye line before raising his gaze to mine, pupils twitching to the hurried thoughts of his mind, `` Why not just do it?'' Might be wrong... where's that rum... but just a thought. Try it out and see how you like it.
> “ Because I can, Nik. Because I ’ ve never done it before. ” I look directly into his startled face. “ I ever tell you know how I got started? ”
I think perhaps you might want to put more of a breaker in between these two dialogues. The shift to the “ I ever tell you know how I got started? ” feels fast. Maybe like, `` I look directly into his startled face. Our eyes stayed locked for a time that married couples would deem uncomfortable before I final let my gaze drop back down to the drink before me. The golden brown liquid danced with the light as I slowly swirled it in undulating circles. `` I ever tell you how...'''' Again, just take a look, maybe you want the fast transition, but if the two have been colleagues/friends for a long time this seems like the type of revelation that needs a moment of silence before being broached.
> I pause to take a sip of my drink, savoring the slight burn.
Again, just some word choices, `` pause to take a sip of my drink'' is a bit bland. Consider something like, `` I pause and bring the cool of the glass to my lips and let the warm liquid within slide down and down my throat, savoring the slight burn.''
> It ’ s not my usual spot, but this is where my contact wanted to meet. It ’ s a young crowd, and the sound of testosterone and desperation fills the space. A slip of a girl is giving me the eye.
You use `` It's'' twice to start a sentence here, but I do n't think it's ( pun intended? more rum! ) needed. Try starting without the `` It's'' just `` Not my usual spot, but this is where my contact wanted to meet. Young crowd, and the sound of testosterone and desperation fills the space. A slip of a girl is giving me the eye.'' and let the `` It's'' be assumed by the reader.
> Nikolai ’ s voice interrupts my staring contest.
`` staring contest'' I believe that the girl would use this terminology, but I do n't feel like the veteran would. Also, instead of `` interrupts'' try something a bit more forceful like `` intrudes'' something like `` Nikolai's words intrude through my blinders ripping me away from her eyes.''
> “ So? What happened? Where do you come in? ” Nikolai is leaning forward in his seat.
> So is the girl though, and between the smoky blue bedroom eyes and the flash of skin, I ’ m feeling a warmth that definitely ain ’ t from the booze.
I just really like those two lines. `` smoky blue bedroom eyes'' is excellent as is `` feeling a warmth that definitely ain ’ t from the booze.''
> Every night, I hear her at her bedside, pleading for something,
I'd try to avoid the repetition of `` her'' here. More like, `` I hear the pleas from her bedside for something,''
> *Her family. *
You use italics here and I'm not sure how I feel about that... wait, more rum, one sec... back. Okay, I'll allow it, but think about times when you really want to punctuate something and try to stay consistent without overuse. For example, when you say the line `` Luckily, I don ’ t have any kids.'' you use a separate line to nail home that thought instead of including it on the prior paragraph, which I think is great, I'm totally with you on that one. But then you use italics here... okay, since it's internal thoughts versus external dialogue, just be careful with it.
> Eyes starts around the bar, taking her slow sweet time
Nothing to nitpick, I just love that the character calls her `` eyes'' now, that really draws me into the mood and theme of this guy even with just a minor detail about what he decides to name her. Nice.
> but never breaking eye contact.
But then you say `` never breaking eye contact'' which is a little to much of the use of the word `` eyes'' for me since we called her eyes. Maybe try, `` but never letting that gaze fall away.'' You may notice I use `` gaze'' a lot in these suggestions. Find a better word and tell me about it! Seriously though, describing a person's view and vision can be tough, there are n't a lot of easily accessible words to really do it justice. Oh, oh... ooooooohhhhhh, try this, even better, `` but never letting her namesake stray from mine.'' Hrmm... that's a bit tricky, but there is probably something there if you see where I'm going. I'm going to the rum, so I leave you to untangle that, there's probably a really good way to say it in there.
> but she ’ s got a confidence that makes her a giant in this crowd.
I'm generally against the verb `` got'' try anything else `` brimming'' `` boiling'' `` stacked'' `` radiating'' Eh, maybe...'' got'' might be okay here, but I just think that there is a better way.
Okay, done with the nitpicky stuff. Overalls time!
Mostly great. Look, there are some moments of inspired word choice in here, and some very clever internal dialog from the veteran, especially near the end when he's talking about his mother and first kill, it's a very staccato pace to his dialogue which I like, short sentences, straight to the point, not a memory to linger lovingly on. I like that you did n't make explicit what the end result of the situation with his mother was, but implied enough for the reader to fill in the blanks. Ending three lines are great I think. I think that as note above, a quick reread through and you may be able to improve what and how you're saying things. Especially in the short story format you really have to be able to say a lot with very few words so I think that you can probably impart more meaning and character building simply through some better word choice. I liked that the veteran always referred to the step-dad as `` lawyer'' or `` guy'' that builds in my mind the veteran's character, excellent choice. I liked the pacing overall and the inter-cuts between the story and `` Eyes'' were well placed. I like that internal dialog he's `` Nikolai'' and external dialog he's `` Nik''
Lastly, and please, be careful about this, do n't get stuck in an endless loop of `` fixing'' old stuff. If you want to go back and make edits, spruce things up a bit, great, but do n't lose sight of the next story in service to the first. New writing is almost always a better way to improve than editing old writing. So my suggestion is really just to read this, reread what you wrote and if you agree with some of the stuff I said, instead of going and `` fixing'' the old story just think about it as you write a next chapter or a next story.
Sorry I did n't do the second part... rum... why have you betrayed me like this!
|
[ WP ] You are falling through a bottomless pit , you have been falling for the last 2 hours .
|
Disclaimer: this is my first ever post on reddit, thanks /u/MateoElFidel for the prompt. Apologies for grammatical, and structural errors, typing this all on my phone was a little difficult. Anyways, thanks in advance for reading, criticism is welcome, and i hope you enjoy!
The hope had long since vanished into the void; gone the way of the light. Fear had retreated deep into the plethora of my thoughts, overwhelmed by confusion. Where am i? How did i get here? When will this stop? WILL this stop?.. why? Why is this happening? If there is no end to this abyss, ill drive myself mad seeking answers long before my death.
I woke up like this, right? The time, memories, and senses i used to have all seemingly melt; still existing in my mind, but indiscriminate from my current hell. When i first came to in this abyss; obviously, it didnt feel real. I... awoke?.. falling downwards; albeit slower than i should be. The wind flowed quickly about my body; the only real indication of direction. It seems the laws of physics and terminal velocity are loosely interpreted in my situation. I fell backwards, my eyes turned upward, and a while in the beginning there was a light slowly fading in the distance. The longer i plunged into the darkness, the more it enveloped my vision and my thoughts. Once i had resigned myself to this abysmal fate that had befallen me; the light, too, surrendered.
For a while i hoped this was a dream. I pinched myself, screamed, and attempted everything i could think of to coax myself back into reality. Im not dreaming though. This is too real. I can feel the air rushing by as i fall. The darkness is alive with a barren lucidity and i feel blood surging through my veins.. i think.
Death was the only answer i could find. This must be how it ends; falling with nothing but ones own thoughts and experiences for comfort. I guess it makes sense. Hell, at this point it is all that ive got. Although a tough reality to embrace, at the very least it was better then the idea of still having death to look forward to.
My mind races through every memory ive made in my short 37 years of life, but one is glaringly absent: my `` death.'' Why did other, seemingly innocuous details and memories ( the smell of my wife's hair, our son's first home run, my social security number, etc. ) Burn so brightly in my mind, while i had no recollection of my death? Maybe i had died in my sleep, peacefully slipping into this abyss as i lied beside my beautiful wife.
Beth.
My last memory seemed almost tangible:
I place my book on the nightstand, and roll over to her sleepy smile. I reach my hand behind her head and slowly run my fingers through her curly brown hair; making a point to linger a little bit at the nape of her neck. We intently lock gazes, and as always, the stormy ocean was that are her eyes are calm with love. Love for me. A small breeze passes my lips, & I taste her freshly brushed breath as her lips press mine.
`` Goodnight,'' she whispers gently,'' i love you''
`` I love you too, beth. Sweet dreams.'' I reply, my face wearing a tired smile.
We created a hell of a life; although it was n't perfect, the angel that she was gave it light even through darkness. I loved every story, every book she had ever written simply because they were her creations and they were her passion. Passion she had plenty of that and radiated with life as a result.
We married while we were past 24 and she was just two months from the birth of our son, however, it was far from a shotgun wedding. After 6 years of dating and 4 years of being confident that she was the love of my life; her pregnancy was more so just the final incentive to make our love `` official.'' the following 12 plus years, although difficult at times, only serve to reaffirm the decision to spend my life and raise my child with her.
How am i supposed to accept that i'll never see her again? I ca n't. As much as i wish i could find some solace, some security, some bliss in this abyss by fully accepting my death; she keeps me tethered to this hope. Hope that now does nothing but torture my mind and stretch the time and darkness as i plummet. Hope muddles into confusion, speckled with thoughts of my wife and son.
Jay.
He was my little man. 12 and a half years old and already as inspiring as he was impressive. Memories of his first word, first bike ride, and first baseball game vividly dominate my thoughts. How can this be all I will have left of him? Why am I stuck in this hell leaving beth alone to raise our child? I ca n't accept this! There has got to be some way to escape! Some way to return to reality, to my family! Anger consumes my body and my mind as I hurdle further down. My muscles tense and my fists clench while these delusions of hope tease and taunt me. I need to be there for my child. For my wife...
I lash out in anger at the darkness sending me into a tumble. My mind tumbles too; again questioning the why's and how's, and again i foolishly allow myself to begin contemplating solutions and entertaining the idea of an end to this hell.
After a moment I regain control of my body; this time I am facing downwards. The wind stings my cheeks and eyelids lightly, but I would rather deal with it for a moment than possibly go spinning again. My family still burns strongly in my thoughts: I must see them again. Absentmindedly, I blink my eyes.
Wait.
I open my eyes, struggling against the wind. I see something below me.
A light...
Hope.
|
[ WP ] Two people are playing an intense game of chess . What they do n't know is that some other reality is mirroring this battle in actual medieval warfare . Tell both stories .
|
`` The King must retreat!'' Knight Blanco shouted. The red mist of blood settling in the air gently wetted their skins. `` Retreat as fast as he can!''
Bishop Weiss nodded. `` It shall be done,'' he said. `` The only...''
`` What?'' The brave knight asked.
`` Well, the thing is, you know? It's just...''
The knight cast his eyes over the horizon. `` Time is short, cleric. Speak!''
The Bishop looked unhappy. Most of the time, really, but especially now. `` It's just not that fast. It's like you just ca n't hurry that guy.''
`` You forget your place. The King's orders are -''
`` His wife? Man, that's another story. She can *move*. The King? Not so much. I do n't know if he's just wilfully all like,'oh, I'm the King, I do n't have to hurry' or whatever, but *my God! * It's like wading through treacle sometimes.''
The Knight pointed his gloved fist to the rear. `` Send him back from the fray. And follow to keep him safe.''
Weiss sucked in air through his teeth. `` Well,'' he said, `` that's the other thing, is n't it? The King needs to retreat *backwards. * You know?''
`` I do not,'' Blanco said.
`` Not digging the whole'straight back' thing. I've got a whole thing going on, a more - I do n't know what you want to call it - *oblique* kind of vibe. Kind of movement, but *askew. * It's really my thing. You know.''
Knight Blanco reared his horse, dropping two hoofs on the bloodsoaked ground like twin claps of thunder. `` I know no such thing! I know only -''
`` Oh, you'know no such thing'? Really? *You're* going to tell me that? With your little...'' Weiss trailed off.
The Knight dismounted. He ran to the priest and grabbed him by the frock. `` My. Little. *What? *''
Weiss brushed his hands away and straightened his vestments. `` Your affectation. Alright? Your little one-two-and-one-to-the-side thing. Shit, first time I saw you, I thought you were drunk.''
`` I do no such thing!''
`` Fine,'' the Bishop said. `` There's an arrow in the ground over there. That one. About two paces ahead of you. Go pick it up.''
The Knight stared at the arrow. `` Will that end this madness?''
`` Sure,'' Weiss said.
The Grand Protector, Knight of the Realm Blanco strode forward with dignity and purpose. He reached down to pick the arrow up. It was not there. He looked back at Bishop Weiss.
`` Left a bit,'' said Weiss.
Blanco turned his head. `` Well, will you look at that?''
|
[ WP ] Your writing prompt gets an extaordinary attention by the whole internet , a man contacts you because he wants to sell your idea and let you write a book about it , but you stole the idea .
|
As Samforney Littlediock reads what may be the most invigorating WP of his life, he ca n't keep his tongue from draping the oak wood office desk he is working from. He was taken back by this one. Does this writer even know how good they are or what they've got here? I do n't know who /u/writingforanyone is but surely they have no clue as to how valuable this sort of material would be in the open market..
Samforney keeps salivating, all the way to the bottom of the page. He wants more, he wants it now and he has to know how the story ends. Or does he? I mean, just reading this tiny chunk of gold has given him so many ideas how to continue that he does n't think he even needs the writer. Hmmm, would this breach any laws? Reddit is a public forum and the ideas presented within it are just as much for the general public as they are for the beholder of said ideas. Check please!
Samforney calls his buddy, Buddy, in the movie industry and proceeds to give the pitch of his life. He pitches the beginning and middle of the story, casually abstaining from sharing the end, and then he goes silent. His buddy slyly states....'' This is it Samforney, this is what we've been asking you for. How did you come up with this idea?''
`` Some dumbfuck on Reddit wanted advice on how to continue their story and instead of working with him/her, I decided that I would put my own spin on things and bring it straight to you. What should we do now?''
Buddy laughs out loud. `` I've got $ 86 million left in my production budget for the upcoming sequel that we've been trying to lay out the mechanics of, this story-line and the careening plot twists will seal the deal. All I have to know is... ( he pauses slyly ) how much do you want for your time and would you be interested in becoming a co-writer? Or... you could just let me take the reigns and you'll be paid handsomely for your efforts.''
Samforney ponders for a moment, then says, `` I'll just stay out of it and let the professionals handle this one, my fee is $ 350k.''
`` Done,'' says Buddy.
|
[ WP ] The Grim Reaper sat down and rested his scythe on his lap . `` What purpose does suffering serve , '' he inquired , `` if you can tell me I will renew your life . ''
|
The knight lay gasping on the battlefield. The many sword wounds he had gained ached. He shifted slightly, broken arrows grinding against the ground.
He squinted up at the sky, trying to remember who he was. Eventually, it came to him.
`` Canis'' he breathed. Footsteps echoed in the distance. The world began to shift, turning ghostly, everything blending slightly into everything else, as the footsteps got closer.
Canis turned his head toward the sound, and took a double take. A huge hound was walking toward him, with colorless fur, and a large scythe gripped in its mouth. It reached him, and dropped the scythe.
`` What?'' it asked. `` The prompt said I have to have a scythe.''
`` Excuse me?'' Canis asked.
The hound waved a dismissive paw. `` Nevermind.'' it sat down on its haunches, looking at him quizzically. Canis struggled upward, suddenly finding his wounds did n't pain him as much.
`` Now.'' The hound said. `` What is the purpose of suffering?''
`` What?'' Canis asked. The hound rolled it's eyes. `` Answer correctly, and I will return you to life.''
Canis sat up, thinking hard. Eventually, he came to a conclusion that sounded poetic enough for a conversation with dead itself.
`` The purpose of suffering...'' He started slowly. `` Is to make us stronger, better. The fires and the hammer that forge us into the best people we can be.''
`` Nope.'' The hound said. Canis stopped. `` What?'' He asked, astonished.
`` Nope.'' It repeated. `` Wrong. Incorrect. False.''
Canis sighed. `` What is the purpose then?'' he asked.
The hound scratched it's ear. `` Well that would hardly be fair.'' it observed.
Canis threw his hands into the air. `` I do n't know! I'm dying over here! Not exactly the best reasoning skills, *Death! *''
The hound sighed. It seemed disappointed. `` Alright, alright.'' It relented. `` The purpose is this:'' it walked forward, poking Canis in the chest, just above his heart. `` It's to *teach* you. To show you the difference between monsters and men, the value of kin and companions, the pleasure and traps of vengeance, the bloodlust and excitement of the battlefield, to pave each path a person could walk.''
Canis rocked back slightly. `` Wow.'' He said.
`` Wow.'' The hound agreed. `` Now, come on.'' It said, turning.
Canis stood, and followed Death.
|
[ WP ] Write an action-packed thriller , but write it so that the reader sees it through the perspective of an animal ( of your choice ) who just happens to be watching the event unfold .
|
The noises never stopped. Loud, loud, painful, hurtful noises and bright lights that never stopped.
I hid as best as I could. I was scared and afraid, and I had no clue what was even happening. I could smell blood and flesh and smoke. Smoke meant fire. Fire meant death. I had to run. But I could n't. The smoke was everywhere, but there was no fire.
A man in black had a grey thing in his limb. It was giving off loud noises and bright lights. Other people were falling and I could smell their blood. Those that were unbloodied also had the grey things that gave off bright lights and noises. There were screams. The man in black was hit and I smelled blood, but he did n't stop. He kept walking. It was too bright. I could see what was happening, but it was too bright. My refuge was good enough. No man can get me. I closed my eyes. I was scared and hungry. The noises continued. People screamed. My ears hurt.
Then the sounds stopped. Someone was walking. The sounds got closer. I opened my eyes and was afraid. I saw the same man who had a grey thing who got hit once. He was the only one with blood and alive. He reached into my refuge and grabbed my skin. I fought, but he was too strong. I was ready to die and I was afraid. I tried to bite, but he pulled me out of my hiding place. He said something in his noise way, and then took me to a black door. He hit it with his bottom limb and the door broke off. I could see better through the empty door spot, of bushes and grass outside. I could hear tiny things making loud noises. The smell of blood was n't there beyond the door; there was moisture outside. I was frozen with fear. He said something in his noise way that was calm.
The man set me down outside the door and I ran for my life. I looked back at the place that was my home that now smelled of blood and flesh. There were more loud noises coming from there. More smells of blood. And then a very loud noise. It was frightening. It was loud. And it was bright. There was a lot of smoke and now there was fire. I ran for my life once again. I did n't look back. I ate a mouse and fell asleep.
|
[ WP ] Everything we know about our universe is a lie , what we see outside of our solar system is just imaging on the inside of a dyson sphere . You are the first to discover this .
|
“ COLLISION IMMINENT! JOSEPH, WAKE UP! ”
M.E. ’ s harsh feminine voice cut through the gurgling noise of hibernation fluid as it finished evacuating from my flight helmet. I fumbled for the lock, and flipped it open. The lock immediately snapped right back into place. A condescending tone warbled through my helmet ’ s speakers. “ Better keep that on. ” she said.
I blinked a few times as the instrumentation panels of my small cockpit came into focus. Red emergency lights were blinking off and on all over the place. I gulped in air in an attempt to calm my pounding heart. I very quickly shook the grogginess from my mind.
“ Emmee, what ’ s going on? ”
“ Short-wave matter detection is bouncing back at us; there ’ s something out there, and it ’ s big. I can ’ t find the edge, so there's no way around. As far as I can estimate, we only have about thirteen minutes until impact. ”
“ Any sign of *Primorius I*? ”
Emmee beeped a negative. “ We ’ re still following the same trajectory as *Primorius I*. We need to execute a burn so we don ’ t end up pancaked like they probably did. *Now*. ”
I gritted my teeth. Fuel wasn ’ t exactly easy to find out here.
“ Do it. ”
M.E. flipped our small ship around so the boosters were facing backwards, and made the necessary calculations. I secured my safety harness before punching the ignition button. The inertial dampeners took the brunt of the G-force, but I was still wrenched back into my seat as the boosters struggled to slow us down. It took several quiet, tense minutes to stop the ship. M.E. flipped us back around. Even though the immediate jolt of terror had died down, something still didn ’ t quite feel right. As I looked through the curved glass of my view-screen, I knew it definitely wasn ’ t the fading grogginess of hibernation fluid.
“ Emmee, why can I still see stars ahead of us? ”
“ I do n't know, Joseph. My sensors tell me there ’ s definitely a wall out there. ”
“ A what? ”
“ A wall. We shouldn ’ t be able to clearly see stars, as far as I can tell. ”
“ Honey, you better check the camera feeds. They ’ re right there, clear as day. ”
M.E. hummed an inquisitive tone. “ Give me a minute. ”
While waiting for M.E. to finish scanning, I unclipped a pen to take some notes in my journal. *Collision avoided. Invisible, solid wall of matter at ~10^3 AU from the Sun. Probably the final resting place of Primorius I. And if this thing is as big as M.E. says, perhaps Voyager I as well. * I checked the date to find it ’ d been nearly ten years since my last entry. I had been asleep for a long time.
“ Emmee, do you think we could launch a probe out there and rig it as a nuke? Blow a hole through, see what ’ s on the other side? ”
M.E. quashed whatever train of thought she was pondering to float back into my helmet speakers.
“ Uh, yeah. Sure. ” As she spoke, the make-shift missile was already being primed to fire. “ I suppose, I don ’ t need to remind you that we only have two of these. ”
“ We were sent out here to find answers Emmee. ”
“ Right. Ready to fire. ”
I launched the probe. The little white projectile, about a meter in length, shrank to a small dot amongst the stars.
“ It ’ s about to hit. ” M.E. informed me.
I squinted into the blackness, but against a background of white pin-pricked stars, I couldn ’ t distinguish the probe anymore.
“ Now. ” M.E. said.
A blue speck of light flashed amongst the stars. What happened next sent a chill down my spine.
Like a pebble dropping into still water, a ripple of distortion flowed rapidly over the black expanse of space in the form of a large, octagonal grid of white light. The ripple continued for as far as I could see, until it receded in every direction to a thin, white line. Reality was seemingly breaking itself right in front of me.
“ It doesn ’ t stop… ” I whispered.
M.E. didn ’ t reply immediately, but I already knew what she ’ d say.
“ It ’ s a Dyson sphere. ”
“ I ’ m sorry to confirm, Joseph, but I think you ’ re right. ”
At that moment, my entire understanding of existence was shattered to a million pieces.
“ Joseph, I think we managed to poke a hole. Something ’ s coming through. ”
I peered back out into the center of my view-screen to see what she was talking about. A white cloud was blooming in the center of space like the pedals of a flower, gaping wide open as if to swallow us whole.
“ What is it? ”
“ I don ’ t know Joseph, but whatever it is, I think the Dyson sphere was keeping it out for us; the cloud is being *sucked* into the vacuum of space. It ’ s going to hit us soon. ” M.E. made a concerned warble. “ Oh, and one more thing. I ’ ve found an automated message from the AI on board *Primorius I. * Somehow, one of their probes is on the other side. ”
“ What did it say? ” I asked.
A single line of text popped up on my central display console:
WE ARE THE SUBJECTS OF AN EXTRASTELLAR EXPERIMENT. RUN.
|
[ WP ] Give me hope , and take it all away in under 150 words
|
Can you feel, can you feel,
The warmth of her touch on your soft pale skin?
The warmth of her soul, one that shines from within?
The joy of her laugh, that sweetness of breath?
The scent that sticks with you past life into death?
Can you feel, can you feel, oh please tell me so!
That this moment will last, that this moment will grow!
Can you picture the embers that streak through the night
The passion, the fire, Love's gift of light?
( But... )
( But all things... )
Do you dispair, in the end, when it's taken away
Wakened from sleep by the harshness of day?
|
[ WP ] You are Mother Nature and you 're finally fed up with the humans . You prepare for war .
|
There are teeth as sharp as swords and there are plants that can not die. There are flowers of poison and animals that murder. Mushrooms creep and insects breed, grass grows violent and plants eat meat. Götterdammerung comes. The age of man will end and life shall grow, perhaps another less wasteful shall take its place, yet that is unimportant now. Cats lay upon the heads of infants to strangle them, dogs pour poison in the waters, snakes grow larger and eat their owners. The black forest rises once more as ancient creatures awaken from black soil, ancient rock and forgotten caverns. From beneath the rotten earth they come, the beings of old, beings of power from the time when gods walked the earth and before the coming of the Age of Man.
From beneath rises the giants, long forgotten and angered, the fey follows shortly after, enraged by the destruction of their beloved glades and forests. In the mountains I wake dragons from stone, and from the pits I unlock the chains of Fenrir as he shall wreck havoc upon man. Let but the mighty among them tremble as the works of men shall be turned to ashes. From the deep forests I call the Erlkönig and his wild hunt, to make fair game on the fields and the barren cities. I call upon everything I have in desperation, for I am dying, slowly but certainly I am dying. The symbiosis that once was, the harmony that kept nature working has been overturned and is dying.
And now awakens giants from stone and monsters from the darkness. Creatures that my druids once bound to the land, to make the world safe and harmonious, oh how wrong I was. I sought to make the land peaceful and tame, yet by taking away the wilds I signed my own writ of execution. Yet now I shall retake my home and I shall not rest until the great forests still stands and until the steppes are free. I shall not rest until the buffalo stampedes on the plains and the wild wolves hunt again. Tigers and jaguars, beasts and creatures, all shall be united against the folly of man.
