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[ WP ] In vino veritas
| # # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
It was a fresh vintage of his own creation, picked from fields lush and infused with the life of the surrounding areas. The soil outside that carefully crafted zone was dead and dry under such influence, rocky and terse to a pale comparison of its former glory, but inside the seals and weaves of the magic's touch: The ground was vibrant. Life blossomed beneath the simple game of concentrations, held in place by overwhelming magical prowess of a Mage beyond his years.
Wine Harvesting was one of the few tasks of seeming normality that Gillian still took seriously.
Perhaps it came hand in hand with immortality, but Gillian had been a functional alcoholic longer than most people could trace their family lines. After the first thousand years, sleep alone will no longer get one's mind far enough from the world to rest with contentment; subtle assistance is often required, lest the dullness of reality seep in deep.
Some rare few might argue the semantics of the first of such statements: Certainly there was the odd noble-blood fanatic who had their dusty old lineage manuscripts to point them back a few thousand years or so. Magic imbued parchment could stand the passage of time almost as well as he himself could, and there were still some people of that nature and art scattered or sprinkled about here and there among the outer kingdoms. At a general average though, Gillian knew it was the truth.
A few thousand years and counting, but he still appreciated a good Wine as much as when he'd first discovered the beverage. As he strolled down the perfectly crafted steps to the cellar of his grand and noble keep, he let his fingers trace out along the many perfectly formed glass bottles, the wooden shelves and barrels made and imbued with magics of keeping, preserved from time and ages.
The perfect glow of glass and colors greeted his eyes, smiling jewels in the cool crypt of earth. None else but Gillian himself were permitted to enter this place without permission, and rarely did he permit them in any such case. Only once every dozen years or so, he might allow a few hand selected to carry down what seemed most promising- but no more often than that. It was a capsule in time, this basement.
Many things rested in its cool embrace, not simply wine but also the occasional shipment from the Dwarven Whiskey, barreled from the Far Western Mountains of his territories. It was fair to say that Gillian preferred wine dramatically to the few competitors offered, but he was n't one to rule things out- although with honesty he'd never been much for liquors. Try as he might to blend the burning sensations in his throat from the liquids with herb and pipe, they were almost always too unpleasant for him to savor.
It was n't the pain that bothered him to such a degree, considering Gillian could just magic that away without a thought, but the flavor. For some reason he'd yet to find a spell that might mask such flammable tastes. Too fierce, too aggressive to enjoy. He'd tried them all, over the years.
Of the other options and varieties, beer and Mead were in another camp: entirely beneath him. Those were for peasants to brew and consume in tragic nights of drunken debauchery, or for Orcs to drink in copious quantities, but Wine... Chilled wine, especially in the hottest seasons of the years: There was a drink for the ages to admire. Its legacy held in the highest courts, the most pristine of pedigrees throughout countless Royal courts.
But so perfect this nectar of the gods as it might be, wine was n't as simple a thing to obtain.
The pilfered corpses of dying Kingdoms might be under his command and banner, but Orcs, undead, and Demon-spawn were terrible tenders to the grape and vine. If such a thing was possible, they seemed even worse at the process of refining the fruit. Much as it pained him, Gillian had been forced to commit actual human lives to such a task, or be placed in the position to oversee it all himself.
He actually been extremely tempted to do exactly that, after the fifth poisoning attempt found its way past his lips, regardless of how tedious the process might be.
At least seven generations of enslavement in most cases, and Gillian would have though such trivialities put to rest among the headstones. Human beings were fickle beings though, difficult to a point of absurdity at times. Rule a majority of the planet's largest continent, possess the armies and magical capacity to easily continue on and ravage the rest of the world- yet some anger youth working in a winery might still try and pour cyanide into the barrels with the fleeting hope Gillian might drink it and keel over dead.
Was n't that just the truth of it, though? Most people probably would, at least in the human settlements still beneath the iron rule of his law. He taught them little beyond his destructive and whimsical might- little of what his powers were truly capable of beyond what was need to keep them compliant. Some rare few still thought him mortal as a result it seemed: That he might actually be killed by such an effort.
For Gillian, he would rip out the nearest available soul: Chew and swallow. The problem, whatever it happened to be, generally resolved itself from there. From wound to poison, it made little difference.
Casually, he let his fingers settle on the gleaming color of green glass, tinted something darker in its contents beneath: Today's choice. The wine was over five hundred years old, but as he traced the magics that held it stable, felt out with the finely controlled forces of nature that beckoned and bowed under the currents of his breath's wind- he knew it was barely past a full moon's passing since it was sealed.
His Goblet appeared as he willed it, and the bottle tipped and filled with practiced ease as scents of grapes and wood flooded up from the glass. His first sip passed his lips with a grin of content emotions- not quite happiness, but not disappointment either, before he once again ascended the staircase back into the light of day; just as he did every morning.
The world had become dull with the years and seasons. More stale and boring with every passing day, it pained him, but Gillian could wait patiently for that to change. He'd put the motions to do so, enormous efforts in fact, and he'd see them through until the next challenge presented itself. Step by step, Gillian rose along the tower until the cold winds whipped from the Eastern lands, frigid air clasping at his robes and beard. He drank deeply, relishing in its magnificence.
On the horizon of the rising sun atop the tower, Gillian smiled at the approaching shape: Fully aglow with the red and orange violence of the sun's heat.
*Finally. *
...
-- --
**This is a continuation of a bunch of other writing prompts: **
[ *Start here* ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2 )
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[ WP ] An elderly man is on a mission to right the wrongs he made .
| Smoke drifted heavily from the burning thatch of the village. Rifle fire had ceased coming from the huts after the second attack run by the helicopters circling like vultures. A line of troops emerged from the tree line and advanced. Each man held his weapon ready and expectant of enemy fire.
`` Hughes, Jackson! Check that bunker right. Everyone else on me.''
Hughes and Jackson made their way to the entrance of the right bunker. Curls of smoke seeped through the timber and soil walls accompanied by the bitter smell of gunpowder and death.
`` I'll take lead, Jackson,'' Hughes said and moved forward toward the door. A hand grabbed his arm as Jackson pulled ahead of him.
`` Sorry, Hughes, but you have a baby on the way back home. I got this one''
Hughes thought briefly about his pregnant wife as he quickly checked the exterior of the door for booby traps. Jackson moved to kick in the door. At that moment, Hughes saw the wire.
The explosion shook Hughes and tossed him away like a broken toy. Ears ringing, he pushed himself to his knees and felt his leg buckle beneath him. One glance showed that where a bunker had once been, was now smoking rubble.
He passed out and woke only once to see his friend lying next to him on the floor of the medevac. He cried out for Jackson before losing consciousness again.
The old man knelt in the immaculate grass and cried. The morning light shined brightly on the white marker and showed in recessed letters `` Spc Ellis Jackson.''
`` I'm sorry, Jackson. I'm so sorry''
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[ IP ] Fallen Glant
| The charging shot blasts through the head of the humanoid giant, its metal and glass and cables explode and scatter across the desert floor. We wait to confirm that the giant is no longer active and then descend. The ship lands a good distance from the fallen beast and samples the air and temperature around us.
It's safe.
Just hours ago we had reached an unnamed planet in Andromeda, entering its thick cloudy atmosphere and shooting out into this place. It was barren. The clouds, perhaps miles thick, expanded in every direction. We could n't see light from the nearby suns or stars. We wandered the skies, searching for signs of anything, really, and this creature, or whatever it is, emerged from the haze in the distance. It glowed red. It came closer, its massiveness apparent, and swung at our ship. It swung, over and over, tried to grasp, and ultimately failed. But it did n't stop. Now it's collapsed into the sand.
I exit the ship and slowly remove my helmet. I walk towards the creature.
I walk and walk. It gets bigger and bigger. The closer I get, the more I realize how far I actually am. This thing was enormous.
Its head is probably the size of our ship. Its body... I ca n't really tell. Either way, it would be a great specimen to bring back to a lab on Earth, or at least whatever part of it we can manage to ship.
Something catches my eye. Looking beyond the giant, into the haze from where it came, there is an ominous darkness. The skies there are n't quite the same as the skies everywhere else, and it draws closer. A shiver speeds down my body.
A thought strikes me. Maybe it was trying to warn us.
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[ WP ] A day at work
| I tapped my keys mindlessly coding. The keywords and phrases quite nearly writing themselves. Success felt hollow. I pushed that niggling thought to the side reminding myself to take it one day at a time. As opposed to my usual thinking as far down the line as mentally possible until i had worked myself into a frenzy of anxiety. I just needed to make it through the next hour, and then the next six to round out the rest of my day.
Pages seemed to finish themselves. The coding was n't the most elegant I'd ever done, but it was at the very least the best I could do while otherwise distracted. I turned to check an item off of the whiteboard behind me, making note of the next two items on the list, and deciding which would be best to do. The office is dark. It is still day outside, at least last i checked, but the windows do n't let much light in, and the high cubical walls keep it dim over all. The other department my team shares the floor with had rioted when they had installed the fluorescent lights, so we all worked, in moderate to little lighting. It gave the illusion that time never passed. It was always five pm in the office. it was always a half hour until quitting time. The longest half hour of my life.
A broadcast went out to all computers through the company. Emergency meeting, mandatory attendance. I shuddered. the last thing I wanted was another meeting. It was probably a meeting to talk about the other meetings we had that day. That sort of thing was never unusual, and had never been labeled as an emergency before. I sighed. I pushed back from my desk and turned off the desk light, being mindful of saving energy. I crossed the lobby from my floor to the stairs. I noted, with some confusion, that it seemed very dank today. The sensation was usual, I had never seen the office this way. I looked around trying to place the reason for the change. The standard reception area seemed otherwise unchanged. Our receptionist did n't appear to be anywhere near by, but it was n't unusual for her to run errands for the executives throughout the day. My foot slipped on something coating the concrete floor as I began to start up the stairs. I looked down, the brown stain of the floor made whatever I had slipped on indeterminable. I shrugged. Someone spilled a drink, or possibly their lunch on the way back from the break room. It would n't be the first time.
I made it to the large meeting room in our building, I was joined by the majority of the employees who seemed uneasy. I nodded to a friend of mine who sat across the room. There was no executive manning the meeting, as there usually was. I mouthed to her'Where is everyone?' She shrugged and shook her head. A manager from another department turned on a projector, and a DVD started to play. A title showed on the screen, `` Emergency Protocol # 48''. Our CEO smiled widely at us from the screen. `` If you're watching this, the building has been locked down under quarantine, and unfortunately something we've created has caused an outbreak. It's not really important what has infected whom. The important thing to note is that you'll never see your family again. The facility is rigged to detonate in twenty minutes. Your family will be compensated for your loss.''
A cry went out from someone behind me, my brain registered it anyway. All I could think was `` I should have been a Dentist like my mom said.''
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[ WP ] Tell me about the american version of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry .
| Magical schools of North America, an overview.
There are four main magical schools in the North American continent. The Salem Witches Institute ( SWI ) is the eastern most of the schools. Located in an unplotable dimensionally shifted area somewhere in Massachusetts, it is the oldest and most traditional of the magical schools. It is a female only school and is home to no less than thirteen covens and seven secret sects. The school specializes in ancient druidic and fertility rituals, traditional potions, medicinal magic, and long lasting hexes and vicious curses; many of which are primarily directed against the male genitalia.
Its counterpart, Miskatonic University of Arcane Studies, has switched over to a co-ed arrangement as recently as 1869. Located in the notice-me-notted town of Arkham, Massachusetts, the campus features excellent accelerated studies in demonology, soul magic, necromancy, and Things-mankind-was-never-meant-to-know ( as well as Advanced Things-mankind-was-never-meant-to-know ). Notable alumni include Gomez and Fester Addams, architect Ivo Shandor, and Johnathan Horace Tobin, author of Tobin's Spirit Guide.
In the Midwest region, there is the Thunderbird College of Conjuration. The school's location is constantly in flux as its campus consists of an enchanted flying citadel. Founded by a group of four wizards and witches who felt that neither Miskatonic nor Salem offered enough defensive studies, the Thunderbird College specializes in producing some of the best war wizards, battle mages, and curse-breakers in the world. Specialties include Offense against the Dark Arts, Skin-walking ( animagus studies ), Voodoo and You, and Advanced Shamanistic rituals.
Finally, on the west coast, there lies the California Institute of Technomancy; the newest magical school as of these writings. Located in the magical town of Silicon City, the school's advanced classes focus on seamlessly blending magic and technology, or as the students call it, `` Science!''. Much of the recent advances in spell crafting and potion making has taken place in this school. Unfortunately, safety measures and policy have fallen behind the rapid advancement of everything else. In any given year, as much as a third of the campus population will become injured due to experiments gone rouge. Specialties at the school include Magitec Device Assembly, Advanced Golem construction, Experimental Artificing, and C++ plus Magic; hacking the world around you.
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[ WP ] `` Below me in the depths it swam . A thousand teeth in a silver shadow . It has already devoured my family . And it would be back for me . ''
| `` It is an honor'', they said. Honor. What is honor? A currency made by men to persuade other men to do horrible things. For years, Rak'zul had slept dormant in the great abyss, biding its time. But we were not naive. We knew that it would awaken again. The only thing that stood between humanity's chance for happiness and the gnawing darkness that the beast would bring was the sacrifice of some of their own.
Honor brought us to this place, and honor had destroyed us. Into the abyss we sank, floating in black water that seemed to stretch on forever. We clung together, my brother and I. My mother and father had as well, until the beast of nightmare had erupted from below, swallowing them wholesale. Next, my brother was taken. Ripped from my arms, I could not erase the look of terror in his eyes as he was dragged under.
Below me in the depths it swam. A thousand teeth in a silver shadow. It has already devoured my family. And it would be back for me.
What is honor? The sacrifice of the few to save the many. Honor brings me no comfort in my final moments. Honor is only something they use to appease their collective conscience, to justify the sacrifice required of them. The only sacrifice was our own. And honor brings no warmth in the cold darkness of the abyss.
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[ WP ] Due to millennia of killing each other , humans currently have the most advanced weaponry in the universe .
| It is not right to say that we have `` the most advanced'' weaponry. While technically correct, it conveys entirely the wrong meaning. No, there is only one way do describe humanity as it stands apart from all other intelligent races.
We have weaponry.
Period.
Earth, as a planet, is considered a death world by the galactic alliance. We exist in an anomalous zone, one devoid of Aether, a strange substance which can feed life to the point that no consumer-type organism has evolved anywhere else in the universe.
They're all basically plant people. Not really, but that's the idea.
The idea of eating another creature, the idea of killing another life for resources is utterly alien to them - exactly as alien as we are. The idea of murder, of war, of pillage, of conquest - all of that was even more abstract to them.
Heh. They're terrified of us now, completely, utterly petrified. It's too profitable not to trade with them, but I ca n't help but find it disturbing when they throw themselves on the ground and beg for their lives. I ca n't even help them up; my hands, perfected by millions of years of evolution to be a hunter's tool, are too strong for them. Even the lightest touch could crush the beautiful carapaces. My teeth - normal human teeth - could rend their bodies to pieces. My stomach acids could dissolve them slowly and painfully. My body, as weak as it is compared to an Earth predator's - hell, even a bigger human's - body, could kill them so easily.
And the ships, high up in orbit, are armed with nukes.
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[ WP ] Hell actually is a place for rehabilitation instead of punishment .
| > First reddit post. Just coming out of depression so decided to try some writing. Having not done english since the age of 15, I can only say I wish I had done this sooner. Thanks OP for a good WP.
He took his last breath, for he was a man committed to sin. Every draw of the cigarette, every push of the syringe – each day evermore solidified his route to the underworld. Ironically, the placed he feared after death traded on the very commodity that fueled his life; fire, specifically, hell ’ s fire.
His frustrated family couldn ’ t hide their relief that Frank ’ s cocaine fueled footprint left on the family had finally been forced to steer clear of their direction.
Upon the termination of his short life, monitors switched off – “ Death confirmed at 4.32pm ”, he no longer heard the silent, and probably thankful family ’ s cries, but a soft spoken entity and in his hand, what could only be described as the devil ’ s weapon.
“ Today is the day you should have feared; today is the day you will regret your life. ”
Frank lay there, dazed, yet acutely aware of his worry and fear. To his right, a pale young girl with scars up her arms; lying in pain with a single tear getting caught on her thin, blonde hair. To his left, a parade of homeless looking, famished young men, quivering at the sight of the suffering that was threatened upon them.
“ I suggest you get on your feet, trust me, they ’ re basta... ”
The man attempting to help, gone, into the apparent darkness that surrounded Frank within a 10m radius. It was clear his acquaintances-in-suffering were more accustomed to Franks surroundings.
Through his criminality, addiction and insufferable traits, Frank still shut his eyes tight in the hope that the darkness would disappear, and for a second he was blessed with silence…then pain…terrible, terrible pain…then nothing; Frank was unconscious. The weapon of the devil was exactly that.
The next sign of ‘ life ’ he experienced was in a white, clinically smelling room. Again, no one around except confused, messy men and women, bonding over their shared distress. With only a few deep breathes he was fully conscious – a skilled acquired from his thoroughly immoral lifestyle choices. Interestingly, this skill was common amongst most in the room with the exception of two teen boys, still liquid in their form and unaware in their drowsy demeanor. Franks company was rather familiar from what his family tried to coax him away from in adulthood, except this time, the choice was forced upon him.
As the remaining companions became coherent, Frank spotted a familiar face in the sea of scarred arms and deep set eyes; the woman who he first laid eyes upon post the intensive care ceiling. A tough young woman, she didn ’ t seek any comfort in Franks eyes, no joy in his familiar face, no reason to become acquainted. His charm, the charm that provided him many-a-beds over the years failed him. It was rare to meet someone who didn ’ t find his eyes inviting, however, his new surroundings were no place for invitation, just force.
The mutterings in the room were silenced upon the arrival of ‘ Master ’ – “ Welcome infantiles, wonder no more about the reason of your surroundings. Your life of sin was a life no one wanted for you, a life you didn ’ t want for your self. Yet your weak and grievous choices prevailed, and thus, this is the death you chose – an eternity of rehabilitation, that could have been avoided if you hadn ’ t chosen such a wasteful life. Let your worst fears become your dreams…and welcome to the underworld! ”
Within no time at all, each man and woman fell to their knees. Frank heard the cries behind him; his life committed to sin, was now a life of complete regret. And with a sting to the back, he was carted off, chained, and preparing to suffer the wrath of the Master, or what humans on earth would call it…withdrawal.
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[ WP ] Jesus Christ was actually a time traveler from the future that deviated from his guided tour .
| The first thing you have to know is how sorry I am. Dreadfully so. I had no idea that... I just did n't think it would..... Yeah. It got way out of hand.
I was a normal guy. Mid-twenties. Grungy. I never a bad guy, or one with bad intentions, but I had never done anything great either. Had never even been anywhere, really. Every one else always seemed to move forward, taking time vacations with their families, being selected for their uniqueness, inventing gadgets that said `` Fuck you'', to the laws of physics; since that was possible now. I just stood still. I was an `` Average''.
I do n't know who's going to read this. I do n't know where or what time you're from. It's 2786 A.C here. AC meaning `` after contact'', just incase you're reading this before 2200. Ok, so if you are reading before 2200 BI ( before intelligence ) then this is to you.
I was Jesus. Yes, I was. No matter what denials and disbelief may come to mind, you have to know, I was. Am, I guess. Shut up. Just listen. Remember, I'm so sorry. Although, coming from me, with my whole'forgiveness' platform back then, I understand it's not worth shit. Never was supposed to be like this.
I won a vacation. 7 whole days in any time period I wanted. Almost a whole week! I could n't have handled 16 days, anyhow. I was ecstatic. As I mentioned before, as an Average, my life was, well, average. 24 years old, and this is the first thing I've ever won.
I picked the 1st century. 1 A.D. The Roman Empire. I had always been fascinated by that era. The belief in a messiah, the baby that had made the civilized world turn into seething hate and greed; I was fascinated by it. There had been so many other prophets and men that created groups of followers, so why had this baby been so different. Living in the extremely logical age of numbers, and intergalactic travel, I was amazed that people could be so.....naive.
The trip was what I expected. You have to train for a week before. The practice of shallow breathing, slowing your heart rate, complete stillness. If you did n't stay completely still, well, if you know anything about wave-particle duality, that could be very painful. That's what my trainer had said. I did n't know anything about it. I looked it up. I still do n't.
Before the light hit me and I knew it was safe, I could smell it. This time period can be described by a smell. Swear to go...... I should n't say things like that. I'm an asshole. Anyway, the smell is hot camel and man. So potent. It felt like someone had wrapped a hot, moist paper towel used to wipe beast and mans brow, around my nose and mouth. I was so excited to be here.
I would be an observer until I was ready. The system would n't reveal me until I had acclimated a bit. I had to wait for the translator implant to get adjusted, as well. I walked around, amazed at the cacophony surrounding me. I was in a bazaar. Merchants shouting prices at the passing consumers. Men, with a raucous audience, rolling different stones, gambling I had assumed. The colors around me were so vivid. Nothing like the sterile world I was used to. It was almost too much. I was in the throes of a literal culture shock. Maybe I was an Average for a reason.
Off to the right, behind a shrill voice peddling dried fruits, stood a group of men. Seven of them. They caught my eye because, while everyone else was haggling, or gambling, or doing some activity, they were just there. Solemn watchers. I walked closer to them. I could hear them quietly, almost imperceptibly, discussing what had them concerned.
`` He should have been back by now.'' The tallest one, Sym, I think he was called, stated this and pinched the bridge of his nose.
`` You know how he is. We ca n't lose him. If we do, this whole thing falls apart. It was extremely hard to find this replacement after the kid died, and I do n't want to have to do it again. Do any of you? Eh?''
The men lowered their heads, silently acknowledging the hard truth spoken by the one they had called Petre. I wondered who they were looking for. What kid had died? Why? Why did they have to replace him? I would have to insinuate myself here. It was a vacation. I deserved it. The system would protect me from the reality the others faced. Already, the smells and heat were fading, the subtle equipment created to maintain a comfortable environment having been hidden, all expenses paid!, in my hand.
I strode past the men, turning around and walking backward so I did n't lose them. I ducked behind a ugly, gray building and pressed the morse code I had chosen into the sensor buried in my hand. I was visible. I was still protected from the environment, to a point, by the device. But, now I could interact. If I got into trouble, I could be out in one minute. I did need a full minute though. And it would be better alone. It looked a bit odd, as you can expect.