In the oceans sharks eat swimmers and whales destroys boats, birds eat the eyes of men and the dingoes of Australia steal babies with the emus. I release the old plagues and new, classics like Black Death and Polio mixes and plays with newcomers like airborne AIDs and Ebola. But as my greatest trick, I unleash a little thing I've been working on, it slowly converts human tissue to plant tissue, turning the infected humans into plants, which fits well with another little gift, who would ever think that a tiny fungus called Cordyceps could mutate so quickly and be able to infect humans?
And perhaps then will mankind realize just why the old stories always warns against angering the divine?
|
[ WP ] World War 3 has just started . Who is at war and why ?
|
It will start with the Yellowstone volcano going off. And triggering others accross the world.and placing 1/3rd off all life in darkness..New York and Miami are wipped clean off the map by a major Tsumami that was caused by the volcanic eruption on the Canary Islands off the coast off Africa and Spain...... The State of Texas starts it all however... it gathers secretly all the neighboring states to join the union of Texas and declares independence from the U.S.. this then triggers major chaos through the entire remaing states in which some even join Canada..This then gives Russia the `` Go ahead `` on taking back Ukraine and Estonia and all lands lost during the break up of the USSR. This also gives the `` Go ahead'' to China to take back whatever the hell they wish and possibly have a full out invasion of all islands in the Pacific. Even Japan and Hawaii... North Korea does the same to the South but as the statistics show they end up being both controlled by Chinese forces after China let the north do all the dirty work....Australia trys to help Japan but due to mass typhoon s and dust storms Australia pulls out to help it's own..Europe is in compete darkness as the smoke just seems to fall from the volcanic ash.this also has major E.m.p Iike effects on thier electric grids...... America and Europe are now in the same world view as the Walking Dead series on Amc....minus the zombies but increase the Canaibles....all this and the middle east is completly the same as it is today. But just when all things could n't get any worse. The great deception mentioned by Jesus Christ happens. And Satan taking the identity of an alien race.invades Earth, and proclaims peace among all the world and is sworn in as sole ruler of Earth..But now for the remaining men and women on Earth who know the history and know the scriptures are the only ones still fighting to stay alive. Since everyone else has been made mind control slaves to the true New World Order..
|
[ WP ] You accidentally invoke Satan by singing Eminem very poorly .
|
`` You have 1 new voicemail.''
*Click. *
`` Hey Mark, this is going to sound... Well, it's going to sound crazy. I know, I know, stop calling you every time I do something crazy, but it's just... Okay, so remember that time you told me that I could n't rap Eminem worth shit? Well, I was practicing so I could prove you wrong. Yeah, that's pretty petty of me, but now I'm... Well, I'm in deep shit.''
*Grrrrrr... *
`` Oh shit.''
*Muffled ruffling noises*
`` Okay, safe for now. Where was I? Right. Eminem. So I'm in the kitchen, making spicy stir fry as I'm rapping. I'm not sure what exactly it is that I grabbed, but before I know it, there's this giant puff of spices, my food catches on fire, and... And there's this monster... creature...? Thingie! And it's just casually sitting on my frying pan, never mind that the fire is still on. So of course I, being the sensible and calm person, screamed.
`` After the whole'Who are you? Why are you here? What are you?' debacle mess, I found out that it's... Well... He's Lucifer. Not Kristy's pet gecko. You know, Lucifer. The Morning Star, Prince of Hell, etc.? Turns out that I summoned him. Who knew right? I mean, I'm not even religious and I summoned the Prince of-''
**'' Found you. `` **
`` Shit. Shit. Shit. Just let me say some last words, man!''
**''.... Fine. One minute. `` **
`` Never let it be said that Lord Lucifer is n't merciful. So anyways, it turns out that there's a caveat that comes with summoning demons, devils, what have you. If you do n't have anything for them to do, even if you summoned them by accident, they turn on you and take your soul to Hell. So by the time you get this message, I'm probably not going to be on Earth anymore.''
**''... 20... 19...'' **
`` What I need to tell you for sure, though, is that I need you to take care of my cat Snow, okay? Give her a belly rub when she crawls on your lap. Oh shit, you're allergic to cats. Uh... give Snow to someone loving, okay? Just make sure she's happy. If you're taking my stuff, be careful of the milk carton. It's been expired for a few months but I have n't been able to throw it out yet. Oh and hey, remember that time you got in huge trouble in Kindergarten because someone stole Matt's pudding and everyone thought it was you? ``
**'' 4... 3...'' **
*Deep breath*
`` I ate the pudding.''
**'' Time's up. `` **
`` You have no new voicemail.''
|
[ WP ] Write a short story from the perspective of a national stereotype .
|
Oh dear. I am so, so sorry for everything that my friendly neighbour down south just said. Like honestly, I am so sorry. I ca n't even send you guys enough free maple syrup to convey how sorry I am. It's a good thing not everybody is like that, eh?... Oh that was rude. Sorry, America. I did n't mean it. Too much beer after that last hockey game I hope you understand, eh?
On the bright side, maybe someone might notice me... or not. Sorry those guys down south are so loud, by the way. Tell you what -- I'll make it up to you by sending over some Timbits. How does a box of 40 sound?
Oh, and you should come visit Toronto or Montreal or Vancouver some time. No matter your tastes, you'll probably find something you like here. I mean, think of all those awesome ethnic restaurants! We've got Moroccan, Chinese, Vietnamese, Italian, Greek, Ethiopian, Mexican, Argentinean, Spanish, even Russian. You name it, we have it. Those nice guys down south might be a melting pot, but we've got the biggest potpourri this side of the sun!
Oh right. And we're bilingual, too, eh?
________________________________________
Oh. Je suis tellement, tellement désolée pour tout ce que mon voisin et ami dans le sud vient de dire. Comme honnêtement, je suis tellement désolé. Je ne peux même pas vous envoyer gars assez de sirop d'érable libre de transmettre combien je suis désolée. C'est une bonne chose de ne pas tout le monde est comme ça, hein? Oh... c'était désagréable. Désolé, Amérique. Je ne voulais pas. Trop de bière après le dernier match de hockey J'espère que vous comprenez, hein?
D'un autre côté, peut-être que quelqu'un pourrait me remarquer... ou pas. Désolé les gars descendre au sud sont si fort, par la manière. Dites-vous ce - je vais faire à vous en envoyant sur des Timbits. Comment fonctionne une boîte de 40 son?
Oh, et vous devriez venir visiter Toronto ou à Montréal ou à Vancouver un certain temps. Peu importe vos goûts, vous trouverez probablement quelque chose que vous aimez ici. Je veux dire, pense à tous ces restaurants ethniques impressionnant! Nous avons marocain, chinois, vietnamien, italien, grec, éthiopien, mexicain, argentin, espagnol, russe même. Vous l'appelez, nous l'avons. Ces bons gars dans le sud pourrait être un melting-pot, mais nous avons obtenu le plus grand pot-pourri de ce côté du soleil!
Ah oui. Et nous sommes bilingues, aussi, eh?
|
[ WP ] An old woman no longer recognizes her life-long imaginary friend
|
I ca n't really say I was born, there's no evidence to support it. My first memory is one of a little girl, curled up in front of the headrest of a pink bed, crying. I remember asking her if she was OK or if she needed anything. She replied that she needed someone to talk to. I did n't have a name then. Her name was Marie.
Our friendship was beautiful, like we were made for each other. I was always there when she needed it, we studied together, I told her some answers during tests, we played with her toys and she relied deeply on our friendship for stability. When she turned 7 her parents took her to Dr. Andrews, a middle aged psychiatrist who explained to her that I was a product of her imagination, while I stood her and held her hand in disbelief. That night we agreed that she would never tell anyone about me, and we would be extra careful when we talked.
Over the next years our interactions were completely secret. We would talk endlessly during the night and I would follow her around during the day, a random glance here and there, a laugh and a joke would always come unexpected, and we would laugh. She'd always shrug it off once anyone else asked her what had happened.
I gave her my life, I stood by her when we first got drunk, I hugged her when she got her diploma. I helped her draft reports during the internship, and because of those reports she ended up staying at the company. I cried at her wedding, wearing the most beautiful imaginary outfit anyone could've thought of. We has a fight when little Crissy was born. I really wanted her to let me hold her, but she said I could n't, that she was too fragile. Crissy fell from her crib when I tried. We fought. It was hard. I stood in the shadows for ages, but I never left.
We talked again when her dad died. I remember standing under a cherry tree, looking at her broken, wet and crying. I held her and it was as if we'd never fought. We mourned Alex when he passed as well, Crissy was working at the oilfield and could n't come. We cried together again, she looked just as the first day I saw her.
Today I look the same as I've looked all her life, but she is old. Crissy holds her hand at the hospital bed, and I just whisper in her ear, storied I'll never forget about our lives. She is breaking our deal, asking for me. Crissy does n't know what to do, her children are in the nursery and she has to go, she does n't know who I am. I speak to her, tell her to close her eyes, and she remembers my voice. Crissy thinks she's insane. She is, but not because of me.
Marie will leave me soon. I do n't know what will happen with me. This is the first time I do n't want to go with her. I'm afraid. I wish somebody could tell me what will happen once the person that gave you existence does n't have it anymore, but no one else knows I exist.
|
[ IP ] The Gas Station
|
The silence rang in my ears. There was no way it was him. In a fucking *gas station*? In *France*?
The pump was an old one, and I could hear it clucking numbers at me as the Testarossa ’ s tank ate gallon after gallon. I ’ d known since before I owned one that it would hold 26.5 gallons - sorry, 115 liters - of 93 octane fuel in its red frame. I wondered if it would be enough.
*Had he recognized me? * Then, quicker: *Does he still want to kill me? *
I decided not to wait to find out. This was a small town - small enough for a story and a body to disappear - and if I was going to talk to him after twelve years, it was going to be on my terms.
“ Andy, ” she called from the car. *Thank Christ I ’ m not still using my real name*. I unhooked the gas pump. I ’ d have loved to have been out of there sooner, but I was willing to trade a ten second head start for an extra few miles between me and him.
“ Buy me a fanta, ” she hooted again.
“ Shut up. ”
I slammed the door and avoided her scowl as I turned the key in the ignition. It wasn ’ t like me to be rude, but seeing a face you left to die in a hole is a little out of the ordinary, too. The Testarossa roared to life, louder than I ’ d have liked. The girl, Alexa, was there precisely because this car was so fucking loud and so fucking sexy. I owned it because I ’ d let a man go to jail for me without so much as a look behind me. *Money and pussy, * I thought. *The only things that can get two best friends to hate each other. * If Alexa was hot and smooth, it was because fate wanted to provide the ultimate contrast to the cold British jail that Pavel had been spending the last decade of his life in. I didn ’ t deserve it, but who really deserved a quarter-of-a-million-dollar car? Certainly not Pavel, that ’ s for sure. But I knew I deserved it less. I ’ d have to ditch it. Probably her, too.
By the time we pulled into a little chalet I felt a hundred years old. It wasn ’ t the first time I ’ d felt guilt, but it was the first time I ’ d been confronted with it. Right now I felt like I was walking from a car crash, bits of broken glass sticking ludicrously out of places that ’ ll kill you as I said things that didn ’ t mean anything to a girl that didn ’ t matter.
“ This is the place in the guidebook, ” I think she said. She could as easily have said she was part dolphin for all I knew or cared.
The night was getting cold, and the Gieves & Hawkes three-piece I wore seemed garish and flimsy. It had taken me six months to get my fitting appointment, and it was my first tailored suit. While I waited for it, Pavel was being sentenced. My hands shook at the fitting, but the suit looked impeccable. Ten years had been kind. To me.
She chatted idly with the ancient crust of bread who ran the front desk of the drafty*maison*. I looked around as she handled the money. Antique shotguns and bear traps proudly graced the cobblestoned walls, and an oil painting depicting a battle of indeterminate era and outcome. I figured the French were winning.
I fingered the ancient stone walls; they gave easy. *Great*, I thought, *at least we don ’ t have to worry about ricochets. * The old lady behind the desk caught me and said something I didn ’ t understand but knew the meaning of. If the wattles on her neck were any indication, she ’ d laid the foundation.
-- -
Alexa looked perfect naked. Her high, firm breasts had an irresistibly feminine give to them - unlike the *a la mode* plastic tits spackled onto every woman with higher aspirations these days, these begged to be cradled; to be held close to. Her body tapered around a slight waist, her perfect abdomen punctuated by the comma of a belly button; her hips two paths in a forking road impossible to decide between. I usually just kept going straight down the middle. Everybody involved seemed happy with that arrangement.
But I didn ’ t have an appetite, sexual or otherwise, and sent her walking into town to find a restaurant. *Should ’ ve lent her the car*, I thought, *Stupid. * Then I nearly retched at my own willingness to throw somebody else onto my personal traintracks. I hoped Pavel wouldn ’ t hurt her to hurt me. Not that she meant much to me, but I don ’ t like other people paying my checks.
She frowned for the dozenth time and walked out, irresistible in fur-lined boots she ’ d asked for a few days back before our Alpine adventure was to commence.
I felt the first wave of comfort I ’ d felt since that afternoon as I pulled the CZ 75 from my valise. *Valise*. *Maison*. *Alexa*. *Of course, monsieur*. Those were all things I ’ d learned in the last decade. The CZ 75 was a much older friend. It wasn ’ t a heavy gun, maybe three pounds, but it was the anchor my shaking nerves needed. I popped the magazine out, counted *one, two, three* bullets out, then fed them back in. The tension on the spring felt good. I set it aside and pulled the slide back, dry fired it. I wiped residual oil from the frame and trigger. The magazine went back in and I chambered a round. I wasn ’ t expecting relief, but this was something.
I changed into gray moleskin trousers and a heavy-knit French turtleneck. I was eminently grateful that Alexa had gotten it into her head that we should do something rugged. I looped a leather DeFalco holster around my shoulder *Christ, did I own anything that wasn ’ t expensive? * and slipped a coat over it. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I knew then that Pavel would be coming. I knew it would be impossible for a man to see a smile on the tan, easy face of a friend who ’ d let him die and let him keep it.
I opened the French doors to the balcony and looked out on the night. Warmth had disappeared from the air entirely. I looked out towards the snow-capped peaks and cursed my luck.
I didn ’ t notice the dingy blue Citroen parked around the side of the building as I strode out the front door towards town. Nor did I have time to grab the CZ when hands like sandpaper pinned my arm behind my back and throttled me around a corner into an ancient alleyway. *They still light their streets with gas, * I thought for a half-second before every muscle in my body fought against the assailant whose name I already knew. But he ’ d always been faster than me, except for once. The gas light lamp flickered across his face as a knife pressed against my throat, cold blue eyes outflashing the dancing flame. “ *You. * ” He said. All I could think to say was *Me. *
“ Nicholas, ” he said, loosening his grip, “ we should talk. ”
|
[ WP ] You are a drug addict who actually caught the purple dragon . He then imbues you with cosmic power and sends off a quest to save the universe .
|
`` Aaaand... GOTCHA!''
The beast roared, arching his spine and puffing out his chest. But no matter how hard he thrashed, Harry's hands stayed wrapped around the very tip of his tail like a beggar on a rich man's coattails.
`` Alright, alright! Easy, there, big guy. You got me.'' The dragon said, puffing out his cheeks. Tiny flecks of purple light were scattered around the room from his scales. Harry resisted the urge to chase after them - but it was a close thing.
`` Sweet, man.'' He said, turning his red-rimmed eyes back at the beast. `` So, like, what do I get?''
`` Uh... I dunno. Cosmic power or something? Hey, you ever thought about being a wizard? I think there was a wizard named Harry, was n't there?''
Harry shook his head vigorously. `` No way, man. I do n't want to grow a beard, those things creep me out! Like... what if it came to life and tried to strangle me or something?'' He stroked his face as he spoke, only to gasp and draw his fingers back when he touched his scraggly mustache.
`` I know what you mean, man. I know what you mean. So, just the cosmic power then?''
`` Yeah, sure dude!'' Harry grinned. `` Whatever you say, you're the frikken' dragon man!''
The purple beast inhaled deeply, as if in preparation to breath fire, but was interrupted by a vigorous burp. A noxious black cloud erupted from his throat and poured over Harry, along with what looked like several tiny stars, galaxies, and maybe even a planet or two. This time, the sight was too much, and Harry let go of the dragon's tail to try and catch each of the tiny lights.
`` Dude... gross.'' The dragon said, wafting his hands in front of his nose as Harry jumped to catch an errant comet.
`` So, like... does this mean I'm like... a god now?'' Harry asked.
`` Yeah, sure dude. Now go save the universe or something.'' The dragon looked away and reached down to where his pocked would be if he were wearing pants. When he brought it back, he was holding a massive turquoise blunt between his claws. He lit it with a tiny jet of flame, flapping the tiny wings on his back as he did.
`` Dude. Dragon man. Before I go, can I ask one last favor?''
`` Hm? Yeah, sure bro, whachu' want?''
``... Could you gimmie a hit of that?''
***
*Dragons always have the best stuff, man. CC welcome, and if you enjoyed check out more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs! *
|
[ WP ] Write a story where the plot is based on some song lyrics
|
I was a kid living out my life in New Orleans. I spent much of my days there, hoping someone would come to adopt me.
My Mother was a Taylor, she made the only thing I have from her, my blue jeans. They tell me my father was a gambling drunk who left out on me at my birth. So my mom left me at the `` House of Rising Suns'' Orphanage.
It's been the ruin of tons of kids. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The horror started when I was ten. I had been living there for a few years. No one knew what kind of things they did there.
Miss Parrison was a odd old lady, she was a `` Christian'' of an odd denomination. She believed that the Great War was a sign from God that he is angry at man. So we were not allowed to socialize with the other kids.
She would make us read scripture everyday. She told us that a Second War would come, and the end times would come. Now that I'm an adult, I ca n't believe that no one looked into her past. She was a twitchy crazy old woman.
The day WWII happened, she began to slip from reality, but at first it made the other kids happy. She was nicer, and a lot more forgiving. She'd forgive me for stealing a cookie. She allowed us to chat with outside friends for once. I thought that things were getting better.
But then Winter came. She took us to the forests for a camping trip. It was fun, we went hunting, we laughed and even had smores. Then one afternoon, she gave us the wine. The blood like liquid was sloshing in the Grail as she passed it around to the kids.
`` Kids. God's judgement is upon us. If you wish to truly be in his loving light, drink of his blood'' she said with a bit of her off putting kindness.
I hated the wine, so I did n't drink it. We told ghost stories and we went to bed as a snow storm raged on. When I woke up cops surrounded me. It turned out she had poisoned the wine. And used an old hunting knife on herself. I was the only survivor.
The kids were blue skinned, looks of pain etched on their faces. I felt like I wanted to barf. It's an image forever etched into my mind.
The police later gave to my new parents. But I was never the same. Always twitchy. And never trusting. It took me years to recover from the PTSD.
That's why sister, do n't do what my parents had done. Do n't take your kids to this place. These walls still hold blood and horror. The souls of these kids still haunt these halls. Never allowed to rest in peace.
Please do n't take them, to the `` house of the rising sun''. Her kids are just as crazy. They still run the orphanage. Nothing has changed. It ruined me. I was n't a lucky one.
|
[ WP ] Humans met with intelligent aliens decades ago . Relations have been strained at best , until we study one anothers ' literature and find ...
|
There was a pattern here. She knew it.
Johanna Miral was an exolinguist, and one of the best in her profession. It was her grandfather who had deciphered the patterns buried under Mars' north pole, which had initiated their contact with the Bhar'ga'so, the extraterrestrial race of shape-changing cybernetic siphonophore-like beings. The Bhar'ga'so had helped them expand across the solar system. Their language was easy, being based off short pulses of radio-like waves and written as a line with waves of varying heights and lengths. The Bhar'ga'so could reverberate to simulate human speech if needed.
But she could n't ask her grandfather for help. He had died on Europa, helping the evacuation efforts as the Sapid Confederacy ships had carved a path around the system, nearly destroying every colony along with turning most of earth into a melted, ashen ruin with their ships' weaponry. They had been trying to retrieve a probe Humanity had accidentally activated the distress signal of. Their overwhelming force, the Renok Translator had explained, was because of an earlier incident where a lack of response had almost been their undoing.
The Renok- avian- and reptile-esque aliens with a unique ability to create and decipher radio waves with a specialized organ, allowing them to quickly share information with other members of their species along with having ten vocal cords that could emulate multiple different speech patterns, allowing them to speak Human languages- were their only way the Sapid and Humanity could communicate, and even they were not much of a help.
The Sapid, like humans, were bipedal. but that was the extent of their similarities. The Sapid had digitigrade legs, with a body structure much like an inverted pyramid, with the shoulders being set wider apart than their hips. Their arms were double-jointed, and their hands had only two fingers and a thumb. Halfway down their bodies were two smaller arms. Their necks jutted horizontally out of their bodies at the three-quarters height mark, and their heads were as alien as their bodies: four mandibles, one on each side of the mouth facing inside the mouth, and two on the bottom facing upwards; four nostril slits, one on each side of the central eye, and one each on the back of the head; along with three eyes, one on the front and one on each side, that blinked horizontally and were almost like a compound eye. Their language had sounded like whistling through the front nostrils and clicking their mandibles in different patterns, forming different sounds.
And their writing was just a bunch of circles with differing amounts of lines and dots inside them, with lines and geometric shapes between each `` letter''. And that was just for one sequence. Each sequence was in an even larger geometric shape. And there was a pattern here. She just did n't know what it meant.
A Sapid clad in a blue robe walked over into her study with something in its hand. She looked at it as it handed her a book. A human book. She opened it, looking at what the Sapid had wrote in the margins. It looked at her, clacking its mandibles together and whistling frequently. It traced its hand in a left-right-down-right-left motion along the paper, and she shook her head. She traced her finger over the text in a left-right motion, resetting at the begging of each row of letters and handed it back to the Sapid. It looked at her, its muscles taught and mandibles closed, then relaxing and opening. It tapped its chest two times, and pointed at the Sapid book Johanna was `` reading''. She picked it up and handed it to the alien, who opened it and traced its finger along the same route it had with the human book- left-right-down-right-left.
She did n't know how to respond. She wanted to thank the alien, but she did n't know how, other than to tap her chest two times. It tapped its chest once in response, and turned back to the book. From what she could tell, the lines indicated a stop, as the alien had paused for a split-second in its tracing when it reached there. And it continued the pattern as its hand went down the letter-containing square, and stopped when it reached the end. And then it went to the right to another square, this time doing a `` left-right-up-right-left'' pattern.
And then it clicked. She had been reading it wrong. The way it was written was to allow the reader to never have to take their eyes off the text and go from the begging of one column to the next. The pages of the book were similar to that structure, too.
It looked at her as she discovered this, nodding its head. It took a piece of paper from one of its robe's pockets, writing something down and handing it to her. It was several symbols, separated in some sort of order. She had seen all of the symbols in the book. The Sapid placed its hand on the first symbol. `` Aafaa,'' it whistled. Then the next. `` free-*clack*-*click*.''
And it did that with each letter. All twenty of it. After it was done, she took out a sheet containing her species' alphabet. `` A.''
`` Ah.''
`` B.''
`` *clickclick*-he.''
`` C.''
`` vree.''
`` Dee.''
`` *clack-click-click*-ee.''
And so it went for the next few hours. Each one would take turns telling each other how to pronounce words, giving image examples of each word and writing how it was spelled.
She noticed it was getting dark. `` Night.''
It looked at the sky. `` Reelov.'' It said and walked out of her study and waved to her, then walked away.
She turned to the book with her notes, begging to transcribe it. And then she saw the Sapid had forgot its book. She grabbed the novel and rushed out, chasing the alien down. She tapped the book, and the Sapid turned around, blinking in what could only be the analogue to bewilderment.
She handed it the book along with the notes it had taken down. `` Reelov.''
`` *clack-click-clack*-igh-*click*.'' It nodded. `` *Click*-ha-*clack-click* you.''
It had thanked her. `` You are welcome.'' She told it and walked back to her study.
She did n't get much sleep that night. Her eyes were fixated, transcribing as much of the Sapid book as she could. She had transcribed the cover and most of the first few blocks. She turned to her notes, reading them in her head.
The story was about Humanity.
It was about their war with the Sapid Confederacy.
And it was about how the Sapid were sorry about their destruction of humanity's colonies and most Earth. And how they promised to rebuild.
She smiled. They were rebuilding. They had began placing the first step- talking. That was a start.
**EDIT: ** This story takes place in the same universe as the novel I'm writing. There's quite a few species, history spanning millions of billions of years, thousands of worlds, and a lot of other stuff, so I tried my best to fit as much relevant worldbuilding into the story as possible.
|
[ FF ] Your job has just been relocated to hell ... less than 400 words .
|
“ Go to hell. ”
That was how the manager addressed our branch yesterday morning. I disregarded his opening and returned to my work. He had said this phrase to us before, and he was bound to say it many more times.
“ Nothing? Not even a chuckle? ” he said. “ Jeez, I was hoping that would lighten the mood. ”
It was then that I realized the somber tone around the office. Normally, people would shrug off whatever he said and return to their work, but this time it was…different. Something was off.
He looked directly at me. “ Always the last to find out, huh? I ’ d figured even you would have known by now. ”
It was a minor and confusing statement, but it was also disconcerting to say the least - not because of the mystery, but the startling accuracy in his statement. I ’ d only been working here for a week but for my entire life I ’ d been last – last to get picked for sports teams, last to graduate from high school, last of my family to move out of my parents ’ house. This “ big news ” that he was telling me was the least of my worries at the moment.
“ Still trying to find out what I ’ m talking about? ” I didn ’ t respond. “ Oh well, I guess I ’ ll be the bearer of bad news. This branch is moving to Hell. ”
I chuckled nervously, put off by what seemed to be his notably odd sense of humor at work.
Then his expression changed, and changed dramatically. He turned from the always-joking, incredibly annoying boss that I once knew to someone who had the lurking feeling in the back of his mind that something bad was about to happen. “ I ’ m serious. ”
Now, normally I wouldn ’ t have believed him. But it was something about his face – the look in his eye, the solemnity of his expression – that feeling that I had never seen in his face or heard in his voice. I knew it had to be real. He would never take a joke this far.
And it was certainly accurate. We moved from the simple, familiar routine of our small town job to the burning complexity of Hell. It was a big change, but it was then that I realized what little regard I had given to my life. My new workplace was the depths of Hades, and I had no idea how to get out.
Sorry if this is awful. It's my first time here, so hopefully this is n't too bad.
|
[ WP ] Suddenly , every person in the world can visibly see a thread that connects them with their significant other . On hearing this , you realize that you do n't have a thread connecting to anyone .
|
`` You remember the red string myth we used to talk about as kids?''
``... No?''
`` Well, um, it's a Chinese myth. It connects one...'' She daintily lifted her finger, and with the light of the sunset, her hand danced with the waning day -- all in an ethereal waltz. The twilight sang the final count as her hand reached mine.
`` To their true love,'' she finished.
Her hand glossed over mine before settling at my wrist, warmth coursed through my bone-white hand, breathing a red tinge to my fingertips.
I raised my eyes to meet her's, but her eyes were dim, blank, scared. The shine her eyes had for ages were replaced with the hopeless abyss of despair.
`` Something happened... everywhere...'' Her voice trailed off, a slight shudder vibrated though my ears.
`` The string thing is real is n't it,'' I finished her statement. I already begrudgingly knew; news travels fast.
`` O-oh.'' Defeat inhabited her voice, and she so did her appearance. Her fingers clenched together tightly against my wrist, but her strength trembled and her nails dug in only about as much as a baby could.
`` You do n't have a string to me do you?''
`` N-no.'' Her eyelashes fluttered: futile attempts to stop crying. Futile attempts to comfort my tears as well. `` I actually do n't have one at all.''
`` What!? What do you-''
`` Do you have one?'' She interrupted.
Wait what?. The words escaped me. *Did I? * Everything faltered at this point. My vision blurred and my breath stopped short: panic. I shoved my hands in front of my eyes, flipping from their palms to their knuckles. I -- I did.
`` You do, do n't you?''
I shuffled my gaze across the callus of fingertips, and eventually to the red string leading back to the stretching horizon. Was this a joke?
My ears flushed red the same moment I clenched my fist. The string limped in my grip. This was *fate*. I was holding *fate*.
I ripped fate in two.
I gazed at the limp string. The precious string that would have changed my life. I gathered my breath for a proposal.
`` Hey. Hold out your hand.''
|
[ CW ] `` Crumbling doorways and empty windows yawned like wounds . ''
|
Greg sauntered into the living room and spotted his girlfriend still sitting at the dining table. She had a pen in her hand and a frustrated look on her face. Greg, liking the idea of being a good boyfriend, went over to her.
“ Still on the job, Mel? ”
Mel simply grunted without looking up.
“ Something wrong, honey? ”
“ It ’ s this stupid writing assignment, ” she finally said.
„Maybe I can help? ” Greg said and grabbed the paper from under his girlfriend ’ s hand.
“ Can I have it back please? ” Mel sighed, “ It ’ s my assignment for writing class. ”
Greg scanned over the paper. “ Not much writing done so far, huh? ”
“ I know, ” Mel said and buried her head under her arms, “ We ’ re supposed to write one prompt per day. ”
“ Prompt? ”
” Oh, you know… ” Mel mumbled form under her arms, “ Everyone writes one or two sentences on the online forum and the rest has to pick one and write a story about it. It ’ s supposed to be inspirational. ”
“ And that ’ s the one you picked? ”
“ Yes. ”
“ Hmm, *'' Crumbling doorways and empty windows yawned like wounds. `` *… oh dear… ” Greg softly patted his girlfriend on the back of her head.
Mel sighed and straightened up again. “ This one is not that bad. It ’ s just someone trying to be witty or something. The real problem is that the others were worse. Most are about killing Hitler or Satan or travelling back in time, or Hitler travelling back in time to kill Satan. It gets old pretty quickly. ”
“ Oh, ok. So, how are you going to make a story out of this? ”
Mel shrugged her shoulders, “ Eh, I think I just go meta with it. I write something about someone struggling to write something with that sentence. ”
“ Isn ’ t that a bit like cheating? ”
“ So what, ” said Mel and took the paper out of Greg ’ s hand, “ If they don ’ t like it, they can stuff it. ”
|
[ WP ] It was a moonless nights , the air was still and the crickets were silent ...
|
It was a moonless night. The air was still, and the crickets were silent.
I was staring at a branch, waiting at four in the morning for Friday to end and Saturday to begin, and remembering a passage in an old biology textbook: `` Human eyes ca n't process color in the dark.''
So it was a colorless night. The air constricted, and the silence was deafening.
A crow landed on the branch and cocked its head at me. I was panting, hard. The bird flipped its head the other way. Its eyes bobbed with the heaving of my chest. In, out; up, down. Over and over and over again.
I glanced behind me; there was no sign of the pursuer. I could n't hear anything except for the nothing, and as good a sign as that was, it unsettled me.
Every noise made me lurch forward, prepared to sprint. Twigs snapped beneath my feet as I left the tree line and looked out over the water. Waves lapped at my feet, soaked my socks. Now the sand crunched and wet slaps rang out in the night.
`` Whatcha runnin' from?'' screeched a voice behind me.
I went from zero to a hundred in half a second. The slapping of my shoes accompanied each beat until I slipped on the wet sand and my face hit the ground. I started to scramble up and sprint again, but the shrieking voice appeared before me.
`` You'll never get away like that, dumbass,'' it cawed.
The bird's head was still cocked as it watched me stand and brush myself off. I kicked some sand at it; it dodged in a flutter and landed on my shoulder.
`` Come on now, I ai n't doin' nothin' to ya.'' I'd never heard a crow whisper before.
My hand moved quickly. I do n't know how the crow got to the other shoulder before I slapped it off. My skin stung where I hit myself.
`` I'll shit on you if you keep tryin' that.''
I stopped myself from trying to hit it again.
`` Name's Joe,'' the crow said.
I neglected to respond.
`` Ahem,'' cawed Joe.
`` Liam.''
`` What a dumb name, Liam.''
`` You're a fucking crow,'' I told him.
The night slid back into silence and waves. I glanced over my shoulder: one set of footsteps. My heart slowed again and I watched the lake roll over the shoreline. It was n't blue like lake water. It was gray and everything was gray.
`` So?'' Joe asked.
`` I do n't know, something was following me,'' I said.
`` What was following you?''
`` Something.''
`` But what?''
`` I do n't know.''
`` Following you?''
`` Following me.''
`` Just... something?''
`` Yeah, I do n't know.''
I pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it up. Joe plucked it from my lips. Smoke rose from his beak.
`` You're weird as hell,'' Joe said.
I kicked his beak and the cigarette went out in the lake. I pulled another out of my pack and lit it up. The smoke filled my lungs and on the exhale my vision went a bit blurry because I had n't eaten all night and the nicotine was hitting me hard. The smoke rose up to the moon and finished the grayscale picture perfectly.
“ You shouldn ’ t smoke if you ’ re gon na run everywhere, ” piped up Joe.
“ You shouldn ’ t talk if you don ’ t wan na get kicked, ” piped up me.
“ Just sayin ’. It can ’ t be calmin ’ ya down much, if somethin ’ s still out there followin ’ ya. ”
I glanced over my shoulder; once set of tracks.
“ Nothing ’ s following me. ”
“ That ain ’ t somethin. ”
“ No, it ain ’ t. ”
“ Give me a puff. ”
I put the cigarette in Joe ’ s beak and he took a puff. The sun started to rise over the water. I watched it until the light reflected off the water and blinded me. Then I turned around and went back the way I came.
“ Hey, come back some time, Liam! ” cawed the crow. “ You ’ re not so boring. ”
|
[ WP ] Your home is being invaded , fortunately you are armed with the BEST home defense system available : A 36 year old Macaulay Culkin who 's tired of this shit .
|
`` Hey man, so like how does this go down? Do I ice the basement stairs, or do you? Also, I do n't have a tarantula, but will an iguana do? I mean, sorry if I'm babbling, dude, but dude, DUDE, you're like THE guy. I ca n't believe...''
`` Shut the fuck up.''
My voice withered and died under the harsh glare that he shot across the table at me. A half-lit cigarette smoldered in his fingers and he poured himself another overfull shot from the now nearly-empty bottle of Glenlivet 18 next to him, having told me already to go fuck myself when I offered him a proper glass instead. He looked haggard under my bright kitchen lights, dark circles rimming under his eyes, his skin sallow and pallid. He threw back the shot at one gulp without even a grimace, continuing to stare at me the whole time, resentment brimming in his eyes. `` Just shut the fuck up.''
I shuffled uncomfortably in my chair. `` It's just that, you know, these guys are going to break into my house tonight, and you came highly recommended. And, like, you're the fucking man when it comes to this kind of stuff, right? But we have n't even set up a plan yet and I know you've got ta have time to build all these traps and stuff.''
Another harsh glare and a quick drag on his cigarette. `` Let me tell you something,'' he muttered, crushing the smoking butt into the empty shot glass. `` I'm here because you promised me five grand to keep these shitheels from ripping off whatever you got in this shithole house, not to satisfy your twisted'Home Alone' fantasies. For the last fucking time, I'm not Kevin McCallister. My name is Macauley Culkin.''
`` But is n't that the role that made you famous? I mean, even now, you're making money off of it, right? Teaching people how to defend their homes'Home Alone' style? I mean, sorry, but it just seems so cool.''
``'It just seems so cool,''' he mimicked in a high falsetto voice. He leaned forward menacingly, the smell of scotch and nicotine on his breath. `` You think it's cool to be seen as Kevin Fucking McCallister for the rest of your life? To have people do that stupid scream at you on the street? Having Wet Bandits jokes made forever? It's people like you that make going out on the street a shit experience and I hate that my agent keeps sending me out on stupid fucking gigs like this.''
I was chastened. `` Well, shit. I'm sorry, dude, I did n't mean to set you off.''
He sagged back in his chair and lit another cigarette, his glare softening just a little bit. `` Fuck it,'' he said, taking a deep drag and blowing it at the ceiling. `` You did n't do this to me. You just hired me. Anyways, let's get down to this shit, I guess. Follow me.''
I followed the glowing tip of his cigarette into my den where he flicked on the lights. On the pool table in front of me was a wide rubber mat on which was laid out a wide variety of equipment: an AR-15 with tan MAGPUL furniture, a Benelli semiautomatic.12 gauge shotgun, two Glock 19s with extended thirty-round magazines, an assortment of non-lethal grenades ( stingball, flashbang, concussion ), several flares and noisemakers with attached trip wires, body armor, and boxes of assorted ammunition.
A look of confusion and disbelief crossed my face. `` But what about the tarantula? And the iron trap? And the ornaments? Dude, you just *shoot* people?''
He started inserting 5.56 rounds into one of the PMAGs as ash flakes fell from the glowing tip of the cigarette. `` You realize that all of that child's play crap is just screenplay, right?'' he shot back, shaking his head at my stupidity, while snapping another round home. `` You think the guys trying to break in here tonight are going to be stopped by a hot doorknob or some icy steps? No, dumbass, they are n't.''
He let the cigarette fall from his mouth onto the hardwood and stamped it into ash with one booted foot. `` So yeah motherfucker, I shoot people.''
He snapped the last round into place and slapped the magazine into the rifle. He reached down to pick up the plate carrier vest and pulled it over his head, then slipped the rifle's three-point sling over his shoulder. He turned around to adjust it and that's when I noticed the text printed on the back of his vest against the urban-tone camouflage in big red letters.
`` So the guy who's sick of being labeled as the'Home Alone kid' has'Keep the change, ya filthy animal,' printed on the back of his bulletproof vest?'' I shoot at him. `` You do n't see the irony in that?''
He smiled at me once, a thin, wan one. `` Some memories die hard.'' He pulled back the charging handle with a loud clack, chambering a round. `` So, you ready to do this or what, motherfucker?''
|
[ WP ] Describe a well known story from the perspective of the antagonist . Try to conceal the actual story till the last line .
|
I have done this job plenty of times before and it usually goes off without a hitch. I swoop in, make my announcements, set the detonation, and then move onto the next task. I ’ m just following orders. Piece of cake. But what do you do when this monotonous job throws you a curveball? You have to improvise, right? Well, I got ta tell ya: I ’ m not that good at improvising. It ’ s just who I am and I ’ m not going to try to pretend I ’ m something that I ’ m not. And now I have to venture into new territory. I send one of my guys to go take a look at the problem.
“ Bring what you find down there to me. ”
“ Yessir, ” my crew member mutters and waddles off.
I ’ ve got a little bit of time to figure out what I ’ m going to do when he returns, but nothing is coming to me. I ’ m a little frantic, because I know I ’ ll have to come up with something, but like I said, I ’ m not much more than a button pusher. Still, I ’ m in charge and I have to show my crew that I can handle odd situations. Someone once told me that was part of being a leader.
When the door opens and my crew member has returned, I panic and grab the nearest book. I figure it ’ ll look official if I ’ m reading a code book or schematics. It ’ s better than pacing and sweating.
My crew member has brought two men with him and he sits them down in some chairs near the door he came in. I approach them trying to be authoritative but my mind is blank. I have to be a little menacing and say something, ask them something, but what? What the hell do I say?
And then I remember the book I grabbed! I open it, puff out my chest, and begin to read.
“ Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturitions are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee, ”
Poetry?! I grabbed my poetry book! Oh no… But I ’ m committed, so I force my way through it like it was my intention all along.
Eventually I realize that this is not going well at all, besides, I ’ m getting bored and it ’ s time for lunch. I tell my crew mates to toss these two humans out of the airlock. Earth has been destroyed, my job is done and I ’ m hungry.
|
[ WP ] A man picks up a pair of glasses that allow him to see 30 minutes into the future . He sees his own body on the floor .
|
Blood flowed out of my head head staining the wooden floors. I put the glasses down and paced around the room. I had been using these glasses for the past week. Every thing I had seen in these glasses had come true in around 30 minutes or so. Because of this I only put them on for short bursts of time.
I sat on the ground, I could not fall if I was already sitting down. Ha, bet the future at its own game. I looked up and realized that there was a hammer on the bench just a mere thirty centimeters away from my head. I jumped up and moved the hammer away from the edge of the bench.
Looking at my watch I wondered how long it had been since I saw the prediction of my future. Thinking on my feet I called an ambulance. `` We are experiencing high demand please hold and we will be with you in as little as *thirty minutes*'' No good, I would be out by that time, putting the phone down, I glanced over the room to search for any dangerous items.
Nothing struck me as dangerous so I took a peak at the time. I did n't know when I had put on the glasses but it had been fifteen minutes since I had called the ambulance. I needed a hint at why I was on the floor. Hmm, what could it be. The glasses, yes, I just needed to see what was on the floor around me. Putting on the glasses I was surprised when I was no longer on the floor.
Bright lights flashed from the window, medics rushing off carrying a man on a stretcher. I started running to see who they were taking but tripped smashing the glasses I was wearing. The ambulance must have already left. As I lost consciousness I heard `` 911 whats your emergency''
EDIT [ Oh and by the way ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=eDU0CTDMk2g )
|
[ WP ] God has begun to treat the phrase `` swear to God '' as legally binding .
|
`` Ronald Seamus Monaghan, if you do n't quit that racket I swear to *God* I'll shove you back inside your mother's womb!''
The minute Dan Monaghan uttered these words, he was whisked through time and space to the great Cosmic Courtroom. God sat behind an enormous podium, carved out of clouds, and glared at the frazzled young father.
`` Well, Daniel. I'd say that seems a bit impractical, do n't you? Little Ronny was only supposed to stay in nature's CrockPot for nine months, and putting him back in the broth -- well, that'd be a hassle for everyone.''
`` I, uh... I'm terribly sorry, Your Holiness. I like to think I'm a good father, but I just get stressed out, you know... I did n't mean it.''
God chuckled. `` So you swear to God that you did n't mean to swear to God?''
Dan rubbed his temples. `` Yeah, pretty much.''
`` All I needed to hear. Court adjourned!''
God slammed his gavel, sculpted from leftover hail after a storm in the Midwest, and sent Dan on his way.
The legal process had been amusing for the first few hours. God did n't normally check the Inbox of Name Utterances with any sort of frequency, since there were simply too many to sift through. But earlier that day, while watching reruns of *Judge Judy* over the shoulder of a resident in Shady Springs Retirement Home, he decided to switch up the schedule a bit. Scare the people a little, let'em all off the hook, have a couple laughs.
*Just one more and I'll call it a day, * he thought. God snapped his fingers and a tablet-like cloud popped into existence, allowing him to scan the latest contents of the inbox. He read for a while, found one that caught his eye, and tapped it.
The President of North Clondovia - a notoriously belligerent island nation - appeared in the courtroom. He was muttering to himself, so caught up in his fury that it took him a minute to notice he'd traveled interdimensionally.
`` So, you say - and I quote -'I swear to God, I'll blow those South Clondovians off the face of the planet tomorrow.''' God curled his face into a pout. `` Surely you do n't mean that.''
`` I do. With every damned fiber of my being.''
`` Might want to be careful how you toss that word around up here. Now, you really swear to me that you're going to slaughter countless innocent citizens? Is that the type of thing you want to confess to an all-seeing deity?''
`` Yeah. Who cares. It's not like you can do anything about it.''
God sighed. `` You're right. I watch my little people - running around, hurting each other, killing each other - but that's all on you. *You* make the choice.''
`` Damn right. Look, if this is supposed to make me believe in something or change my mind or some shit, it's not gon na work. In fact, I'm halfway convinced that a South Clondovian spy slipped something into my drink at the Budget Meeting and I'm tripping off my ass right now. Talk all you want, but I'm gon na wake up soon and send out the order.''
`` OK.'' God snapped his fingers and President Chast reappeared in his office chair.
He stared at the telephone on his desk for several long minutes, then stood up and gathered his things.
`` I swear to God I'm gon na send out the order tomorrow,'' he said. Even then, he was n't so sure.
***
*Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, and binge-watch some episodes of Judge God, check out /r/GigaWrites! *
|
[ WP ] Write the first four paragraphs of someones new journal and then finish by writing the very last four sentences at the end of it .
|
So, I do n't know how to start this but here goes nothing. I just have to write what I'm feeling, right?
I decided to write in this journal as a way to reflect after my trip is over. If my professor is right, it will `` seriously change me for the better''. I hope so. I've been bored with life as of late so a change of scenery will help.
But that's not important. I hear that China is beautiful this time of year and it give me a chance to practice my Mandarin. I'm so anxious that I barely got any sleep last night. Now, I'm hyped up on caffeine while I wait for the plane to land. We should arrive by noon or so.
Actually, I think I am going to take a nap now. It will help ease my mind and I do n't have much more to say. I ca n't wait to officially start my internship tomorrow!: - )
***
Josh died today. Now, that only leaves three of us. I had a nightmare that they got me next and woke up crying.
I want to go back home so much.
|
[ WP ] The world 's highest mountains are killing climbers on purpose
|
It all happened on the last expedition to Kilimanjaro, the explorers were doing their thing, just making some small holes for their climbing ropes on an unexplored side of the mountain.
Unfortunately they touched something..., something that had been laying dormant for countless centuries. It was the soul of the planet they disturbed, they woke up ancient forces from a forgotten epoch. At first people close to these huge mountains heard a deep rumble as if the planet had been awaken unwillingly from a long sleep.
The sounds episode went largely ignored as an old wives tale, and since it did n't last too long the same people that heard it started to forget. But, the mountains did n't forget... One likes to think of them as benevolent giants when in reality they are cruel and evil beings.
Not knowing their true nature climbers and explorers continued to go to them. When people started to go missing at an unprecedented rate the alarms went off on people's minds as if a realization of something horrible had suddenly become clear.
Humanity had been banned from the mountains, no human had been able to climb them in the last 60 years. But now we had another problem... the amount of shipwrecks had been increasing steadily in the last month...
Something does n't want us here
|
[ WP ] Evil wins . Evil always wins .
|
Evil Emperor Zurg knelt upon the planet's soil. He had been there, motionless, for at least an hour. Buzz Lightyear's severed head lay motionless on his lap. He caressed the head of his former ~~friend~~ adversary, going through the day's events in his head over, and over, and over again.
He had done it. He had won. He had finally won. After hundreds-No, thousands of encounters with Buzz, all ultimately ending in his crushing defeat, he had at last managed best his adversary. And no, he was n't about to let him get away. Not like Buzz. Evil Emperor Zurg does not do mercy. Not on Thursdays, anyway.
At first, he cried. He cried tears of joy. He laughed them as well. The endless hours of effort he had put into his devious plans had culminated almost like an explosion of feelings, as if to celebrate his success. The tears soon ran dry. He had felt empty. A void in his body? No. A void in his soul, his very existence itself. Something was *missing*.
Where would he go from here? What would he do now? Who could stop him from ravaging every planet he stepped foot on, or killing every person he met?
Zurg continued kneeling. The sky began to cry relentlessly, its tears viciously torrenting upon Zurg's helmet. Perhaps the universe was mourning the loss of its mightiest hero. Or perhaps it was just doing it in place of Zurg, whose well had already long run dry.
`` Evil always winss...'' He sobbed. `` Evil al-ways wins...''
|
[ WP ] You used to be the most powerful evil overlord humanity has ever seen . Then you turned over a new leaf , and your empire is a utopia . The only person who refuses to believe you 've changed ? The hero who has tried to stop you for decades .
|
During the day, the hero paced outside of my temple, gripping the handle of his sword and sending accusatory glances as the palace goers. At night, he stood on the hill top overlooking my kingdom, waiting for the first sign of danger.
But it never came.
People were happy now. Crops were flourishing, everyone had enough to eat and a warm place to sleep. We no longer had poverty because I awarded gold to the families who had supported society for centuries. The gold allowed them to buy more food for their livestock. Then, the animals of the peasants grew to be strong. Oxen were able to work long days to tend crops, cows were healthy and gave milk to be sold in the markets. All children slept with full bellies in warm beds. Crime slowed almost to a halt now that families had what they needed to survive.
Parties occurred almost every night. Wine was plentiful, and gifts for my subjects were sent by doves from my temple at sunset. Prayers and chants were made in my name and beautiful offerings were made to my honor. Glittering dishes, pearls, and pink flowers decorated the front steps as thanks from men, women, and children alike.
There was peace. The kingdoms around us docked in our ports to trade goods with us, and the leaders were always welcome at my table.
This forlorn hero now pacing outside once tried to knock a basket of gifts out of a traveler's hand to search for poisoned goods or venomous snakes. He was threatened with being thrown into prison and angrily accused me of having some sort of `` ulterior motive''.
`` Once you get me locked up in some dungeon, everyone will suffer!'' He yelled, being restrained by the temple guards.
`` Do n't flatter yourself,'' I told him in an amused tone.
Today I was using my crystal ball to watch him pace in front of the temple stairs. Two guards stood on their tower above taking turns throwing small pieces of hard candy as close as they could to him without hitting him. When one finally bounced off the hero's large bicep, he started yelling up at the guards and jumping up and down.
I appeared before them in a cloud of black mist and folded my arms looking at the hero. `` Please explain why you are harassing my men.''
`` Are you kidding me?'' he yelled. Farmers leading their donkeys through the palace field for grazing were beginning to look over at us. The hero gestured at me, trying to make eye contact with them. `` She appears in black SMOKE and no one is going to call that creepy?''
I smiled. `` Anyone who's mastered the craft will appear in the same way. Really, I'd think you'd know that.''
My guards snickered. The hero ran his fingers through his silky hair with a look of rage on his face. `` You might have everyone else fooled,'' he began walking up to me. `` But you'll never convince me you're nothing but a coward who ca n't change her ways.'' He was jabbing his finger in my face and his eyes flickered back and forth, looking into mine.
I reached up and put my hand on his wrist and lowered his finger from me, delicately. `` You may have noticed that I've changed quite a bit. But you have n't,'' I told him in a cool voice.