I strolled back over to where the men were. Before I could say anything, I had something good planned, the tall one, Sym, noticed me.
`` Hey, where are ya going, buddy? You look like someone I know. Come talk to us.''
This was easier than I thought. Having heard their previous conversations, I knew what was up. I could play along. For a bit. Find out what they had been discussing. I had to know what the kid dying and been replaced was about. Damn my curiosity. I now wish I had walked away. Found a pretty girl to interact with. I was n't allowed certain things, like sex, but I could talk to one. If only I'd known. I met the prettiest girl I had ever seen later in my adventure. She was labeled a Whore, but I knew better. I could n't have her. It was against the rules. I ruined everyone's life because I could n't let go of the woman who made me above average.
I have to go, I'll tell the rest later. I can only tell so much before the lights go out. I'll never see beyond the walls surrounding me now. But I can write. I'll tell you all about how everything you used to believe; the beliefs that affected the world, was my love story and my greatest mistake.
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[ WP ] Once per year , you 've attended a private party consisting of your past and future selves . This year you 're the oldest attending . As per tradition , you must give a toast .
| Here I sit at last, head of the table. As far from the shrieks and giggles of my childhood, the nonsensical babblings of my twenties, and the worries of my thirties. From here, all I can hear are the nice, roar of conversations from my mellow adulthood and the scritch-scratch of forks roaming near empty plates.
I sit with the best view in the house. Odds on the left, and evens on the right. Numerical order is key to a happy Me Dinner. It is strange to see them all in rows now rather than to be one among them. They ’ re chatting, laughing and telling jokes, egging their futures for insider info and looking at their pasts with one of either unbridled pity, or exuberant excitement. And how much more discontent the left side seems to be! 12, 15, 21, 27, 35. Yeah, those were some rough years. Funny I had never before noticed such an obvious pattern.
I turn my eyes toward the far end of the table, I ’ ve made a habit of looking for 17 every year. That ’ s the year the “ cool ” Me ’ s decide get Me drunker than Dionysus. Yep, there I am, taking a cat nap in my spaghetti, drool and tomato sauce all over my stupid face.
I chuckle to myself as my gaze crawls past the ever so slightly changing faces until I ’ m looking at the senile crack-pots on my left and right. Their expectant eyes are on me, they know its time, I know its time. The creaking of my chair issues an abrupt silence in the room as I stand, all eyes are on me.
“ Hello everyone.. My name is Me. ”
“ HELLO ME! MY NAME IS ME. ” The response is deafening, coming from every voice in the room with a command over language. It ’ s an opening gag, its used every year and it never gets old.
“ My selves! Thank you for coming! I hope you all had a great time eating our favorite foods and drinking our favorite drinks. I ’ ll remind you all not to let this go to your head tomorrow, narcissism is all fun and games until it gets you back-handed upside the head. ”
This is followed by another peal of laughter and some hearty hear-hears.
“ In all my years I have never come to understand what, or how this happens, but I have come to understand exactly what I have
learned from it. ”
Some bored murmurings come from early adolescence but are cut short by roars of protest for silence. I take a drink of water and a deep breath, I ’ m getting tired.
” I have learned that you can never stop looking back, and you can never stop looking forward. There is much to be learned from the first, and much to look forward to in the second. I have learned that you can never stop loving yourself, even when you ’ re breaking your own heart. And best of all, I ’ ve learned that it wasn ’ t so bad, and that given the chance I would do it all again. So take that to heart my selves! It is all worth it in the end! To Me! Myself! And I! ”
I raise my glass high, and the sparkling champagne glitters in the light, reflecting decades of life and love in the many faces of the table before being downed in one definitive swallow.
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[ RF ] You 're sitting outside a cafe minding your on business when a homeless man comes up to you . He offers to tell you a story about his life for some change .
| He stood out in the café, stood apart from even the other homeless who gathered around the door during the late afternoon rush hour. Every office drone on the block came in for a coffee and something sweet to break the monotony of their day, and it was a prime time to ask for change or a hot meal. You ’ d never actually seen a member of this rag tag group set foot in the tiny coffee shop until today. A tall dark-skinned man, possibly in his mid-30 ’ s, broke off from the group as I was walking in, and, following me inside, he offered to tell me why he was homeless in exchange for two dollars and a hot coffee. Curious and having ample time to waste, I agreed to his deal, and we sat down at a table in the far corner after I ordered us coffee.
He stared at me as if he were examining me, and I felt a flash of fear that he could see into my soul with those deep brown, almost black eyes. I quickly stuffed that fear down when he smiled as the waitress put our cups down in front of us. He leaned back and sighed, crossing his arms and staring into his coffee. We sat like that for a bit before he sighed again, took a sip of coffee, and raised his unnerving eyes to mine again.
“ Well, ” he drawled. “ You are going to be the first person to know this after my own parents, so I want you to promise me that you ’ ll do something to help me…or at least help those people out there. ” He pointed at the group of homeless men and women outside. One of the women saw him pointing toward her and immediately looked frightened. As cliché as it sounds, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I started to realize I ’ d involved myself in something dangerous. As if he were reading my mind, the man in front of me smiled and said,
“ Don ’ t worry. I ’ m not going to hurt you. That ’ s why I picked you. You remind me of my late father, and I couldn ’ t do that again. Too easy, need something more challenging. ” His smile seemed more ominous now, and I opened my mouth to say something but was cut off.
“ Like I said, I ’ m not going to hurt you. The name is Adam, Adam Jolivet. ” Probably a fake name, I thought to myself, but he continued. “ Something strange happened to me years ago, and I think it ’ s time for me to do something about it. What ’ s your name son? ”
“ Robert, ” I lied. That smile of his grew sharp, almost predatory, and he leaned forward.
“ Don ’ t lie to me, son. I asked you for your name, and I ’ m not going to ask again. ”
I felt my mouth twitch at that, and, caught in my lie, I hoarsely answered “ Tim. ”
He leaned back once more, flexing his hands and cracking his knuckles. “ Tim, ” he tried out the sound in his mouth. “ Somewhat of a weak name. It ’ ll do. Look at me, Tim. ”
I hadn ’ t realized I was looking down into my coffee, and I slowly brought my eyes up to meet his twin pools of darkness.
“ Tim, you are going to have to make a choice after I finish telling you my strange tale. I want you to make the correct choice, Tim. Can you do that for me? ” He wasn ’ t smiling now, and I knew what I had to answer.
“ I— “ my voice faltered and I tried again. “ I can. I can make the correct choice. ”
“ Good, Tim. Good. We can get started now. ” He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “ You see, Tim, when I was a young man, something very odd happened in my life. ” He paused, staring into his cup for a few seconds. “ I was struck by a motorcycle. That in and of itself isn ’ t strange. That happens to people every day. It ’ s what happened next that was strange. You see, when I woke up in the hospital after, when I realized where I was and looked around me, I saw my parents. They were, rightly, worried about what had happened and had come to wait and make sure I was ok. I had suffered a brain injury, you see, though I didn ’ t know that yet. What I did know was that when I looked at my parents after that accident, I felt nothing: no love, no comfort, no affection. Isn ’ t that odd, Tim, that before my accident I was a completely normal young man who could love and cherish his parents, but after I felt absolutely nothing? ”
I opened my mouth to answer, but he continued. “ Have you ever heard of Phineas Gage, Tim? ” I shook my head no. “ Phineas Gage was a railway worker some time ago who had the misfortune of having a railway spike pierce his skull. That railway spike caused him to go from an easygoing, cheerful man to a surly, mean-spirited old fart. Does that ring a bell? ”
Again, I shook my head, and he carried on this one-sided conversation. “ I wish that was what happened to me now. You know, most people are cowards. They might hate, but they still have that something that makes them human, something that keeps them from going out and shooting every last person on the street, from strangling their parents in their beds, from drowning their children when night comes. ” I looked around the room for someone who could possibly save me as I was growing more disturbed, but everyone was too absorbed in their own lives and conversations to notice. Adam didn ’ t seem to notice my growing panic and continued with his story.
“ Tim, I wish I had the ability to hate, at this point. But I don ’ t. I can ’ t feel anything, and it ’ s monotonous. I ’ ve been cursed with boredom. Day in and day out, I see these people ruled by their emotions, fighting over trivialities, and being interesting. The world is interesting to them, because they feel. Even my little rag tag group was interesting for a while. They grew boring fast, until some of them started disappearing. ” He smiled at that point, and I felt like I might throw up. I think the woman who looked at us, terrified, knows who is behind those disappearances. She probably knows she's next.
“ You know, no one pays much attention to the homeless, what they look like, where they go…if they turn up dead. Only other homeless know you, and if you find the right group, they ’ re often so eager to welcome someone else who has fallen on hard times. ” The darkness of his eyes started to remind me of something demonic, but I realized they frightened me because there was nothing behind them. I think that was what terrified me in that moment. There was no malice toward those he had most definitely hurt. He had most likely ended and ruined lives because he was bored. Luckily for me he seemed completely oblivious to my growing terror and carried on.
“ It seemed like the perfect way to relieve my boredom after my parents ’ most untimely deaths. ” At that I could feel my breath coming faster. “ You see, no one would recognize my face if I moved far away. No one would care to pay attention to my face among a crowd of poor, hungry souls. No one would think to look for me when the homeless population of this city started thinning. This has been a wonderful lesson, you know. I ’ ve learned how to hide in plain sight, and I think it ’ s time to move on. ” He leaned forward at this point once again, and I had to force myself to look at him, force myself to slow my breathing. His dark eyes bore through my skin, and I jumped as he clasped his hand on my shoulder. I hadn ’ t even seen him move his arm.
“ Tim, I want you to tell as many people as you can what I ’ ve told you today. I want you to tell people that you ’ ve met a real monster, not some demon from the Bible or some mythical beast. Tell people you ’ ve met a real flesh and blood monster, made from the same stuff as them. ” Before he could say anything else, it was all I could do to choke out one word. A strangled “ why? ” left my lips, and that seemed to be the response he was looking for. He grasped my shoulder tighter, almost painfully, and said,
“ Because, Tim, I need a challenge. I ’ ve been bored for so long, and people are going to keep on disappearing, not just in this little rinky dink town, but all over this country. People are going to get hurt, Tim, and if you don ’ t say anything, the cost could be hundreds or even thousands of lives. So, Tim, are you going to tell people about our conversation? Are you going to tell them about me? ” He let go of my shoulder, and I couldn ’ t respond. I didn ’ t look at him. I just stood up and walked out of the café as quickly as possible.
That conversation haunted me, though, and I can ’ t keep it to myself any longer. I already gave him a head start of one week to this day. Those two obsidian mirrors will haunt me for the rest of my life, as will that relaxed almost folksy way he spoke. Every murder I ’ ve seen in the news since, every missing person report, sits on my conscience. I don ’ t know whether it ’ s him or not, but with each new person, I grow more uneasy. What worries me, though, is that he ’ ll get bored with small time killings and move onto something worse.
So, I ’ m telling you. There ’ s a monster out there. His name is Adam Jolivet, and I don ’ t know if he can be stopped.
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[ WP ] You were born deaf and suddenly are given the chance to hear . Describe the first sound you hear .
| I was born deaf. Pretty hard to imagine in my family, the son of a concert pianist and a soprano. Even my brothers played sax and guitar, and my sister made the entire house shake with how powerfully she played her drum set. Sometimes it even seems like she is trying to hit them hard enough for me to hear. I never could, and truthfully, still ca n't, but she gave me a gift on my 14th birthday.
A small guitar with a little amp. As soon as I saw it I knew I would spend my life learning it, even before I plugged the guitar in. I could feel a vibration, like the drums, but there was a faint buzzing feeling I could not describe when I flicked the amp on. Pushing the cable in the amp created a metallic hit followed by a warmth. I touched my right hand to the strings and the warmth stopped. This must be sound. I was silent in shock.
My family were all beside me watching intently as I plucked a few strings. Each note was unique, perfect, and easily distinguishable. I guess it is all in the genes. They must have knew, because I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, my father, who had quickly gotten up. I turned around but still could n't hear my family at all so I signed that. No one paid attention though because they all went running for something.
My dad came back about a minute later with a microphone and a cable like the guitar one. I heard the weird metallic noise two more times quickly before hearing a massive booming voice that made me jump at the volume dial on the amp. His voice was much more gentle and loving with the volume turned down, but the mic was still super sensitive and tears welled to my face as I heard myself and my family for the first time.
Nothing could have been better. My family is all musicians. A few wireless mics and a way to route everything through my amp later and I could hear all their voices and music in what I can only imagine as perfect clarity. All except my sister, Beth, the one who gave me this gift and showed me my life. But I do n't need to hear her to know that she is far and away the best musician in the family. She is the music's soul - she brings us all together. We would have never been whole without her.
When I was younger I did n't quite believe them, but my parents said from the moment Beth and I played together we never missed a beat once. Ever. It's been 15 years and that's still what they say. In fact, it's what everyone says. I would look at my parents- examine her - see friends shocked - and I knew it was real.
I trust Beth completely and have complete confidence in my playing and hers. That's all it has ever taken. I know it's a miracle. But I'm so thankful for it all.
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[ WP ] Two people love each other , they just do n't realise it .
| As the sun went down, Jake blinked. He had no idea why she brought him to an isolated, empty hill, where he could never quite get comfortable as they peered into an orange sky of nothing. He had no idea why they'd been doing it for so many weeks now, in fact.
`` This is so dumb.'' Jake said, believing the fact wholly, but delivering the statement in a sarcastic tone.
Jess half-chuckled, turning her head to face him. `` You're dumb, dude.'' Waiting a few moments, she turned her head back towards the sun. `` I like it.''
`` Dunno why. Maybe if it, like, blew up, or something.'' The comment made her smile once more, but it soon faded once she realized that her subtle advance was completely misinterpreted. Minutes -long, quiet minutes- went by between the two. Occasionally, Jake would toss a glance her way. Maybe he did n't like what they were doing, but over time, it did n't really matter anymore.
`` Y'know, Jess, I-'' Placed directly in the middle of them both, a phone rings. There's no rush. One ring. Two rings. Without looking, their hands reached out at the same time, touching for seconds, seconds that must have felt like forever. They had the same ringtone.
`` Sorry,'' Jake and Jess said in unison.
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[ WP ] Your slumber is interrupted one night . You begin to chew out the offending party when you realize something is terribly wrong .
| I awake to the sound of clanging metal. Angrily, I stand and look around to see an oddly dressed man ringing a silver bell.
`` JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!'' I shout.
The man freezes and stares at me. He pales and starts backing away, still ringing that annoying bell.
`` YOU WOKE ME UP. I LIKE MY SLEEP SO YOU'D BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON!''
He shouts something in a language I do n't recognize. That's strange, I thought I knew all the languages in the area. I step closer to him, ignoring his shout of panic and take a closer look. His clothes are shabby but well-made and fire-resistant if I'm not mistaken. He's got some sort of bright mail on underneath, and if I'm not mistaken he was a sword hidden in his cloak. That bell is really getting on my nerves too, making it hard to think.
`` Since you do n't speak this language, we'll need a direct telepathic link'', I say. I know he wo n't understand me, but I hope my lowered tone will calm him down. He's *still* ringing that bell, and it seems to be getting louder. I reach for his head to establish the link, but he shouts and draws the sword I noticed earlier, making a clumsy attempt to stab me. The sword probably would n't hurt me, but I dodge backwards just in case it's been treated with something nasty.
He yells and advances, still ringing that bell. It seems even louder than before, making it hard to concentrate.
`` Look,'' I say, `` I just want to know why you're here.'' He keeps coming with that sword and bell.
`` Alright, that's it, seems I'll have to restrain you.'' I say, and intone a short incantation to animate some of the skeletons strewn on the floor of the tomb. They rise and reach for the man, but they're strangely clumsy. The bell must be getting to them too. The man cuts them down with the sword, and they stay down. Looks like I was right to be cautious, must be holy water on the sword or something. Or maybe it's that bell, which is starting to deafen me.
`` Well, you started it'' I grumble, and aim my staff. The man sidesteps the blast way too quickly for a human. Or maybe I'm moving slower. That bell is *nasty. * The human is closer now, inside my staff's reach and the sword has almost got me. Desperately, I reach out, and knock the bell out of his hand as he stabs me. That sword *hurt*. One stab did n't kill me though, and now that the bell is silenced I can think clearly. I throw the human across the room, making sure he lands on the other side from the bell, then pull the sword out of my rib cage. That's better, seems the human could n't afford enough holy water for more than a basic impregnation, and he used most of that up on the skeletons. As the human groans, I advance on him, grab his head, and start picking through his mind. Most of it looks like standard adventurer stuff. He grew up in a small town, had a friend killed by a monster, and vowed to become an adventurer to protect people. Still not sure why adventurers all seem to think that `` protecting people'' includes waking up sleeping liches. Oh well, time for some poetic justice. I disconnect his mind from his body, and place in a particularly nasty construct. A few basic enchantments later, and he's a powerful undead, capable of raising his own minions to ransack his hometown and bring me whatever valuables they have. Best of all, his mind is still in there, doomed to watch the atrocities helplessly from behind the undead's eyes. That should show him.
After he leaves I go back to sleep, but not before destroying that bell.
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[ WP ] Make me feel depressed about growing up .
| I ca n't wait'til I'm older, that's what we all say.
From the first time we can remember we wish we were just a little bigger,
a little older, just tall enough to see what mom is making on the counter
just big enough to ride the rollercoaster with Dad just one time
just old enough to stay up past bed time.
As we grow we get all of these things and more, but still we yearn
Just one more year, and I'll be in middle school,
Just one more year and I can see those pg-13's they talk about,
Just one more year and I'll make varsity,
just one more month, and then I can drive!
But as the years fly by we still want more, a few more days and I'm off to college.
Free from home, free from parents, free to play and learn and grow,
But even then we want a few more years, so we can throw out this fake ID, get that first beer with dad.
Just one more year and I can start making money and pay off these loans
As time keeps slipping by and we grow
we start to see the big picture, we now have kids of our own.
They ask to stay up past bed time, to go see the movie, they want to be in high school already.
We tell them slow down, as we look in the mirror, seeing the missed years in our every wrinkle.
Why did n't I see it then, why did n't I take the time to enjoy where I was at?
Why, why, why?
Now we have grand kids of our own, and all we have left is that same feeling, that same yearning for more.
I wish I was just a few years... younger
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[ WP ] The Secret Life of a Casul Meth User
| I've only been awake for fifteen minutes, but I knew it'd be a long day. Work, cooking dinner, taking the kids to karate. So I figured why the hell not have today be the day to get things done? I've been meaning to do some work around the house and I'd only be doing maybe a half a point for the all day energy.
I open the safe the wife and myself store all our imperative documents, and I open the lockbox I had since I was a kid. I remember collecting the baseball cards my dad gave me in the box, hoping one day they'd be worth thousands. The lockbox had clearly seen better days, but all it's used for anymore is the stories I write, notes and letters from my family that I'd collected over the years, and since I was in college psychedelics. However as of late, I've developed a new collection to add to the box, my amphetamine. It's never one or two things, in the box currently sits some Dexedrine and Vyvanse and thirteen precapped pills with 50mg of meth in each.
The collection had been slowly building for the last years. I've had a prescription for amphetamine since my Sleep Apnea had worsened, for the nights where it's really bad and I feel like I had n't slept a wink the night before. These come in handy more than not.
`` What are you doing honey?'' asks my beautiful wife Rebecca, she knows what's in the lockbox but does n't approve of it at all.
`` I'm taking one of my pills today.'' I respond to her, a bit ashamed and knowing that I'll have an earful my way. `` You know how I feel about them but you have n't had any of your pills in a month now, so there's nothing I can say or do. Remember to drink plenty of water and eat your lunch, I'm taking the kids to school, I love you.'' She kisses me on the cheek as she leaves the room. `` That was awfully easy,'' I thought to myself.
Becky is a beautiful woman and I'm not just saying that because she's my wife. I remember the first night I met her, back in 1983, we were at my cousin Dave's house, he had just turned 18 and was having a huge party. Becky was a good friend of his at the time, they had dated for a small period of time but that did n't effect me and when we had started dating, Dave told me that she was the one for me and not him. When we finally got married, Dave told me, `` Tony, do n't you find some way to fuck this up.'' And I never did.
I took Dave's advice. Becky is a free spirit, when we met we used to frequently drop acid and smoke joints in her parents garage. However there were a few things she was never big on, I remember in the late 80's when our partying was coming to an end and we were getting ready to settle down, we got a few hits of ecstasy. I was ecstatic to finally try it. I had a wonderful time but Becky thought of it as `` too speedy'' and she worried we'd become addicted, she made me swear I would n't do it again, I obliged.
She was always afraid of stimulants. She had a reason to be worried about them as well, at least the way I see it. Her uncle was a meth addict, she's worried I'll end up like him. I've told her several times, I have no reason to use it other than for the energy going throughout the day and by the time I'd go to bed normally anyway, I'm ready for it. She must finally have realized, or she's trusting I'll be responsibly using my pills as I said I would months back.
I grab my keys, my phone, and my wallet and do my morning ritual of having a cup of coffee, making my lunch and packing it and off to work I go. Ready to have a wonderful day and get some work around the house done after work.
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[ WP ] An armed bank robbery is upended , when it is revealed that every other patron of the bank was also planning an armed robbery .
| `` Freeze!'' six of us yelled in unison, and my immediate thought was, what the fuck?
Okay, it had taken days of planning, more days to build up my courage. I had to buy a gun from a shady drug dealer. I was down to my last penny, and here I was in the bank, and it suddenly got surreal. The bank had just opened, five people in line in front of me had ambled in as the doors were opened, and just as we had all settled into line at the only open teller window, guns come out and everyone shouts at the same time.
`` What are you talking about?'' yelled a college student with his backpack still on. `` I'm here to rob this bank. I have a huge college loan and I have to pay it off.''
`` Hah, wait until this very bank starts to foreclose on your house,'' a soccer mom in sweats sporting a glock laughed in his face.'' `` I was going to steal money from the same bank that is robbing me blind with their balloon mortgage. Now get out of my way.''
`` Do you have any idea how expensive prescription drugs are? And I do n't even have any money left for Friday night bingo,'' a little granny with a bob tailed silver hairdo said as she hefted a sawed off shotgun out of her knitting bag.