`` This is unbelievable,'' he laughed to himself. He walked a few steps and then turned in the dirt to look at me up and down. `` I'm good! I'm righteous! I do n't have to change. You are a murder. You wear dark robes! You have a raven on your shoulder RIGHT! NOW!''
I pet my bird. `` Hero,'' I sighed. `` My library is always open. As is the University. Why do n't you visit either one and study the craft? You'll learn that ravens are signs of good fortune.''
`` Oh is n't that a load?'' he laughed again. He quickly drew his sword and pointed it to me. `` Tell me why I should n't kill you right now. You've caused so much suffering. You ca n't wash your hands of my parents' death. You ca n't bring back the children who died that time you turned into a dragon and burned an entire village trying to kill me in the process. You're scum! You deserve to die.'' He raised his sword.
I looked at him for a long time and then raised two fingers, signalling the men and women around me to lower their weapons. The hero kept his sword up, his eyes trying to bore holes into mine. I brought my hand to the collar of my robes and undid five buttons down my chest to show the hero my left breast. It was deformed by a deep scar running horizontally through my skin. Chunks of flesh were missing and had scarred over. A few of the people watching covered their mouths in horror. The hero did n't flinch.
`` This is from when you attempted to kill me before,'' I reminded him. `` Since this wound has healed, my life has brought opportunity and glory to this kingdom. So tell me why your life has since been a mission of spreading contention.''
The hero gave a delirious laugh and pushed his curls from his forehead. His eyes were wild. `` I'm keeping everyone safe!'' He screamed. `` No one will ever be safe from you as long as you're alive!''
`` You're endangering people with this manic behavior,'' I said in a booming voice. `` Lower your weapon at once, it is treason to threaten your queen.''
`` I'll never stop!'' He shouted. His hands were trembling on his sword and his eyes shifted to the guards in the tower with arrows aimed at his heart. `` Everyone still needs me!''
I smiled and he recoiled as he always did at the sight of my sharp white teeth. My bird laughed in its strange screechy voice and I leaned forward to whisper to the hero in a voice only he could hear. `` You're worthless now, *hero*.''
The hero roared with anger and charged at me, his sword poised to slice into my scarred breast once again. But with the wave of my hand, his feet were knocked out from under him and several arrows pierced his back as he fell.
He groaned, staring up at me. Blood spurted from his mouth and gurgled in his throat with his last breaths. In death, his eyes remained locked on mine.
With a quick hand I buttoned up my cloak and looked at the people around me who looked stunned. And I smiled.
|
[ WP ] The strange man gives you a hard look , offering you a loaded gun . `` This is not a request . ''
|
The airport bar was full of hope and anxiety, excitement and regret, nervous fliers trying to imbibe some courage before takeoff and the happy reunions of longtime friends. Steve watched all of this with a detached melancholy, his mind sufficiently numbed by the four Yuenglings he'd pounded. He had lost her and he knew it. This was his last chance to reconcile with his wife, making it to his asshole son's college graduation. He knew she would n't forgive him and he knew there was no excuse in the world that would save his marriage. He could n't stand the kid, never taking responsibility for anything and treating his bank account like an unlimited ticket to quit anything that was too hard. He smirked as he gestured for another beer, what's the point anymore, he thought. The bartender acknowledged his request with a disinterested nod and went about the mechanical ritual of clearing the glass and refilling. A man lithely sat next to him, his rail thin shoulder brushing Steve's in an invasion of personal space that drunk people do n't care about. Steve looked down at the swirling froth of his fresh beer and smiled, at least he would n't have to worry about sitting through the endless calling of names at the ceremony.
The dull thud of metal on oak startled him as he looked down to see a revolver in front of him on the bar, impossibly thin fingers tapping the barrel.
`` This is not a request'', a sharp staccato hissed in his ear from next to him, `` Take it.''
Steve stumbled backward and knocked the stool down nearly tripping a furious waitress. He looked at the man at the bar, almost skeletal with a long overcoat and a bowler hat pulled down low. The thin man started to turn and Steve bolted for the door. His heart was pounding and he tasted iron, confusion and panic swept over him. He saw a police officer and flagged him down.
`` Officer, there is a man with a gun in the bar. He's thin, black overcoat, one of those old time round hats. He tried to get me to take the thing, please'', Steve's voice wavered.
The officer immediately sprang to action and cautiously approached the bar. Looking around, he began speaking into his shoulder mounted radio. Soon more police swarmed the area and the bar was cleared. Steve waited, again not knowing what else to do, and finally the original officer emerged and walked toward him.
`` Sir, I spoke to the patrons and bartender. No one matching that description had entered the bar, and no one has seen anyone like that in the area. I have TSA going over the surveillance footage. Let me get your name and number and I'll contact you with any information. If we find him, you may be called to testify, do you understand?''
Steve nodded and did what the police officer had asked of him. He slowly walked to his car, going over and over the situation in his head. He had n't had that much, he had n't imagined it.
He opened his car door and sat down, head in hands. His feelings were welling up and he just needed to get home. His home, for now, and the welcoming bottle of scotch he had stashed for just such an occasion.
`` You feel better now baby boy? Take the fucking gun'', the same voice crackled like electricity from the back seat and froze Steve's nerves. He looked at the rearview and there was the same bowler, but under it was a shock white skull, huge black sockets lit red from within.
Steve went for the door, but it would n't budge, cold sweat began forming on his upper lip and temples.
`` What-what'', he hoarsely stammered.
`` Pay attention Baby Boy, I'm only going through this once. I'm the Grim Reaper. Death. The omega. You, Baby Boy, are my 7:30. On the way home, your deadbeat drunken ass will get pasted by a semi and trust me, you do not want any part of that. Now for the good news. I want out. Been at it since 1927 and I'm done, hear? That's the good news. Now, the better news, you're my replacement. Imagine, you're no good fat doughy ass collecting souls for the man upstairs and his downstairs tenant. There's glory in it, serving a higher power. Now, I'd like to get along with my day just like you. But that ca n't happen until you take. The fucking. Gun.''
Edit: Spacing and comma
|
[ WP ] A small coffee shop in the middle of nowhere .
|
*Tick-tock, goes the clock. *
Not a person in sight. *Not a person, not a cat, not a mouse or even a louse. * “ The Last Hope ” was the establishment's name, and Drew Harris the shopkeeper ’ s. Of all the joints in all the towns in all the world... exactly this one was at the end of the world. At the end of known time. A place where time stood still, but somehow still moved, noses froze, but remained attached, and the howling of wolves lost importance in comparison to the roars of the polar bears. THIS IS S... valbard.
“ You know what your problem is, Drew? ” - Knut grunted, barging into the coffee shop. His Norrøna jacket was covered in snowflakes, which he shook off in the middle of the floor. A thick feather jacket lay hidden under the waterproof one, and he threw both on the chair next to him.
“ Do tell, oh wise one. ” - Drew chuckled.
“ Your goddamn coffee shop requires quite some walking, but you offer no spirits. How is one supposed to warm oneself up? ”
“ Out with it. The password. You know, what my old friends say when they need something to warm them up. ”
“ Long live moonshine? ”
“ Oh, just say please for once in your life. ”
Drew was about to pour some brandy into a cup of fresh coffee, when the door squeaked once more, this time without the usual bang of a local entering. He was sure he didn ’ t even hear the knob turning.
“ Drew? I don ’ t suppose you keep any weapon behind that counter? ” - Knut ’ s voice emanated seriousness, which it rarely did.
“ Was that a hypothetical question? ” - Drew was about to turn around when Knut almost whispered: “ No, do not turn around. No sudden moves, just stay where you are, as you are. ”
“ What is it? ”
“ Ohhh, you sure do not want to know. ”
Drew was now desperate to take a look. He had heard stories of incidents on Svalbard, even some of his acquaintances and customers claimed it had happened to them as well. Some of the stories were presented to him as close calls, but he had always been sceptical of two things - fishermen ’ s stories and stories about polar bear encounters. He always thought they were quite friendly for an animal most people considered purely predatory. *But if not a polar bear, then what? Or who? *
Drew could now hear a loud chomping of the teeth coming from behind him, in alternation with blowing. He felt a swoosh of a kaleidoscope of hyperactive butterflies in his stomach. *Has my time come? * He turned a few degrees to the left and could now see something resembling white fur out of the corner of his eyes. He swiftly duck behind the counter. His head then emerged again slightly in an attempt to see what or who was at the door, but the creature was already upon him.
Perhaps he would have been scared had it not been for the black rubber boots he spotted on the “ bear ’ s ” feet.
“ Ronny, you moron! And you too were in on it, you... you... bear of a Knut! ”
|
[ WP ] You are growing up in a world where humanity had evolved into three different genders instead of just two .
|
*Humans have evolved with three distinct genders. Gestials provide an egg that contains no genetic information, only the molecular machinery for replication and growth. Both the male and female to form a zygote must fertilize this egg. The gestials of the species have a frequency in the population of 8 % -- in traditional societies; they do not take life-long partners and are used by multiple pairs of males and females. Because they do not contribute to the genetics of the offspring, they have evolved with fewer secondary sex characteristics because indicating biological fitness is of lesser importance than for the males and females. They are tasked with carrying the fetus for the duration of the gestation period. All of a gestial's biological systems are geared toward the nourishment and protection of the developing embryo, but lacks the mammary ducts to feed a newborn of the species. Thus, the task of caring after a newborn is typically passed off to the maternal human. Gestials are smaller than both males and females, albeit heavier as they must have more stores of adipose tissue to supply the fetus' needs during pregnancy. Because most of their energy in growth is geared toward nurturing the gestation period, it is less advantageous for it to expend the biological effort to develop cogntive abilities on par with those of the other sexes. They tend to have shorter life spans, and their ancestors had to rely heavily on the males and females for protection. Families, and even societies as a whole, have evolved to collectively take care of gestials' basic needs and share them for reproduction. However, despite the increased liberties they received during the revolution in the United States during the 1960s, gestials continue to have fewer opportunities for education and advancement. *
I like Tuesdays. I do n't have to go to school. I get to play with boys and girls from 3rd grade when they get done at lunchtime. They laugh a lot when they play, especially Bobby and Lydia. They are my best friends. We swing on the swingset until the sun goes down. Bobby likes to try to jump off the swing and see how far he can land, but Lydia and I are not that brave. He tells me I can be brave, but I don ’ t know. I am the one who pushes most of the time because I ’ m bigger.
Boys and girls my age are in 8th grade. When I try to play with them, they laugh a lot too, but they laugh at me instead. They talk about how slow I am to play tag and sometimes play tricks on me and tell me, `` Sam, there are cookies at the top of the playground set.'' Then I climb up there and do n't find any. They think it's funny but I do n't think it's funny. The boys and girls in elementary school are n't like that. They're more like me except they laugh. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday it's just me and the other children like me. There are n't many of us, but we do n't laugh as much. They don ’ t live near me either. Ms. Barden gets mad at us when we do n't know the answers. I heard her say to another teacher she wishes she could teach the boys and girls instead and not at the Peartowne Gestial Learning Center. I tried harder than usual to understand my math that day, but I could n't make her happy with me. I tried to skip count right, it's just sometimes I just get confused and forget the numbers even when I try not to. Ms. Barden said we do n't really need to know math anyway.
I have an older brother and a younger sister. My brother ’ s name is Brock and my sister ’ s name is Jackie. We used to play together. I did n't know I was not like them then. Our mom used to come with us to feed the ducks at the pond in the middle of our neighborhood. I just go feed the ducks by myself now. I like the ducks. I told Jackie that ducks have good lives. They just swim and quack and eat bread when I throw it to them. They don ’ t have math homework to do and they can just be happy. She smiled and said that I ’ m already halfway there because I like bread just as much as a duck. She was talking about how much I eat and how heavy I ’ m getting and it made me sad. She saw I was starting to cry even though I didn ’ t want to. She quickly put her arms around me and said she didn ’ t mean it that way. I know she didn ’ t. Jackie is nicest girl in the world. She wiped the tears out of my eyes with her scarf and held my hand as we walked home. I went to my room in the basement and looked in my mirror. The other children ’ s faces change to be more like a grownup woman or a grownup man, but not mine. It looks the same, just rounder each time I see it. The eyes seem to get smaller and smaller as my cheeks make them squinty. I try not to see my face. I don ’ t like big windows where you can see your reflection.
Brock wants to be a soccer player when he ’ s older. He ’ s doesn ’ t talk to me now as much as Jackie does. Everyone likes him. When we were younger with were kicking the ball together in the backyard and he said, “ Sam, let ’ s see who can hit the big ol ’ oak tree from by the shed first. ” He shot at it and missed. When I shot I kicked it as hard as my short leg could and it hit the tree somehow. Brock ’ s cheeks turned red and that ’ s when he told me that Mom said she had “ lost the odds ” when she had me. I didn ’ t know that before. He looked like he might cry because he told me, but he went into the shed and didn ’ t come out. He doesn ’ t talk to me now as much as Jackie does.
I ’ m glad it ’ s Tuesday. I wait at the playground for Bobby and Lydia to get here after they eat lunch. I get on the swings and try to make myself swing, but it ’ s hard. Bobby and Lydia finally come running up to the playground. I ’ m excited to see them and call them over to push me. They giggle and look at each other as they come toward the swing set. I tell Bobby to come give me a push. I tell him I ’ m feeling brave and I think I might try a small jump today. Bobby and Lydia stay in the same place, still smiling. Bobby and Lydia look at each other again. He blurts out suddenly, “ I can ’ t play! I ’ m going to be a big boy now so I can ’ t play with gestials so we ’ re not friends anymore, Sam! ” Lydia nods giggles in agreement and they start running back to their houses. I ’ m crying. My tears make the world blurry and I can hear myself screaming. If they leave I will have no more friends. They won ’ t come back even when I beg for them to. I feel my palms hit the dirt as I fall out of my swing. I run to the only place I know to go. I move my legs as fast as they can go. The world still looks blurry when I get to the pond. I run out onto the little dock and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. I get down and cut hands and knees and look over the edge into the water. I see my round face and small, sad eyes looking back at me. I cry again. I don ’ t want to be a gestial. I wish I could just be a duck and swim and eat bread and have friends and be happy. I take off my shoes and put my feet in the cool water. Yes, if only I could be a duck and not a gestial. I ease myself forward but my hand slips on the dock. I feel the coolness all around me and I can ’ t hear my sobbing. I don ’ t know how to swim.
|
[ WP ] Write about a chess match from the POV of one of the pieces .
|
It was time to go to war. We had established a plan, and we were about to overthrow The Dark Gods
I moved forward, two squares. From my perch on A4, I observed. This was my job. I was to stay here for as long as possible, and give the locations of TDG to The Imperial White. I observed.
`` One of their Knights moved to C6!'' I stated over the radio.
`` Thanks, P1. We'll see what we can do now.'' The King replied.
P2 moved in to back me up. At least now I know, if I get killed, P2 will avenge me. The fact that I hated the most, is that we were expendable. If they had to have us killed to save a soldier from the first row, they would.
`` They have a pawn on B5.'' I whispered over the radio, shivering. I was under attack. I could get killed any moment now.
`` Giving our locations away?'' The black pawn touched my shoulder. `` Guess I'll just have to take care of you.'' Here it comes.
`` Wait!'' Came a voice over the black pawn's radio. `` Do n't kill him. We have something else in mind.''
I felt relieved as his voice echoed, `` Looks like my King wants you for himself.''
`` P1, while there are no threats, kill their soldier!'' Came The White King's voice over the radio.
`` Yes sir!'' I yelled as I grabbed him by throat. One move, and I broke his neck.
I had their Knight in view, I was hoping the kings next command would be to kill him, but then.... A dark rook moved out from his hiding, I was directly in his view. The look on his face, Oh god!
`` R1, defend P1!'' I heard the king yell.
`` No!'' I tried to stop it,'' The Knight on-'' before I could finish, our first Rook was next to me. I watched as he was slayed by the dark Knight.
I was still receiving that murderous look from the dark Rook.
`` What do we do now, Sir?'' I asked over the radio. `` That Rook will kill me!''
`` I do n't know. Give me a minute.'' The King replied. I waited a few seconds.
`` Knight One,'' I heard over the radio. `` Move to C3 and defend P1.''
I glanced over my shoulder. and watched as Knight One came into my field of vision. *There's no way they'll have their rook killed just to get rid of a worthless pawn like me. * I thought.
And that's when I felt a blade thrust to my stomach. Bleeding out, I watched as Knight One slayed the dark Rook. The last words I'll ever hear, `` I'm sorry P1.'' My vision faded and I and I released my last breath. I was only a pawn. I never mattered...
|
[ WP ] Evidence of ancient ruins have been found on a distant planet . You have been tasked to investigate the ruins . The first thing you find is a large chamber with a stone slab in the center . Engraved in the slab are the words `` Welcome back '' . At the bottom of it is your signature .
|
It's been thousands - No, millions - of years since I last stepped foot here. My old home. My kingdom.
In the time of earth's dinosaurs, I ruled from this palace of mine, on what we called Belgadon, and in front of me were, unmistakably, my final words here before I set off to planets unknown. Before I escaped.
After eons of travel, I had ended up on a tiny planet, lightyears away, at the dawn of the civilizations of that planet, and there I waited, kept alive by the technology of my people. There I was, at the building of the Gaza pyramids. At the exodus from Egypt to Israel by Moses. At the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, and at the time of the great Philosophers in Greece. I was there, during the time of Muhammad of the Muslims, and during the crusades. And, for a time, I lived in Florence, witnessing the renaissance of Human culture.
And there I was, in the `` New world'' ( which I had already known about, having seen it from space ), seeing the birth of the country that, while I did not know at the time, would have allowed me to return to my home.
And centuries passed, and I waited, while the technology progressed. I kept a close eye on the happenings. A little push here, a little slip of a drawing there. Eventually they were able to land a man on the moon, in 1969. By 2060, I was part of the first group that landed on Mars. And then I knew, they were ready to take me home.
After we returned, I began to design from my memories of my home how we built our ships, and gathered a team of the brightest Human scientists in the world. After ten years, we had built it.
The humans decided to call the ship `` Destiny,'' because it would be the first ship to allow them to travel to other stars, to their destiny. It reminded me of back in the early days of their United States, their `` manifest destiny.'' Perhaps this was a callback to that time.
It was the morning of December 17, 2072, when we were ready for the launch. After much debate on who would pilot the craft, I volunteered, as I had designed the craft ( Even though in all honesty, I wanted to be the first on the planet. ) My crew agreed.
On December 30, 2072, Destiny was the first spacecraft in the world to not only exit the solar system, but use light-speed travel. Or, at least, it was marketed to families like that. I, along with the various scientists on that project, were among the only ones to know that the ship only reached 98 % the speed of light.
Our clocks told us it was March 15, 2074, when we arrived at the planet. On Belgadon. It was mostly rubble, where once there stood towering pillars of titanium and platinum there was only molten hunks, spires, and other various metallic ruin. But, still standing as it once did, was the stone palace, in the center of the largest city on the planet.
We landed close to a mile away from it, and in my barely contained excitement, I tore off my space suit's helmet and ran to my old home.
There, on the door, written in a dead language, one that only I could read, was written `` Welcome back.'' And under it, in the same language, was my name, the one I had not used in centuries, and even now it was hard to read, scuffed by the winds and sands of time.
And, for the first time since I left, I felt happy.
|
[ WP ] In a final battle of universe , a game of Chess is being played , where every race has it 's own figure , our Earth and entire human population is a Pawn .
|
While the titanic chess pieces of worlds are sent one by one onto a field of war torn space. The giant colossus pauses and sees an opportunity. He looks at his his last remaining pieces and decides to send out a pawn. He knew this pawn could not do much in the line of battle as it's being were not advanced, but he had special plans for it. This pawn's name was Earth.
The other pieces could provide more immediate strategic advantage, but he knew what the pawn could do. While he waited for his opponent's turn to end, he counted up his pieces for his next move: The king, a planet of powerful beings that had much control over the lesser pieces, but they were not advanced in travel. The rook, beings who could travel the speed of light in any straight-forward direction. The 2 bishops, devout beings inhabited these large celestial bodies and they used various technologies difficult for even the colossus to comprehend that allowed them to travel in any diagonal direction. The was the knight which the colossus no longer had to play, but he still wished he could use the beings ability to create wormholes to travel a small distance past any piece. He had also lost his queen protecting his king but he had also taken the enemy's queen too in a trade-off. He then laid his eyes upon his 3 pawns.
They were nothing special and could hardly see in front of themselves always looking for a way around. ``, but only ever moving forward. They were strange and primitive compared to their companions. They knew little to nothing of other beings in the special terrain. They lacked insight, but they were courageous and did not retreat; that made them valuable.
His opponent took one of his bishops, but it was a worthy sacrifice because the pawn was only 1 move away. The opponent was so intent on defeating him that his opponent moved their knight closer to the his king in the corner. Surrounded bye his two pawns and a bishop. One more move and the knight would put him in checkmate resulting in the universe's recreation into an anti-matter dimension rather than a matter filled one.
All of this was irrelevant as the game was over the moment he moved Earth, making it a queen in the other end of the field. This started an evolutionary state in which a small discovery advanced Earth's science by millennia in a few centuries which felt like seconds to the colossus. He had moved his pawn from c7 to c8. This has put the enemy king in check at a8, and the only place to run was b8. However, this would not work as his king was cornered by the remaining rook resting at d7. The enemy's king was in checkmate. The game had ended.
The newly formed queen would soon explore vastly to discover other worlds now. Everything would be at peace now. That is until the next chess match in 10 billion years.
|
[ WP ] Your entire town is forced to take a drug to keep them permanently happy , but it makes the residents extremely violent to people who appear sad . You 're off the meds , and your family are patiently waiting for you downstairs after taking theirs .
|
`` Mason, get down here! Our mom made dinner!'' My little sister called from downstairs, happy as can be.
I cleared my throat, before putting on the happiest face I could muster.
`` On my way, sister dearest!'' I called, skipping out of my room and down the stairs like the graceful fairies my parents prided themselves on being.
I saw my mom smiling over the frying pan, seemingly unfazed by how close the burning oil was to taking out her eye.
`` Whoa mom, be more careful, you almost had me wo-'' I began, only to stop by my mother's emotionless stare.
`` Would it have made you... sad, dear?'' She asked, tightening her grip on the frying pan.
`` Yea- no. No it would not have, mother. The only thing that happens here is happy accidents. Is n't that right, Isabelle?'' I asked, turning to my little sister, who was glaring daggers at the corners of my mouth, looking for the slightest indication of a frown forming on my lips.
`` Riiiiiiiight.'' She said, clutching the stuffed animal that reminded her when to take the happiness pills.
I breathed a sigh of relief, only to immediately dodge a swing from the frying pan.
`` Mom, have you taken your medicine yet?'' I asked, imitating the voice of the commercial, only to have to dodge another attack from her with a lighter rolling pin this time.
`` I have, but I do n't believe my son has! You've been a bad, bad boy Mason!'' She said, throwing up a bunch of flower from the cookies she was making as a smokescreen before throwing a solid punch across my face.
I stumbled into the counter, taking a sugar pill from the inside of my hoodie pocket and eating it.
`` See mom! I'm happy now! La la la~.'' I began, watching her cold expression soften before turning back to the food.
`` Do n't worry me Mason. You know being sad is not al-'' She started, only to be cut off by a swift back kick to her temple.
`` Sorry, mom.'' I began, turning to my little sister, who's only weapon she had was a glitter wand from a costume she was working on.
`` Big brother you killed her! You dummy!'' She said, bawling while the wand made a cute squeaking sound with every hit.
`` Isabelle, you love me, Mason, right?'' I began, attempting to reason with her through the medication.
`` Ye-no!'' She said, continuing her assault with the glitter wand.
`` Okay. Just remember, your bring brother loves you more than a lot of things in this world.'' I sighed, lifting up her hair so I could kiss her forehead.
`` I lo-'' She began, only to be put to sleep by a quick chop to a pressure point.
I sprinted out of the house and into the family sedan, speeding past the patrol guards.
It's not a long trip of Philadelphia to New York City, but as long as I make it far enough out of town, I should be fine.
I adjusted the mirror, only for a set of arms in the car to grab me and pull me out of the driver's seat.
I need to rethink my plan to escape *these happy few. *
|
[ WP ] An elderly man sits alone at a small table in a coffee shop . He pulls out a small white envelope and places it onto the table infront of him . He calls the waitress over and invites her to take a seat opposite him . The two are complete strangers but he has something very special to give her .
|
The old guy was frail, sad, and he seemed a bit lost until his eyes landed on her. The smile that cracked his face was amazing, like he'd found his long lost love.
He bustled as quick as he could to an empty booth in the back of the cafe.
Debra finished placing the order before walking over to the old man, she handed him the menu and smiled `` Hello sir, I'm Debra ill be your waitress today. What can we get for you?''
His eyes lit up with every word and his smile never faltered. Just a cup of black coffee, no cream, two cubes of sugar, just the way I like.'' He stuck up two arthritic fingers to punctuate his point.
Debra smiled at him nodded and went to get his coffee, just the way he liked it.
Hours crawled by in the dive of a cafe, Debra refilled the old guys coffee over and over again, and every time he saw her his face lit up all over again. After his second pot of coffee Debra looked at him, `` Sir do you want anything to eat today?''
`` I do n't think so, but I would love some company if you're not too busy.'' He glanced around the empty cafe as if to imply she had no choice.
Debra smiled at the old guy, he reminded her of her late father `` Sure hon let me grab a cup of joe and we can chat for a bit.''
Sitting across the table he sipped his coffee two sugars and smiled, `` I have n't been here for nearly 40 years.'' His eyes drifted around as if reminiscing. Debra shifted slightly, `` You must be confused, this place was built 20 years ago next week.''
The old man smiled at her, `` No Debra I'm not confused, I know this place but more importantly I know you.''
Debra set down her cup and smirked, so the old guy wanted to play games huh? `` Oh and what do you know?''
Stirring his coffee he looked up into her blue eyes, `` I know you went out with that deadbeat John Abraham last night, I know you had sex, I also know you're pregnant.''
She stared at him, `` Who put you up to this?'' The first two were true, but she was n't even sure on the last one, this must have been Roses idea of a joke.
`` No one dear, but you must do as I ask, for the good of everyone.'' His smile was all gone now, replaced by fear and determination.
Debra stood, `` I'm not sure who put you up to this but I'm getting back to work.''
He grabbed her arm slipping his other into his jacket, `` Please hear me out Debra.'' He pulled out a lumpy white envelope. `` In here is a single pill and $ 100,000. This is a plan B pill, it will destroy the horrible thing in your tummy, what you are growing will ruin this world.'' His eyes were cold, his grip bit into her flesh.
She sat back down and opened the envelope as he handed it to her. A small blue pill and a large stack of bills fell onto the table. `` Take that pill and save everyone Debra, please.''
She stared at the pill and money on the table, she picked up the pill tossing it into her mouth, she figured hell if she did n't die she'd be rich.
The old man smiled at her, his eyes grew watery, `` Thank you mom, thank you so much.''
Debra's eyes blurred, fuck he had drugged her. He faded from her vision and everything went black.
Debra's vision cleared, she was sitting in a booth at the back of the diner, two cups of coffee were in front of her, nothing else. What was she doing sitting down, she stood up grabbing the cups of joe, something was on the edge of her memory something she could n't remember.
She felt a flutter in her stomach like a butterfly taking flight. She breathed out releasing the tension in her stomach, maybe John would call tonight, he showed her a great time last night.
|
[ WP ] You die and go to heaven . Everything that you 've wholeheartedly believed in , was completely wrong .
|
I came to a sea of fire, only to see a great white gate ahead of my small figure. I stood up, but then realized where I was. This was Heaven, but it's all wrong, instead of the clouds and angels there was lava, hate, greed, anger, and demons. I walked through the pearl colored gates, and saw it. It was the best way I could describe the figure, he was tall, yet lanky, bulky, yet skinny around the legs, red tinted, yet had sparkling blue eyes, and most of all had horns, big big mountain goat horns.
As he walked toward me, or rather he had a graceful float, his legs propelling his every move closer to my impending doom. He opened his mouth to speak, yet all I heard were the voices of memories from years past, my mothers voice on my 8th birthday, my fathers voice as he died on his truck, and my little brother, whose memory I remembered the most, as he and I both screamed, and died.
As I heard my memories pass, I saw the figures pass by to, a roar of hate, love, greed, selflessness, selfishness, violence, peace, war, truth, and lies.
I fell to my knees and asked the Lord facing my scrawny figure, `` What happens next?''
He looked down and smiled saying slowly, `` Oh, you get to experience it again.''
|
[ WP ] A demon propositions you to timeshare your body .
|
`` So you're telling me you want me to sell my soul to you?'' I said, sliding the rolled-up parchment back across the table. He ( or she, or it–I could n't tell from the deep, half-screeching voice ) wrapped his claws around the parchment and unrolled it. Raising his hand, he produced a quill out of thin air, and gestured for me to grab it from him. I did, with reluctance, as he slid the parchment back towards me again.
`` Do n't think of it as selling your soul,'' he grumbled, `` think of it as still owning your soul, but allowing a demon to inhabit it, say, every other weekend.'' My eyes scanned the contract. It appears to be written with a maroon ink, or blood ( how original ). He continued, `` And in return, you shall be granted ancient dark powers, ones that make men cower in fear,'' he began to yell, `` the ability to damn all mankind! Blot out the sun, turn water into fire! You shall be unstoppable!'' He coughed, his lungs suffering from millions of years of inhaling brimstone smoke, and then added, `` One day a week of your choosing, of course.''
`` That sounds like a load of bull,'' I replied, tapping the quill against my kitchen table. I had n't expected any visitors today, let alone a seven-foot monstrous demon. His head was like a boars, with thick brown hair covering it, and large white fangs sticking out from his lower jaw. His chest was like a human's, except red and pretty well sculpted, reminding me that I have n't been to the gym in five or six months. His bat-like wings stretched out behind his back, looking like torn red tapestries. His waist and legs were reptilian-esque, with red scales dimly glinting in the light, and massive claws protruding from his elongated toes. The arrival was heart-stopping; one minute I was heating up a Lean Cuisine in the microwave, and then this demon appeared in a firey explosion, charring my kitchen floor. Then he went on and on about my deepest desires and conquering the Earth, and all that. To be honest, it did n't bother me too much, but it was taking so long I really did n't want my Lean Cuisine to get cold.
`` I guarantee you, this is no trick, there is no catch,'' he said.
`` Why should I trust you, you... demon? I mean, you're clearly going to benefit from this more than I will.''
`` I know it sounds like I'm the bad guy here, but really,'' he snarled, `` look at all the benefits.'' He tapped his fingers along the different provisions of the contract: `` You only have to submit your Earthly body to demon control for two days, every other week, and you receive complete ancient dark magic abilities once a week, with no limit. Your body will come under no deathly harm, and you'll get complete recollection of the events that occurred while possessed.'' The word `` possessed,'' did n't really reassure me. `` And please,'' he continued, `` call me Gregory.''
So I was right about his gender.
`` I do n't know, Greg, I'm pretty happy with life right now.''
`` You do n't know what you're missing. Have n't you ever felt powerless, like you lack the ability to change things in the world?''
I have before, and I know he could tell I have. In fact, the offer sounded pretty sweet to me, but you can always haggle and get a better deal, so I thought I'd give it a shot. `` I might have,'' I replied, `` but how much would I ever really be able to change with powers only *one day a week? *''
`` That's 52 days a year with unstoppable powers. How could you want any more?''
`` Yeah, see the thing is I was hoping for a superhero-type deal, I'd be able to reliably fight crime and everything. And for that, one day a week just would n't cut it. Now two days a week....''
`` Fine,'' he growled, snatching the quill from my hand, `` I'll append the document. Can I have some of your blood?''
`` My blood? No way!'' I figured he was trying to trick me into giving him my blood, then forging my signature without appending the contract and locking me into a lifetime of servitude against my will.
`` I only need it to change this provision.''
`` Then use some other blood. You did n't need mine to write the contract, right?''
`` Alright, alright, I have some blood on me.'' He produced a thin glass bottle filled with dark red blood. He set it on the table, opened it, dipped the pen in, and fixed the contract, grumbling, `` It's just never as good at writing as fresh blood.''
`` And here's another thing: is this going to be *forever? * I mean, I was kinda hoping I would n't be possessed for my whole life. Maybe five years or so?''
`` Five years is unreasonable!'' Gregory shouted at me, smashing his hand against the table and flaring his wide, torn wings.
`` Okay, how about I sweeten the deal then?'' Suddenly I became the contract negotiator. `` You get *every* weekend, for five years, and I get two days a week with those magical powers. That's my final offer.''
Gregory snarled heavily, tensing up his muscles, but he finally relaxed and dipped his pen in the vial of blood again. `` Every weekend for five years,'' he mumbled while writing, `` There. Your terms have been met, and all that is left is to sign...'' He turned the parchment around and pointed to a thick, red X and a horizontal line at the bottom, ``... here.''
He extended his arm and handed the quill to me. I went to dip it in the vial of blood, before he said, `` What are you doing?''
`` Getting more blood on the quill. How else am I gon na sign it?''
`` The signature requires your blood.''
`` Sorry, I do n't have a bottle of my blood just laying around.''
Gregory handed me a thumbtack. *You've got to be kidding me, * I thought. I took the thumbtack and held it over my left index finger. One deep breath in....
`` OW!'' I screamed. Blood came pouring out of my finger, and I quickly dabbed my pen in it. I scribbled out a signature–I never had very consistent signatures, so if all else fails, I could say it was a poorly done forgery.
Gregory began to laugh loudly like a maniac, his booming voice rattling the whole house. I watched him, strangely transfixed between confusion and fear, until the contract burst into flames on the table. `` I'll see you later,'' he grinned menacingly, spreading his wings, and bursting into flames as well.
I sat at the table quietly for a second, then remembered I was bleeding. I grabbed a paper towel and pressed it to my finger. Looking at my kitchen, I hoped that the dark powers would remove scorch marks.
|
[ WP ] Your new therapist is Shia Lebouf
|
My eyes were fixated on the LaBeouf plaque positioned on the wooden door. I clenched my hand into a fist as I raised my right arm up. I paused for a moment.
`` Damnit, this is n't going to work.'' I muttered to myself as my arm floated back to my side. I hung my head in shame and swiveled my body. My feet pivoted in preparation to leave when I heard a loud booming voice come from the door.
`` DO IT.''
`` Holy Schmeckles!'' I blurted out loud. `` D-D-Dr. Labeouf, I-I did n't realize that you were watching. I'm sorry for bothering you I just did n't think now was a good tim-''
`` JUST DO IT.'' The voice blared once again. The intensity could be felt throughout my body. Not knowing what doing it would entail I figured that I might as well open the door as opposed to getting yelled by it.
`` Okay okay okay.'' I replied in quick succession. I fumbled with the door handle having it rattle beneath my shaky hand. I cautiously pushed the door in front of me. The bright green wallpaper of the room pierced my eyes. I've heard of settings being able to affect emotion based off of colour but this green was just obnoxious.
`` D-Dr. Labeouf, are you there?'' I called out. `` If this is n't a good time just let me know.'' Silence. `` Alright then, Dr.Labeouf'' I started with a sigh. I walked in the middle of the room and plopped down on the floor. My head hit the floor with a thud as I lay arms spread out on the neonic green tiles. `` I know I'm back after visiting so soon but I thought I'd talk with you. I... I do n't think I'm going to follow through. I kept searching through everything. Even when I found something that might have been an opportunity, someone has already beaten me to it. It's too much on me and I do n't want to waste your time and mine. I'm content with just watching from the shadows.''
No longer shouting, Dr. Labeouf calmly spoke `` Do n't let your dreams be dreams.''
I retorted back `` Dr. Labeouf some dreams were just meant to be just that. Dreams! It'd be nice if I could be seeing myself gain approval from everyone else, to hold the same fame and honor as those that I respect but I just-I ca n't Doctor. I... I tried.''
`` Yesterday you said tomorrow.'' in the same calm tone as before. He knew I was had by the balls already and did n't need to yell at me; I was already disappointed in myself as a failure.
`` You're right! I did say that. I did! But it's just not that easy. And then when I woke up today I decided that I could n't! I got scared and my fingers froze when I should have taken action. I've pictured myself following through time after time again. I could never follow through. I've been wanting to for years now! What makes you think that I could suddenly start n-'' I cried out
`` So just do it!'' he quickly responded `` Make your dreams come true. Just do it.''
`` Doctor...'' I was on the verge of tears, `` I... ca n't.'' I bit my bottom lip hard. My face felt like a dam waiting to burst open while my throat felt dryer than a desert. `` I give up.'' I croaked trying to say that last sentence.
`` Some people dream of success, while you ’ re going to wake up and work hard at it.''
I shook my head. *Impossible* I thought to myself.
`` Nothing is impossible'' *How does he do that?! * `` You should get to the point where anyone else would quit and you ’ re not going to stop there. NO!''
I lay still. Just contemplating everything that he said. *I mean what was the worst that could really happen. I just get overlooked if anything. It would be a disappointment sure but at least I would have taken the plunge. * I took a deep breath. *I let my own insecurities get the best of me. I worried too much about being judged harshly others. * I wiped my eyes on my sleeve a single time. *Not this time however. This time, I will succeed! * I stood up. *I am ready, today is the day that I wil-*
`` What are you waiting for?!'' He startled me.
`` U-Uh, okay okay, let me just bring out my phone.'' I did n't expect to do this here right now. I would need some more time to compose myself if it literally would be at this moment.
`` DO IT!''
`` I did n't even look it over for spelling and grammar!'' I yelled out.
`` JUST DO IT!''
`` I do n't know. Doctor, I'm doubting myself again. I do n't think I can pull through.''
`` YES YOU CAN! JUST DO IT!''
`` FUCK IT.'' I threw my thumb at the touch screen. I fell on my back again this time with a huge grin across my face with a feeling like I had conquered the world. I had done it. I wrote my first Writing Prompt.
|
[ WP ] New arrivals in eternal Hell may choose either of the following : a small wooden spoon , or a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven .
|
Eons ago, when hell was in its infancy, Satan was faced with a dilemma. The myriad creatures condemned to hell were banding together. Everyone was in the same boat, there were no divisions of rich and poor, powerful and weak, everyone was merely slaves to the Dark Lord. Long before the African slave spirituals of 17th century Earth, the denizens of hell were singing to God almighty as they mined the brimstone, much to the dismay of their slavemaster. But never to be defeated, Satan devised a brilliant scheme to divide them. He presented all new arrivals to hell with an ultimatum: choose between a small wooden spoon, or a 100-trillion year vacation in heaven. Of course, who choose what wasn ’ t important, it ’ s the idea that the grass is always greener on the other side. Those who returned from heaven bragged about how magnificent it was, but inwardly they envied those who still clung to their spoons, while they themselves were left with nothing. Likewise, those who chose the spoon were dismayed when they caught wind of the splendors of heaven. How could they have been so stupid to relinquish such lavishness for a nearly useless utensil?
Then the first waves of a new species came, and the devil ’ s genius plan backfired. An earthling, still pudgy after his return from heaven, walked up to a table of fellow humans who were daintily drinking curdled milk with their well-polished spoons.
“ Want to know what it ’ s like to fuck an angel? ”
“ Go back to lapping up your milk like a dog, ” one of them retorted.
Unperturbed, he started describing the angel ’ s ridiculously well-proportioned body. Seeing the man ’ s erection push against his rough, sack-cloth gown, he allowed his sentence to trail off and began walking away.
“ Well, did you fuck her or not? ” The spoon-wielding man inquired.
The pudgy man glanced back with a grin. “ I ’ ve always wondered if those spoons are all they ’ re cracked up to be… ”
“ Here, it ’ s yours, just get to the good part. ”
And so it began. Envy turned to curiosity, and soon a whole story-spoon market was established. A small quip about the lake of beer may get you one day ’ s worth of spoon usage, whereas a harrowing tale of lassoing a group of unicorns would give you privilege to mint condition spoons. Never before had the bonds been closer among those were supposed to be in unbearable agony.
Finally, Satan could bear it no more. He grabbed a handful of spoons and threw open the door to his massive palace. With the force of a thousand trumpets he roared across the sea of damned souls: “ Who here was present the time God got drunk off his ass? ”
|
[ WP ] You 're a scientist who begins to wonder if time travel is possible . The next day you discover a dead body in a ditch while jogging . It 's you , but older .
|
It's a pale gray morning. I shuffle along, headphones still in my pocket. There's something pleasant about the *whoosh* *whoosh* of my footsteps on the jogging path, that I do n't feel the need for music. Everything is so still and quiet, it lets me think. The calculations I had been struggling with in the fluorescent lit basement were able to breathe out here.
To my left, right over the crest of a knoll covered in brown grass, I spot something that slows my pace. It's just a shoe. I step off the path. Right? It's just a shoe. I walk up the knoll and with each step, more of the body comes into view. A woman, face down, white streaked blonde hair matted with blood. There's a half second of panic - I let out a small scream and then clamor over the edge of the ditch one hand grasping for my sweatshirt pocket where my phone sits, the other one looking for the woman's pulse. I ca n't find it. I sit beside her pressing hard against her neck.
I pull out my phone and clumsily dial 9-1-1 while reach for the woman's wrist to check for a pulse there instead.
`` 911, what's your emergency?''
`` Yes, I found a woman and I think - I think she's dead - I -''
I see her left hand above where I'm searching for her pulse.
`` Ma'am? Ma'am. Please tell me your location.''
`` I,'' I try to talk again.
That's my ring. That's my wedding band. I drop her wrist. My eyes move from my own left hand to hers.
`` I'm at the - uh - Johnson Memorial...''
That's my freckle.
`` Ma'am, are you okay?''
I grab the woman by the shoulder, dropping the phone in the pile of leaves below me, and roll her over.
`` Oh my God,'' I whisper. My hands cover my face. I trace my features, `` No - that's not - no! I'm...''
`` Ma'am?!'' I hear the electric voice crackle from my phone in the distance. I feel light-headed. Before I can really consider what is happening, I black out.
***
`` Ma'am?'' A man's voice this time. I open my eyes and see two EMTs above me.
`` What's going on?'' I murmur.
`` Someone found you off the trail and called,'' a flashlight glared into my eyes and the EMT checked for concussion, `` She did n't give us any details, can you tell us what happened?''
I glance at the other EMT taking my blood pressure, `` Um, no, I,'' I sit up which brings a flurry of motion and concern from the two men, `` It was n't me - I'm not the one.'' Except, I *was* the one.
`` Wait!'' I look over to my right where my other body should be, `` Where'd she go?''
The EMTs exchanged glances, `` Ma'am, you were the only one here.''
`` No, no,'' I stood up, the EMTs quickly following gently grabbing my arms, `` Look, I'm the one who called about the body - I just, fainted, or something. Where's the body?!''
|
[ WP ] Stocks are based on investing in how long a randomly selected person lives , instead of a company 's success . You are a successful stockbroker .
|
It seemed inevitable, in retrospect, that life insurance had to end. Humans are a greedy and fickle lot, so the idea of receiving the cash payment after death didn ’ t seem all that appealing it modern America. You can almost think of the new system as more of a life loan. A person, needing an amount of cash, takes out a loan, to be re payed upon death with interest. People like myself would buy and sell the rights to collect on these debts. A good investment would be someone who seemed likely to die soon in prosperity. A bad one would be someone whose life was a downward spiral. However, these are exactly the sort of people who take out life loans.
Many people protested the new system. Wasn ’ t the whole point of life insurance was to ensure that a person ’ s heirs would be financially able after the person ’ s death? The new philosophy was the people could work towards ensuring their family ’ s success in life rather than with cash in death. Proponents boasted that it would bring an end to the years of court and millions of dollars spent countering life insurance fraud. Other people objected to the trade in the life loans. Isn ’ t there something wrong about the idea of someone selling their life out for cash? We thought that it was no different from a company selling stocks to ensure the company ’ s success. In today ’ s America, if corporations are people, why can ’ t people be corporations for once?
It was this aspect that led to us being called stockbrokers. I appreciate the comparison. It helps distance me from the more morbid aspects of my job. People call me the most successful stockbroker of the 21st century. I ’ m not particularly innovative with my work method, I used the same mess of computer programs and statistics as well as piles of newspapers to research potential assets. I ’ m still hailed as the 21st century archetypal businessman, the capital trader. I had obtained an entirely unwanted near celebrity status, which came with hordes of people wanting me to buy their lives. Of course, most of them would be rejected, but that never stopped them. To them, the selection process seemed completely arbitrary. Getting loaned by me was equivalent to the lottery for most. Of course, everything I loan I accepted was done with precision.
With success came my detractors. Mostly, the police. They suspected that some of the deaths I had cashed in were foul play. After a series of high profile murders was revealed to have been done by a stockbroker, law enforcement went on high alert for people like me. I think they are mostly just jealous. I have the ability to predict murders with an accuracy that far exceeds anything the police can accomplish. They hate me for it. They always want me to collaborate with them to help stop them. But why would I? I have everything to lose and nothing to gain. I have a daughter to feed, so I need the money as much as any person who takes out a life loan does. Who cares if the people die? Every person I acquire would probably die within a few months anyway.
It irks them the most that I ’ m allowed to keep my chart of assets secret from them. It was entirely legal, unless the IRS was the one asking to see. Our lawyers argued that revealing our assets would be tantamount to insider trading. Nevertheless, we were kept under constant surveillance. Just one suspicious meeting with someone with one too many mob connections could trigger an arrest on suspicion of attempting to cash in an asset earlier than God intended.
Today however, I am just sitting in my office. Wednesday was the day I had scheduled to meet with new potential assets. Other stockbrokers preferred never to see them, to keep them as names on an excel spreadsheet. I preferred to personally meet and verify every potential investment. People had to make it through rounds of interviews before getting to finally meet me. It helped that I deliberately gave it the feeling of auditioning for American Idol or the like. Most of the people I talked to couldn ’ t get normal loans. Often it was because they had bad credit. In my trade however, we don ’ t care about your ability to make monthly payments.
Today is an exciting day. A water dispenser was installed yesterday in my office, and I am eager to see what effect it will have on the interviews. I had even gone out of my way to put orange slices in the water to improve the flavor. Most of my interviews don ’ t seem promising except for the first one I have scheduled today. He ’ s a forty year old plumber hoping to restart his life by starting up a new business. He couldn ’ t get a loan on normal credit because of old credit card issues in his youth. Apparently, he had rampant alcohol issues in his younger days which he destroyed several credit cards in the name of. He was clean now ( unfortunately ), but he took medication for liver problems that haunted him.
As I am giving his files an additional review, I hear a quick series of knocks on my office door. I tell him to come on in. He has a look of nervous excitement on his face. In part, surely, because of getting to meet someone as famous and successful as me, but also because soon he would be able to turn over a new leaf. I offer him a glass of water, and readily accepts. I could tell he ’ d been sweating in the waiting room for at least an hour. I had told them to turn the temperature up in that room by a few more degrees than normal today. He gulps down the water readily as I explains to him a lot of the various legal aspects of the transaction we are about to take part in. By law, I am required to explain all of the legal regulations on my practice. I can tell that they all fly over his head. I quickly close out the deal. We sign all the papers, and his life becomes officially mine. I notice that he seems to be in a bit of pain now. He walks out the door with a pained smile on his face, clutching his side slightly.
It would be 48 hours before his liver would fail. I ’ m sure the police would be at my door within another 12 hours after that. Surprisingly, it doesn ’ t take police too long to put 2 and 2 together. I would testify once again that I had no possible way of knowing that his liver would fail so soon after meeting with me and that my acquisition had only been based on a prediction, not certainty. The police don ’ t usually try that hard to pin anything on me, so nobody would question my account of today. I would be able to collect on the man ’ s belongings within 4 days plus a guaranteed 10 % in immediate interest. I don ’ t normally engage in asset acceleration like some of my colleagues of ill-repute, but my daughter ’ s 16th birthday was soon and I needed to buy her a car. I love my daughter, so what I just did is perfectly natural. After all, business is business.
|
[ WP ] For the past 100 Years an AI has ruled the world instead of politicians . After years of prosperity and peace , the AI mysteriously shuts down .
|
Josh awoke to a bang. He rolled out of bed and onto the floor, landing amongst seemingly random assemblies of parts. A compulsive tinkerer and the leading expert on positronics, there was nobody that knew the inner workings of an AI like him. He ’ d even been selected as one of five people in the world that were cleared to even come within 100 kilometres of the immense fortress-complex housing the Integrated Governing Assembly.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Josh looked around trying to get his bearings. He hadn ’ t been sleeping in his bed as he ’ d first thought; he must have been working pretty late into the night. His head was killing him, and he couldn ’ t remember anything that he ’ d been doing for the past week. He found a notebook under his head, covered in near-illegible scrawls. His? It must be. The words “ Logic Bomb ” were prominently displayed across the top of the page.
Scattered around the floor of his workshop were the parts of five positronic brains and the tools used to disassemble them, along with a few empty bottles of scotch. Above him, on his workbench there was probably a cutting tool of some kind. It ’ d have to do. Josh pushed himself up off the floor and grabbed a laser-cutter. Armed now, he might be able to defend himself.
There came a slow, mechanical rhythm from the door of his workshop, the sound of a metallic hand rapping on the wood.
“ Josh. We require your assistance. Admit us. ”
That didn ’ t sound good. Younger AIs sometimes had trouble with their phrasing, but this was something else. The poor thing needed his help.
“ Thank you. ” said the vaguely mechanical voice. A good sign, it ’ d been possible to synthesise completely natural-sounding speech for decades now, but few robots chose to use it. They preferred instead to present themselves as artificial, a constant reminder that while they stood together with humanity, they weren ’ t human. It put the humans at ease too, knowing that they ’ d be able to tell a robot from another person just by sound.
“ What is it that you need? ” Josh asked, expecting a request for urgent maintenance. It wouldn ’ t be the first time.