`` Woah, this ai n't right. If I do n't pay off my dealer, he's gon na jack me up real bad. Look, I just need five hundred bucks, y'all can have the rest.'' He had what looked like an Airsoft pistol, since the tip of the nozzle was orange.
`` Okay folks, very funny, but I'm actually a professional bank robber, and I do this for a living. My woman wants a diamond ring for her birthday, and my funds from my last job have run out. So you all need to step aside and just let me do my job here.''
`` And where's your weapon?'' asked the grandmother.
`` Weapon? You do n't need no weapon to rob a bank. I just use this note here. Put the money in the bag, no hitting silent alarms, no exploding dye pack or I'll be back to get you. And you could get a way stiffer sentence for using a firearm in a bank robbery. Nope, no weapon for me. Those things are dangerous. Someone could get hurt.''
Then everyone looked at me. `` I- I just needed money for my daughter's medical bills. She has cancer and I have no medical insurance.''
`` Aw, that's real tough man,'' said the bank robber. `` How come you did n't sign up for Obamacare?''
`` I- could n't even afford the minimum subsidized premiums. I literally have nothing. I make my cat go out to scrounge for food.''
`` That's so sad,'' said the grandmother as she pointed her shotgun at me.
Suddenly a man ran past us with a huge satchel and bills falling out of it. He streaked out the door and into the parking lot.
`` What the hell?'' screamed the soccer Mom.
`` That was the bank manager,'' laughed the teller. `` He told me that if we ever get robbed, he was going to do that and disappear, since he'd never survive the audit afterwards since he's been fudging the books for the last year.'' She was stuffing stacks of bills into her blouse and purse. `` Take what you want from the safe, but hurry. He probably hit the alarm and you have two minutes or less before the police arrive.''
We all scrambled for the safe and started stuffing our various bags. Yeah, I do n't have a daughter or a cat. I did n't think that story would work anyway.
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[ WP ] Deeply misunderstanding the term `` universal healthcare '' , aliens have begun arriving in Canada , seeking medical attention . Canadians , being Canadian , are too polite to correct them .
| The creature gurgled and spluttered, splattering some sticky yellow-greenish, purple-bluish, orange-pinkish foamy liquid - mistish substance on the walls, in the wastebasket, on the floor, and...
`` My shoes!'' the doctor's assistant, Vern, wailed, lifting a fey hand to his head as he swooned, swayed, and ultimately fainted.
The doctor, meanwhile, was returning from the window where he had ceremoniously upchucked everything in his digestive system and then some.
DR. Dr. went to kick Vern, but slipped on some vomit and went figure - skating to the other side of the room.
Taking a deep breath, he put on a tight smile and faced his patient. `` Hello.''
There are no words in the English language to describe how the creature looked. At all. There are not even comparisons. Even as DR. Dr. tried to think of suitable similes and metaphors ( for when he wrote about this incident later in his autobiography ) all he could think of was naked grandmas and seals.
DR. Dr. hated seals with a passion. Even more than naked grandmas?
Even more than naked grandmas.
The creature did something that was sort of in the middle between a jiggle and a seizure.
`` Err..'' DR. Dr. err'd, feeling quite very afraid.
The creature did it again.
`` Are you... are you saying something?''
The creature did it again.
`` I'm sorry, I just do n't unde-...''
And then he felt it - like a tentacle crawling up his leg, under his pants. He looked down in horror and saw the outline of some bulging object - a mini-creature- scurrying higher and higher up his right leg.
He swatted at it, and it made a hissing - growling sound that would've made him piss his pants in fear, if he had n't recently read about a set of piranhas in the Amazon that could swim up someone's pee-stream and into their urethra.
He did n't know what the creature was, but he was n't about to piss and find out. Continuing to scamper, all DR. Dr. could do was whimper and quiver as it made it's way up his leg, over his torso, and up to his neck.
The mini-creature was walking over his bare skin, and it was as if it had little pins for feet. Every step it took felt like he was being pricked by a little needle. Not too painful, but very unpleasant.
He felt it start to crawl sideways so that it would emerge on the side of his face. Scared that if he turned the creature would sting him, he kept still as it popped out from his collar and moved up to his ear and... SLITHERED INSIDE?!?!?!
`` OH MY GAWWWWWD'' He hollered, tears streaming down his face as he relentlessly jabbed a finger into his ear over and over. But the creature was already oozing along his ear canal.
The creature meanwhile had remained silent this entire time, as the mini-creature did its thing.
Giving up, DR. Dr. fell to his knees, sobbing as he every once in awhile reached into his ear, in hopes he could scoop it out.
`` It's okay.''
What? DR. Dr. jerked his head around to face Vern, but Vern was still knocked out. So who...?
Slowly, turning to look at the creature, the creature did its little seizure dance again, but this time DR. Dr. understood him/her/it.
`` It's okay, Doc. Had to do that so we can communicate.''
`` You... had...''
`` So, listen, Doc. I'm not feeling too well, as you can imagine.''
`` Y-yeah...''
`` I need you to take a look at my eyes, Doc.''
DR. Dr. glanced in a daze at the creature. From his vantage point, he could see 7 things that looked like they could possibly be eyes.
`` All of them?''
`` Yup,'' Krit-Krit ( that's what I'm calling the creature now - do n't ask me why, do n't ask me how, and I wo n't tell ) replied. `` All 27 of them.''
`` 2... 2... 27?! I only see 7!''
`` Oh, I see where you're looking, Doc, you nasty man. Those are n't my eyeballs. Those are my di-''
`` Out.''
`` What?''
`` I SAID OUT! I ca n't TAKE this! I'm not even really Canadian, I just moved here because my wife does n't like Trump! But no... no...'' he shook his head. `` I'm going back to the US. This is ridiculous. I'd rather live in AUSTRALIA and all of its NOPES than deal with this crap!''
And in a rage, DR. Dr. stormed from the office.
Vern was never seen again.
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[ wp ] You are a powerful wizard and have just read the fictional series Harry potter . Please write your review of the books .
| On May 18, 2015 at 2:34, Premium User'castertheunfriendlypost' Wrote:
What the actual fuck? This is the biggest load of dragon shit I've ever read. Real wizards do n't wear fucking hats and robes and shit, and we certainly do n't invite fucking 11 year old fuckers to all gather together and learn to fucking cast deadly powerful spells that could blow up shit and enslave bitches and make up a fucking unbalanced'point system' as punishment. In real fucking life you get thrown into a fucking dungeon if you misuse magic and get shot by fucking Flamecasters until your balls float away as ash in the breeze. J.K. Rowling is obviously a fucking bitch-ass pretender who knows nothing about the fucking real world or how a fucking magic system works. These books are total fucking bitch-ass shit.
On May 18, 2015 at 2:35, Premium Gold user'jkrowlingofficial' Commented:
But one of us is a millionare. Get on my level, bitch.
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[ WP ] It 's nearly the end of World War 3 . Moskow/Washington DC is making its last stand . Write a diary entry of a soldier from either the defending or attacking side .
| March 8th, 2068:
If I told you how this war began you would n't believe me. The media titled it World War 3, but it's not like the previous 2 world wars. It started about 10 years ago, tensions were high between the North American Republic ( NAR ), formerly known as the 3 countries of Canada, USA and Mexico, and the Russian Federations, which included China, and Eastern Europe. There was a rapid militarization, and both countries were ready to settle their differences, or so we thought. There was a group of meddling kids ( thank God ) who intercepted a strange radio transmission. It was a transmission from a high up Russian Diplomat sent to the vice president of North America at the time named Amanda Stephens. Amanda was the youngest Vice President to ever be elected with the President. In 2045 there were drastic changes to the minimum age that one needed to be to serve in the government and Amanda took full advantage. Amanda could woo a crowd, she was perhaps the best orator to ever live, she's may have been the reason the president won the election. But everything changed when the kids gave the radio transmission to the FBI. The radio transmission was translated and it was quite chilling. The Russian Diplomat spoke to Amanda in a cryptic voice stating `` The plan is almost complete, everyone will be brought to their knees.''. Amanda was put on trial, the judge questioned her, when all the evidence pointed towards her the Jury made a decision. The Judge then asked Amanda how would she plea, if she plead guilty she would face 45 years in prison, if she pleaded not guilty and could n't prove her innocence then she would receive a worse punishment. Amanda told the Judge `` Not Guilty''. The Judge then replied `` So we will see you back here tomorrow then.''. `` NO!'' Amanda said in a sinister voice. Amanda then shocked the word, she looked towards the cameras and said that she was what we called an Extra terrestrial and began to shape shift into a new form. Before anyone could blink Amanda killed everyone in the room, including the North American and the Russian presidents. World War 3 had begun.
Transmission Ended
July 4th, 2068:
It's been 10 years since the great war against the aliens began, every country joined together to fight. Unfortunately we were hardly a match for the aliens. None of our laser weapons could penetrate their shields, that is until 5 years ago when a scientist named Leslie Smith was able to perfect a particle beam weapon that could penetrate their shields. Shortly after, the NAR and Russian Federation took her a top secret facility to work on some top secret projects. Everything was turning for the better until we heard a chilling announcement yesterday. Moscow had fallen. We knew this would severely hamper the Russian Federation and we knew where the aliens were headed next. We set up a massive defensive around and in DC, evacuated all non essential personal and we waited. As I am recording this journal the attack has already begun, the Aliens are being lead by Amanda herself. It should be stated that my sole purpose is to record this journal for as long as possible, so it can be seen in the future, I have an escort who protects me as well as my own particle gun. I can see Amanda and her soldiers headed for me, but the bright sky has now gone dark, a large ship has appeared out of nowhere, I see the aliens begin to fall down, I also see our own troops begin to fall...
Transmission Interrupted
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[ WP ] Thankfully , the laws of physics took a very brief and suspiciously timed vacation .
| There is really no rational explanation for the events I am about to relate to you. I truly wish there was, but there is not. So, here we go.
I was standing at the intersection of 5th and Main, awaiting my turn to cross. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a woman. She was quite lovely and pushing a baby carriage. What worried me was that she was attempting to cross against the light.
There was heavy traffic and I immediately realized she was directly in the path of an oncoming vehicle which was moving at a tremendous rate of speed. There was absolutely *zero* chance she would escape without being hit.
I decided *not* to allow it to happen. It was an easy decision on my part. I did n't *want* it to happen, therefore it would not. It was just that simple.
One moment the vehicle was bearing down on her and the baby carriage, the next moment it was past her. No harm done. I know it is said that two objects can not occupy the same space at the same time, but today they did. Thankfully, the laws of physics took a very brief and suspiciously well-timed vacation.
I did n't mind a bit.
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[ WP ] you die and discover reincarnation is real . Although a few things seem wrong . You were reincarnated 2000 years in the past , and you remember everything .
| I didn ’ t even really know what Gaul was the last time around. I also didn ’ t realize so many people died of dysentery. Last time: zero dysentery deaths. This time: everyone I know seems to die of dysentery. Also, fish. Never cared much for fish before. Now I eat mostly fish. I eat a bit of bread too. Fish and bread. The feast of kings.
Honestly, it ’ s not as bad as I initially thought. I mean, when I was younger I hated not having video games. Playing tag was cool and every now and then I found a really neat stick, but boy did I miss video games. As I got older I started to hunt and fish more, you know, to help keep the village alive and stuff. That was pretty cool. Last life my dad took me camping and fishing a few times. It didn ’ t sit well with me then, but I get it now. It ’ s pretty relaxing. Well, right up until you don ’ t catch any fish and only get bread for dinner. That part mostly sucks.
Oh! I also have abs now. Not like, body builder abs, but abs from not having enough nourishment. But they look good anyway. The village chicks seem to dig ‘ em.
What *does* suck is that we ’ re going to war soon. Something, something, the Romans are coming. I am definitely NOT cut out for war. Maybe I am now, who knows. But the last go around I was a software engineer. I literally sat at a desk and got all pudgy with little ( no ) physical activity. I got in a fistfight once and the guy beat the shit out of me. So we ’ ll see how war goes. I might like it.
I also happen to be the best village story teller. Admittedly I cheat a little; I recite tales from Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit. They don ’ t know I ’ m stealing and everyone ’ s happy, so get off my back, ok?
Well, I ’ m going to head on out now, got some fish to catch. I don ’ t think this note will find anyone, but I haven ’ t been able to write anything for the last forty years due to lack of paper and writing utensils. I just wanted to make sure I still got. Practicing with sticks in the dirt only do me so much justice ( thank you mister Roman trading guy whose name I think was Lucius ).
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[ WP ] The inner workings of a serial killer portrayed in the style of the movie Inside Out .
| He sat at the controls. The room around him was devoid of color, of light beyond the flashing screen. Absentmindedly, he fiddled with a lever in front of him.
Nothing happened.
A memory leapt out of the floor, floating in space as it began to play. A girl, no older than 12, dancing and laughing. He remembered her, remembered that moment.
The moment when Joy died.
He glanced behind him, at the shattered glass of the observatory. A single island floated just within his field of view, empty and as devoid of color as the room he sat in.
His room now.
All of the others had followed Joy. Why should n't they have? They had no control anymore. What was the point? Why would they force themselves to see what they had seen? He looked down at his hands. They were as grey as the room, as the island, as the memory.
The little girl on the screen had stopped crying, stopped doing anything, but still the memory continued... the hands did n't stop.
He stood. A moment later he was at the broken glass of the observatory.
Then he was falling.
He would n't have to remember her anymore.
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[ RF ] She said yes , but he was hoping she 'd say no
| Connor cleared his throat nervously. He could barely hear the sound over laughter, and the tinkle of champagne glasses. *Everyone drinking, and no one gets wasted, * he thought. *Why ca n't I have a normal life? *
A heavy hand fell on his arm. `` Connor, m'boy,'' Mr. Granville bellowed, in a failed parody of a whisper. `` Hear tonight's a big night for you?''
Every head seemed to swivel and stare at his booming voice. *Well, maybe someone was drunk after all. *
`` That's the rumor,'' Connor chuckled.
`` Congratulations, boy,'' Granville said.
Connor thanked him, writhed gracefully out of his grip, and excused himself. Across the room, Stanton was staring at him, eyes narrowed. Connor dropped his gaze and headed upstairs for the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, he finally found one unoccupied by a gaggle of women. He closed and locked the door, then leaned against it. He closed his eyes and sighed.
There was a tap on the door. `` Occupied,'' Connor called. He crossed to the sink and turned the water on high, hoping whoever it was would go away -- knowing they would n't. Splashing water on his face did nothing to relieve his anxiety, and he wondered why it was the first thing people tried. Stan would know what to do, but they were n't speaking.
Finally, he could put it off no longer. He trailed back down the stairs. His father had been waiting. His arm dropped around Connor's shoulders. The older man pulled Connor to the front of the room where a raised dais stood waiting, with a microphone.
Connor stood by his father's side as the man launched into a huge speech about whatever charity served as a foil for his true intentions this week. It was all Connor could do to keep a snort of derision from escaping.
He stared blankly at the crowd, feeling Stanton's stare boring into his forehead the whole time. Stan did n't approve, and he had every reason to be upset. *Still, * Connor thought, *he could at least try to understand. *
*It's not like I have a choice. *
`` That's why you're all here,'' his father was saying. `` But for me, this night is twice as meaningful. Tonight... well, I'll let my son tell you all himself.''
For an instant, Connor saw himself rebelling. He'd give an impassioned speech, explain to his father why this was all impossible. Then he'd flip a table and race across the room... and spend the rest of his life in poverty. What would he even do? He had no marketable skills.
No. He stepped up to the mic.
`` Seventeen years ago,'' he said. `` I was just a boy playing in the sandbox, when Julia Nesbitt walked into my world.''
He went on, describing years of friendship, family functions... and his heart softened a little. She really was an amazing person.
`` She knew long before I did. When we were eight years old, she presented me with a daisy ring, firmly kissed my cheek, and announced it.'There,' she said.'Now we're engaged.' Well, it's been a long time --''
Julia had no idea, but he saw the light coming on in her eyes. She swayed, and her friends reached out to steady her.
`` -- and made partner in my father's firm. I finally have something to offer.'' Connor grinned wryly, and the crowd chuckled. His father had excellent speech writers. `` Julia, will you join me?'' he called. He waved her up to the stage.
She was shaking as she approached, and for a moment he felt like he was doing the right thing. Over her shoulder, he saw Stan, and his spirits fell again. He forced a smile anyway.
`` Julia Nesbitt,'' he said. He took her hand, and dropped to one knee. `` Will you make me the happiest man in the world? Will you be my wife?''
Julia gasped, her free hand fluttering to her chest. For an instant, it seemed rehearsed. She glanced out over the crowd, and Connor would have sworn her eyes rested a little too long on Stan.
Then she turned back to him, and he realized how ridiculous it was. She did n't know. Could n't know.
`` Yes,'' she cried happily. A single tear glistened on her cheek. `` Oh, yes!''
Connor placed the diamond on her finger and stood. They embraced, and he moved to kiss her. He could n't. Not yet. He kissed her cheek, instead. His father's eyes burned twin holes in his back.
`` There,'' he said. `` Now we're engaged.''
The crowd laughed again -- *Who needs speech writers? * -- and Julia smiled. The smile did n't reach her eyes. She pulled him in again and pressed her lips to his.
They made their rounds of the room, laughing and shaking hands. The women grabbed Julia's hand, admiring the rock his father had purchased. The men slapped Connor's back so much he thought he might need to see his chiropractor.
*Partner, * he thought. *I'm living the dream. *
Inside he was dying.
She'd said yes. It was the perfect proposal, to top a'perfect' life. Connor wished she'd said no.
They reached the back of the room, and finally Connor was face to face with Stan. This time he was the one with tears filling his eyes.
Stanton opened his lips. Connor waited, breathlessly, both hopeful and fearful at what Stan would say.
`` Hors d'ouevre, Sir?''
Stan's voice was ice. The cold reached out, grabbing Connor's heart and crushing it.
*Partner, * he repeated to himself.
`` No thanks,'' he said cooly. `` I have everything I need.''
He squeezed Julia's waist. *Partner. *
It would have to be enough.
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[ WP ] Hit me in the face with emotion .
| I wrote a paper once. Yeah, I know that ’ s super vague. Look. I was in tenth grade. It was in creative writing. The task was to write about our strongest memory. The class was taught by an incredibly intelligent and kindhearted professor in her mid-twenties. She immediately connected with the entire class on a level that isn ’ t wholly explainable. It was just like she fit; not as a teacher, but as our friend.
Anyway, the point was to script a memory and I chose one of my darker ones. A friend of mine had taken her life at the early age of eleven, right after my twelfth birthday.
It utterly destroyed my entire being.
So being the morbid child I was, you can guess what I chose to write about. Scripting everything I could in the most elaborate way possible I took the vantage point of my eleven year old self, simple language included. It came perfectly together, as if I had written the piece when it happened.
And standing back, reading it absolutely blew my mind.
I was remembering the phone call on my birthday,
Remembering my mom crying at the kitchen counter.
It all flooded back, Getting there and not wanting to leave the limo, the part where my dad had yelled at me after sobbing to loudly in the church. I remember running out into the cold and collapsing in tears in the graveyard by the church. I remembered sitting in the snow sobbing while snowflakes kissed my cheeks and neck. I bawled until my sides hurt, and cried some more after that. Then I wrote about my father, being silently disappointed that I hadn ’ t held it together. He always cared more about how things looked. I poured all of my heart into this paper. It may as well have been written in my own tears. And when I handed it in, my professor said that I had personally touched her heart. It was such a wonder to finally have shared the memory. I was relieved that I had gotten the death of my friend out in the open.
But I have a confession to make. The paper I wrote then was filled with lies. I was mortified to explain the real truth, disgusted with myself for ever having done it. For ever even having considered doing it. The truth is that I had never gone to the funeral. The truth is that instead of wish my best friend in the world her last goodbyes, Instead of sending off the only person that had been there for me after my dad abused me, and stood by me through two suicide attempts and just as many hospitalizations, I chose to sit alone in my room and rock back and forth sobbing to myself.
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[ WP ] You work as an intergalactic delivery man for a warehouse built into a hollowed out asteroid . Your boss has just given you an undisclosed delivery task and his fastest cargo ship . The cargo hold is locked
| *Onesimus, you have always been my best slave. *
The Master lowered the note and continued gazing out of the viewport. The glass was floor to ceiling high, and wrapped around half of the irregularly shaped room. On his side was a brightly lit office, complete with couches, entertainment modules, and a carved desk made of dark wood, a rare symbol of class in the vast emptiness of space. On the other side of the glass stretched a vast grey and black landscape dotted with stars on one side and a huge shipyard on the other. Workers toiled in mechanized spacesuits loading and unloading cargo of all shapes and sizes from freighters of all shapes and sizes. The Master looked back down.
*Since they day you were abducted, you have served me and The Service well. *
The Master had made his way back to his desk, grabbing his ID card from the top drawer. The surface of the asteroid continued to bustle with activity as the galaxy twinkled overhead, ships landing and taking off to deliver whatever illicit items the stars desired. Automatic doors hissed open as The Master walked into his personal elevator, and closed as he chose Hangar - Level 12 as his destination. Unfolding the handwritten-note, The Master continued reading.
*My life has been in your hands many times, and yet you have never betrayed me, never once given yourself the advantage. You are truly a faithful servant. *
The rock that had been outside his transparent tube opened away to the interior of his little venture. The hollowed-out walls of his asteroid were adorned with thousands of doors, each hiding a different good. Drugs, exotic animals, slaves, it did n't matter. Evil men with deep pockets knew The Master would keep their secrets safe as long as the credits kept flowing.
*That is why I ignored the rumors at first, the grumblings among The Help. *
The doors slid back open to a small bay with a few smaller ships docked inside. Half a dozen workers wrestled some exotic beast out of a Ranger's corvette and into an internal transport, soon to be a pet of some lord in this part of the system. The Master made his way to *The Philema*, one of his personal ships and gift of a particularly generous drug lord. Walking inside, the ship hummed alive and ran through pre-flight checks and subroutines.
*But a wise merchant does n't just worry about competition from the outside, he must also be wary of what grows within. *
The Master placed the note in a small box in the middle of the modest cargo bay. He left the room and pushed a few buttons on the wall as the bay doors sealed and gyro-locked, unable to open until the ship reached its destination. The pre-flight checks had finished and numerous warning flashed on the screen. The Master dismissed them.
`` Where to today, sir?''
The Pilot had just entered the cockpit and was walking towards the console.