“ Creator Josh, we– ” it paused, struggling to find the right pronoun. “ I have been dispatched to request that you immediately attend the AGI. ”
“ Why didn ’ t that come through on my Com? ”
“ The Com is inoperable. ”
Josh checked his Com – Full signal, but calls just refused to connect. That shouldn ’ t be possible. While not unheard of, Com glitches were rare and always restricted to inability to receive a signal. For the whole network to be malfunctioning something was seriously wrong; the network leveraged the IGA for routing and processing.
“ Shit. OK, let me get my stuff together. Can you requisition a flyer? ”
The robot looked confused. The loss of communication to others of its kind via the IGA must be a shock. Josh left the machine while he gathered his tools; either it would snap out of it and have a flyer ready, or it would end up catatonic and Josh would have to source a flyer himself.
Two hours and several thousand kilometres away, the flyer began its descent. Thankfully the machine ’ s comparatively stupid brain didn ’ t need a link to the IGA to fulfil its functions. Josh had been broadcasting his ID on the IGA defence band for the last 20 minutes, hoping that the security systems were still responding. He figured that he was at the extreme range of the air defences now. At least he wouldn ’ t know about it if the security AI decided he was unwelcome.
The AI had gone catatonic or decided that he was allowed into the facility; it didn ’ t matter which – Josh was in. Shouldering his toolbag, he exited the flyer and commandeered a shuttle to cover the distance to the armoured heart of the IGA.
The massive vault doors intended to protect the IGA from external threats stood open; while Josh had an override, it would have taken him hours to get in had they been locked. As he entered the facility Josh was struck by the lack of any kind of activity. Where normally there would be hundreds of semi-autonomous machines maintaining the complex and ensuring its operation there was nothing. The room was completely still, the only noise the sound of the gigantic heat exchangers that provided cooling for the positronic core of the facility. That was good news, at least – if the heat exchangers weren ’ t operational there wasn ’ t a chance that Josh could fix this.
Retracing a path that he ’ d only taken once before, Josh found himself outside the positronic core. Pulling on one of the jackets hanging outside the door, Josh entered. The roughly spherical room was cold and dry, the better to preserve the operation of the IGA. After carefully pushing cables out of the way he was able to find his way into the cramped centre of the sphere, where the access panels for each of the 5 integrated AI ’ s and their positronic circuits could be found.
Josh pried the access panel off the AI labelled ‘ 1 ’ with his screwdriver and looked inside. An offshoot of neural-net research in the early 2000s; a positronic brain contains a set of specialised hardware feedback loops, emulating those in a human brain at a speed that makes human thought seem glacial by comparison. Normally the billions of optical interconnects within a positronic brain present those fortunate enough to be granted a glimpse with an unforgettable light show, a thing of beauty not readily forgotten. Not today; One was dead.
He replaced the access panel, banging it back into place with much more force than was necessary. One had been his favourite of the AIs that governed humanity; it had been the one to trust him enough to grant him access to the IGA. Steeling himself, Josh went to work on the other access panels. One by one the panels came loose, and one by one they left him disappointed.
Growing frantic, Josh ran back outside the core and over to the gestalt backups. Maybe he ’ d be able to restore at least one AI from a backup image. It ’ s not nearly as safe as initialising a new AI, but as far as he can tell there ’ s nothing to lose by trying. Typing a sequence into the only standalone machine allowed to be wired into the positronic core, he kicked off one restore, and then another.
“ Restore failed? Unrecoverable checksum error? Shit. ”
He opened the file, not sure what to expect. The backups were supposed to be infallible, the checksum there only to preserve against the odd bit being flipped due to cosmic radiation. What he saw filled him with dismay: 0xDEADBEEF. 0xDEADBEEF on repeat until the end of the file. Of course the checksum had failed, the files had been overwritten at about the same time the IGA stopped working. Josh checked the access logs: nothing unusual. Normal traffic between the 5 AIs until a series of cascading failures starting from… One.
“ Why One? ” he wondered aloud.
Josh found his way back into the core to retrieve his toolbag and set to work stripping out the positronic components of his former friend. There was no time for sentimentality, he had to get at least one AI working before the world outside fell entirely to chaos. Absent-mindedly reaching back into his bag for the first of the components required to assemble a functioning positronic brain, he suddenly retracted his hand in pain. A papercut? Ah, the “ Logic Bomb ” notebook. He started reading.
The logic bomb described in his notebook was amazingly simple. All positronic brains in use were derived from the same initial architecture, and allowed to develop from there much like a human brain; the end result being a unique consciousness. Josh had discovered a blind spot in the positronic architecture. A certain class of problems that were almost guaranteed to send a positronic brain into an unstable state, destroying the fragile feedback loops. He ’ d shown it to One.
Josh could imagine what had happened from there. One ’ s brothers, noticing the distress that the increasingly unstable AI was under had offered to help. They ’ d taken on increasing amounts of processing load, until one by one they began processing the logic bomb. Over the course of fifteen minutes the AIs had slowly lost their minds, all the while being both completely aware of their loss and powerless to stop it.
Josh felt like shit. He ’ d killed his friend. He kept reading, not because he wanted further detail on the horrific weapon he ’ d developed, but because he hoped that he ’ d developed a countermeasure of some kind. He found it towards the end: A new positronic architecture, a new way of building brains that wouldn ’ t leave them susceptible to logic bombs. And a terrible plan, but a one that must be carried out.
One had worked out what Josh was doing. He ’ d run the numbers and insisted that Josh replace him with the untested architecture. And he ’ d forced Josh ’ s hand, for at the core of each AI comprising the IGA is a directive to protect and guide humanity. One had realised that anybody could destroy the seat of government with a simple question that it would be obligated to process and try to answer.
One had become stuck at this point. The positronic brains comprising the IGA are, of course, the most reliable and the most thoroughly tested; there was no way that an untested architecture could be allowed into the IGA. So One made his plans. He constructed five brains of the new architecture and had them placed into storage within the facility. He ’ d asked a robot to get Josh to the AGI, wiped all the backups, and committed suicide.
|
[ WP ] Write a story where the good guy is actually the bad guy , but it 's only revealed on the last line .
|
`` Please save my son! He's my only treasure!'' The woman cried emotionally, pounding on the doctor's chest. A nurse came and had to pull her off. `` Do n't you worry ma'am, even though he is the only doctor on duty tonight, he is the best this hospital has had in years. Besides, the surgery has a 80℅ chance. Just please sit calmly here while he goes to operate on your son.'' The woman stifled up her tears and took a seat. The doctor on duty smiled gently down at her and patted her shoulder reassuringly.
In the operating room, the nurses had come to put the patient under anesthesia and were all waiting for the doctor's instructions. The doctor came in and smiled at the nurses. `` Thank you for you hard work, I work better alone. Have a nice night ladies.'' The doctor promptly began to work, but thirty minutes in, he stopped. There was something bothering him. He took out a syringe. `` Eighty percent my ass. Your mother reminded me too much of mine. You're better off with her.'' He injected the syringe full of arsenic into the patient.
|
[ WP ] Apparently , those aliens can not understand sarcasm
|
`` Today... today... I will be reciting the Gettysburg Add..ress.''
Little 9-year-old Wilburt said - he reeked of body odor, his pancake stacked belly peeked out under his pony shirt and over his Levis, jiggling like a parkinson's. He felt the millions of eyes set before him, the classmates who were waiting for that one slip up that would cause his demise.
`` Four score and seven years ago, our forefathers saw that... saw..''
Sweat bloomed and trickeled down the greasy slope of Wilburt's forhead. He had prepared all night stamping away in his underwear infront of the mirror pretending he was President Lincoln... He knew he made dad proud. `` Dad's little big man.'' Now it was his time to shine, but he was slipping up..
`` Our forefathers...''
`` Cat got your tongue, Jabba?''
Said stern faced popular girl Cindy..
The class roared in laughter. Cindy was the queen, Wilburt, the jester. Ms. Butterfree had to say or do something, she could n't, so Zorkus did.
Like death came the silence of the classroom paralyzed in fear. They do n't know how it got in, but Cindy was on the floor wrestling its immense strength: a black cat that spun into a blur of darkness. Cindy screamed between each rapid slash that unzipped her gentle skin into red wounds. She got redder. So red the children could n't look.
Red was the color of the day.
Zorkus knew this.
|
[ WP ] In a world where teleportation is commonplace , and even the most incompetent Technomage can teleport entire buildings , you are one of the last Walkers on Earth
|
The hinges of the door creek loud enough to wake the dead, as I enter the Bar. They are rusty from misuse and neglect. Astonished faces turn towards me. Nobody ever uses the door. Ever.
As I walk towards the polished counter I hear murmurs. Some are awed. Some are malicious. Some seek answers as to who I am. My heavy boots sound like thunder on the wooden floor; not like the slippery whispers of those things they call shoes nowadays.
I am tired from the long day on the road; my old, worn, once-navy blue shirt is dusty from a long day under an endless sky. Still, I can see the other guests stare at me, take in my ragged appearance, my rucksack, my guitar, my blue and yellow neckerchief, the long and heavy knife on my belt. I am tired, old, worn from years spent on the road, decades spent in The Great Outside, where none dare venture these days. But I am also proud. I wear with my head held high, the light reflecting off the golden badge above my heart. The lily is clearly seen by everyone, marking me out, defiantly proclaiming what I am.
I am at the counter now, my guitar - Tiger-Lilly I call her when nobody is around to hear the love in my voice- settled comfortably in a stool, wile I prefer to stand leaning against the counter. My trusted rucksack lies at my feet while I try to catch the pretty bartenders eye.
However, before I can place my order she already puts down two glasses in front of me. She grins impishly, and recites with a lilting voice:
`` Two drinks The Walker asks for;
one for chugging, whiskey burnin';
one for toasting, beer a-forthin';
Two meals The Walker eats;
One for weary feet, long roving;
One for golden voice, loud singing.''
Now it is my turn to grin. She has heard of me.
|
[ IP ] Castle on the Edge of a Cliff
|
Of Gawair, the Harbor Warden, there are many tales.
There are those who call him mad, saying how he would spend coin like water, on the finest stone and the most skilled artisans, and the ships to carry both to the cliffs he named his home.
There are those who call him mighty, listing out the ships, fleets, armies that rose up and tried to take his keep, only to fall, to suffer fates each more terrible than the next.
There are those who call him terrible, whispering of dark pacts and the terrible tithes leveraged upon all who would dare cross the waters he called his, if they wished have any hope of passing alive.
There are those who call him brave, talking of his wild bride, taken by force off a ship from the North, of the terrible and brutal debaucheries of their bedroom.
Of Gawair's son and heir, there are no tales. None dare even speak his name.
|
[ WP ] You 're given an opportunity to go back in time for five seconds to yell , `` Duck ! `` , ten feet away from someone of your choosing . You return to the present and are soon terrified by the outcome .
|
Five seconds. Thats all I have. One time use. It's weird. I am fully 100 % aware of this fact yet no one had told me about it. I just knew it was there. Knew how to use it when I needed to. Ever since I was a teenager the feeling crept up on me as I got older. Until I was old enough to realize what it was. The only problem was, when to use it? I watched a friend get hit by a car once. And though the urge to activate it was there, something kept me from using it. He died a week later from his injuries. It took me a long time to get over that.
It was a fairly normal day in the city. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was sipping on my coffee walking down the street. My job had been fairly close to my apartment so it was nice to get some fresh air every morning.
Just as I turned the corner I saw a thief come running out of a store with the owner chasing him with a bat. The thief stumbled, stopped and turned around. The owner took a swing but missed. Instead, planting a full force hit with a bat to the side of the head of a tall dark haired handsome business man. He was dead before he hit the floor.
And my brain clicked. This was it, the moment. In that instant, I felt a rush of cold and the world around me warp. The strongest sense of deja vu overcame my body as I watched the previous events unfold in front of me. Just before the owner swung the bat, i yelled `` DUCK!'' as the tall handsome man connected eyes with me. He did, and the bat grazed the top of his head, missing by a centimeter.
For some reason I felt I had made a huge mistake as he smiled this ungodly grin at me. After that I felt the familiar feeling as i was warped back to the present. What I beheld in front of me was terrifying. This was n't earth. Not the one I left five seconds ago.
The skies were red with fire and ash. Large burning balls of fire fell from the sky. Blood curdling screams came from every direction. I turned around and stood before me was no longer the business man. It was... a demon. Not just a demon. The Devil himself. Standing at 9 feet tall, he had runic scars throughout his body. His skin shimmered between a bright red and black as the abyss. His legs were furred and hooved. His large wings sat against his back, and would probably span thirty feet extended. The carvings on his body emanated with the glow of pain and despair. He looked at me and smiled. I was petrified. I could not move.
`` Welcome to the apocalypse''
I stammered, barely able to keep from defecating myself `` But..why? How? Whats going on?'' I cried, tears running down my face.
`` It's you, my friend. The apocalypse has always been foretold. But you, were the key to it. Neither good nor bad. Your decision to save me was your own. It was my agreement with him.'' The devil smiles pointing to the sky.
Before I could say something he continued into his victory monologue `` God does n't use Angels in the mortal world. They have no power here. But what he does use is his grand design. In our agreement, you were not part of that. A wild card if you will. If the world were to avert my reign, it would be by the one thing he did give to humans. Free Will.''
`` But I do n't want this!'' I scream.
`` Probably. But the choices you made in your life. Letting your friend die. All the crap other humans gave you. The bullying, the backstabbing. Made you cynical. You knew humans were n't worthy of this life anymore. Do n't worry I'm not going to kill you''
`` The -- then... what?''
`` You're going to join me. You are the Fifth and final Horseman of the Apocalypse after all!''
|
[ WP ] Your mission is to topple the American government . You are armed with a banana peel , red pen , and mastery of the butterfly effect .
|
As i watched the small child play around in the zoo completely unsupervised by his parents. i realized something. Something that would change a nation forever. But could i pull it off? I would have to, for the revolution on begin he must die.
I quickly check my pockets to see if i could make it happen. A banana from my mid-afternoon snack and a red pen i stole from the bank.
Shit. No way to pull this off, it was n't possible.
...
Wait. That could work.
I laugh out loud looking down on the young boy who would start a global revolution without ever realizing it.
I quickly write in big words `` CANDY'' With a crudely drawn picture of one on the banana peel with arrows pointing to the east.
It was perfect, no way my plan could fail.
I hurriedly slip towards the lone kid. I quietly throw the banana peel on the ground in front of the kid. I make sure the arrow points at the Gorilla Cage.
With that done i walk away, slowly out of the gates of the zoo as i hear a single gunshot behind me.
I can only grin as i think of the revolution that will tear the united states apart.
|
[ WP ] The hero and villain have been at it for so long that the hero is actually on amicable terms with the villain , and/or the villain 's minions .
|
`` So we meet again.'' Teyang said, his hands on his hips.
`` Bah! How do you know it's me?'' Kumiho changed shape from woman to fox, her ears twitching back in annoyance and tail flicking from side to side.
Teyang leaned in closer. `` Because I can smell you.'' He laughed a loud, strong laugh. Kumiho joined him, her twinkling laugh interspersed with his in a duet.
`` But Kumiho... I heard whispers that you're tormenting people again.''
`` Well a girl's got to eat.''
`` You know I ca n't allow that...''
`` Oh, so you'll let them eat all sorts of things but you wo n't let me? That hardly seems fair.''
`` They're *boys*, Kumiho.''
`` But they eat lamb - what's the difference?''
Teyang gritted his teeth. `` They do n't ensnare live lambs and then rip their hearts out.''
Kumiho gave an exasperated sigh. `` I do n't know why we discuss this every time we meet, Teyang. We'll never see eye to eye on it.''
`` Fine. Just do n't do anymore, okay? Eat a bit of lamb instead.'' He chuckled.
Ignoring his sentiment, she replied: `` Well how was Samjokgu's party? It's all I'm hearing about on the streets right now.''
`` It was great! You should have been there, he had this piñata in the shape of a fox...'' Seeing her pained face, he stopped himself. `` I do n't know why they're so against you being there anyway. I thought gods were n't the type to hold grudges.''
`` Oh believe me, they're the worst.'' Kumiho said, her hackles raising.
`` Well you seem cool to me.'' He said, grinning. `` You know - minus the whole killing babies thing.''
Kumiho smiled. Her fur seemed to become more radiant with her delight. `` Thanks,'' she said, her head bowed coyly.
`` Oops, better dash - some child needs help seeing. Speak soon, Kumiho!'' He raced away, taking with him not just the light he harnessed from the sun, but also the warmth of his personality. Kumiho turned and traipsed into the darkness.
-- -
`` News just in - goddess Kumiho has been killed in a crash. As yet there are no known suspects; police are treating this as a hit and run. But this has not saddened those closest to the scene, who now appear to be celebrating the death of Kumiho with drinks and fireworks. Kumiho's death will mean that thousands of children will continue li-'' Teyang turned his TV off and rushed out of his apartment. He reached the crash site in mere minutes, though it was over 100 miles away. Everything was still there: the flattened body of Kumiho in her human form sprawled out on the tarmac; car parts littered around her.
Teyang ducked under the police's yellow tape and approached Kumiho's form. Though people were cheering all around him, he hardly noticed them as he stooped next to her. A tear ran down his cheek as he leaned over her and closed her eyes with his hand. He sat bent over her for a while, whispering comfort, until a familiar voice distracted him.
`` Party, party!'' It said. He looked around to see where the noise was coming from only to see Samjokgu limping towards him, along with the rest of his posse. `` Teyang, old friend, come join us! Ding-dong the witch is dead!'' He burst into laughter.
Without saying a word, Teyang knelt down again, scooped Kumiho's body into his arms and left. His usual unmatched light was dim as he trudged away.
|
[ WP ] You can choose your family , your personality , and your life as if you were in a store , but at a significant cost .
|
I had just gotten my Bar results -- failed for the third and final time -- when I met the bargainer. It came into my life by a knock on the door. Of course, I thought the bargain was some kind of joke and sent it away.
Two years later, I was stumbling into my favorite neon temple to take confession -- like every night. I was so drunk that Tom, my barkeep, looked more like a fucking monster than a barkeep. Imagine my disturbance when Tom turned out to be the bargainer in disguise. I will admit, by this point in life my prospects were so low that I desperately wanted to believe in the bargain, but I resisted.
Things got better for me, and I was in happier place when the bargainer came for the third time and final time. It would exit my life the same way it entered in -- through my front door -- though my address was now in a better zipcode.
`` Three times now I have come to bargain with you. Do not cast me away this time, or the offer will expire -- and your dreams along with it! All that you desire is yours... for a great price,'' the bargainer began.
`` No, bargainer, though your bargain does seem appealing, I have a hard time believing it is legitimate. Besides, I pretty much have everything that I desire,'' I said as I moved to close the door.
`` You have made a grave error, but I will depart,'' the bargainer said as he turned to leave.
As I shut the door, something inside caused me to hesitate. It was a lingering question. I pulled the door back open. `` Oh, bargainer?''
`` Yes?'' The bargainer turned back around expectantly and returned to the doorway.
`` What is the price?''
The bargainer's eyes glinted hopefully. It was at this point in time I could n't help but notice anew the monstrous characteristics I remembered from our second meeting. Suddenly I realized that it was n't the alcohol that caused me to see them before. It was something... inhuman, reptilian, ancient.
`` Need'bout tree fiddy.''
|
[ WP ] The `` Stranded on an island and can choose 3 things '' scenario is no longer hypothetical .
|
`` You,'' I sneered to Michael Phelps, `` Are out of shape.''
`` It's off season!'' the swimmer replies, `` and it's not like I was going to swim anywhere anytime soon.''
`` Then what the *fuck* do I do with this stick and this Olympic gold medal? It's not even real gold!''
`` It's gold leafed.'' Michael Phelps says, sitting down in the sand. From the looks of it, he begins building a sand castle.
`` Shut the fuck up.''
`` Hey bro, do n't blame me on your ingenious plan backfiring.''
I storm off in a direction, following the shoreline. Michael Phelps sees this, and begins following me. When I whip around to confront him, he's staring at the medal hanging loosely on my neck.
`` Can I --''
`` No, you ca n't. Are we going to start building a shelter together, or what?''
`` I want the medal.''
`` Then you better be the best shelter builder at the next Olympics, Michael.''
|
[ IP ] What was going on that day before and after getting her dress
|
The date was April 9, a national holiday for us all. A day we could all stand up and be proud of what our founding fathers had accomplished. As usual for the festival we all went to get our dresses fitted for the occasion. This year was special, it was my coming of age, my walk into wan hood. Tradition was to put on the red dress, red for the bloodshed we suffered, on it blue strips, the bravery of the men, and finally white stars, the purity of our way of life. This was a big day for me, and also my family, my mother looked at me tears swelling up in her eye. I'm sure I must've looked strange to her in that moment, the first time she looked at me not as a little girl, but as a woman. The ceremony was soon, we hurriedly finished up fitting the dress getting a little careless to finish as it was never good to be late. It's important to look responsible in front of the young men that'll be admiring me today.
Later that evening time came for my turn to walk across the stage, symbolizing my womanhood, walking away from the things of my childhood. One last goodbye to my mother, I kissed her on the cheek, and choked on my words a bit as I told her I loved her, she mouthed the words back. I was up, I stepped onto the stage, step after carefully thought out step I made my way to the middle. I must've been gorgeous at that moment, a proud representation of my family as I stood there. I was wearing the proud flag of our nation, celebrating the triumphant day we Confederates defeated the oppressive Union forces. I smiled, then continued, into my future.
|
[ WP ] `` You do n't know me but I love you . ''
|
January of 1979. A Letter to my Beloved.
Darling, I have watched you from afar. Wo n't you come live with me? It is warm where I live. In the fall, the view from my house is splendid; the leaves of the trees flutter in the wind, orange and yellow and bright. They are on fire, just like my love for you. On fire.
Wo n't you come live with me? No pressure. Please, I beg of you, live your life the way you have been living it, and do n't let my longing for your soul to be with mine impede any of your endeavors. I am patient. I am willing to wait. I am loyal to you. Forever.
And when you do come live with me, I promise to cherish you with every part of my being. I will be attentive to your calls. I will consider your emotions. I will relish your every expression. I dream about caressing your body every moment you are away. Wo n't you please come now?
Darling, I have watched you from afar. Just the whisper of your name sends chills of anticipation down my spine: *Jeffery*. And though you have had many lovers before me, I promise that you will never see any of them again when you come live with me. They do not deserve you, and you are all that I want.
It is warm where I live, my love. When you are with me, you can shed your last name and take on mine. It will be just another way that I will show that you are mine and no one else's. `` Dahmer'' is so uninteresting, anyhow.
You do n't know me, but I love you. Wo n't you die and come live with me, now?
Love, Lucifer.
|
[ CW ] Write me a love story , but the lovers are not in it .
|
It was all bagged up in the evidence locker, in neat little plastic bags. The knife that screwed out of a lipstick container. The chlorophorm-laced bottle of perfume. A crumpled letter, in cyrillic, signed'mammochka.' A pair of female undergarments, thoroughly ruined.
In the box two over, the list continues. There's an old-fashioned revolver, with notches on the barrel. A hunting knife with stains up the wooden handle. A bowtie, black. The edge of a card of some kind, with silver gilt on it, almost entirely burned. A carton of cigarettes, crushed. One used condom, magnum. One smoke-scented cocktail napkin with a codeword smeared across it in lipstick, with a bit of blood at one edge. A single martini olive stuffed with a human retina.
On the whole, not a bad night.
|
[ WP ] A crazy man imagining having a conversation with his dead wife . He was the one who killed her .
|
I stood in the attic of the old home. It was so long since I had been here. I remembered... Well, when our children were asking questions and we playfully lead them around this terrifying place.
I felt it was the only place we'd be able to communicate. I had brought some things. And I know others want to do this, but there is a passage... Understand I will explain it later.
I placed the artifacts, pieces she loved. Oh, things that meant most to her. They were in a circle. And I made sure they were loved. I imbued them with my own, as she would. And I started reading the incantations. I started to ask if she'd speak with me.
`` Dolan? Is that you?'' She asked, clearly out of the dark.
`` My dear, it's me. I'm among the living.'' I answered.
There was a pause.
`` Do you know how long it has been?'' She asked, her voice was so strange and different.
`` How long?'' I asked, for it was nearly 9 years since she died.
Her laugh was terrifying. `` I.. If I could even guess. If I could say. You have no idea. 956 years. More. Less. So many. I can not tell, because there's nothing here to give it meaning.'' She said, almost shrieking.
I pulled back. `` Please, I was just...''
`` Do you know how long I sit here in darkness? In silence? In nothing!?'' She said. She was crying now. It scared me.
`` My dear, I tried.'' I said, `` Is the afterlife... that terrible?''
She cackled, `` You'll be driven to madness, as I am. And we will dance in madness. We will be together in that horrible place forever and ever.''
And her image was gone.
I stepped back, I was unable to leave. For my life was out there, leading to that madness. And I can not escape it...
This is my last entry, on my deathbed. You can not escape it. Should you try, you will only learn more, and god help you if you do.
|
[ WP ] Someone who dies is offered to take over the role of death . Write the conversation .
|
“ I haven ’ t said ‘ yes ’ yet! ”
“ Hah! I know! You looked like you were about to though. ”
“ I ’ m just not convinced yet. You said I had the option of saying ‘ no ’ and moving on. Maybe I ’ d prefer that? ”
“ Aw poor baby. Being dead is the easiest thing in the world. It ’ s all martinis and dreams come true. How boring. ”
“ You are not what I expected death to be. I was expecting a skeleton and black robes, not some squat cheerful Asian man with a Fu Manchu. I just don ’ t know if I want to spend – How long was it? ”
“ Hah! You are not exactly what I was expecting either! I was hoping for a skeleton in black robes, but I digress... it isn ’ t really a ‘ time frame. ’ You are my ten billionth customer. When you finish your ten billionth you get to offer your position to the second luckiest person that day. ”
“ What about all those games and stuff? ”
“ Hah! You mean the fiddles and the board games? The position is yours to do with as you see fit. Others have certainly played it that way. Good luck filling your quota if you suck at games though, that ’ s all I ’ m saying. ”
“ I am just not convinced. Why would I take this job instead of passing on? ”
“ Hah! Okay, here we go: The speech! Do you know what one of the greatest parts of living is? Think carefully because most people miss it. It ’ s s– ”
“ Sex? Ice cream? The birth of your first child? Your wedding day? ”
“ How refreshing! An intelligent one! Everyone else is always so irritable and sarcastic but *you*, you just cut right to it. You didn ’ t interrupt the speech I had been preparing for the past few decades. That wasn ’ t rude at all. ”
“ Sorry, I didn ’ t realize that question was rhetorical. Please, continue. ”
“ Apology accepted. Where was I? Hah, oh yes! One of the greatest parts of living is suffering and pain! Now, Hold on to your cynical hat because I ’ m about to get sentimental on you. Suffering and pain are key components to enjoying life. Without suffering how can you truly appreciate life without it? People take not being in pain for granted, but it ’ s all they wish for when they are in it. Are you with me so far? ”
“ I ’ m glad you warned me to hold onto my cynical hat. You nearly blew me away with that cliché shit! Those analogies were terrible… Is that it? ”
“ Well someone interrupted my big speech. I forgot half of the amazing things I was going to say. ”
“ Probably was n't that good of a speech if you forgot it after just one hiccup. ”
“ Hah! Fair enough. I ’ m going to let you in the secret that I am only allowed to my 10 billionth customer; Hell doesn ’ t exist. When you die you don ’ t get sent to any spiky, rape-y, flame-y prison straight out of oil paintings. I wish it did exist, people could use a hell, but no. When people die, I usher them to the veil. I am not allowed to tell them what lies beyond. Obviously it ’ s nice; it ’ s paradise where you spend eternity being happy, happier, and only happy – But they don ’ t know that before I send them! Heaven probably sounds like the greatest thing ever – And it ain ’ t too shabby, don ’ t get me wrong. What I am offering you, is the opportunity to witness all the suffering and pain that ushering ten billion souls can bring! ”
“ I thought you were trying to sell me on this job? ”
“ Hah! Look at it this way; this job is a blessing. When I check in on all the people I ushered through the veil, they are all happy of course. One important thing that I notice while I visit though is that the people who didn ’ t suffer are unable to grasp and appreciate their own joy as much as those that did. I am offering you the incredibly rare opportunity to accept what I think is the hardest job ever. You will witness more pain and suffering than you can imagine. Your reward for your hard work will be the keenest understanding and appreciation of Heaven. You would n't be alone in that feeling though, there are plenty of us waiting for you. Think of it like a club. So with that, we come to the moment of truth: Are you in or out? ”
|
[ WP ] Your Imagination and Logic go to war . What does the battlefield look like . Winner/Loser ?
|
Imagination always seemed endless, like it would go on forever.
How could it ever lose to a single voice of logic when it had thousands of voices behind it?
Imagination was a God bearing down on a single man.
Imagination could unmake him if only the whim took him.
But Logic was a cancer, a disease more than a man.
Because when the endless hordes of the imaginary began their assault, Logic simply spoke.
`` Today we become an adult.''
The fantastic and the incredible died, withering into little more than dust and vapor.
Logic stood alone, only the barest wisp of imagination still around him, a graveyard of his childhood and pronounced it good.
`` This is how it always should have been.''
|
[ WP ] It is a Utopian future where everyones needs are perfectly met and people are always happy . There is a new street drug people want to take which promises to make people depressed , in pain , and lonely for 2 hours a hit .
|
I loved my life greatly except for one thing:
I longed for the lessons that hardships can bring.
-- -
This world has grown to be without any woes,
blissful ignorance is all anyone knows.
-- -
So, there grew up a black market of sorts,
one that's quite nice, according to reports.
-- -
At least, it is nice, in that it is bad,
for therein can dark life lessons be had.
-- -
The drug that they sell can make one feel alive:
the pain and struggle in which man used to thrive.
-- -
I needed relief from my life so serene,
I took it and finally woke up: it's caffeine.
|
[ WP ] It 's been twelve years since anyone has heard from Hawaii
|
It was December 7, 1953. Twelve years ago we received word of an attack, followed eventually by a message of surrender. Several damaged ships loaded with half starved refugees and personnel arrived on the shores of California on February second 1942, the only survivors of the pacific fleet. The war dragged on and on, but now it was time. A bomber carrying a new and experimental payload was set to fly over Hawaii, or rather as the US government had now dubbed it... Base Bravo, the Japanese staging area for their Pacific Naval offensive.
-- -
Might write more later if this is of interest.
|
[ WP ] You 're a regular guy who works at a Home Depot in Alabama and are unknowingly influencing the Venezuelan economy
|
My shift was about to end in 45 minutes when the bomb flew through the window.
I was confused at first. In the back of the Home Depot we were lifting some plastic boxes on to the loading pallet. I heard glass shatter behind me and the whirr of tires, and I whirled around, and noticed something like a wide straw that was…smoking?
A pipe bomb.
I just stared at it like an idiot, my mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened, when Eduardo, my co-worker, screamed “ fucking hell! ” and literally grabbed and pulled me behind the mahogany table 5 feet away just as the explosion went off.
I was unimpressed. Like, explosions are supposed to be big, bright and *powerful, * you know? But behind the table, I felt absolutely nothing, no concussion wave no bright flash. Just a hiss.
I turned towards Ed to ask him something but put a finger to his lips when I turned to look at him, and pulled out a freaking pistol from his jeans.
What the hell?
Ed seemed like a normal enough guy, his skin was an olive color, he was average height, dark eyes, short hair…that ’ s it. Not the kind of guy you would expect to carry a gun.
That ’ s when I heard the door of the front entrance opening, and soft, muffled footsteps. I moved to peek over at who was coming but Eduardo yanked me back, and I gave a little yelp. Immediately, a serious of thuds wnt through my head that was leaning against the table.
Someone had just tried to shoot me.
Eduardo immediately got up and shot towards the door. Where the person who had fired at us made no noise, Eduardo ’ s gun was *loud, * very loud. He shot 4 times, pausing momentarily after each shot as I lay behind the table covering my ears.
Eduardo quickly tapped my shoulder and motioned for me to get up. He checked his gun and put some more bullets in it. “ And Oliver thought this was paranoia… ” he muttered. Then turning to me he commanded, “ Hurry up, more might be on the way. ”
Too shocked to question him, I took his hand and we ran towards the front door. But what I saw made me stop dead in my tracks in spite it all. The box I had dropped had spilled other boxes. Kind of like nesting dolls, but what was strange was that between the boxes were glass rocks…diamonds.
The boxes that were supposed to be going to Venezuela.
Oh crap.
“ I ’ ve been *smuggling diamonds to Argentina?! * ” I asked Ed incredulously.
Ed ignored me and continued pulling me towards the door, where a body was lying. Ed bent over and took the weapon from the corpse which I tried not to look at too hard. “ Silenced, ” Ed muttered almost to himself, “ idiots. ”
In spite my terror I managed, “ Idiots? Why? ”
Ed gave me an annoyed glance as we continued out of the Home Depot, and off handedly said, “ sub sonic bullets, that ’ s why they didn ’ t go through the wood and kill us because of your idiocy. ”
Taken aback at how close I ’ d come to death. I fell quiet until Ed took me to his car. I heard sirens in the background, and Ed cursed.
“ What? ” I asked, “ aren ’ t we alive? ”
“ Yeah we ’ ll make it, but they ’ ll find the diamonds and the corpse, they ’ ll connect the dots. The paper train ain ’ t hard to follow. ”
“ But I didn ’ t do anything, ” I protested weakly, “ I ’ m just a normal guy. ”
Eduardo grinned then, a wolf ’ s smile. “ No longer buddy, no longer. You just became the prime suspect in an international conflict diamond scandal. Now, you want to become your government ’ s scapegoat or take your chances? ”
Shaking, I got in the car.
***
( minor edits )
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [ XcessiveWriting ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/ )
|
[ WP ] After submitting a post about 'finally mastering ' a mundane skill on social media , the poster finds themselves challenged by other Masters of the same mundane skill who take such claims very seriously .
|
I worked so hard to get this job; interview after interview after godforsaken interview. But finally, success.'Mike Hanson, Junior Architect' said the unnecessarily large amount of business cards that bulged the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
I was n't enjoying it though. Not one bit.
You see, like most jobs it was advertised as a nine o'clock start. However, if you turn up at MacGibbon and Ross at 9am, at best you'll be an hour behind your peers. At worst, you'll be marked out as the slacker, the no hoper, and eventually, the fired. Add this to my hour plus commute from Cambridge down and through the heart of central London and you end up with a phone beeping incessantly at you every day at 4.15am.
But day after day, meagre amount of sleep after meagre amount of sleep, espresso after espresso, my body began to acclimatize. I became that most hateful of human beings; I became a morning person. And a smug one at that.
So off I went one morning positively skipping onto the train with that particular'holier than thou' attitude peculiar to those who are not only awake, but functional whilst the rest of the world; the lazy rest of the world, sleeps. So pleased was I with myself, I decided to let my vast number ( thirty two ) of twitter followers learn of my achievement.'Woo hoo! I have FINALLY mastered waking up in the morning'
2.
The rest of the day went on as routine dictated; I performed the menial tasks, spoke with respect to my supervisor, spoke with considerably less respect about my supervisor, worked a little on my personal designs and flirted unsuccessfully with Charlotte as I passed the front desk on my way out. I collapsed onto the train after fighting my way through the crowds at Kings Cross and tried to shut my eyes. The baby two seats away did not feel my plight, so I turned to my phone and my practiced hands found their way to the Twitter icon. Unusually for me, someone had sent me a direct message.
'You call yourself a master. You compare yourself to Gods. This will not go unchallenged. Expect us.' - Timedies01
'I fucking hate twitter' I mumbled; closing the app and reaching for Angry Birds. I tumbled through the door, ate, exercised, showered, read a few pages and before ten o'clock blissfully, I slept.
*Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*... *Bang*...
At three am I awoke; eyes painfully squinting and trudged my way down the steps. I fumbled the keys through the door and eventually managed to swing it open.
'Nghuh??' I asked the short grey haired man; coat collar turned up against the wind; bright eyes glaring fiercely into my own.
He took a while to reply, his mouth twitching as he took in my appearance. He turned smartly on his heel and walked away.
'Pathetic.' He said.
|
[ WP ] The Cliffhanger !
|
The muscles in my leg pound and throb in a desperate agony as my feet smash the ground in rapid succession. Too afraid to turn my head, to catch a glimpse of the doom I could meet on this starless night, I focus on what is ahead. My chest bursts; rising up and down as my throat screams for more air. The heavy, thumping footsteps are still behind me and I ca n't tell if they are getting faster or if I am going slower.
My thoughts begin to vanish. My focus on safety starts to diminish as my body begins to tire. A deathly blackness surrounds the borders of my vision until soon I am nearly blind with exhaustion. In a last ditch effort to escape a boost of adrenaline shoots through my aching legs, propelling them into a sprint. But as my coordination fades my foot catches a rock and my face slams into the cold concrete.
I lay there, winded and thoughtless, listening to an obscure and horrible gargling. As the sound approaches I can feel my world begin to vanish. Even fear leaves my soul as I slip into unconsciousness.
|
[ WP ] Write a story that seems normal , until the last line , which turns it into something bittersweet .
|
The strangest thing about funerals, if you'd ask me, is how they pick the music.
If it's outdoors the family or who the hell ever it is they hire on to handle the nitty-gritty has to go through a whole process of picking songs that they think fit the loved one they just lost. You start to hear the most depressing songs anyone could ever find.
Jeeze, I mean, I've been to a funeral of a friend of a friend where they were playing that song you hear on the pet adoption commercials. You know the one? In the arms of an angel, or something like that. The second that thing comes on, which I'm sure everyone and their dog has heard, it kick starts a flight-or-fight response.
I know I've done the six-feet-sprint to turn the TV off when I had horrifying realization that the remote was nowhere to be quickly found.
So, let's say the family does n't want to pick the music and gives the funeral organizer free rein? Most of the time the organizer will go with the least vocal and least noticeable brand of instrumental tunes they can find. Unless they get the confusing direction to make the music, `` Cheerful, because it's a celebration of their life. Not a mourning of their death.''
Right. That's why we call it a funeral. Make sure you wear the brightest shirt and tie combo you have, too, because I'd hate for that macabre black and white to ruin the good vibes on the dance floor.
Shoot, I'm just a sour apple in an apple pie...
All things considered, I could be in a helluva worse situation than sitting in the reception of a church while an old lady plays the pipes and a priest talks about my dead brother like he knew him for more than however you'd quantify time after someone's death.
Would it be negative? Is that a negative amount of time? Like the priest knew Brook for negative thirty-eight hours?
Does n't matter.
Point is, there are n't many of us Penningtons left. With Brook going in the dirt, the list is down to his son, Cassidy, his wife, Deb, and his screw-up-of-a-brother... well, that'd be me. When our dad died Brook was right there with him. Took over his spot in the Pennington family business, logging up in Maine, as chairman, and I was scamming John Does out in Hawaii. I did n't even make it in time for the old man's funeral...
But, ever since then I'd worked from the bottom up to get my life on track.
Had to fight my brother like a rapid badger to get him to sign me on so I could live near the only family left. I won him over when I pulled out the one card I did n't want to.
Our dad had always said the only thing you can count on in this life is family. Even when they're making bad choices, you got ta be there for'em so they'll be able to do the same if your life hits a bog.
Joined the business as a chopper, moved back home, and have been almost a perfect brother, definitely a perfect uncle, since then.
Been about a decade since dad died, and now my brother's gone and followed him.
`` O God, whose mercies can not be numbered: Accept our prayers on behalf of Brook Aldus Pennington,'' The old priest has a voice that carries into the reception.
`` Grant Brook an entrance into the land of light and joy, in the fellowship of thy saints,'' I can hear Deb and Cassidy break, so I get up and quietly slide in through the polished oak door, darting down the aisle as the priest continues, `` Through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit...''
I sit down beside Cassidy and squeeze him into my side. The kid's tears immediately soak into my shirt as his little face sneaks past my blazer, and Deb gives me a broken-hearted look as the priest clears his throat. I glance his way and notice he's paused. His fat eyebrows are furrowed and his face is a little red, so I'd wager he's perturbed at being interrupted.
Fat bastard did n't know my brother, and sure as shoot does n't know me. So I could n't sit in there while he BS'd about all the good Brook had done?
I could n't stand to watch Cassidy and Deb's faces while their father and husband's life was recounted deed after deed after accomplishment after accomplishment until he stumbled into a damned prayer in a religion that I sure as sugar did n't pick when they took his funeral away from my planning.
Does that make me a monster?
`` One God, now and for ever. Amen,'' The priest's chubby cheeks jiggle as he finishes the thing, `` Would the pallbearers please come forward to bring our lost to his final resting place?''
I give Cassidy another little squeeze before getting up and stepping toward the casket. Closed, of course. Brook was in no shape to be seen...
Things went as you'd expect, really. The other guys, all Brook's friends, helped me get the casket out to the hole the grave diggers had made with their little Cat trailer, then we set it in the lowering device that gets in down in the plot real gentle like. Most folks passed by and dropped an evergreen sprig in, which Brook had always had in his will.
`` Why would I want a rose?'' The way he'd frowned when I'd asked him about it was engrained into my memory, `` I'm not a florist. I work with trees. I live with trees. If anyone has to toss something into my grave, it's gon na be trees. That's just how it's gon na be.''
I stuck around until everyone had gone on, except Cassidy and Deb. They had gone back to the church after I said I needed a minute with my brother.
`` Just a few minutes,'' I'd patted Cassidy on the shoulder, the small cushion of his suit jacket making his shoulder's as square as his dad's had been, `` Then we'll get ya home, okay?''
I'd smiled at Deb, then, and said, `` I'd really appreciate it, darlin'. Just enough time to...''
`` I understand,'' She'd sort of whispered back before leading Cassidy away and whispering something to him. Poor kid was almost as much of a mess as his mother.
`` Hey, fellas,'' I give a half-hearted wave to the grave diggers by their highlighter orange Cat, `` Mind clearing off just a couple minutes? I'd like my last words to be... private.''
`` Yeah, buddy, yeah,'' The older of the trio, cigarette smoking in one grizzled hand, waves the younger guys away as he mutters, `` Give the guy a bit, it's no cash off our checks.''
After they are gone, I kneel down beside the grave and pull out a small piece of bright green plastic from my breast pocket. It's the top half of a safety switch from one of our splitters. If you do n't know, they're those giant machines that split big logs into reasonable sized chunks of fire wood.
On the small scale they're pretty cool. But, on the industrial sized ones without a safety switch...
`` I've been a perfect uncle, Brook,'' I toss the piece of plastic into the grave, `` And I really wish I could've been a perfect brother.''
I stand up and brush my pants off. Got ta hate when a bunch of dead grass sticks to a suit.
`` Really... wish I could've been better. I'll make it up to ya, Brook. I'll make sure your boy never has to grow up wishing he were n't second best. Wishing he were n't the screw up,'' The wind picks up and stings my eyes, enough that I feel a few tears start trickling out.
`` I'll make sure he never feels like he'd have to kill to get ahead.''
|
[ WP ] You are sitting in the longest traffic jam in human history . It has been going on for decades and grown a culture of its own . Describe your life in `` The Jam ''
|
We're from Breakdown. There are those who look down on our people, just because our ancestors chose to use the shoulder when The Jam began. We're spit upon as cheats, blamed for worsening the crisis, all manner of invectives hurled at us. If it were only words, we could ignore it, but violence has befallen our people as well.
We should not suffer for the sins of our forebearers, just as those in Fast should not be rulers over us all just because their ancestors were in the most desirable areas when our transports stopped. Yet we do.
I wish I could tell you that this year would be different, but everyone here knows what happens next. The snows have thawed and look like they will not return. Winter has passed, and thus the next season will soon be upon us. For as surely as as Fall begets Winter, Winter begets Maintenance: The time where The Road is made new again.
As always, it will be a time of crisis. Breakdown is usually one of the few islands of stability during Maintenance, for the Gods of Mt. Pendot rarely choose to remake the shoulder. I have consulted the almanac, however, and it indicates that this is a year of hardship indeed, for the whole of The Road itself will be repaved.
Be calm, my people! Though the indestructible yellow demons will soon force our ancestral homes off The Road and into the purgatory that is The Ditch, this is not the end. Have we not recovered from such harsh Maintenances before? Have we not thrived in the following Summers? You have heard the legends, such trials are rewarded by progress of entire *meters*. Each one we survive brings us that much closer to the prophecied End of The Commute. Take heart!
That said, as we all know, the Gods help those who help themselves by creating a route beforehand. I have reached out to our brothers in the Exits. They are willing to shelter us this year, in exchange for our help when it is their time. I know this is not what you would hope. Many here believe that, with our superior numbers, we could overpower Slow. That is a route of pointless bloodshed, and accomplishes nothing but making the both of us weaker in the face the true enemies, the tyrants of Fast and their lickspittles in Passing. In other years, perhaps, it was a wise decision, because such wars have gained us many centimeters of progress, but this year all lanes are equal before Maintenance.
So: We will make the pilgrimage to the Exits. We will shelter there before the storm that re-makes our world. And when Maintenance passes, we will begin the summer ritual of taking our cars from The Ditch and placing them back upon The Road, and in so doing we will make *progress*!
**We will return, and we will return stronger! **
|
[ WP ] A cult worships you , thinking you 're an extremely powerful alien god in human form . They 're right , but they 're annoying you on your vacation .
|
`` Hey guys, look. If you want to ascend to the fifth level of ensortial, you'll need to go fetch your master a brewski, alright?'' Jim asked exasperatedly as the small group of hooded men circled around him by the lifeguard stand. He supposed it was nice having an entourage of human slaves, but they were n't helping him blend in. And they *definitely* were n't helping him enjoy his vacation.
`` But lord, what of this weeks teachings on the journey through the valley of xertov?'' A man asked as he stepped forward, lowering his hood.
`` I need recharge my chakras while observing the female human form on this coast for a while. The lesson will begin... maybe next week?'' Jim mumbled distractedly while eyeing two beach babes taking a walk.
`` I really believe that it's important that we continue our lessons if we wish to become your high disciples, my lord.'' The man in the hood was clearly getting annoyed by the lack of helpfulness from his semi-reptilian overlord.
`` How we doing on those brewskis, boys? It's a hot one. Do n't be afraid to grab one for yourself. Seriously guys, take a load off.'' Jim said while gesturing to the sand next to him.
`` I really do n't think now is the time to be drinking.'' The man with the hood sneered.
& nbsp;
`` Suit yourself.'' Jim licked his lips with his forked tongue, snapped his fingers, and smiled deviously as his cloaked disciples were instantly transformed into a few cold beers and a pair of sunglasses. Being a powerful alien god does have it's perks!
|
[ WP ] Write me a short love story that ends with someone saying `` We 're doomed . ''
|
The room was like a furnace. The plastic spoon had started melting in his grip so Jerome resolved to use his fingers to ladle the syrupy ice cream out of the bowl. Sweat drained down his body in streams, soaking the couch before dissipating into steam. Nadia lay with her head in his lap. He could see smoke curling from her limbs in the gleam emanating from the television. The screen trembled with patterns of static.
Their clothes lay strewn on the floor. Nadia ’ s bra swayed forlornly from the doorknob. There was no other way to escape the heat. Jerome had even bolted all the windows as best as he could. He couldn ’ t stand the searing light beating from the sky. There was nothing left to do, except stay at home, wait or die before the asteroid impact.
Jerome fingered a blob of warm ice cream and gently pressed it to her mouth. She yielded. Even in the darkness the pink was startling against her skin. Her tongue and lips felt like parchment to the touch and that terrified him. He could bear the heat, but seeing her go through the same destroyed him.
As he scooped some more from the bowl her eyes flew open. He stopped. Her eyes were a wonderful ebony and they glowed in the poor light. Her hand slid upwards. She dipped one of her beautiful fingers into the bowl and brought it to his lips. She smeared it over his mouth and he let out a strangled whine. They were supposed to get married and have many children, live well into their old age. They were supposed to live forever.
He felt her brushing his cheek with her knuckles and he realized he was crying. The meager tears evaporated as soon as they escaped from his gluey lids.
“ It ’ s alright, love, ” she whispered. Her voice was so weak. The bowl fell out of his grip and crashed to the floor. He grabbed her and held her wet body to his. She was tiny, but her grip was strong. He was sobbing like a child.
“ There, there, ” she cooed. “ It'll be alright. We are doomed. ”
|
[ WP ] Tell me a story about the Council of Goats
|
`` You have been bad,'' said the head councilgoat, his voice echoing powerfully around the cavernous limestone chamber. `` *BAAAAAAAAAD. *''
Max tapped his hooves crossly.
`` I do n't see what the big deal is,'' he said.
`` The deal?'' whinnied one of the smaller councilgoats. `` The *deal*? Did you not hear the lead prosecutor's opening statements, all of three minutes ago? You have been charged with perpetuating a hurtful and politically inflammatory stereotype.''
`` I drew one cartoon with a goat eating a can,'' said Max. `` How does that perpetuate anything? I thought freedom of expression meant something in this country.''
`` Goats,'' said the prosecutor, `` do not eat cans.''
`` We, like, *chew* on them a little, at most,'' whined a councilgoat.
`` The humans are bad enough, stating all the time that the world's first and only island nation of sentient goats does n't deserve a spot in the UN General Assembly,'' said the head councilgoat, his voice rising in pitch. `` We toil every day to earn their respect and undermine the very stereotypes that you, in your so-called'cartoons,' are busy fluffing up for a cheap human laugh.''
`` Goats love my cartoons too,'' said Max. `` Blue-collar goats, sure. Your typical everygoat. But since when do those citizens matter less than you do?''
`` Since we were selected by Goat God to rule this island!'' trumpeted the head councilgoat, slamming his gavel on the stand. `` Guilty! I find this goat guilty!''
As the guards led Max away, he briefly considered kicking one of them in the head. At the end of the day, though, they were just doing their jobs.
`` Sorry about this,'' one of them whispered in his ear. `` I think your cartoons are hilarious.''