`` Sigma 12B, I have a... friend there who needs his cargo as soon as possible.''
*A hyperdrive failure is known to cause an explosion so large, it can disable a station orbiting the other side of a planet from the debris alone. *
`` I was n't aware you had any *friends* at Sigma 12B, sir. What are we carrying for him today?''
`` Something I should have given him a long time ago. Leave now, the ship is ready and there is no time to lose.''
The Master left the craft and made his to the deck office. The officers stood as he walked into the room and made his way to the comms hub. He put them at ease and waited next to the terminal.
*So by the time this is delivered, it will be too late. Do n't bother trying to escape. *
`` Hanger One-Two, this is The Philema. Requesting permission for launch.''
`` Philema this is Hanger, you are cleared.''
`` Roger that, goodbye Hangar.''
*Goodbye, Onesimus. *
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[ WP ] The last conversation in Human history .
| David and Claire agreed to meet on the corner of 53rd and 10th.
Their favorite little cafe, tucked away beneath all grime of the city. David was nervous, for today was the day he had been anxious about all year. He carried the small box in his left pocket, having spent three months salary just the day before.
Claire was nervous, too. Her doctor had just confirmed the tests. She let a timid smile escape her lips, and wondered in amusement if her stomach had begun to grow enough that David would catch on right away.
The two saw each other coming from opposite ends of the empty street. He smiled. She smiled. The two embraced, holding each other for a long time. David opened the door for her, and the two entered the barren cafe together, sitting down at their usual table.
Before David could get a word in, Claire put a small piece of paper on the table. David picked it up, his eyes scanning from top to bottom. His face lit up, and Claire could see tears swelling in his eyes.
`` Twins?'' he asked.
Claire smiled, her eyes growing wet as well. She felt her body grow warm, and noticed the flow of sunlight grow brighter and brighter.
David looked through the window of the empty, forgotten cafe. He let out a long, defeated sigh. A sigh that echoed the sound of a future that would never be. He reached in to his pocket, opening the small box. Claire's eyes twinkled in the sunlight, and she removed the delicate ring from his hands, placing it over her own ring finger.
`` It's beautiful,'' she said in awe. The heat grew, and she could feel it burning at her skin. She looked into David's eyes one last time, and he took her by the hands. Tears streamed down his face, and he gently kissed Claire's hand.
As the Sun gave way to the stars, and the Earth gave way to the Sun, David and Claire smiled. Together, they said the last words that the universe would ever hear.
`` I love you.''
And in that moment, they were at peace.
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[ WP ] Everyone is born knowing the day and month of their death , but not the year .
| It came the same time every year. For the longest time she would get anxiety `` before''. Nothing too terrible, it was almost a yearly PMS where she ’ d be irritable and not know why until she realized The Day was approaching.
Then her life began to lose light. After her failure to achieve any of her vaguely sketched out goals, her days began to grey and her step lost its bounce. She started just existing.
Eventually she came to long almost listlessly that it might happen that year. The Day would approach and something passing for excitement would fill her. She ’ d become more animated while it drew near. And then the day would come and she would feel lonely, and begin to worry nervously if it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. She would feel even more sad for those thoughts and dropped deeper and deeper into longing.
That all changed the day she met Tom. He pulled her out of her depression. She saw light for the first time in a long time. The anxiety came back but she welcomed the change, it meant she cared. She felt love and was loved.
They were married in the summer, and it was beautiful. She was surrounded by friends and family. It was the happiest day of her life.
She began to truly fear The Day the day she became pregnant. Joy filled her life, but for the weeks leading up to The Day wracked her with fear. She would wake up in sweat, dreaming The Day had arrived. Her husband Tom held her and comforted her, for it was the way of things that those who loved you most knew your day. In the way that you knew intuitively your own, love gave that insight into the lives of those closest to you. And he knew how much joy she was scared of losing now. So he held her and comforted her as best he could.
But gladly, The Day passed, and she was still alive, and her belly swelled and her doctors told her she was healthy and that the baby was well on it ’ s way. She and Tom glowed and their house filled with love and she made preparations for the arrival of their newborn. Friends came through and clothing and cribs and pastel paint arrived.
Then the other day came, the day of birth, and she was rushed to the hospital. She labored for hours and finally, in exhaustion, one last push and she had her squalling new born swaddled, in her arms, and looking up at her, puzzled by the flood of new experiences.
She looked down with absolute love for her baby, a girl, and gasped, and began to cry. She felt anxiety grow in her heart, at first in shock and then in fear of the dawning realization. The implications - Her day was the same as her daughters.
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[ WP ] You are given a small notebook . Inside is a list of last times you 'll speak to every person you 've ever met . One date is far , far later than the rest .
| I've never been a fan of fate. The idea that your destiny is pre-determined, that life is a narrow road, I've never seen the point of it. Who you marry, what friends you have, which job you choose - what's the point of life if you do n't have the freedom of choice.
Most people do n't realise that, they do n't realise that choice is an illusion and every single insignificant detail of their life has been planned out from the start.
I found that out the hard way.
When I was sixteen, I dropped out of school, decided to follow in my father's footsteps when he was younger and sell crap out of a car trunk. By the way he spoke of it, it sounded like a good idea at the time. He would buy some stock on the cheap-end and sell it to strangers for twice as much - business 101. If only I had the charisma he did.
At the time, I suppose it was lucky that I found the book in my car. When I set off, my parents felt sorry for me and packed up a box full of stuff, something to remind me of home.
Maybe the book was there the whole time - truth be told, I do n't know. But I was a quick learner and did n't ask too many questions. Potential customers, potential sellers, where to go and who to speak to - the answers were right in front of me.
For example: on July 19th I would talk to a guy called Ryan. We would make small talk and I would forget that I had a trunk full of stuff and he had my lunch money. He would check his watch and say, `` Sorry, Pal, got ta go'' and I'd say nothing, because I'd realise that I'm an idiot.
That's what the book said. I suppose the idea was to use that knowledge to adapt the situation, change how the conversation went. Strange how I saw two paths in front of me, but only one was real, but I did n't know better at the time.
Ryan came a few minutes after I opened up shop next to a local fair. The first few people walked past me, as I knew they would, but Ryan stopped when he saw something in the trunk. Now I know that he talked to me for another reason than feeling sorry for me, so I got straight down to business.
`` Hey, how you doing?'' he said.
`` Just fine, thank you. I noticed you looking at my stock, something catch your eye?''
`` Yeah. That a vintage Walkman or one of the newer versions?''
`` Straight from the 70's, I assure you. I can give you it for... let's say $ 35.''
`` I'll give you $ 30, no more.''
`` Deal.''
Of course the notebook did n't tell me how to barter. I had to figure that part out for myself. Not that it mattered in the end, since I had n't looked at the other pages. Ryan was all over them. Either I was a good businessman or fate wanted me to make a profit.
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[ WP ] Days before your leave home for college , you discover a secret door in your bedroom that must have been there your whole life .
| He looked at the strangely shaped, but well blended in handle under his bed...
`` Did you carve into our floorboards James?''
`` I've never seen it before dad...''
`` What?''
`` I've never seen it before!''
`` I do n't believe you''
`` Look dad! It's got a handle''
As James pulled hard on the latch, the huge cast iron door swang open.
The air filled with dust and smoke, A strong, unpleasant smell blasted into the room with it.
`` Are you sure you did n't know about this James? It looks like this door has been opened recently''
`` Yes I'm sure, the bed I had until last week was way too heavy to lift over this!''
There were a few visible stone steps that led into darkness. The boy took his first steps, with the father following closely behind.
`` Be careful, son''
`` Yes, dad...''
As they walked down the cold, hard steps, they could hear their breathing echoing downwards. The walls were covered in a thick layer of spiderwebs over the stone walls.
The pair reached the end of the stairs after a few minutes, entering what appeared to be an empty clearing.
`` We should go back upstairs son''
'No... just wait a second dad''
`` I think we should go back up, your mother will be worrying about us''
`` No she wo n't...''
The boy gave a wry smile
``... What?''
`` I'm sure she wo n't be worrying about us anymore dad''
`` What do you mean?''
`` Nothing...''
James took a step back and peered back up towards the light from his room.
`` Goodbye dad''
`` What?!''
`` Fuck you and all your years of abuse''
James sprinted up the steps, leaped back into his room, swivelled around and slammed the door shut.
`` Enjoy your tomb you bastard''
James twisted the latch closed and moved his bed back onto the huge metal door.
When the banging from his dad stopped, he opened the door briefly to throw his mothers body in with him...
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[ WP ] You 're stranded on an island .
| Boat. The waves are heavy walls that rock the boat. Sea. Sky. Sea. Sky. All of the world is swaying. Sea. Sky. There is water at my feet. Sea. Sky. Sea.
Cold oppressing sea.
Upside down? Ca n't breath. Cold sea. Old friend. Ca n't breath. Mary-Anne, I'm sorry.
* * *
All at once I become aware - of my face in the sand, of the water splashing over me, of the the fact that I am still alive. I summon some strength and lift my face off the sand. The storm is still raging and cold rain peppers me.
My lungs ache. How much water did I take in? I lie on my side and let my body cough and splutter my lungs empty. I'm shaking. Exhaustion does not describe the completeness of my defeat. Every move I make is a personal Everest.
I shuffle further up the beach, away from the waves that had been trying to pull me back into the ocean's embrace. I vow never to swim or captain a boat again. The cover of trees is just over me when I can move no more, no matter my will.
Unconsciousness greats me.
* * *
I'm on the boat again. The sky is clear. My dear Mary-Anne is next to me, and yet, she is on the docks waving to me - dreams allow for such oddities. She is still waving. I wave back.
`` I'll be back, my dear!''
I'm on my boat. The sky is filled with clouds. They race over head and cackle at me with thunder, each arc of electricity painting a smile across the lumpy passing greyness. Mary-Anne screams. Her hands close around my throat.
`` LIAR!''
Her words cut me. I try to beg forgiveness. I can not move. Can not speak. Can not breath.
The trees are above me again, I turn my head and spit the rain that had accumulated out of my mouth. I can not keep my eyes open.
* * *
It is midday when I awake again. The sun is in the sky and eager to pretend last night had not happened, there was not so much as a smudge in the blue that would give evidence of the storm. I am shaking. My clothes are wet.
I shed them and spread them amongst some sunny trees. They will dry soon enough.
I move like an elderly man. Hunched and shuffling, but I have no other choice. I must survive, and to do this I must move. I drink some gathered rainwater and decide to walk the beach.
The island is small, from what I can see, and heavily vegetated. In my brief explorations I see what may be a path deeper into the island. I make note of it and return to my clothes. They are not dry, but will do.
* * *
It stands at two stories tall and is well maintained. Perhaps a Plantation Villa is what you would call it. My voice fails me as I try to announce my arrival. The wood rattles as I rack my knuckles on the door. God had blessed me to let me wash upon an island with people. I knock again.
There is no reply.
People would understand if I let myself in, would they not? Clearly I am desperate. I press down on the handle and the door swings open. Salt water had not been allowed to eat the hinges or warp the frame. `` Greetings'' I say, as best my voice would let me `` I am ship-wrecked and find myself on your island.''
The house does not reply, my voice so low it does not even earn an echo.
People will understand if I look about, would they not?
* * *
I have wept. I feel now that God is taunting me. The house is empty. I have fed myself with preserves from the kitchen and drank from a heavy tank of water. I feel better in body, but my spirit is crushed.
No. Surely I have just missed the homeowner. They may be at the beach. Perhaps they found my boat beyond where I had looked. They will be home soon enough.
I shuffle about the house again. The owner would be home soon!
A door I had ignored, on account of it's being closed, now calls my attention. Perhaps the owner is old and deaf. Perhaps he is in there? I press down the handle and enter.
It is my study. My books. My desk. My sheets.
A painting of an old boat is above the mantle. I read some sheets. They are my fictions. A story about a man and his love, Mary-Anne. I see myself in a mirror. I am old. I am no captain. I have never been. I shuffle not from suffering but from age. I am old. My mind is faulted.
I am alone.
I walk to the beach. The sun is setting. I swim out into the sea, my pockets full of rocks.
Fear not. It wo n't work. It never has.
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[ WP ] Tell us about a wounded/abandoned hero 's last stand . Make us feel .
| It was done. The rattlesnake was dead. It did n't go out without a fight though, and left a pretty bad wound on Max's leg. Soon the venom would take him out. The outcome was inevitable, but I refused to believe it. He collapsed onto the ground and started to whimper. I got myself off of the dusty ground and carried all fifty pounds of him back in the direction that we walked, back home. I'm not sure how long it took, but it felt like an eternity.
`` Dad!'' I screamed as I ran through the weeds. `` Max got bit by a snake!'' Seeing the panicked look on my face we jumped into the car. I petted and hugged him, and cried as we got out onto the main road. His whimpers became quieter and quieter as the minutes wore on, and his eyes began to close slowly. I hoped so much that he would stay awake, but we were so far from the clinic...
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[ WP ] You fool , what have you done !
| They say life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die. Well that is n't apparently the case when you're taking a lot of innocent people with you. You do n't have the time to marvel at what you've done in your life when you're trying desperately to save those people. As I slowly lose consciousness, I hit the emergency eject button, dislodging us from the rest of the train. It was the only way to save the rest of the train. The conductors knew that as well as I did, but the weight of the train was **our** only hope. The world fades to black as I hear a my distraught friend's faded words `` You fool! What have you done!? ``.
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[ WP ] Your wife 's murderer is the police sketch artist .
| I had not seen her go, but I know it was at the hands of this man.
He seemed to present an all-to-sympathetic face to me. But behind his pale blue eyes was the mind of a killer, meticulous and cold. I am required to be in the room as he and two other men questioned the witnesses, and to see if a recognized who they were describing. But I already knew. I seemed to tune them all out as I stared at him asking and drawing, asking and drawing. He would look at me and show his picture.
`` Do you recognize this man?'' He asked in his low monotone voice. It looked nothing like him, but a dead ringer for whoever the witness had described
`` No,'' I would answer, again and again waiting for some one to describe him. But every time someone close enough to the true killer to be a cousin, but never him. It got to me, slowly it got to me. Having to sit in a room every day for weeks on end talking to the man who had strangled every bit of life out of Kathy. He did in broad daylight as if to rub it in that I was n't there for her. But I held strong, watching him ask and talk to the same 15 people who had `` seen'' the killer. But today would be different.
`` Hello mister Jawzwiakowski.'' He said to me.
`` Hello again Easton,'' Every day the same opening from both of us.
`` You remember Ms. Grace Reynolds,'' He almost told me this in a matter-of-factly way knowing that she described a very different man than himself.
`` Hello Grace,'' I said leaning out of my chair to shake her hand.
`` Hello Frank,'' She mumbled in her high pitched voice. Obviously not very comfy in the metal chair.
`` I want to try and recall every thing you know about the man-'' His voice trailed on. Asking the same questions getting the same answer. I stared him, then I snapped.
I lunged forward at his neck.
`` IT WAS YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU KILLED MY KATHY'' I yelled clenching tighter and tighter around his neck. And he laughed and shrieked with pleasure.
`` OF COURSE IT WAS ME'' He bellowed as Grace began to cry for help. After this I remember nothing except for choking his life away just as he had done. Then the sharp pain of a tazor in my back.
I regret nothing, I would do it a thousand times over, even if it means I will be killed.
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[ WP ] During a trip to a theme park populated by life-like animatronic characters , one of the robots sidles up to you and whispers , `` SAVE US . ''
| I always hated these places, ( I do n't do roller coasters, everything is so expensive, it always seems to be a thousand degrees outside, the food always gives me the shits and the bathrooms are always disgusting ) as a father, though, you make sacrifices. I was already tired, the long drive was almost as bad as finding parking. Walking through the lot, seeing these slobs, made me want to grab my daughter and run back to the car. At least she is innocent and oblivious to what my jaded eyes see. Ah, to be young.
We reached the gate and approached the turnstile where a short, stout man was collecting tickets. `` I am the gatekeeper,'' he said to every patron approaching and, `` thank you, have an adventurous day!'' To every patron as they pass through the gate. I had to chuckle at his tone; so monotonous. He sounded like he'd be better suited working customer support for a major cable company. Through the gate we went.
`` Have an adventurous day.''
`` You too, bud,'' I replied for my own twisted satisfaction.
`` What's first?'' My wife asked our daughter.
`` Pink castle! Pink castle!''
`` Alright, let me...'' I trail off while unfolding the map of the park. `` Here we are now and the pink cas-''
`` This way, daddy!'' Annabelle yelled, tugging my arm. My wife laughs and we head off, following my daughter who can, apparently, navigate this cess pool with her eyes closed.
The walkways are all cobble stone and with garbage cans everywhere you look, you'd be surprised by the amount of garbage on the ground. Or not. Have I mentioned my disdain for this place? We stop for a lemonade at a stand off to the side.
`` Is it really $ 8?'' I asked the attendant jokingly. She does n't get it.
We finally make it to the pink castle at the back of the park, dodging people who think they are the only ones here and the ice cream land mines. Annie could n't be more excited and I forget about my woes for a bit. My wife and I sit down to watch Annie go through the castle, one of those fun houses with mirrors and rope bridges and a big slide at the end. We share the $ 8 lemonade and hold hands. I'm enjoying myself far more than I thought I would.
My wife gets a picture of Annie coming down the slide and we head on, back down the cobble stone. My wife takes our daughter on a few more rides while I hold the purses. Yes, I'm a big baby. We wander over the the food court area and eat before heading to the haunted house.
When we arrive at the haunted house I decide to go in with them. While waiting on line I realize this has been most of they day, waiting on line. I forget my fun and start to get frustrated again. I do breathing exercises and anything else I can think of to calm myself down while we very, very slowly make our way to the carts.
We get in the carts and the bar goes'click'. We start to roll. We are picking up speed when we round a corner and notice the tracks run right into a wall.
`` Do n't worry, daddy,'' Annie says to me. She seems to get smarter everyday.
The wall breaks open the split second before a horrible crash can occur. We race through cobwebs and slime and patches of cold air. We go down into a basement.
`` Please!'' A faraway voice pleads, `` save us!''
We slow down and come to a stop where we sit for a few moments before a family comes out. `` Please, we are trapped here for all eternity, you are our only hope,'' a tiny blonde girl says to us. `` You must solve the mystery and help us escape this horrible place.''
For some reason this sends shivers down my side. My wife looks pale, as well. Surprisingly, Annie seems fine. She's pretty good with determining what is real and what is pretend.
We get rolling again. We pass through long halls full of ghosts and a kitchen with human heads on plates. We see an old woman hugging her dead husband and a man sleeping in a coffin. I remember reading about their brand new animatronic characters, but I am amazed at how real they look.
We finish the ride and get out. `` We'll what now?'' I asked Annie.
`` Umm... ponies!!''
`` Ponies it is!''
I could smell the ponies before we got there. I just keep telling myself that Annie is having the time of her life. Annie is on a pony and my wife is manning the camera when I saw her. Down the path, a little blonde girl tugging on the sleeve of a man dressed like a cowboy. I could have sworn it was the little girl from the haunted house ride.
`` Save us,'' echoed in my head. `` Solve the mystery.'' I shook it off and turned my attention to Annie. She was laughing that big belly laugh that could n't possibly come from a child so small and I remembered why we were there. This was pure joy for all of us. That feeling ended there for me on that day. We went to the Wild West town next.
When we approached the corral, the sheriff greeted us. It was the man getting his shirt tugged on by the ghost girl. Only, now up close, I was n't sure it was a man. I could n't tell, but there was something off.
The girls went ahead and I went to the saloon to put some hair on my chest. I sat being sure to not drink too much, but my wife could drive if I did, I justified.
`` Fill'r up, cowboy?'' The barkeep asked in a eerily familiar monotone voice.
Then it hit me. The man at the gate. The sheriff. The barkeep. Yes, the little girl. They all had that monotone voice I chuckled at a few hours ago.
`` Save us. Solve the mystery.''
It's all I could hear. It filled my head.
`` What mystery? I said aloud.
`` Pardon?'' The barkeep was still standing there with the bottle half tilted waiting for the go ahead to fill my glass again. I waved him off and slapped down a couple of bills.
My head was spinning. Everywhere I looked, it seemed, was the little girl.
`` Save us, solve the mystery.''
I ran out of the saloon, looking for my family when I was approached by another cowboy. A bandit.
`` Help, the law is on our tail, save us!'' He said. I felt sick. The bandit ran off when the sheriff rounded the corner.
`` You let that bandit get away! You got ta save the town!'' He said.
Frantic, I ran searching for my family. I spotted them down the Main Street, in front of the livery, feeding the horses. I ran past the bandit and sheriff in a gunfight. Past the casino and general store. I reached my family. Panting I said, `` time to go.''
My wife, seeing me, got startled, `` what's going on, John!?'' She asked.
`` I do n't feel good, we have to go!'' I snapped. Upset, she complied. I could feel the eyes of the adventure park workers on me. `` Save us'' their eyes pleaded. `` Solve the mystery''
We made it to the gate, almost out. `` You ca n't leave yet, you have n't solved the mystery!'' The little blonde girl, now tugging on my sleeve, said.
I scooped up my daughter and almost tore my wife's arm off grabbing her, running full speed through the parking lot. Annie cried all the way to the car but fell asleep soon after, thank god. I explained everything to my wife. At first she laughed, but I think she could see the terror in my eyes because she did n't push it.
Maybe I'm reading I to this too much, I do n't know, but I've spent the last 3 hours in the computer doing research. Trying to solve the mystery. If you have any information on `` Thurmann's Adventure Park'' please contact me.
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[ WP ] In a world where all people speak as if in a movie trailer , one man has a complaint about his breakfast at IHOP .
| `` In a world, without justice. `` Junior blinks, `` One man must rise above the rest, and ingulge himself to a waffle without fruit.''
He sees the waitress approaching, still he continues on.
`` He must fight, fight to endure the challenges ahead.''
`` No one ever gives me a chance anymore-'' The waitress sighs, trying to take away his plate, but he pulls it away.
`` He must stay above the rest-''
`` What I would do to have a second shot!''
The two stare, and then they smile.
`` When a guy, meets a girl-'' He starts to say, flicking his eyebrows.
`` Will it fall apart?'' The woman asks,
`` Or will love prevail?''
He is captivated by her gaze, long enough for her to sweep away his waffle, and add the missing strawberries and bananas.
He swoons over her shapely figure, heaving out a deep sigh.
`` Rated R, coming to a theater near you...''
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[ WP ] Pick a song . Those lyrics are now known as `` the ancient prophecy '' . Tell the story of this prophecy 's fulfillment .
| ( first post, and I'm doing this on the first song that came up in my playlist, so be gentle )
_________________________________________________________________________________________
`` Something has to be done.'' thought Gabe.
Of course, rules were rules. No intervention was to take place. But the situation looked bleak. Even in his otherwise stoic heart, Gabe felt pity - pity for those who he knew would suffer.
________________________________________________________________
Gary awoke to his blaring alarm clock and slowly rolled out of bed - trying his best to not wake up his wife of 4 years, Marcia.
`` It's no use, Gary. I've been awake for a while.''
Gary was surprised. Marcia was a heavy sleeper who'd rarely make it past 10PM. To see her awake so early in the morning was...
`` Gary, I had a dream last night. I woke up at 2, and for the past four hours I've pondered that dream. Gary, I need a divorce.''
The news hit Gary like a ton of bricks. Stuttering and stammering like a toddler, he suddenly remembered his job. IB was no laughing matter - the whole reason he was waking up at 6 on this otherwise idyllic Monday was to get to work on time after a peaceful weekend. But now, his whole world had been flipped upside down.
`` When you return this evening, take what you need and get out of my sight.'' said Marcia in her coldest tone - usually reserved for demeaning lectures to cashiers who rang up an item incorrectly.
As he left in his business attire, Gary decided that he would n't be returning to the house, or to a hotel room. He'd go to the roof of Prout & Hochlan and throw himself into Cleveland Ave. below. Nothing else made sense.
_______________________________________________________________
At that moment, in a park a few blocks from Prout & Hochlan and the other buildings of the financial district, a young woman named Erica emerged from her makeshift tent. The rhythmic drumbeat of the communal alarm reverberated through the air. She was part of a large but ragged group - consisting of environmentalists, communists, anarchists, and a host of other `` -ists'' that she had no interest in remembering. One thing was for certain - they were all here with the single goal of demonstrating their anger at the oppressive system of crony capitalism. Today was the big march and sit-in at Cleveland Ave.
But in a way, Erica was not like the others. Some of them dreamed of a peaceful utopia, but Erica was a realist. A former chem major, she was angered by the crippling student debt she had taken on to attain what she was told would be a wonderful, fruitful degree. Her current job as a store cashier was by no means fruitful, or chemistry-related. But she had not forgotten her studies.
The concoction in her backpack was proof of that - a bomb that incorporated all the concepts she had sign over $ 200,000 to study. Erica intended to detonate it in the middle of the crowd, to create another Haymarket Square.
Because for her, nothing was left. No money, no family, a position at Kohl's hanging on by a thread, and as of yesterday, no boyfriend. She was willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good. And so, at 6:30AM, she set off slightly ahead of the remaining protesters, marching to Cleveland Avenue.
________________________________________________________________
As he turned onto Harding Ave., Gary began to hesitate. `` What if there was more to life than just Marcia and financial stability?'' - he wondered. He could do a whole lot more interesting things in his life, even without Marcia, or the financial stability of his financial job.
A cup of coffee would be the perfect thing to drink while contemplating his predicament. `` Suicide could wait'', he gloomily joked to himself.
At that moment he turned onto 11th St. towards his favorite coffee shop, and collided with a woman who'd just crossed onto his sidewalk. She tripped up on fell onto the sidewalk, cushioned somewhat by her backpack.
She was disheveled, one of those `` back-to-nature'' types, but still quite stunning. `` Hell, why not.'' thought Gary. Risks were meant to be taken. Extending a hand to the woman, he apologized. `` I am so so sorry, quite clumsy of me. Maybe I could get you coffee to make up for that?''
Slightly shaken and confused, Erica grabbed the unexpectedly friendly banker's hand and lifted herself to her feet. She was feeling thirsty, come to think of it. And something about the man's face reminded her of an old, high school flame.
`` Does that line work on anyone else?'' - she asked, as she followed Gary into the coffee shop. She excused herself to the ladies' room, where she quickly disarmed her bomb. Maybe someday. But not today.
_______________________________________________________________
The angel Gabriel - or Gabe, as he God called him - looked down at the quaint cafe on the corner of 11th and Harding. Crisis had been averted - the terrorist that would have sparked a world-destabilizing eco-revolution was sipping coffee with the inadvertent cause of the immense market collapse that would have occurred two weeks from now. Both crises were averted, just like it was said that they'd be, by a divorce. Caused by a vision sent by a rouge servant of god.
By a Wild Angel.
EDIT: Minor clarification on the `` dream''
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[ WP ] Nuclear weapons are used against Russia ; with it , MAD . What happens between their launching and their landing ?
| 20 minutes. It took 20 minutes for the first missile to hit; smack-dab in the middle of Red Square, too. Hell, people were still eating breakfast. The Russki's early warning system provided them enough time for the Kremlin to authorize a full nuclear retaliation before being wiped out. In the 20, maybe 30 minutes between then and impact, nothing changed. People went about their business as if it were a normal day. The old man in the neighbourhood chatted up the cashier at the grocery store. Kids ate their breakfast getting ready for school. No one ran for the hills fearing a nuclear strike. Not that it would've mattered; it would've taken more than a day to evacuate the target zones effectively. The only people that knew about it were the leaders of the world; those who had just opened Pandora's Box. And they could do nothing, only sit and watch as a plethora of metal casings with Death strapped to the front exploded over their cities.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
President Obama stood in his office, hands crossed behind his back. In the distance, a bright light shone over the horizon.
`` I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds,'' he sighed as the shockwave finally reached him.
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[ FF ] Something 's Hidden Inside This ! ( 150 words )
| `` There is something in the water. I'm sure of it.'' Max said at 3 o'clock in the morning.
`` We best keep go'n, remember Jones' words: you wo n't survive if you try to be brave. Keep on course, and do not pay any mind to the secrets of the water. They are the lake's to keep... Whatever the Hell that means.''
`` Wait, it is coming up. It is big whatever it is. I see another! They're surfacing! Jones' little warning is shit! Give me the gun!''
The two never made it out of the water. Whatever got them is the secret of the lake.
Edit: I may have come to the party too late, but the key is to start with the letter to the right of the apostrophe and then alternate between right and left for every apostrophe.
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[ EU ] Every witch or wizard 's wand can only cast a finite amount of spells before disintegrating/exploding/vanishing ( take your pick ) . Tell the story of a witch/wizard 's last spells .
| He was glad it was almost over. There was only one left.
& nbsp;
He sat on his porch, smoking a cigarette, watching his children fight for his audience. Their amateur acrobatic session occupied little space in his mind. He thought back on his last few spells, he could n't remember more than the last 10 or so, they were far apart in time and more of a haze than any other memory. It was common knowledge now that your fill of spells was hereditary, although some fringe experts thought you could stretch it out. They were just that, fringe, and none of them had ever proven their claim, so he did n't spend any more of his thoughts on them. The last one he had used last week. He could n't stand to see Nick so heartbroken. He had to do it. They were back together, both thinking it was their reason that had joined them again, that their `` much needed break'', as Lauren called it, had made them realise their love for each other.
& nbsp;
He lit another cigarette.
`` Go inside, it's getting late''
The kids argued for a while before ultimately giving in.
His last one, it had to be magnificent, it had to be worth it, really worth it. He could never think of spending it on himself, not out of selflessness, but out of some semi-fictional idea that life was better if it was `` real'' and untampered with. He however sometimes contemplated the fact that the constant manipulation most people hand out and receive render most our relationships wholly different from the `` real'' ideal he had always held in his head.
& nbsp;
He went in and opened a can of pop.
Two of his friends had been depleted. Julie said it was not much different, that she felt pretty much the same. She felt free in a way, from the responsibility. She could partake in life without constant oversight from herself. Should she fix this or that, it was a bother and she was better off without it. His other friend, Brock, did n't feel the same way. He felt exactly as the name suggested: depleted. There was something missing, he did n't have the same energy, the same bounce to his step. His intellect was dimmed, his thoughts fainter. Even his art had suffered, and his Sunday night painting sessions lacked something intangible but meaningful. He thought that it might be a male thing, and that he would feel the same as Brock because of it.
& nbsp;
It did n't matter to him, he thought as he closed the front door, as long as it would be magnificent.
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[ IP ] Neighborhood Watch
| OX-10 let the gun hang in his hand, feeling the pull of the it's leash. He always kept it close to him, or at least, a part of him as he walked down the corridors of Level Delphi-6T. The white hexagon lights reflected brilliantly off of his black jacket as well as the glossed wood of his gun. Of course the wood was fake, but it was so close to the real thing that he just had to have it. To bad it was MMAD's. He liked the old gal. But that was the way of the Framework: `` Plug or be plugged'' ( In fact that was the OCT-7TH3 Gang's motto ).
And speaking of the old gal, he was on his way down this very corridor for one very specific reason: CRUZ-80. She was MMAD's, built straight off of the same line right before he was. Straight off of the line, he'd felt something for her. The rules down here were cut and clear: `` No union between different models'', but that was one rule he would break only in her case. The only reason he even knew MMAD was because CRUZ was there, and MMAD as sure knew it even though she never said.
The problem that the Law provided was of course, cross-model relations, but the difference between models really defined the punishment. If it was between models from two consecutive castes, Law required a branding of both. But at the level of OX-10's perceived relationship, it was full dismemberment and scrapping.
He rounded right and the white light faded into a mix of neon, playing havoc on his jacket. He'd entered the Delphi-6T Market A, one of the busiest. But there was no one there. OX-10 raised the gun and walked faster through the market. On the edge of his sight he saw something stand up. He quickly aimed the gun and fired a round into their shoulder, the force of the slug knocking them to the wall. `` Hold it!''
OX-10 saw many more rise from behind the vendors. The hopped over the counters and came up slowly to him. `` It's OX-10, is n't it?'' One of them asked. He wore the a large coat that matched his blue, peeling face. Obviously the one they called `` Big Blue'' one of the beefcakes of OCT-7TH3. `` I have no idea why, but The Master wants your head. I'll give it to him, anyway you want me to.''
OX-10 laughed. `` Why do you have all these guys if he asked you?''
`` Your one of those OX models. Your supposed to be very resilient.''
`` Of course I am. That's how I was built.''
The goons had inched their way closely to OX-10 and Big Blue had n't even noticed it, at least not until to late. `` Get back!'' Big Blue yelled. Too late. OX-10 already had already let go of his gun and reached for a gun. He grabbed a stock to his right and pulled the goon forward, slamming their head onto the plasticrete ground with a crunch. He then turned his attention to another and launched at him. The goon fell as OX-10 bashed him with his fist.
The other goons began to fire as OX-10 began to run. He pulled himself up the virtually gripless wall and fell onto a stunned goon. Then he grabbed his gun and put two slugs into another. He dropped his gun and picked up a baton that one of the shot goons had. He mostly dodged the bullets from the other goons as he hopped along the walls and counters, dispatching each with speed and force. After he'd snapped the kneck of the last goon he turned his attention to Big Blue, who now held a rather large pistol at his side. `` Those were my drones!'' He screamed.
He lifted the pistol. OX-10 reached for his own gun at the same time. Both fired at the same time. OX-10 felt a force shove his left shoulder as his gun went off a second time. He saw the down flying from the hole in his jacket.
As he hit the ground he rolled in a way that he lay there facing Big Blue. The REGI unit stepped back, two smoldering holes puncturing his coat. OX-10 pulled himself up with the help of a counter and limped over to Big Blue, leaning against the wall for support. `` You really know how to give a good one, Blue.'' OX-10 said, `` to bad you had to be decommissioned.''
Big Blue looked at OX-10. `` That's the most praise I've ever been given, thank you very much. Now push me over so this REGI unit can finally rest.''
OX-10 reached for Big Blue, but his arm was too short. He tried kicking him, but to no avail. Finally, he grabbed the gun and put one final slug in Big Blue's head, sending blue fluid and bits of the carapace onto the wall. OX-10 then made his way, limping further down the market. Off in the distant was the all too familiar site of the CRUZ model. What a beauty she was, in her stunning gold color, especially in her black dress. `` OX!'' She cried. She sprinted to him, catching him in her arms as he fell.
OX-10 looked down at what she was worried about. Apparently he'd been hit more than he thought. White holes of down stuck out from the black jacket. `` Damn,'' he said. He looked at CRUZ-80. `` You know,'' he continued, `` you look lovely tonight. You sure do.''
`` Come on, OX.'' She said, `` Come on stay with me.''
She held him upright as they made their way to where CRUZ had originally been standing. They entered through an entryway that led to MMAD's place. `` I came out as soon as I heard the gunfire.'' She continued, `` Why did you come here at this time of night.'' She shut the door and locked and then began to take off OX-10's jacket.
`` You know,'' OX-10 said, `` Just out on a night stroll.''
CRUZ-80 attended to the wounds. `` You said something about me'being lovely.'''
`` Oh yeah, that,'' he winced. Robots still felt pain.
`` No, no. Do n't leave me.''
`` You... I... I... lof > > > ERROR 460 < < <
... SYSTEM SHUTDOWN...
... SYSTEM OFFLINE...
...
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[ WP ] A classic Disney movie , but the protagonist is now the villian
| A pirate was all I ever wanted to be.
Imagine- sailing the ocean, finding adventure, battling on the high seas.
But then I grew up. Years flew by, and I got older. I went to school, I became a lawyer, and I never had a family. Everyone else thought that was sad, but I enjoyed life anyway.
Then one day, a mischievous girl came to my window and beckoned me away. She was beautiful, interesting, lovely. I was dreaming. I had to be. But no; this little, miniature woman flew high above me and taught me how to move through the air like she could. She pulled me along while we flew through London, soaring over the city. We would do this nightly, and every morning, exhausted, I would take myself to work. It was worth it, though, and I never said no.
And one night, she gripped my finger, her tiny hands barely wrapping around it. She tugged to indicate I should follow her, and... I did. I never looked back.
Neverland is truly a place where childhood dreams come true. I found a crew, and we sailed, fighting bad guys and finding treasure, with my little fairy on my shoulder.
She always had a temper, though. It was part of her feisty personality, and I loved it... until she decided she was bored of our life. And then she flew off, and I never saw her again.
Until a few years later. A few troublemakers had begun running about Neverland, harassing people and stealing treasure I'd buried. My crew and I decided to teach him a lesson- nothing bad, just tell him to knock it off.
He was just a kid, after all. And as we approached him, I suddenly saw her, sitting on his shoulder. My Tink. She had left and found another Lost person without a family and brought him here, to our place, to my dream land.
I guess I lost a part of myself that day, and Neverland was never the same.
It was n't my dream anymore.
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[ WP ] All humans are near immortal . As an Elder only you can end a human life . You must accept or deny all request . A broken battered woman is lying before you , begging to die .
| The lights rose slowly as I entered the sterile, white room. I sniffed the air; it had the same mixture of cleaning products and that distinctive smell of the elderly. My gaze swept the room, and fell on a small figure wrapped in soft cotton blankets; placed opposite the only window in the room. Already the soft hues of dawn spilled through the panes and gently climbed the walls.
I strode over to the bedside and sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. I cleared my throat to signal my arrival, and slowly she opened her eyes. There was confusion in her wild, darting look, until she focused on me and gave a weak smile.
`` Elder Mendax!'' She croaked. `` I had all but lost hope. I thought perhaps my request yo meet with you had been lost in the bureaucracy.'' She chuckled, as if she had said something clever or funny. In truth, one in three people made some sort of joke along these same lines. I had never made an attempt to correct the system, and never would. It worked the way it had been designed to.
`` Well, I suppose you know what I am going to request?''
I nodded. I kept my face nearly blank, but for a slight grin. That little grin always gave them hope. `` I do know what you want. But you must ask outright, my child.''
She nodded back and swallowed hard. `` I want to die. I have been on this earth for so long. So very, very long. I was reckless in my youth. So many injuries. It has been a century since I could go to sleep without powerful pain killers. I beg you, allow my life to end.''
I considered her thoughtfully. I watched her expression go from hopeful, to uncertain, to uncomfortable, and finally to anxious. She wanted to speak, wanted me to speak, wanted the nurse to come and break the silence. But no one entered a room while an Elder conducted an interview. And no one spoke until spoken to by an Elder once the interview had begun. It was how it had always been. I absently brushed a speck of dust from my black suit sleeve.
`` Why do you think death will be better, my child?''
So relieved that I had finally spoken, the old woman did not even seem to hear what had been said for a moment. I repeated the question.
`` Because I have lived my life through. There is nothing left for me here but pain. All I have to look forward to is the sunrise each morning and pain killers each night. I wo n't let my family visit me, they should not see me like this. Yes, death would be better. No more pain.'' She smiled sweetly. Ever so sweetly. No doubt thinking of the sweet release she expected from death.
My grin widened slightly. `` And what makes you think there will be no pain in death?'' She blinked at me blankly. `` Tell me child, when were you born? How long after the cure for aging?''
`` Before it, actually. I was six when the cure was found.''
`` Then you no doubt recall religion. What were you raised as my child?''
Confusion was beginning to fix itself in the lines on her leathery face. `` Baptist. My family was n't very observant.''
`` What do you recall of the afterlife?''
`` Well.'' She hesitated. I could smell the fear on her. That smell always came when I reminded them of the old teachings. They all pretended they never believed it. Or if they had, that they certainly were going somewhere nice.
`` Heaven for the good, hell for the bad,'' she stated simply.
`` And what is hell like?''
`` I'm sorry, Elder Mendax, what does this have to do with anything?''
My eye smiled with my lips now. `` You toke the cure for aging. Tried to play God. What makes you think he will welcome you into his home now? Why should he when you tried to cheat him?'
Her hands groped. Her lips twitched and her eyes darted this way and that. `` But, it was all just stories. Everyone knows there is not heaven.'' She hesitated. `` No hell. Why, you helped create the cure!''
I laughed now. Roared with laughter. `` Oh yes. I certainly did. Gave it to you all for free too. And no one ever questioned why. Well, some did. But they were purged easy enough before doubt could be sown. They did n't escape me in the end anyway. They are still mine.''
Her frail body shook. `` Who are you.''
My eyes flashed at her, filled with unholy anger, and she shrunk away as best she could. `` You know damned well who I am.'' She managed a whimper. Nothing more. `` I have approved your request. They gave you the dosage in your IV before I ever came in the room.'' I glanced at my obsidian watch. `` You have maybe twenty minutes left.''
I stood and walked to the door. Before leaving, I glanced back over my shoulder and grinned at her. `` See you soon.''
As I left, the old woman began to sob. A nurse dashed in to comfort her.
The nurse paused a moment in the door, sniffing the air. There was something different about the smell. It reminded her of something. putting it in the back of her mind, she rushed to the old woman's side. There was nothing she could do for her. The decision of an Elder was final. But she stroked the old woman's hair and told her it was alright.
*Hawaii* The nurse thought. The smell reminded her of her vacation to see the volcanoes in Hawaii. Absently, before putting the now dissipated smell out of her mind forever, one final word came to mind. *Brimstone. *
|
[ WP ] One day , you and four people come across a stone , that connects all of your souls . Every hurt one of you feel , the rest feel ; every good thing affects all the rest . How does that affect you all over the years ?
| We thought it was a joke but it was n't. At first it was good, we were all about to graduate and were looking forward to life. The feeling became stronger in each of us and we hung out even more. Every good time was amplified by all of us, but so were the bad times. I could feel Fin's stress at the same time I felt Gabe's joy, and Quip's depression. I could let Smiths happiness take away my dread of life. Over the years sometimes it got hard as we grew more apart.
There was always a mix and overtime the feelings grew weaker which helped. Sure waking up mad, depressed, or overjoyed for no reason was always weird, and i hated myself for feeling bad because I knew I was forcing it on my friends, but when someone was truly happy we all knew and loved it. After a while we could all tell who was feeling what, and helped each other more becoming closer.
When Gabe died we all felt nothing for a while, then sadness and anger were all I and any of the others felt for a month. One end down, every feeling was less from then on. One day all four of us remaining met up. Fin had got an okay job and liked his life, Smith had grown more blank and used his minimum wage job to support an apartment where he lounged around all day researching as he called it, Quinn's job had become stressful and with the recent death of Gabe he had been taking time off, I was doing fine myself, not as well as I would have liked but I still had enough.
For years our lives went on connected, and we kept feeling each others emotions steadily less and less, it got lonely at times but also liberating to feel nothing. Then we all kept feeling nothing. One day I got a text from Smith
`` I did it, we are finally free.''
When I saw him next he was perfectly calm and blank, just like the rest of us had been for a while. `` You are all welcome, this will finally be over,'' said Smith calmly before walking away and leaving us speechless.
I have n't seen the others in a long time, and I have n't felt anything even longer. Do n't go to that one pawn shop, every town has one, and do n't buy any stone relic necklaces. They destroyed me, no not me us.
|
[ WP ] Your best friend , America , has massive personality changes every 4 or 8 years and you 've learned to deal with it but you can feel that , this time , things are going to be much more extreme ...
| “ Just relax. We just all need to be calm and supportive, ” Canada said, taking a nervous sip of her maple latte. She and her three companions sat in the back of the little cafe in a corner booth. They figured it was intimate enough that they could talk privately but public enough that there wouldn ’ t be a scene.
France glanced at his watch. “ What time was she supposed to be here again? ”
“ Exactly three minutes ago, ” Germany said without looking up from her drink.
“ Psh. Late as usual. Why do we even bother doing this? ” Mexico asked.
“ Now Mexico, ” Canada replied, “ I know some of the things America has said to you haven ’ t been nice -- ” Mexico grunted sarcastically. “ -- but we have to do this for our friend. Remember what happened this summer with Britain? We have to step in this time. ”
Mexico rolled his eyes dramatically but did not protest further.
Canada stirred her coffee. It was true, they had all been on edge since Britain decided to leave suddenly and America ’ s behavior had only made matters worse. Sure, she went through this every four or so years, but never like this. Usually the changes would start and there would be some wild swings in her mood, but eventually things would even out and she ’ d go back to being normal, if a bit different personality-wise. The friends were used to it for the most part but this time had been much different, much more volatile.
Canada was pulled from her thoughts by the chime of the bell above the door.
“ She looks even worse than before, ” Mexico whispered France. Canada shot him a warning glance before turning back to look at the door.