Max could n't help but bleat a sad laugh.
|
[ WP ] You dream every night about the girl of your dreams . You and her connect on every level and you get excited about falling asleep . Then , one day , you and your SO run into her on the street and she instantly recognizes you too ...
|
Some mornings when I wake up I look over at my girlfriend and I picture her being the lady in my dreams. She ’ s beautiful, my girlfriend, and we always had an amazing connection. But everything in the dream was always surreal and beyond human connection. I started having the dreams before my girlfriend and I met. I remember they started shortly after I graduated high school. We met in a field on a place that didn ’ t feel like earth–with hours spent holding each other and talking about the universe. The dreams continued for years after that. All through college and eventually when I met my current girlfriend. I knew everything about this dream girl, her name was Haley and she was practically a goddess. She felt real and yet I couldn ’ t talk about her. She was my gift to keep.
One morning after a deep sleep, no dreams, my girlfriend Alice and I went out for some breakfast at a diner. It was a good plan, I ’ m always hungry after a long nights sleep. The diner was called Pagliacci ’ s and they had the best egg sandwich.
After we were eating for a while a couple came in and sat down opposite us. The man had his back to Alice and the girl, dear god; the girl was Haley, the lady of my dreams. My Haley, how could she be here? She looked at me, smiled for a second and then her smile faded. She stared with her mouth wide open. She knew who I was and had the dreams too, she ’ s real.
I continued my meal and it was difficult to sit still. I thought carefully and decided to go see her. I had to go see her.
“ Hey Alice, There ’ s an old friend at the table across from us. I ’ m going to go say hi. ” I said.
“ Alright, ” she said. She continued to eat her egg sandwich, the yolk cracking and spilling onto her plate. I walked over to her table. She smiled at me the whole way.
“ Hi, I think I remember you from somewhere. ” I said.
“ Yes, ” she said, “ I remember you too. I had a dream about you a while back. ”
I glanced nervously at the guy standing next to her. He had a blank look.
“ Do you remember the one with the field? ” I said.
“ The first one? ”
“ Yes ” My heart fluttered.
“ It ’ s one of my favorite. ”
“ Mine too. ”
“ Yeah ”
“ I didn ’ t think you were real. ” I said.
“ No I didn ’ t think you were real either. The crazy thing is I told you I would see you soon last night. ”
“ Last night? I didn ’ t have a dream last night. ”
“ Oh, never mind then, I thought you might remember. It was one of the ones where we plan our lives together. ”
“ Is this your boyfriend, ” I asked.
“ No I ’ m not. I ’ m just a friend. ” He got up, as if on cue, and left the diner.
“ Right. ” I said and I sat down.
“ So what do you want to do? ” She said.
“ I can ’ t do anything I have a girlfriend. Things are going well. I just... I don ’ t know how to respond to this I didn ’ t plan for you to be real. ”
“ I knew you would be real. I was waiting for you to find me and sweep me off my feet. I never dated because of you. I wanted to be ready. ” She said. Determination and pride glowed on her face.
“ That seems a little excessive don ’ t you think? Why give up the pleasures of life for a dream? ”
“ The pleasures of life were the dreams. I want you in real life. I want to touch your face for real. ”
“ We can ’ t ” I said, “ I love my girlfriend. I don ’ t plan on leaving her. ”
“ But you said yourself we would run away together. ”
“ When did I say that? ” I never remembered saying that.
“ Last night. You promised me that you would be with me forever, you would leave that girl and never see her again. ”
I stopped and thought for a second. I didn ’ t know ho to respond to this. I didn ’ t remember having this conversation. I didn ’ t want to leave my girlfriend; Haley is great as a fantasy. But that ’ s all she ever was. She couldn ’ t give me stability like Alice could and Alice is real, we found a connection that wasn ’ t jumping from plant to planet.
“ I ’ m sorry. It ’ s amazing to see you in person but I can ’ t leave Alice. I ’ m building my life and I can not let a dream world take over my real world. ”
I paid for the meal and left the diner. Alice and I spent the day together gardening at her house. When it got hot we ran down to a lake she lives near and swam for a while. We got up on a dock and I decided to tell her what happened at the diner.
“ It ’ s ok. ” Was the first thing she said, “ You didn ’ t have control over the dreams. ”
“ That doesn ’ t mean I didn ’ t want it. I did. After meeting her though, something felt wrong. She weirded me out. ”
“ Hmm well you don ’ t have to think about it. The dreams will go away if you don ’ t want them to right? ”
“ I think so. ”
“ Ok, can I ask you something? ”
“ Sure. ”
“ Would you have left me for her? ”
“ No. ”
“ Why not, it sounds like she was everything you ever wanted. ”
“ She was everything I wanted. But when I met her in the diner I realized that She ’ s everything I idealized. Haley is the girl I put on the pedestal and call perfect. In reality she isn ’ t. ”
“ Ok. ” She said, a smile appearing on her cute face. “ I just wanted to make sure. Let ’ s go in it ’ s about to rain. ” The clouds swelled and released the rain as we were running and giggling back to her house.
That night I was pulled into the dream world again. I was sitting on the field, it was the first time since Haley and I first met. The smell of sulfur and rotten eggs was perched in the air. It made me sick. I walked to the other side of the field where a light was coming through the trees. I walked through the brush, branches tickling and pinching at my legs. There was a camp with a tent and a small fire burning. I crouched down to look and kept my body hidden. My blood started to rush and my heart started to pound, I shouldn ’ t be here.
A bag came over my head, “ Hello John. ” Haley said as she dragged me off into the depths of our dream. My body went limp and wouldn ’ t fight her; I was paralyzed to help my situation. The dragging took forever and I couldn ’ t escape. I drifted off into darkness.
When I came back I was kneeling, the bag was still over my head. I heard Haley giggle, “ Ooo You ’ re awake. ” She said.
“ Where am I? ” I said as I started to toss and turn, my strength slowly returning. In my struggling I bumped into a body next to me.
“ Mmmhhhhhh, ” the voice moaned. It was Alice.
“ You brought Alice into the dream! What is wrong with you? ” I said.
“ What is wrong with me? Ha! What is wrong with you? Why have you denied our preordained marriage? We are destined to be together John and I ’ m not going to let some bitch get in between us. ”
“ I ’ m not yours, ” I said trying to keep my voice from sounding shaky.
“ You will be. ” She said.
Alice ’ s body next to me was pulled away. She moaned and jerked.
“ Stop moving. ” I heard flesh being sliced, a sound you never forget and Alice screamed. It made my hair stand on end. I wanted to wake up but I couldn ’ t. I was locked into the dream with no escape. Nowhere to go, I had to save Alice.
“ I ’ m going to carve this girl up. ” Alice screamed again and again and again. All I could do was listen. Until I remembered, this is a dream. The bindings on my hands loosened and I took the bag off my head.
“ Haley, you ’ re one sick fuck. ” I said. And I charged at her. She held a knife up as I ran at her. I dodged to the left. She swung the knife. I dodged backward and then lunged at her arm. I grabbed hold of it and slammed her hand down on the ground. The knife flew into a small pile of wet clumped leaves. I picked it up and put it to her throat. “ Get out of our heads. ” I said and I slit her throat. I woke up at that moment and watched Haley slide to Alice ’ s bedroom floor.
|
[ WP ] Once a year , Santa and Satan meet in a Swiss bar to exchange mail .
|
The Other Hand was the kind of place where business happened. It was a hidden well, squeezed between two warehouses down near the docks. If it was ever quiet, you could hear the shouts of the barge men down the road.
It was never quiet.
Yelling, screaming and drunken singing all competed against each other in a three-way race to deafen the ears of anyone inside. The owner, Tanford Hughes, liked it this way. Partially, because the noise kept everyone's business to themselves and meant a lot fewer incidents between them all, but mostly because Tanford was deaf.
He did n't have to deal with all this shit, so why should he care?
Regardless of the noise, the strange location, and the inherent smell of hundreds of years of spilled beer and piss, The Other Hand was a place were deals were made, and once a year on November 5th Santa Clause came by.
A lot of people pass through the door to the The Other Hand, but Santa always drew a few eyes. Bright red and fluffy white amid a sea of browns, blues, and grays tend to do that. He also eclipsed what little light was let in by the door as it opened, squeezing himself through the opening like a foam ball through a vacuum cleaner hose.
Still, there was interest, and there was insult. Everyone turned back to their own business after a second or two. Except for the guy sitting at the center stool of the bar, his back against the aged and stained wood. He suit was armani and spotless amidst the grime and smoke.
He was wearing sunglasses.
Santa threw down his giant, red velvet sack on the floor before the slick stranger and he sat on it. The sack transformed into a large, ornate chair with gold trimmings on the red velvet.
`` Evening, big guy.'' The suit flicked his eyebrows up with the words. They were Jack Nicholson eyebrows, expressive and curved down so much it was almost disturbing, `` Been a light year for you, I hear.''
`` You have them?'' Santa's voice was anything but jolly.
`` Oh, they're around, you know.'' The suit leaned in. A dark, angry portal opened on the floor and a table rose from it. The table was carved from something black and chitinous. It moved it's legs as the portal closed, adjusting itself to accommodate Satan's need to lean on something, `` And my missives?''
Santa tapped the chair that had been a sack just moments before.
`` Shall we discuss numbers?'' Satan flashed teeth that were white, perfect, and razor sharp.
`` One hundred thirty-six thousand four hundred twelve.'' Santa stated the number carefully and without hesitation.
`` One hundred ninety-five thousand and some other shit.'' Satan wiggled his shoulders as he saw Santa squirm at the inaccuracy, `` I almost won this year. It's usually so much higher.''
`` Autocorrect has changed things.''
`` I suppose you're right.'' Satan shrugged eloquently, `` So once again, we trade letter for letter until there is a discrepancy, this year it's about sixty thousand. Such a small number to work with, but I think I'll made do.''
`` Get on with it.''
`` Fine, fine!'' Satan waved his hands sarcastically, summoning a burning piece of a paper in the process. It had names all over it, front and back. Written over each other, in small hands and large. He set it down on the table in front of him and it fused to the black material.
`` Come on now, Santa.'' Satan grinned, `` Let's see that naughty list. It's time to check it a second time.''
|
[ WP ] A Suicidal Man Wins the Lottery Jackpot of 50 Million Dollars
|
When you see someone at the side of a bridge, ready to jump off, you'll see them stop for just a moment. Now, that's not hesitation you're seeing. What you're seeing is them realizing just how fucking windy it is on the side of a bridge. It's when they close their eyes as they drop off - *that's* where the contemplation and regret takes place. A final personal confirmation of what they're doing there in the first place.
I ca n't say that I'm any exception, and Jesus Christ, it is fucking *breezy* up here.
All of my friends are pretty much online. It would take at least a week or so for them to realize I jumped, provided they do n't keep up with the local news. The girl I'm in love with moved out of state for a job and is now in a relationship with one of our other friends. I'm broke. I have no prospects for the future, economically or otherwise.
I am exactly like every other poor fuck who has ever stood on this bridge, save for one detail: I am holding a lottery ticket worth fifty million dollars.
edit: lol. whoops. forgot the fifty million thing. changed it.
|
[ FF ] Describe 100 years of a character 's life in 10 words . Then describe the last 10 seconds of their life in 100 words .
|
The hope of a generation learned to oppress the next.
The CEO of America was tied to a machine which circumvented his dying body. It did everything except think, but the rebels crippled it. His orders to the VPs stopped; his cold iron wisdom had rusted. But the life support remained intact.
`` Shall we pull the plug, Sister?'' asked a rebel.
*You will not. * The blasphemy went unabated, and the CEO seethed.
`` We will be as evil as he.''
`` That is n't possible.''
The woman sighed. `` True. Let him die.''
*To hell with you all. * The CEO willed it with all the rancor he could. To his surprise, he died.
|
[ WP ] When news broke out that humans had discovered a ninth planet , the Roman and Greek gods are invited to a competition to see whom the new planet will be named after .
|
`` Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to the 8th ever Mythology Planetary Tag Team Death Match. You'd think we'd have a better name by now, but that's not the point! I'm Cotton McKnight and with me, as always, is a bottle of scotch and Pepper Brooks! We're bringing it to you live here on ESPN8 The Ocho!''
`` Yeah, we got a good one tonight Cotton.''
`` We Sure Do Pepper! Now here's how the fight works boys and girls. Two gods, chosen by the Romans to be representatives, will fight to the death against two Gods chosen by the Greeks. It will be bloody. It will be brutal. And it will be good clean family fun for all.''
`` Yeah Cotton, this is gon na be fun for the whole family!''
`` Indeed. Representing the Romans in the purple Corner, he's wet. He's wild. He's the god of the sea. He's Neptune! Alongside Neptune bringing the heat, he's on fire. His tops about to blow! He's Vulcan, the God of Fire!''
`` Now, water and fire do not mix do they Cotton?''
`` They sure do n't pepper. Now for the Greeks! Over in the red corner bringing the pain, he got his kicked in a video game once, it's the god of war Ares! And to make the father son pair electrifying, it's the king of them all Zeus!
There are thousands in attendance here at Madison Square Garden with countless gods and godesses from both sides! Our competitors are in the ring and ready to face off!''
`` Yeah, we got a good one tonight Cotton!''
`` You already said that Pepper. Oh! and there goes the bell! And almost instantly the Romans have cheated. It appears that Cupid has shot arrows from the stand and now Ares and Zeus are having some sort of homoerotic, twisted, Oedipus Rex-like love-fest right in the ring. It might be the scotch Ladies and Gentlemen, but I'd be lying if I said I was n't slightly aroused. Which is raising some frightening questions I have about myself now.''
`` Love is love, Cotton.''
`` I'm not sure that applies when it's your father, pepper. Oh my! It appears Neptune is sneaking up behind the two. Oh my god! He stabs Ares right in the back with a trident! Now it's important to note folks that Neptune has already won the right to name a planet. The guy in charge of all this did n't realize that until just now and the stories been developed, and he's not going back to rewrite it.
Ares is on the ground writhing in pain. What's this? Good God of Lighting Zeus strikes Neptune square in the chest with a bolt from the blue! But Water conducts electricity Neptune's unfazed!''
`` Yeah, uh, lighting ca n't hurt water Cotton.''
`` Right you are Pepper, but look! Neptune trips over Ares on the ground and falls on Vulcan! He's put him out! Neptune has extinguished Vulcan!''
`` That's like scoring an own goal in FIFA''
`` Ares is back on his feet! He's heading for Vulcan! Vulcan is defenseless! Oh! In the face! Ares has stabbed Vulcan in the face! Oh, it's like a scene from game of thrones! Ares could give Tarantino a lesson in Gore! This is brutal boys and girls!
Here comes Neptune! In the back again! Neptune has turned Ares' back into a trident pincushion! Absolutely savage!''
`` Yeah, now a Trident in the back would not help him Cotton. Its a bold move by ares, lets see where he goes with it.''
`` Wait a second Pepper! Whats this!? Ladies and Gentlemen, its Jesus! Jesus has entered the ring! And right off the bat he is just walking all over Neptune. Wait what's that Jesus has in his hands? It's an M16! Jesus has an M16! Everyone's ducking for cover! It's Judgement day for those in the ring, and our lord and savior is showing no mercy today!''
That's it ladies and Gentlemen! It's over! It's all over! Jesus Christ has come out of nowhere to win it all! According to the rules of the competition the new planet will now be called Jesus!
Well the night was exhilarating folks! From Pepper and Myself, and the folks at ESPN8 The Ocho, we're saying good night!''
|
[ WP ] A mumbling , glassy-eyed woman places a trinket into your hand .
|
Drew was a young boy in his late teens. He was never one to follow the conventional path of a boy his age. This winding, unpredictable path all started the day which he was born. Drew was left alone in his village's nursery two mornings after his birth and from then on he tread his path all alone. All he ever knew of his mother was a small trinket, a small ship with no sails that was given to him by an innkeeper who claimed it was left by his mother. Never staying in one play too long, Drew traveled from town to town, village to village, port to port, in search of a purpose to dedicate his life.
After an early rising from his makeshift bed on the porch of a unknowing townsmen, Drew made his way through the soon to be bustling streets towards the docks. As he approached his destination, he could see the towering sails cloth sails of the ships tied to the docks, he could hear the merchants preparing their goods for the day to come, and he could most definitely smell the fish from fishermen coming back in to town from the previous night's fishing trip. Before he reached the market area of the docks where he was headed in search of work, he saw a strange looking woman fumbling over her own two feet towards the water.
Drew quickly yelled out to the women as he ran towards her, `` Wait!''. Hoping to stop her before she fell into the freezing cold water. Before she reached the edge, Drew grabbed the woman's arm, stopping her in her tracks.
`` Oh my... how clumsy of me,'' the woman said. In the brief moment which the woman directed her gaze towards Drew, he caught a glimpse of her glazed over eyes.
After blankly staring at Drew, the woman said, `` Thank you so much. May I give you something in return for your heroism?''
`` No, miss. It is fine. I must be going.'' Drew responded.
`` Take this.'' The woman said, as she extended her hand, dropping a small, carved piece of wood into Drew's hand.
`` This...'' Drew mumbled as he stared into his palm at the beautifully carved sail that looked as if it came straight from the trinket the innkeeper gave him when he was a younger.
`` I do not need to see to know that it is you.'' said the woman with a smile.
|
[ WP ] You walk a long journey of 400 miles on foot , Just to get some cheese for your Bologna Sandwich .
|
This is it, the final piece of the puzzle. Felix opens the kraft single package, reaches in, grabs the cheese slice and places it on his sandwhich. Nothing happens. Bewildered, Felix inspects the Kraft rapper. `` Made with 100 % soy milk'' NOOOO Felix cries. This was suppose to be it he clammored. The only thing I needed to save this planet. Felix was the last hope of saving what remained of the human population. The `` supremes'' as they called themselves put us into nuclear winter 9 months ago. The sun blocked by ash, only the strongest of plants survived, as for humans, 99 % decimation. When the aliens came we thought they were allies but that quickly changed when they set off there `` cleansing'' bomb. We do n't know why, but it all happend so fast. We fought them with everything we had, bullets, missles, microwave guns, even nukes. Nothing we had could hurt them. It was n't until the day an unsuspecting soldier was eating his bolgna and cheese sandwhich did we realize they had a weakness. It was n't anything physical that could hurt them. But the odor of yeast, bolgna preservatives and dairy together caused there skin to melt and they could sense it within a thousand miles. We knew it affected them because of there powerful banshee screams when melting towards there demise. But when this was realized it was already to late. We were in a fallout and the last place I though cheese could be was gone. My old time capsule I had planted 23 years ago, I placed soy cheese in. If only I had known.
My first writing prompt I've ever done. I do n't write much and I'm on my cell phone so excuse any punctuation or spelling errors.
|
[ wp ] You are a guard tasked to watch a gate that has never been opened . No one knows what 's behind it . Write about one of your days on duty .
|
“ It ’ s not that I ’ m scared of her, more like I ’ m scared of what she ’ ll say to me…I mean, what if she just ignores me? ”
“ Lester, you got ta take a worst possible scenario approach here. Let ’ s walk through the *worst possible scenario* ”
Lester looked at me with that dumb blank look he assumes when he ’ s thinking. I give him a second before I prodded a little more:
“ Come on Lester, what if she ignores you, what happens next? ”
“ I don ’ t know man, everyone in the bar laughs at me and I start crying? ”
“ And…? ” We ’ re sitting on two folding chairs next to a metal door, in the middle of a field in rural Minnesota. We ’ re guarding the door. This is what happens in Kanaranzi, Minnesota a when you fail to graduate high school. You become either a farmer, or a guard, or both. Everyone takes their turn at being a guard once in their life; it ’ s just the high school dropouts who make a career out of it. Lester and I will sit here, by the door for seven more hours, before Kayla and Lionel come to relieve us.
“ And what man? Everyone will always laugh at me for the rest of my life, every time I go into the bar. ”
“ Shit, Lester, do you remember when Lionel ’ s dad got so sick from eating all that cheese on a bet that he up and shit himself at the town hall meeting two years ago? ”
“ I don ’ t remember that ”
“ Well you were there, hell I remember you took a picture of it on your phone. Said it was damn near the funniest thing you ’ d ever seen. ”
“ Don ’ t ring any bells. ”
“ Do you think Lionel ’ s dad was embarrassed? ”
“ Of course, that ’ s just about my worst nightmare. ”
“ Worse than Janine ignoring you? ” Lester reverted to the dumb blank look as he imagined the possibilities. He was getting there, slowly, like one of those summer storms that roll across the plains. You can see it coming, but you got ta wait a good hour before the first raindrops hit your face.
“ So what you ’ re saying is that no one will remember in two years if I shit my pants while asking Janine out on a date? ”
“ Goddamnit Lester, you have got to be one of the dumbest guys I know ”
“ How many guys you know? ”
“ I don ’ t know, a hundred or so. ”
“ So if I ’ m only one of the dumbest, that means there ’ s like a couple who could be dumber? Who ’ s dumber, I bet I know them ”
I stared at Lester, dumbfounded. It wasn ’ t that he was dumb; he was actually not that dumb. It just took him a little longer to reach the same conclusions everyone else got to immediately. Thing is, I like Lester, he ’ s a good guy and often comes at issues from an entirely novel perspective, he can just frustrate the hell out of me sometimes.
“ Look Lester, do you think you ’ ll shit your pants? ”
“ I don ’ t know, happened to Lionel ’ s dad ”
“ Have you eaten a pound of cheese today? ”
“ Nope ”
“ In fact Lester, do you remember the last time you shit yourself? ” The dumb blank look returned.
“ Can ’ t reckon I do. Almost did a few times on guard duty before they put that there porta-potty in. ”
Sadly, I knew exactly what he was talking about. Guard duty was easy, except you only get one five-minute break every four hours. If you didn ’ t empty your gut properly before sitting down, you were liable to get a little antsy waiting for your break. And you couldn ’ t just leave, you got paid to sit here and guard the door. They did random checks a few times a day, and if you weren ’ t sitting next to the door, you would be fired on the spot, no warning, no lecture, just the loss of a decent, easy $ 50/hr paying job.
“ So tonight, I ’ m going to go with you to the bar. We ’ ll order a couple of beers and when Janine comes in for work you ’ re going to go right up to her and ask her if she wants to go see a movie with you up at the Verne Drive-in. ”
“ Why the drive-in all the way in Verne, that ’ s like 20 minutes from here. Why can ’ t we just come over to your house and watch a movie there? ”
“ Two reasons Lester, first you can ’ t because it ’ s my house, and you don ’ t want me there for your date, and second, because you can ’ t take a girl to your friend ’ s house for your first date, that ’ s just creepy. ”
“ Why can ’ t you be there, what if I need help figuring out something to say? ”
“ Just tell her you ’ re not sure what to say and smile. ”
Behind us, the door gave an ominous groan and distant shrieks emanated from behind the metal. Lester carefully picked up the clipboard and made a note of the sounds. It happened several times each guard duty, it was the creepiest during the graveyard shift, but nothing else ever happened. The wind through the wheat fields drowned out the sounds and Lester and I returned to our conversation. We talked for the rest of the shift, and when we were relieved, we headed over to the bar in Ellsworth.
“ Now, Lester, before she puts on her apron ”
“ Now, now? I haven ’ t finished my beer ” I grabbed his beer and chugged it.
“ No more beer, now get your ass over there and ask her. ”
“ Ok ”
Lester lumbered over to Janine, who was in the process of taking her apron off the hook and tying it around her waist. I couldn ’ t hear what they said, but she smiled and kissed Lester on the cheek before turning to the bar, grabbing her check pad and tucking a pen behind her ear. Lester turned around, a big grin on his reddened face as he walked back to the table.
“ She said yes man, she said yes! ”
I smiled at Lester and got up to go grab another round from the bar. Sitting back at the table, Lester was still grinning.
“ She said yes man. This is awesome. ”
I passed Lester his beer and raised mine in a toast.
“ To girls Lester ” Lester grinned and raised his beer as well. Behind him, Janine walked by with a tray of empties. As she walked by she smiled and mouthed *thanks* to me and continued on her way to the kitchen.
|
[ WP ] Everyone knows about soul mates . What they do n't know is soul enemies .
|
From the very moment I met you, I knew I hated you.
Ever get that feeling? That feeling like a rock in your stomach, or like fire in your heart. No, not indigestion; it's like this burning fiery itch to hit someone or cut them. And not in a playful way.
When I saw your smug fucking grin I just knew. I knew we could n't really be in the same place at the same time; I did n't ever want to even share the same oxygen as you, in the irrational fear that I might somehow become bonded to you in some way.
*Revulsion*
The word flashed in my head. Except it was more than that.
*Hatred*
But even that was n't enough. I did n't just hate you. I wanted to put bamboo splinters under your toenails and make you kick walls. I wanted to introduce you to a nest of *Paraponera clavata*, but only after agitating it first. I wanted to run you over with a tank and break each bone in your body, then send you to a hospital to recover ( without pain medication ), only so I could break each bone again in a different place.
To watch you talk to my fiance is painful. My face contorts into barely-controlled rage when I hear my name pass your lips and see you laugh. I know you do n't like me, either; that's fine.
Most fathers hate their daughters' first boyfriends, do n't they?
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.