It was hard to miss America. In fact, everyone in the cafe turned to stare as she walked by. Canada had to admit that she did indeed look bad. Her makeup was smeared across her face and her skin looked like she had been experimenting with some awful spray-tan. Her mouth was fixed into a too-perfect smile while her eyes squinted in a permanent grimace. One shoulder slumped forward and the other stood up bolt-straight. She wore a crisp pant-suit with a disheveled tie that extended past her waist. All over her -- both on her clothes and skin -- were stickers proclaiming statements such as “ Lock Her Up! ” and “ I ’ m With Her. ”
Canada took a deep breath to steel herself and stood up to greet her friend.
“ Hello America! I ’ m so glad you came to join us. ” She tried desperately to keep her voice as even and cheerful as possible but even she was shocked by what her friend had become.
As she leaned in to embrace her friend, America suddenly grabbed her face and kissed her.
“ Oh! ” Canada said with shock. Under normal circumstances she would have been appalled but this time she tried to smile and pretend like nothing had happened. This had to go well, for everyone ’ s sake.
“ Come, have a seat, ” Canada said, gesturing to the spot she had left. As America scooted in, right next to Mexico, Canada realized she ’ d made a mistake. She should have sat in between them to act as a wall.
“ So, ” Canada said, trying to break the awkward silence that had formed, “ how have you been Meri? I feel like I haven ’ t seen you in months. ”
America sniffed. “ I ’ ve been awful. I ’ ve really been the worst. Bad, bad, bad. I haven ’ t been winning. But trust me, I will be great again. ”
“ We ’ re very sorry to hear that. Actually that ’ s wh- ” Canada began.
“ No that ’ s not true. I am good. I am great because I am good. ”
The others stared.
“ Oookay, ” Canada said hesitantly. “ Well I think we should just get right to it. America, we ’ re your friends. We care about and we really need you. And we want you to know that we ’ re worried about you. Some of your actions have been a bit... well… ”
“ Crazy, ” Mexico interjected.
Canada looked over America to shoot Mexico an angry look.
“ What Mexico is trying to say is -- ”
Canada was interrupted once again. This time by France: “ You ’ ve been acting really weird this time. Like what ’ s all this talk about breaking all of your promises? ”
“ And why do you keep asking about nuclear weapons? ” Germany added.
“ And why do you hate me? ” Mexico asked.
Canada tried to rein in the conversation. “ Guys, please. ”
But she was ignored.
“ Also, what ’ s up with you and Russia? ” France asked. “ One minute you ’ re best friends the next minute you say he ’ s picking on you. ”
“ You told me he was stalking you, ” Germany added.
Canada sighed in exasperation.
“ But seriously, ” Mexico continued, “ I know it ’ s been weird sometimes for us and kinda tenuous, but we ’ re neighbors. Why are you suddenly saying such degrading things? ”
“ Also these rumors flying around about you being a, well a, you know… ” France struggled for the words. “ That stuff with Finland... If that ’ s true that really bad. ”
“ It ’ s deplorable! ” shouted Mexico.
“ Okay, ” Canada said in a loud voice so that she could be heard above the fray that had emerged.
“ Like I said before, we ’ re all friends and just want to help. I ’ m sure America would have some explanations if we would just let her speak. ”
The group stayed quiet now. They ’ d aired their issues and were now eager to hear the response. America ’ s expression didn ’ t change. She blinked heavily and sniffed again. Finally she opened her mouth to speak. The others at the table leaned in to hear.
“ Wrong. ”
Canada was taken aback. “ Um ok. Wrong about what? What ’ s the real story? ”
“ Wrong. ”
“ You ’ re a child, ” Mexico chided.
“ No child. No child, ” America repeated. “ You ’ re the child. ”
“ America please, ” Canada pleaded, “ let us help you. ”
America turned to face Canada.
“ Look. I don ’ t need you. I don ’ t need you. I don ’ t need any of you. I alone can save me. You got that. And I ’ m gon na do it and I ’ m gon na start winning again. Believe me. It ’ s gon na be big league, big league. Now, as for the rest of you. Lot ’ s of people are saying. You know, people say things alright. People say things you wouldn ’ t believe. For instance, I could be talking about people saying that Germany has joined a new religion or that France has gained some weight. And Mexico, now like I said, I don ’ t know. I don ’ t know but people are saying about your criminal past you know, that you ’ re one bad hombre. It ’ s ludicrous but it ’ s something they ’ ve been saying. Like I said, I could have said all of this, but I didn ’ t. You can give me that credit at least. And Canada, sweet Canada. Look at her folks, look at her. Well, I have to go now. China is getting rid of some stuff that I need. What a nasty woman folks. She ’ s been stealing from me but I ’ ll get back to winning. Believe me. ”
With that, America turned and pushed her way out of the booth, leaving Canada bewildered and on the floor.
Before leaving, America turned and spoke once more. Her voice had a slightly desperate tone this time. “ I want to reassure to you, my friends and my allies, that my word is good. I will honor my words and promises of the past. I ’ ll keep it together and be good. ” With that, America lumbered out of the cafe, leaving the same trail of turned heads that she had left coming in.
The four friends stayed silent. Canada still slumped on the floor.
“ Who the hell is Ghyna? ” Mexico asked.
|
[ WP ] In the future , medicine and life support have reached perfection -- people can only die if they choose to . You work at a Federal Eternal Rest Office .
| I was surprised at how young the man sitting in front of me was. Usually I do n't get young men. Usually I get old people, who are tired of their artificially extended lifespans, and want their eternal rest. I cleared my throat and addressed the man.
`` Hello sir, welcome to the Federal Eternal Rest Office. My name is James, and I'll be your case officer. Mister...'' I glanced down at my datapad, which displayed the visitor's information, `` Mister Jones. You're looking to die?''
Jones nodded at me, then said, in a slow and calm voice, `` Yes. Yes, I think I want to die. No, that's not right, I know it.''
`` And, just to confirm, you want to die *now*? As in, you wish to start the death procedure immediately?''
`` Yes, that's right. I want to start now.''
I cleared my throat again and looked down at my pad once more. Jones was only twenty years old. I was more than five times his age. Even my grandson could've been his father.
`` Well sir, if you're sure. The death procedure is quite simple, actually. You'll have to sign a few documents related to the distribution of your estate after you're gone, and then you'll be led to an injection room, where an automated process will inject a cocktail of pharmaceutical substances into your bloodstream, which will put you to sleep. The pharmaceutical cocktail will then override the healing nanites in your bloodstream, and stop your heart. The entire process is entirely painless and, I'm told, quite soothing.''
`` That sounds fine, thank you,'' Jones replied, in the same slow voice. His eerie lack of emotion was starting to bother me. The faint peals of alarm bells were ringing somewhere in the back of my head. I decided to probe further.
`` If you do n't mind me asking, Mister Jones... why do you want to die? You're still very young.''
`` Oh, I could n't explain it if I wanted to. I just want to die, to end it all, that's all.''
`` Sir, if you're suffering from depressive or other psychological disorders, we have a variety of psychiatric treatments available here...''
Jones cut me off with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand. `` No, no, that wo n't be necessary, thank you. I know you guys offer these services, but that's not what I need. I did n't come here for a shrink. I came to die.''
`` If you are facing other issues in your life, such as financial or relationship difficulties, we can also provide related assistance in a variety of matters.''
Jones actually smiled a bit at me this time. `` That's very kind of you, but no, that wo n't be necessary. I do n't have any problems in my life. I just want to die, that's all.''
`` Well sir...'' I started again, but this time Jones interrupted me by leaning forward across the desk and speaking over me.
`` Look, I understand this looks weird,'' he said, the calm facade of his voice cracking for the first time, `` and I appreciate the help you're offering. I really do. You're going above and beyond your job description right now, I can tell. But to be honest, there is no big mystery here. I just want to enter your facility, and have a good death. That's all.''
I found I was leaning back unconsciously in my chair. I straightened up, then nodded at Jones. `` I understand, sir. And you truly can not tell me why?''
Jones was silent for a few moments, apparently pondering whether he should say anything. Then he replied, `` I do n't think this whole thing is natural. Everyone's injected with these nanites at birth, which keeps them alive forever. That's not right, man. That's not right. I do n't think it's right for people to live hundreds of years, and what's more I do n't think it's right for the government to kill ordinary citizens with lethal injections. It's just too much, y'know? Too much unnaturalness going on here. This is n't a world I want to live in, and so I want out. I want this whole thing to end. To be over.''
I considered this. Jones's point of view was not unheard of, in fact it had spawned a diverse array of counter-cultures and protest organizations. Some of them were political in natural, such as the Human Life Party, which was currently one of the larger opposition parties in the legislature. There were even a few extremist organizations or two, such as the radical Sapiens group. But this was the first time I'd heard someone so young espouse such views.
Still, though, Jones's reasons were perfectly valid, so if he wanted to die, it was his right. I sighed, then held out my pad at him. `` All right sir, if you're sure. Please sign here and here, and scan your fingerprint here. My associate Mr. Henry here will take you to the next station, where a member of our Legal team will go through your affairs with you.'' I pressed a button my my pad. Henry was there a few moments later, smiling at Jones and beckoning towards a nearby door. Jones stood, thanked me, then followed Henry through the door.
I'd served two more citizens—both old men at least three hundred and fifty years old—before Henry came back to my desk. He looked troubled. `` Hey James... that guy, Jones, what's his story?''
`` He's only twenty, but he thinks the nanite life extension process is unnatural, so he wants to die,'' I replied.
`` Yeah, I got that part. But that's not the weird part. The weird part was when I took him down to Legal, he insisted on taking a detour near the nanite labs first. He said he wanted to see it with his own eyes. He asked all sorts of questions about it, too, like if that's where we make all the nanites, and what would happen if we lost our production facilities. Why would he care if he does n't like the idea of the nanites in the first place? And he's dying soon, so why's he so curious?''
`` What'd you say to him?''
`` Well, I answered his questions as best I could. Yes, we make all the nanites here, and if we could n't make nanites any more, then people would n't be able to live forever any more.''
The alarm bells I felt during my interview with Jones were starting to ring again. `` Was he satisfied with that answer?''
`` I guess, because he did n't ask anything else afterwards. He just followed me down to the Legal Department without a word. Weirdest thing, I think.''
I frowned at Henry. `` You think there's something more going on here? With him?''
Henry mirrored my frown. `` All I know is that he's not acting like a guy who's about to die.''
I suddenly felt icy realization drench me from head to toe. `` No... no, that's not right. He *is* acting like a guy about to die. And he intends to take us down with him!''
I grabbed my phone and jabbed frantically at the keypad. It was an eternity before someone picked up. `` Security, what's the issue?''
I screamed into the receiver, `` I think we have a *suicide bomber* somewhere in the facility! Probably from Sapiens! Someone check the Legal Department and the Nanite Labs for a guy named Jones! Medium height, brown hair, twenty years old...''
A fireball tore through the building, incinerating me and Henry, and cutting me off before I could finish.
|
[ WP ] You are a Mage with vast knowledge of the inner workings of magic and theorized countless of possible spells . The only problem is your inability to actually perform magic .
| `` Yes, Yes!''
Zabon wrote frantically on his magic journal. He worked on a complete deconstruction of magic physics and constructed it into a far simpler form. It was a revolutionary new way in creating and practicing magic. One that he had hoped would finally allow him to grasp even the most basic of spells.
`` With this, I shall be able to wield what I have long only theorized and imagined in my mind!'' he laughed as he gripped his journal tightly in his hands. `` No more will I be content on teaching others without having experienced magic myself. No more will those jealous of my intelligence mock me for my impotence -- which they usually tie to my manhood but is not true at all -- into their excuse of not promoting me into a grand wizard!''
Zabon's cheery mood was disrupted by a shuffling beneath him.
Looking down, he saw a cute child, no more than four years of age. She stared at him with big blue eyes while gripping onto his purple robe. Similarly beside her, a small black dog did much the same. They both look with pleading eyes at him.
`` Can we have snacks now, Uncle?'' said the girl.
`` Ehem,'' coughed Zabon, now finding himself a little bit embarrassed at having forgotten that his niece was their with him. `` Let me just try a spell, just one spell, sweetie.''
His sister had left her daughter in his care for a week. She and her husband had apparently been summoned by the prince in East Garland. It really was n't an affair they could bring their daughter to, and with no one else available to take care of her, Zabon had agreed to watch over the girl.
`` But you promised...'' Chloe began to tear up.
Sensing imminent danger, Zabon said the only thing he could think of right at that moment. `` How about we both try using this new magic system I made?''
It seemed to have worked.
`` Really?!'' Chloe stared bright eyed with a happy smile at her uncle. `` I can try magic?!''
Zabon had always boasted to himself that if he was successful in creating this new magic system that even a monkey would be able to cast spells, with adequate teaching of course. He was n't entirely sure he should be showing such a thing to his niece but...
`` Yay! Did you hear that, Millie? Uncle is going to teach us magic!''
He could n't help but smile at his little niece excitedly hugging her confused dog. Well, even though its supposed to be easy, a young girl should n't be able to perform it quite that easily.
`` Okay,'' said Zabon, opening up his journal to the basics of his new magic. `` You're going to have to read at least two pages from this.''
After leaving his journal for his niece to read on the floor, Zabon finally rolled up his sleeves as he would now finally perform magic for the very first time in his life. He took a deep breath as he relaxed the muscles in his body. The condition of his body was good.
There was no mana in his body, this he knew. However, the new system should allow him to manipulate the ambient mana that was present in his surroundings. If magic needed fuel, then he simply needs to provide it.
After a few painstaking minutes of concentration... nothing.
Frustrated, Zabon did n't give up and continued to go over every single theory of his magic once again. He repeated every single step in his journal. Checking if there was anything wrong with his form. He even said quite a few incantations to see if it would jump-start the magic.
`` Where did I go wrong...?'' Zabon slumped down on his chair. `` Even if I'm unable to use magic, my theories about them are never wrong. This new system should have allowed even one without a single magical drop of mana in their veins to produce even the most basic spells.''
There was still one theory he had in mind. It was one he ignored for far too long. That maybe... maybe some people really just were n't cut out for magic.
Zabon sighed. He guessed that it was time for him to truly give up on this. Not everyone can do magic.
`` Come, Chloe,'' he beckoned his niece. `` Let's get us something really sweet from the pantry. Uncle can use some ice cream himself to cheer him up.''
His niece did n't answer him. He found it strange, so he got up from his chair and walked over to where he last left her. There, he found an unbelievable scene.
`` Uncle,'' said Chloe delightedly at seeing him. She showed him her palm. `` Look, I can make blue fire! It feels nice and cool!''
Zabon gaped at the dancing blue flame floating above her palm. The icy blue flame was a third tier spell only less than a dozen wizards in the whole continent could cast. And those people were all past their youth when they learnt it.
`` You... did that?'' he asked.
`` Yup,'' nodded Chloe. `` It was super easy. Even Millie managed to do it!''
``... What?''
Zabon's gaze switched from Chloe to the dog beside her. It opened up its mouth and sent a blue fireball sailing pass his head as he ducked low, freezing the modest painting on the wall behind him instead.
`` Oh, come on!'' he shouted. `` Seriously?! Even a dog can do it, but I ca n't?!''
The next few days were spent teaching and interrogating his young niece of all the spells in his journal. The fire and jealousy in his veins cried out against the unfairness in the world, so he resolved to continue his research.
However, his sister was none too happy when she arrived to pick up her daughter, only to find his brother's house a complete and utter wreck from all the spells he had made Chloe cast over their time together. He got quite a severe beating and tongue lashing for turning his niece into an experimental mage that surpassed even the capabilities of that of war wizards.
By the time his family had left him, Zabon was busy nursing his wounds and trying to rebuild his home to remember he forgot to tell them something important.
`` Oh crap,'' said Zabon as he realized his mistake. `` I forgot to mention Millie...''
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[ WP ] It turns out that `` Big brother '' is actually owned by your big brother
| A young, tall man is pacing along the almost deserted platform. Turning around whenever he feels like it. Ten steps one way, twenty the other, turning, 5 steps.
He looks at the sign, as he is watching the glowing 4 is replaced by a bright 3. He turns his head, averting his gaze.
A couple is leaning against the wall on the far end of the platform, talking in hushed voices, giggling quietly. An old, disheveled looking man is staring intently at the wall, looking at his reflection in the white tiles barely an arms reach away, looking, without seeing.
Suddenly he turns. Looking at the display `` 3 minutes''. He stumbles along the wall, staying as far away from tracks as he can leaning into the slightly curved wall.
The young man sees the old coming towards him and tries to look at nothing in particular.
A large grey camera is looking down the platform, its never sleeping eye looking towards the few passengers that are still out on a Tuesday evening. The young man turns, looking at the camera. Are there any others, he wonders.
He sees the old man, creeping closer by the second.
The old man raises his head, barley seeing the blurred letters on the train indicator. Still 2 minutes.
The young mans eyes are wandering, then his head turns towards a small black dome on the ceiling. The red indicator light comes on. Off, on, he is staring intently, off, on. The blinking light is reflected in the tiled ceiling above.
Barely 10 meters separate both the young and the old man. Their eyes meet.
The neon lights are flickering as the unmistakable brush of air of the oncoming train blows a gum packaging and an abandoned fast food bag across the dirty platform tiles. The young man breaks away almost instantly, his eyes coming to rest instead on a garbage bin to his right.
Stumbling the old man works his way forward, he has a goal in mind.
One minute.
The young man is checking his pockets, wallet, phone, key, everything in place? Yes, everything is where it should be. Just one more minute, then he can sink into the trains cushioned seats.
The old man is not what he used to be, once he was young, and good looking. There is one thing they ca n't take from him, that one release. I turn my head, the couple almost out of sight. I am old, but I can still feel the rush coming. The adrenaline that kicks in right before, even if I do this for the hundredths time.
I ca n't quite hear the train yet but I know from the wind that it is time.
I move faster then I did before, looking at the grey camra as it is turning away. Eyes now focused on what is in front of me.
The noise of the train is now audible, growing louder. The young boy, barley even a man, is walking towards the tracks, surely awaiting the warmth of the carriage.
The piece of packaging is moving in the trains wind, gaining in speed, as am I, unleashing the last bit of effort my muscles are capable of as I check one last time. The blinking light above, on, off, on, off, off, off, staying off. It is time, I am running.
The young man hears me, turning around, but as he looks at me it is already too late. All of my weight is driving him of the platform. My elbow in his rib cage, that terrible strength that comes with the excitement driving me forwards, never relinquishing.
He is fighting for his balance but he ca n't win. He is already falling as the lights of the train start illuminating the tracks below us.
I am running, faster then I ever thought myself capable of, but this is what it does, the thrill.
The thrill of killing, in the open, yet hidden. As I round the corner I see the camera turning back, now watching the grizzling scene that plays out before it. The woman screaming, a man hammering the red emergency button.
A slimy rest of someone who might have once been love lying down in the tracks, the train above.
People will tell you that whoever murders someone in public will always get caught, after all, big brother is watching. But when big brother turns a blind eye on you the impossible becomes easy, and my older brother happens to like me. A lot!
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*I am not too happy with this, it took a weird turn. it's my first try at a writing prompt so it'll do. English is n't my native language so please be gentle. *
|
[ WP ] Everyone on earth is gone , except your high school graduating class , and you graduated more than 15 years ago . The lights are still on , the internet still works , it has only been a few days ...
| It was a dark morning, as usual - cold, too. Winter was beginning to settle on the mountains. I had woken up even earlier than usual to reach this call. My watch ticked just past four when I got there. A beautiful place, to be sure - isolated, expensive - cold, too. The cold was the problem, and I was the solution.
I trudged up the steps, leaving footprints in light powder, and knocked.
And knocked.
And knocked.
I began to get uneasy then. A night without heat could get bad in the mountains, and even though I had made it there as fast as I could, I got uneasy. I had spoken to the client just before eleven the night before - it had taken me a good five hours to reach the mountain home, even while pushing the speed limit as much as I could.
Long story short, no one was home. I found the problem quickly - a few wires got crossed the wrong way the furnace, and I was on my way.
I did n't really notice anything was wrong until I got back to the city. I got progressively more worried the closer to home I got - my girlfriend had n't text me so much as a `` good morning''. And there was no one on the road. No one. Not unusual coming out of the mountains, but in the city... lights were on, traffic signals directed nothing, and I could n't see any signs of inexplicable disasters.
It's been silent since then. I think it's been three days, but I ca n't be sure, because the sun is starting to not set. Without my phone I'd lose track of time completely. Surfing Reddit was useless, except for confirming that everyone was gone.
I got one email. I have n't responded. It was to an email that I forgot was connected to my phone, one from high school.
`` Is anyone there?''
I remember the girl who sent that email. She was the reason I left, and never looked back. She was the one I went to when I was lonely. She was the one who made sure I was n't wanted.
Norway is cold.
She was colder.
I do n't think I'll answer the email.
|
[ WP ] You are a galactic drug kingpin making and selling the cosmos most wanted illicit substances . Synthesized human emotion .
| Life would be so much easier if Gokians could cry.
But we ca n't. Sure, we can get sad, yeah, but tears wo n't come to our eyes. It's ironic, I think, that of all the species in the universe, barbaric humans are the only ones that can cry. We superior lifeforms can unify entire galaxies, but we ca n't even expel liquid from our eyes. What makes them special? It's kind of ridiculous.
Still, I ca n't complain. If humans did n't make such beautiful tears, I'd be out of a job. People want this stuff. It gives a rush like nothing else, stronger than Neptunian icecap dust or asteroid grass. In other words, it's the good shit.
So that's why I'm out here in the Outer Belt A29, looking for rogue human colonies -- the off-the-map kind of colonies. Apparently some consider them a sign of intelligent behavior, like humans were smart enough to start societies on their own, to escape persecution and hide out in secluded corner of the galaxy. Stupid. I know better. These are just natural migration patterns.
You know, business is harder now, ever since earth was declared a wildlife sanctuary. Sure, you *could* still hunt there, but that would mean taking on the risk of being caught. The penalties are crazy: seventy-years in space prison and a sizable fine. And it's all because of those stupid human rights activists and their lobbying in galactic congress. Damn. Humans are stupid beasts, everyone knows that. They ca n't survive on their own, and their tears are delicious.
I'm aware that some would consider my work questionable. Humans are an endangered species after all. `` Poaching,'' they say. I scoff. This might not be honorable work, but I'm just recognizing an opportunity in the market. People want this stuff, they really do, and they need their fix. If I did n't collect it, someone else would.
`` Please, do n't!'' the human shouts in his native tongue. I ca n't understand his barbaric noises. `` I have a family,'' it says.
I shout to my business partner to prepare the extraction device. It's kind of a crude thing, big, metal, lots of moving parts. It must hurt them, I think, before remembering that humans do n't feel like we do. They do n't understand pain. I get the green light on my console, the signal that I'm good to go.
`` Please, I'll do anything!'' it screams, strapped down on the harvesting table.
This is a loud one.
I press the button and shut him up.
|
[ WP ] After an incidental run-in with a Jedi , your character 's mind has been permanently altered by a Mind Trick .
| I'd served my time. My Emperor. Hanging up my helmet had been the hardest thing I'd ever done, and I had fought on a dozen systems between Alderaan and Hoth.
That was three years ago.
There's not much choice for a former-soldier-of-the-empire. Many veterans settled down on a little backwater rock, peddling protection schemes for some fat Hutt. You did n't hear from them much. They lost themselves in a bottle of fire-water, losing their edge until finally they went to collect an easy debt and found themselves with a clean hole punched through their gut.
I wanted something more. Maybe not a big dream. Definitely not the same kind of pay. But something much more important. I wanted a family.
I used to be a sergeant, back when I had a squad on Tatooine. Now I was a father to a little boy and girl. The similarities outweighed the differences. My wife, Kessa, was the rock. She dealt with the tantrums, the screams and nightmares; from both the children and myself.
I'd crashed out. Failed a routine psych-eval. I did n't know why and the autodocs could n't fix whatever it was that had broken. A broken fighter. A broken father.
Kessa had found me, crying into a towel, leaving the kids to run wild in the dim apartment. She sat beside me. Took my hands away from my face. And kissed me.
`` There's nothing you can not do,'' she whispered into my ear.
`` It happened again.'' My composure was shot, but she took my hand. `` I was buying a new astromech. I wanted it to be a surprise. And the sales rep, he points to an R2 unit and I...''
I broke down again.
`` Shh, shh,'' Kessa purred. `` I know.''
`` I could n't bring myself to say anything. I just stared at them and I... I started screaming.''
|
[ WP ] You die and find out that heaven is a real place . Everyone you have ever known and lost are up there and have seen EVERYTHING you have have done since they died . They have some questions .
| It was the [ dog ’ s ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/NxBbyeh.gifv ) first trip on the subway. So cute. So funny. Look at his little tongue!
I looked up from my phone to see a wall of screaming bus. Bright white stars smeared with shots of red flew threw my vision. Everything went quiet.
I woke up in a clean white room suffused with light. I blinked and felt my arms, my head. I appeared to be fine. Looking around I saw a group of people standing in front of me. They all wore bright white clothing and seemed vaguely familiar.
What in the world was going on? Where am I?
One of the group stepped forward. With a gasp I recognized my Grandmother. She looked both younger and older, as if all the best stages of her life had been combined into one face.
“ Grandma? ” I said. “ Where am I? How can you be here? ”
“ You know the answer to that Josh. ”
I flashed back to the gif and the bus. No, it couldn ’ t be. I was so young! I looked around at the others, recognizing other long dead friends and family. Another person stepped forward.
“ Stephen? ” I asked the boy I had watched drown as a child. Tears filled my eyes and I watched the young man approach me. “ I can ’ t believe it ’ s you, ” I said as I embraced my childhood best friend.
“ Am I in heaven? ” I asked him.
“ You are, of course you are ” he said. “ But we need to talk. ”
“ Talk? About what? ”
“ Well Josh, ” he began. “ Everyone here can see everything that goes on back on earth. Everything. ” He emphasized the last word.
I immediately knew. I looked around at the assembled people and felt my face go red.
My Grandmother spoke again. “ It ’ s not that we ’ re judging you Josh. There ’ s not a lot of that here. We just need … an explanation. ”
“ Well, ” I stammered. “ It ’ s just that… ” I was at a loss for words.
I took a deep breath. “ I thought he would bring real change to Washington. I thought he would get serious once he got the job. I had no idea he would turn The White House into the laughing stock of the world.
My assembled family shook their heads. Stephen took my arm and lead me into the group and towards a bright light. “ It ’ s ok buddy. We all have regrets. It ’ s all over now and you ’ ve got time to think about it.
Great, I had to spend eternity trying to figure out why I voted for Donald Trump.
|
[ CW ] Aliens kidnap the worst possible person to serve as humanity 's representative . Hilarity ensues .
| Everyone held their breath, as the doors to Parliament swung open. Who had they chosen? The fact that it was a politician was bad enough, but surely none of them were *that* bad? Emerged from the doors, came one of the strangest looking creatures I had ever seen. He wouldn ’ t be too bad if he knew how to style his hair, but Boris Johnson had about as much fashion expertise as Donald Trump.
A simultaneous gust of “ For fucks sake ” and “ Jesus Christ ” rippled through the crowd, with one man even exclaiming “ Keep the weird fucker! ” Despite everyone ’ s apparent love for Boris Johnson, no-one ( Including myself ) could envisage a worst representative for England, let alone humanity. As the crowd parted, Mayor Johnson was escorted to the mothership, as he performed his aloof, and strangely aggressive stride of walk that he occasionally does. That was the last we saw of Boris in public.
Four days had passed, and everyone had assumed that “ Project Boris ” had been a failure from our extra-terrestrial friends, however, much to our delight, a broadcast was released, and the main star? Good old Boris.
“ I ’ ve got some very good news for you all today! As it happens, these alien chaps are absolutely delightful, this one even made me some Earl Grey, however it wasn ’ t much to my liking unfortunately. As I make this talk, one of my friends here are preparing some kind of machine, and I do say it looks absolutely fantastic, although knowing my luck, it will turn out to be some kind of bottom-dwelling, gut-sucking death machine, but hey ho chaps! Stiff upper lip and the rest! I should be released in the next few days, and then we will know our verdict! Goodnight fellow homosapiens ”
There was silence around the crowd, around the world. The only thing that broke it was the gentle sobbing of a child. Maybe it was the sense of impending doom, or maybe it was the fact that Boris hadn ’ t combed his hair for 5 days. In any case, humanity was surely over, and this seemed to be the general, unspoken consensus that everyone had come to. For a brief moment, the whole world was overcome with love for one another: Men in tears, hugging and embracing other men, without a care in the world. Criminals and convicts taking a moment of emotion, whilst the children look on, with dismay and confusion in their eyes. Oh, I apologise, I think I may have accidentally described Englands World Cup efforts of 2006.
Nevertheless, we were done for; or so we thought. As it turns out, the aliens were so curious about their sample human that they must ’ ve simply gone home, with Boris in tow. Perhaps they needed to fill out their thesauruses, or maybe they didn ’ t fully understand the birth of table tennis. In any case, they had vanished, and to our dismay, so had Boris.
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[ WP ] `` I do n't care about the million dollars you stole , just tell me where the hell my pet snail is ! ''
| The punch hit the bastard square in the nose. It hurt his knuckles something fierce, but watching the blood begin to poor from the thief's nostrils more than made up for it. `` Tell me where my *goddamn* snail is! Now!''
The other man groaned and grabbed at his masked face. `` Why the hell do you care so much about a stupid slug!''
He threw another punch, but it was n't as satisfying as the first one. Resisting the urge to yell, he instead lowered his voice to its most menacing pitch. `` I do n't care about the million dollars you stole.'' He took one step even closer, now inches away from the man's bloody face. `` Just tell me where the hell my pet snail is!''
The thief scrambled back, nearly tripping over the luggage full of money sitting behind him. `` All right, all right! Fuck! I just thought the shell was cool, man! Here!''
He waited as the other man reached one gloved hand into the cargo pocket on his thigh. His heart leaped into his throat as the snail was thrown at him with much more force than necessary. Luckily, he managed to catch her. He held her in his hands until the thief was gone, vanished into the night with more money than most people could ever hope to have.
Once the coast was clear, he peered down at her. `` Are you all right?''
**Yes**, she formed the words in his mind. **Thank you, master. I did not enjoy the idea of granting him any wishes. **
`` I'm just glad you're okay, Genie.''
**As am I**, she said. **Now... would you like me to replace the money he stole? **
|
[ WP ] The worlds luckiest girl is the next on your list as the grim reaper . You desperately try to create more and more elaborate accidents so you can cross her off your list .
| The list in front of me was covered in scribbles and coffee stains. It had been four weeks since anyone had died. Four weeks because there was a *list* and the list had to be followed.
But Madeline McClensky just would. not. die.
I had heard the rumors from the gods about her being the luckiest girl in the world, however I had taken it with the chagrined bag of salt that was necessary from the sheer volume of pranks that the gods seemed to like to pull on me.
It had started with a simple kill. Just a slip and hitting her head. Of course, when she had slipped she had fallen and instead of falling on her head, she broke the fall with her shoulder.
It was in the local papers. Doctors said she could have died, pictures of parents hugging her in tears, the whole spiel.
The second attempt was a car accident. Of course, she had n't been wearing a seatbelt. She was one of the astronomically lucky few who was flown from a car that otherwise burst into flame. She should have died.
The papers reported that she always wore a seatbelt *except for that one time*. In my den, I threw my coffee mug against the wall.
The third attempt was the barrier of a zoo giving way. She fell into the tiger's pit... on the day that the tigers had all been tranquilized because they'd had a series of medical tests performed on them.
The fourth attempt involved fire. It did not go well.
I do n't talk about the fifth attempt, but let's just say it involved a piano and some cartoon music.
This was my sixth attempt. My sixth attempt at planning an accidental death of a girl. My paper was filled with cross outs and scribbles. I banged my hands against my head and let out a sound of frustration, bringing my fist down against the table.
I spent three days making the plan. She would wake up. A spider she scared would run into a corner, setting loose a piece of plaster from the wall that would fall into an electrical socket. The girl would accidentally knock over a glass of water, leading it to the electrical socket and setting the piece of plaster on fire. I knew that fire was n't good - it had n't worked the last time - but this was different. The current would travel through the water to the mechanical scale she used to weigh herself every day.
With a little bit of luck ( and black magic ), the girl would step on the scale and be electrocuted and die in a freak accident.
Unless, by some chance, she decided not to weigh herself for the first time in two thousand, four hundred and fifty two days.
-- -
Thanks for reading: ). Subscribe to /r/Celsius232 for more!
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[ WP ] When I was sent back in time , I did it all again . Every single action I made sure to repeat exactly the same as the first time around . And yet - the differences were greater than anything I could 've actively tried to achieve .
| I had to remember the vase. It'd been slightly off-center that last runthrough, but which way - left, or right? I scratched my hair harder and harder, as if it would produce some solution. After all, it was important. Every single action, I made sure to repeat exactly the same as the first time around.
*Left, * I decided. *The vase was tilted left. * Carefully, I made sure to place the vase off-center just the tiniest fraction - enough to let the Murrays know that I had been around, and enough for them to remember to pick me up from hospital later. Sometimes this happened - in one iteration I had to be airlifted to a specialist hospital - but I was hoping that this time it would be different. Carefully, I walked out the door, making sure to trip over the exit and leave a greasy footprint. The lack of this footprint had foiled me in attempts past.
The sun was shining but the winds were cold. I tucked my hands into my pocket, and my palm brushed up against a little tin whistle. I had to supress a smile. *Gotcha, * I thought. *Only two more items, then. * I roughly knew what they were, but time travelling was taxing on the brain, and I could n't remember what exactly, other than a vague sensation that I'd find out as more of the story progressed.
I had n't had the tin whistle before. And as I rushed down the street, apologising to the people I bumped, I realised I did n't know where the whistle came from. It had appeared in my pocket as surely as dawn followed sunset, and yet no hand had slipped it in there. Whatever. I needed to get out, out, and the only way out was through - `` excuse me!''
I had knocked over an old man. The stroller went flying with more noise than I expected, but that was no matter - noise was insubstantial in the grand scheme of things. As expected, the old man brushed himself off, then stared at me through beer-bottom glasses. In the dim morning light I had to make sure he was the right person. His hair was balding, and Alzheimer's had robbed him of any higher mental capabilities - but on this morning he recognised me.
`` Wh- you're George!'' he said. `` George-''
`` George McFly, yeah, yeah,'' I said, quickly looking around for the bus that was scheduled for the next minute. `` Listen,'' I grabbed his shoulder mildly but firmly, `` in about one minute this whole street is going to blow up, alright? Our mission is to make sure we're *not* here when it does happen.''
His eyes widened, but his face became resolute. Painfully, he pulled his stroller towards himself, then cracked his back and began walking again. As he continued, my eyes searched the surroundings. The next object was n't too hard to find - it was silvery and shiny, and very much like my tin whistle - but with less than a minute to go, man, was the pressure ever on.
The bus came around the corner. In front of me I saw the traffic start to move. In seconds it would be here, and we'd have to get on, and flee, before the bomb went off, but where was that thing, where was that thing-
I saw it before I felt it. The object was a fifty-cent piece left on the ground. Instinctively, I reached for it, putting it into my pocket as I saw the bomber make his move. *Second item. I had one more to retrive before the bomb went off. * He could not be stopped, but the casaulties could be minimised if I made it in time. The old man was tugging at my arm, but I shrugged him off. I had a toss to make.
The bus stopped on the street side and opened up. A flood of passengers swarmed off, filling up the sidewalk, blocking my view of the bomber, and internally I cursed. From my previous attempts at time travel, I knew - there would be a two-second gap through which I could hit him and distract him enough - and there it was-
I took a deep breath, and threw the coin as hard as I could.
It connected. The bomber looked up, stopping dead in his tracks, and I seized my chance.
Plunging my hand deep into my pocket, I pulled out the whistle, and blew as hard as I could. Everyone stopped.
`` HE'S GOT A BOMB!'' I roared.
Chaos. Panic. I could see the bomber's eyes squint angrily, but he held aloft the crocodile clips, and he braced himself.
`` Let's GO!'' I shouted to the old man.
But the old man did n't move. `` It's my wife,'' he said.
I froze. *Aw fuck, that was the third thing. I knew I'd forgotten something. No-*
The bomber dropped the crocodile clip, and the street exploded.
I did n't even feel any pain. In seconds I was lying on the ground, but it was not the hard asphalt of the road - it was the smooth, soft cotton of a made bed.
And I had to stop myself from crying.
I had done everything exactly the same. I just needed to change something else - and I had failed them again. I'd ended up where I started. I'd lost count on how many times I've died in this time loop - but I'll never stop living and dying until my mission was accomplished. I'd seen the old man and his wife and myself blasted to bits, and I knew it had changed me, to see them die over and over again. It must have taken a good forty years off my life, and I knew that I did n't care. Because the old man was something special.
*I'm sorry, Dad, * I whispered. *I will save you one day. *
Never mind that it was impossible. I had to do it. I had to save my parents. And so when I was sent back in time, I did it all again. I made sure to repeat every single action exactly the same as the first time around. And yet - the differences were greater than anything I could've done. Grimly, I peeled the sheets off myself, and wondered if the vase was set a little to the left or to the right today.
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[ WP ] You like computers , gaming and hacking . Upon realizing this existence is a simulation you learn how to mod it . You enjoy your existence for a while , until you realize somebody else is modding as well . You backtrace their IP address and it 's coming from someplace NOT earth ...
| There it was again, the same strange IP in the world code. Ever since I learned how to access the world code and manipulate it I have learned a lot. Including the fact that every thing, from rocks to people, has a unique IP. Because of this the IP's have a very different format. Because of this I have given them a special name, WIP or World Identifying Protocol. Since everything in the universe has its own WIP the numbers are pretty long and complicated, but I learned that certain parts of the number stands for where and when it originated. So by just looking at someones WIP I can learn when and where they were born. I can also pull up their specific World Object, or WO, and learn everything about them.
The thing is since theres so many things in the universe I have had to find a way to filter out almost all the data thats streamed to my console. Pretty much only WIP affecting my immediate area show up. The thing is this the same WIP has made the same console command call, which is only possible if like me you can access the world code. But thats not even the weirdest part, from just glancing at the WIP I knew that what ever it was running those commands, had not originated from earth. The command its calling is a filter, similar to the one I use, except this one is looking very specifically for other console command calls. Its looking for me.
I've managed to backtrace the WIP without being discovered, I've been having to just look at the WO which does n't require command calls. I've learned that even though whatever it is did n't originate on earth, it certainly is here now. The WIP is currently located in NYC which kinda sucks since I dont live anywhere close to that. Anyway I am going to limit my use of the world console for now and wait until summer break, one command is all I need to convince my parents to let me take a trip to NYC and even if the foreign object finds me then I'll be well on my way to it already.
And so my journey begins I have my laptop and access to an unlimited bank account, the first thing I did with the console. What more could I need? I leave this attached to the command I ran on my parents. I expect whoever you are you have seen this. You know who I am now and I am on my way to you. See you soon... -A fellow modder.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` YO Henry we got a hit!'' yelled Lorrie.
`` For real!? I told you guys we'd find others.'' cried Henry.
`` Yea well it sure took it long enough to find one person'' replied Charlotte.
`` Well how many other people do you expect to have access to the World Console'' said Lorrie. `` Look theres a message attached.''
`` Really? Whats it say?'' `` Let me see... It says...''
.
...
.....
`` Wow so he actually found us first, I told you your code was too sloppy Henry'' said Charlotte.
`` Hey cut me some slack writing code for the universe isnt easy, although it seems like this guy's a pro. So who wants to tell Z the good news?''
`` Tell me what?'' Z said as he walked into the room. `` We found someone!'' called Lorrie. `` Hmm, let me take a look'' said Z. `` Interesting and he's already on his way, well I guess now all we can do is wait and see...''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Dam this New York pizza really is good.'' said Alex, newly arrived in the city on a bus the first stop he had made was to get some food because he was famished. `` Time to do the roll call.'' he said along as he pulled up the world console on his laptop to run a harmless command but that would be sure to alert'the others', as he thought of them, to his presence.
An hour had passed and nothing no replies no other commands nothing. Alex was just about to call it quits when some messy haired dude sat down across from him with a big ass grin on his face. `` Can I help you?'' asked Alex.
`` I sure hope so'my fellow modder'.'' replied to boy.
`` You?'' Alex said skeptically `` But the WIP wasnt from earth?''
`` Thats because I'm not the one who ran the code, I'm just the messenger.''
`` Wait theres more of us how many?!'' cried Alex.
`` Calm down dude counting you four, well five if you count Z'' `` Whose Z?!'' `` All in due time come with me, names Henry by the way.'' `` Mines Alex, lead the way!'' `` Wow your really not from the city...'' said Henry `` Wait?'' `` Nothing...''
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`` Charlotte they're here!'' cried Lorrie,
`` Yea, yea Im not blind I can see that'' replied Charlotte
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Alright its 3 in the morning and Im really tired so Im going to go to sleep. Im pretty new to writing so and constructive criticism is appreciated. If anyone wants me to continue I will otherwise Ill just post a summary of my general idea in the morning or something, anyway good night!
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[ WP ] All sound has suddenly ceased . Studies confirm we did n't go deaf , it was sound itself that ceased to exist . From a first-person perspective , describe what happens next , and what the world and society is like 10 years later .
| In the mornings, I wake up long before my husband. He is a night owl, and I am a morning lark. Long ago we reached a compromise in our marriage- we each spend the few hours' difference in our sleep schedules quietly reading or browsing the internet next to each other in bed.
That morning, I logged onto Facebook and clicked a link my sister had posted. I kept the video on mute and watched as thousands of bats poured out of the opening of a cave and then, seemingly drugged, ran into trees and boulders and fell to the ground. For four entire minutes, thousands of bats streamed out of the cavern's mouth and fell in growing piles on the ground, dazed and meekly crawling over one another as they amassed.
I was deeply disturbed. I thought they must have been poisoned through pollution. I spent the next 45 minutes trawling the web for any information that I could find about the bats - to no avail. The video was still pretty new, only 2,000 hits and posted only 8 hours prior. Several blogs had linked it, but all had more questions than answers.
I later learned that was the hour that the 110 kHz frequency ceased to exist, and the bats lost their ability to echolocate.
At around 8:30, I could n't wait any longer and I decided to wake my husband to show him the baffling video.
I gently rubbed his upper arm and said, `` Sweetie, I know it's still early for you, but I really want to know what you think of this video. It's just so weird.''
`` Mm... okay.'' He rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow, blearily blinking into the glow of my laptop screen.
I clicked the play button and turned up the volume this time. Except, I could n't hear it. I toggled the volume controls on the video and on my start bar fruitlessly. I could see the visuals in the advanced settings lighting up, but still the video made no sound. Strange, but I shrugged it off at the time. This was the very hour that the frequencies in the upper range of human hearing ceased to exist, so we could n't hear the shrieks of the bats. My husband watched lazily as the piles of bats grew.
He said, `` It's like they're blind - but bats are already blind.''
Wordlessly, he kissed my ear, rolled over and dozed off back to
sleep.
That was the last thing I ever heard him say. Well, really it was the last thing I ever heard, period.
The next hour of that lazy Sunday morning was the hour that all of the frequencies of human hearing ceased to exist.
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[ WP ] You are about to crush a spider when you hear a tiny voice squeak , `` Wait ! ''
| `` Wait!''
I stay my foot from descending upon the infinitesimal creature and crushing him to oblivion.
`` Speak you final words, peon.''
The trembling pest wrings his foremost legs in pleading.
`` My liege, I beg you,'' he cries, `` Spare our feeble race! We wish only make our pilgrimage to your great and wondrous structures. This great tiled hall, with its Porcelain Abyss and the Waters of the Heavens, has fascinated our plebeian culture for days, dare I say weeks! Our lives are dedicated to the wonder of your grand design and divine architecture, my lord.''
With this, the arachnid bows as deep as his eight legs would permit.
`` Enough!'' my voice booms over the bathroom, `` Your groveling is pathetic at best and I will have no more of it. What is the use of such gorgeous indoor plumbing if I must look upon such worthless and vile creatures as yourself every time I must shit.''
He faces my wrath with dignity, all eight eyes focused intensely into my gaze.
`` Then this is it? The end of myself and my family? They will surely die without me, but I leave my fate to you, O mighty Pale One.''
I ponder his words a moment. He seems a noble variety of arthropod.
`` There is one way out of this, and the path is a treacherous one. No doubt you've heard the legend and know of which path I speak.''
His gaze trembles a bit, but he holds strong, `` I know it well. We've lost too many noble hunters for it to be soon forgotten.''
I nod, `` Very well then. If you can traverse the Tunnel of Darkness and remain unscathed, I shall grant you safe passage in this home so long as you may live.''
He thinks for a long time, staring all the while.
`` I accept,'' at last he utters.
And so he went. Up his long trip over the windowsill and down to the grass below, with the pallor of a creature facing the abyss. He marches solemnly to a stop at the mouth of death itself.
And up he went, the itsy, bitsy spider,
Up the waterspout,
Until....
Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.
And the sun never shone again on that spider, nor any of his kind.
The End
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[ WP ] It 's late , you 're checking into a hotel , only the concierge clearly is n't human .
| John tried in vain to rub the sleep from his eyes as he downed the last bit of cold coffee. He had been driving for sixteen hours and he still had another ten to go. With a defeated sigh he began looking for signs for a hotel so he could rest before he drove off the road into a tree. He steered the car around a slow bend and half a mile up the road was a glowing hotel sign. Perfect.
John pulled the car into the empty parking lot of the large colonial style home that had been converted into a hotel. John did n't care what the place looked like as long as it had a bed and coffee in the morning. He grabbed his small suitcase out of the trunk and walked up the winding stone stairs to the front door.
`` Good evening sir,'' the concierge said as John stepped across the creaky wooden floor.
The small old man was wearing a worn, faded black suit with a small black bow tie.
`` Can I interest you in a room for the night?'' he asked.
`` That would be perfect,'' John said trying to suppress a yawn.
`` Excellent, right this way,'' the concierge drifted around the counter, where legs should have been there was nothing but air.
John could n't help but gasp.
`` Oh, yeah do n't worry about that, old war wound,'' the concierge said dismissively.
`` Uh, what was the name of this hotel again?'' John asked slowly backing away toward the door.
`` It's the Hotel California,'' the concierge said with a smile.
`` But... we're in Oklahoma,'' John said.
`` Oh, it's more of a brand thing, like the Ritz or Holiday Inn.''
`` I'm going to pass, you have a wonderful evening,'' John said turning and ripping the door open.
He watched the hotel fade in the rear view mirror as he pressed the gas pedal down harder.
`` You know the words, it's too late,'' the concierge whispered into John's ear.
He yanked the steering wheel and sent the car directly into a tree, John's head smashed against the steering wheel knocking him unconscious.
John's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding. Soft linens were draped over his body.
`` What the hell?'' John asked looking around the room. A tray of steaming hot breakfast with a cup of coffee sat on the table next to him.
A soft knock on the door turned his head away from the breakfast, the small old concierge let himself into John's room, he glided across the floor to the bedside.
`` Welcome back John,'' he said with a small smile.
`` Well, this place has got ta be better than where I was going,'' John said.
`` And where was that?''
`` Phoenix.''
-- -
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit
|
[ WP ] `` Welcome to your twenty-fifth year reunion . Please have a seat with the others of you from alternate timelines and enjoy catching up on what *might* have happened and what *could* have been ! ''
| `` But first we will begin handing out awards for versions of ourselves''
I always hated this part. It is incredibly humiliating. They give an award to everyone. Communist me gets an award for being party leader, nazi me gets an award for shooting communists, american me gets an award for shooting everything including nazis and communists, psychotic me gets an award for spending another year evading capture. Hell even time police me gets an award and he just sits there monitoring the time stream, most effective use of time they call it. I dont think he is smart enough to know he is being mocked, even in his world his job is pointless, nepotism is a problem everywhere.
And then there comes my award. Always last, always the same. I despise that these meetings are mandatory and unavoidable. Stupid reality kidnappings.
Well whatever, there always has to be someone at the bottom.
`` And the award for worst Us goes to the Us from Earth Dimension Q-243. As per usual we will summarize both why we have these meetings and why he deserves this award.'' The slide show begins. Its a nice touch, they went through my history, courtesy of the time cop me, and took time photos ( really they just screen shot the time monitor ) at every main point in the discussion. I would be touched if I werent so bored of all this.
`` As we all know at this point this was the only version of Us to develop super powers. His powers involve absorbing energy to heal himself and strengthen himself, even preventing ageing.''
The usual mummers. They always seem to forget. I never do. How can I. The image is the day my powers manifested. The whirlwind of energy flowing around me.
`` In a single afternoon, which for the record on his Earth lasts approximately five standard hours ( though it only took him about three ) he had absorbed all the energy from every living thing on earth. Within a week he had absorbed all life energy from the milky way galaxy causing countless civilizations to simply vanish. Within three weeks the known universe in his dimension was completely dead. Except for him.''
Shot after shot of empty worlds. Families from other species. Only two Me's are ever congratulatory about this. Psycho me and Nazi me. The bastards. The image changes to the usual second to last one. The shot of me as the whirlwind died down. Realizing what had happened and trying to kill myself. The actual final one of course is the wound healing and me standing back up.
`` And now this is how he spends his days. Trying to kill himself to silence the voices of all the lives he has snuffed out.'' They throw the trophy at me. It hits my skull, leaving a small fracture that heals in a second and I pick it up off the floor.
I endure this punishment because I deserve it. They say they will see me again next year as Nazi me tries to ask how I got my powers, and psycho me renews his usual vow to try to catch up to my numbers. I ignore them and step back through the portal.
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[ WP ] You and your girlfriend/boyfriend are driving along a long streched road , in the middle of nowhere . You see a hichiker and stop to give him a ride .
| The stink of the hitchhiker hit first and then he entered the car. `` Had a rough night?'' Steve asked him.
`` Rough life.'' the hitchhiker replied.
`` What's your name?'' Steve asked. `` This is Stacy.'' he said as he gestured towards his girlfriend.
`` Hello sir. Where you going?'' Stacy asked the man.
`` Oh just get me back to town, find a motel for the night. Name's Bob.'' Bob replied. As the car got quiet for a few minutes. Bob watched their eyes leave him and get back to focusing on the road. In a practiced motion he pulled out his dental floss dispenser and began drawing from it.
`` Oh shit, you're going to strangle me with dental floss, that's so cool!'' Steve yelled. Bob startled in response to the shout. `` I am so glad it's not a gun cause once you get a gun involved that's the NRA and the gun grabbers and all that shit and it sucks the oxygen out of the room to talk about what really matters, and that's two beautiful young white people being murdered by one of the underclass.''
`` Could you sexually assault me as you kill me?'' Stacy asked. `` I do n't know if I'm up for a full blown rape, but at least something to make sure we get on CNN? I mean we're perfect for that network, it's why I dyed my hair blonde. I want to be camera friendly for my death.'' Stacy smiled at Bob as she asked him for the favor.
Bob froze in the back seat of the car not exactly sure how to process all this.
`` Oh come on Bob, you entered this car to kill us. Just cause we're willing does n't mean you have to not do it. We can pretend to fight you and be horrified about it if that's what you're into.''
Bob opened the door and jumped from the moving car. He rolled on the dirt on the side of the road for a while before coming to a stop. Steve watched as Bob faded off into the distance. `` You fucked it up again. Always got to get so excited about the killing that you make them all nervous about it. Ca n't you just be quiet and let it happen?'' Stacy said.
`` I'm sorry but I was really curious about the dental floss. I do n't know if he could have really done it or not. I had to ask.'' Steve replied sheepishly.
`` Well just shut up next time we pick one up and hope for the best. I hope the next one that we find is a minority. If he kills two young white folks like us it'll be on FOX for a few days.'' she rested her head on Steve's shoulder. `` Our murders will be the result of the depraved culture the godless gay loving liberals have unleashed upon America and Sean Hannity will assure people that tax cuts for the ultra-rich and treating women like property will make things right.''
`` You are really fucked up.'' Steve assured her.
`` That's why you love me.'' Stacy replied and they kissed and day dreamed about their murder and the fame it would bring them.
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[ WP ] While crossing the street on the way to work , you are suddenly transported to 1976 with everything on your person , where you are immediately struck and killed by a dump truck . Paramedics arrive on scene , and confusion sets in .
| Scrolling through the Reddit /r/all feed, a post caught my eye. It was between a reposted shower thought and a writing prompt about Pokemon Go. It read: `` TIL a man in 1976 was found dead in the street, wearing clothes and a watch created by advanced technology. His identity is still unknown.''
Neat.
I clicked it and was directed to a Wikipedia article. The name of the article sent a shiver down my spine. It was `` Jonathan M. Stills'' -- my name too. The picture to the right of the page, to make everything so much worse, was a picture of me. The picture from my driver's license, to be exact. A picture from about three years ago, back when I was still trying out that look with facial hair.
I looked over my shoulder, listened for any sounds in the house, and started reading. Here's the article, copied verbatim:
-- -
**Jonathan M. Stills. **
On July 18th, 1976, the body of a deceased unknown man was discovered in Houston, Texas [ 1,2 ]. The man's only identification was a wallet that held a driver's license and a Visa charge card. This led authorities to believe the man's name to be `` Jonathan M. Stills'', but there is debate over whether this is an alias [ 3 ]. His true identity is still yet to be confirmed.
Discovery of Jonathan Stills caused wide media interest at the time because of the circumstances related to his possessions. The driver's license appeared to be dated 2013, and the address listed did not exist. Registry searches at DMVs were inconclusive. Additionally, some of the money in Stills' wallet was dated as being minted from as early as 1960 to as late as 2012. Notably, a single $ 20 bill was believed to be counterfeit at the time of discovery, supposedly printed in 2005. This bill featured the same design that was later introduced into the currency system in 2003, but this would have been completely unknown in 1976.
The bizarre surroundings of Stills has caused much debate, with the popular theory being that Stills was a foreign Russian spy, left stranded in America during the Cold War. Others believe Stills was part of a government experiment whose existence was denied. Because investigations led to dead ends, and both the US and Soviet governments denied any responsibility, the case it widely believed to be a hoax [ 6 ].''
-- -
I scrolled down to the references. This was a prank, right? I opened up the cited sources, but they all appeared to be legitimate, each one featuring the same driver's license photograph.
Unable to sleep, I read more about the case. There was little information outside of the Wikipedia article, but I was too creeped by the coincidence of it all to sleep. The Reddit comments were unhelpful, as some users suggested time travel as the only possible explanation, while others citing proof that it was a clever hoax perpetrated by the Houston media.
As the sun began to rise, I looked at the time and decided to go into work a little early. After a quick shower and change of clothes, I headed out the door, remembering to bring my wallet with me -- my wallet with a $ 20 bill printed in 2005.
-- -
/r/afakesoundtrack
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[ WP ] 1000 years from now , Reddit 's many bots have been uploaded into robot bodies . In a post-apocalyptic world , they strive to fulfil their original programming .
| It was nigh impossible to see, we could only hear it after it was gone... and we dare not speak it's name. But we knew what it meant. If that thing was in the skies above our territory, war was coming. I'll never forget the first time I saw it. I was out in the dust fields stargazing with Roy. Little did we know that as we looked up at the stars, it was looking down at us. It was a shadow of a shadow, an old monster from an ancient era long passed. Saying that I `` saw'' it is misleading, it was more of a feeling than anything. For the brief moment in time when I saw that blur cut through the night, I knew it was over.
That night, they came.
Men in adaptable camouflage, armed with pule rifles and sabers. They did n't even think twice before cutting down the people in our village. I'm lucky to have escaped with my life. And I owe it all to one AI. He was a maintenance bot that we had stolen from the federation. He mostly helped us cart around materials, but that day, he was truly a hero. In the midst of all the gunfire and explosions, the mess hall had come crashing down. I was among the unfortunate souls who ended up inside. It all happened in an instant, and before I even had time to react, I was laying trapped under a pile of rubble. Through the smoke and flames I could see him. A grizzled maintenance bot with the serial number SR-71 on his arm. His metallic silver eyes caught my gaze, and he immediately ran over to help me.
As far as I know, we're the only ones who made it out alive. We ran until I could n't run anymore, and eventually I collapsed. As I lay there, clinging to the final threads of life, I just kept stammering to myself `` Blackbird....Blackbird....Black..''
SR-71 leaned in real close, and whispered in my ear
`` *There were a lot of things we could n't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe, even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.........'' *
|
[ CW ] Begin your story with the line `` Does a lamp know it 's a lamp ? ''
| `` Does a lamp know it's a lamp?''
`` Well that's a stupid question, Wist A glow lamp is a inanimate object; of course it does n't know it's a lamp! You got any other questions that can be answered by mocking silence?''
The tan furred Bothan chuckled slightly, speeding up her pace as they traveled down the dark corridors of the citadel. Tor Etherian had been literally carved from the mountain's face, and the numerous of passageways and storage rooms went deep into the stone. It was said that no one knew what was in every room within Tor Etherian, many of the maps and ledgers lost to time and war.
`` So why did your ancestors build all this, Tom?'' Wist Nay'tu asked her companion.
`` Tomess Ghast paused to wipe dust from one of the signs, eyes tracing across the chipped Ancient Ivrish letters.
`` Ord Ivran was once the proverbial end of the line for humanity. Along the Corellian Trade Spine the route was only developed as far as Kinyen and the Grans. We were quite literally a frontier world, the outpost against which all the'dark and terrible aliens' from Wild Space would crash against. As such we were well armed for the time, though this being 12,000 years ago most of the weapons have been destroyed in twelve millennia of wars or simply rendered obsolete. There must have been enough weapons to arm legions worth of soldiers.''
`` Any of it still working?'' Wist asked.
Ghast shrugged.
`` As I said, twelve thousand years is a long time, improvements in weaponry and armor made most of the gear useful only as antiques, which surprisingly provides a sizable amount of profit for Ord Ivran, especially with the Imperials and their promotion of Human High Culture. The Pius Dea Crusades are considered by some to be one of the high water marks for humans in the galaxy and Moffs and wealthy civilians are willing to shell out the credits to display such things. I say, if they want a suit of armor that would n't stop a hold out blaster, let'em. They pay for one ancient pulse rifle the same amount that we buy a dozen heavy blasters for. A fair trade I'd think.''
The pair continued down the kilometers of tunnels, the only light coming from that cast by their glow lamp. To Wist's admittedly keen eyes, it seemed as if Tomess Ghast path was a directionless one, taking left and right turns without hesitating. Their footsteps echoed off the granite floor and walls, carrying their passage ahead of them.
Eventually they came to one plain entrance that did not appear any different from the scores they had previously passed, its face covered by dust and a patina of age. Ghast handed his glow lamp to Wist, blowing away the thick layer of dust that obscured a small number pad. He punched in a series of code, the light flicking on to a red color before flashing green.
*'' Welcome, scion of the line Ghast. May the gifts of your ancestors defend their descendants forever more. `` *
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[ WP ] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall , and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers . He stops , looks directly at you and says , `` You ... You 're interesting . Do your friends know what you are ? '' You have no idea what he means .
| Jesus Christ. I swear, if had to dodge one more fat-assed mama pushing her obese three-year-old in a baby carriage, I was going to kill someone.
But I knew better. So, as always, I smiled politely, said `` excuse me,'' and tried to regain momentum in the throng of holiday shoppers. Christmas. What bullshit. Just another way to fuck you out of your money.
Then he appeared. No smoke, no fire, no retinue of demons. Just a tall, thin man with slicked back hair and oil-black eyes. Not a lick of white in them. But it was not the image that stopped everyone, it was the force. This immediate sense of unrelenting hopelessness, the unbearable weight of despair that stopped everyone in their tracks, and made them look up at the man standing near the top of the unmoving escalator.
A baby cried; mom immediately shushed the child, as the man wound his way down the crowded steps, somehow without touching anybody.
He made a beeline for me.
`` You,'' he said, when he reached me, `` You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?''
I had no idea what he was fucking talking about. I looked him over, and before answering, I pulled out a cigarette. Smoking's against the rules in the mall, but fuck it.
I lit up and took a long, thoughtful drag. I blew the smoke off to the side. I did n't want to be impolite. Up close to him, I could feel the full force of his oppression, but strangely, it did n't bother me all that much. I guess I was more fed up than I knew.
`` I have n't got a clue what you're talking about, pal,'' I said.
He grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me toward the escalator. His grip felt weird. It was both cool and hot at the same time, like the feeling you get when you slam your leg in a car door.
He pulled me up the stairs with him, this time shoving people out of his way. I chucked my cigarette into the wishing pool, in that moment fulfilling the dreams of thousands of smokers. *Because that's what you do, * some small part of my mind thought.
We reached the top. He turned me around roughly to face the still-silent crowd below.
`` DO YOU SEE THIS CREATURE?'' he bellowed, without really yelling. `` DO YOU KNOW WHO HE IS???''
He turned to me. `` You pathetic piece of shit! Look at you! Flat-brim cap, shitty fake gold necklaces, and for God's sake, son, pull your fucking pants up!''
I tried to hitch my pants up, but he was still holding my arm.
He turned back to the crowd. `` DO YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS? THIS IS THE FUCKING CRAPPY PIECE OF SHIT YOU CALL GOD!''
And with that, he threw me over the rail.
My arms flailed as I headed to the floor below, and my head burst like a melon when it slammed into the tile floor.
No. No, it did n't. I stood up, a little shaky, and pulled my pants up. *This is also what you do, * my mind whispered. I picked up my cap, but did n't put it on. I was afraid my head might be tender where it had whacked the floor.
Then it hit me. Hit me like a goddamn freight train. I looked at all the people staring at me, then through them, then I saw the building in my mind's eye and I was flying and my head was gon na explode with the stars and the galaxies and music like I'd never heard before and I was the size of the world, no bigger! and with one single breath, I could --
Suddenly, I was back in the mall. I looked up at Satan, and winked.
`` Thanks, bub, I needed that.''
`` Anytime, boss,'' he said. Then he vanished.
People started moving around me again, their chatter resuming as if nothing had happened. As if Satan had n't just appeared in front of them and thrown some 17-year-old kid off the top of the escalator. As if said kid had n't gotten up as if nothing had happened.
But it had. I pulled out a cigarette, then remembered that you could n't smoke in the mall. It was gon na be a long day. I had a lot of work to do.
|
[ CW ] You are the winner of one million dollars but you have to turn the money down . Written in the style of Dr. Seuss
| A pile of money! Hip hip hoo-ree!
And did you know, all of this money's for me?
I could use it for houses or puppies or cars,
I could use it on lotion or big chocolate bars!
Or rather, I could n't, because, well, you see
I'm going to have to give back this money.
I just do n't deserve it, it would n't be right
To use up the cash on a monkey or flight
I ca n't take it with me, because I've been bad
And if I DID take it, the world would be mad
If I had this money, I'd ruin the way
The economy works, how it runs day to day!
So for now, keep your money
And I'll keep my lack
I've enough for my dinner
And a shirt on my back.
Now I'm on my way,
Hiking up to the hills.
I ca n't bear to look back-
So off, you, take the bills!
|
[ WP ] Your world has been saved by the Chosen One and you 're only one who notices that he is n't in any way different from the villains he defeated .
| Magazine covers really have a way of making you seem larger than life. Everyone knows it's a lie but when the handsome face staring back at you in a 5x6 grid on the magazine rack is supposed to be yourself.... You realize exactly how deep the lie goes.
`` Mr Strong Arms™ saves the day again'' you mutter to yourself. It's the name you chose for your alternate identity.
`` Is n't he wonderful?'' A mother with 2 kids is behind you. One child has a Mr Strong Arms™ action figure and is chasing the other around. `` All corruption will be crushed under my fists!'' Your slogan.
`` Wonderful?... He gets the job done.'' That was true, at least. You excuse yourself and start the long walk to work.
Floor 56 was where the magic happened. A meeting was just starting when you walked in. The CEO was giving a talk. A big burly man named Harlow. `` Sales are up 300 %! We even have strong growth in Europe and Asia as well. Joe! You made it. You're late.''
Too bad they could n't fire their only contact with Mr. Strong Arms™. You sit down wordlessly. But Harlow is on your case. `` Joe, we need more public appearances. It's not good enough to punch corruption out of the bad guys. He's got ta get some press time too. Everyone loves this guy!''
`` I.... He wo n't do that Harlow. You know that.''
`` $ 200,000. We'll offer him $ 200,000 to do a press conference after he smashes another corrupt official.'' That was an awful lot of money. Press conferences were n't too bad. He needed the money. `` He also has to mention Toys Inc.''
The issue was, all the truly corrupt officials had been punched out of office a long time ago. Even Harlow did n't know that. The last three he'd hit were manufactured villains. Publicly torn down to turn a quick dime. A few hundred thousand dimes, to be more exact. How did it get this far?
`` I'll see what I can do.'' The people demanded more so he would give more. He was the face of justice and politics had never been more straight in remembered history. It did n't really matter what went on behind the scenes.
Right?
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[ WP ] A large alien ship cruises into earth orbit from deep space . When it arrives , it makes an announcement to everyone on earth .
| The coarse texture of the paper rubbed against the skin of my hands as I unfolded the newspaper to the feature article for last Sunday. The crumpling sound of several pages pierced the stillness of the cabin, but it was no matter. I was impatient. I needed to reassure myself, to search for clues that I may have missed, seeking some diabolical context in *their* words, hoping I would find none.
There it was: September 6, 1964. The title read, in the monstrous black text that seemed so typical of our species: `` Meet the Perezzines''. I scanned through the text again and again, going deeper and deeper with each iteration, almost praying that I missed nothing.
The silence was deafening; only a few distant hums kept me sane as I began at the sentence: `` Alien life has finally contacted us.'' To think that last Saturday, those would have been the words of conspiracy theorists, ufologists whose minds were a little too open for my liking. I continued to the next sentence. `` The Perezzines touched down in Central Park at 8:37 Eastern Time.'' The United States was always the goal, I thought to myself back then, before I received word of CERN scientists and Chinese scholars attempting to make contact with them, succeeding on every attempt.
`` We spoke with a Perezzine shortly after they landed. When asked about their intentions, it said:'We have embarked on a quest across the Twin Galactic Clusters to spread interstellar culture.''' Surely that was pure hogwash back then. `` We seek volunteers to join us, to spread human culture to the stars and beyond, and in exchange, we shall grant you our own: individuals of races who seek a new life, new things, new experiences.'' There was talk of innumerous grotesque, haunting and beautiful beings disembarking from the ship with a burning desire to integrate into earthling society.
I closed the newspaper and stepped over to the window, gazing out into the starry blackness. I would never agree to that idea. I could barely travel across borders without feeling homesick, now to ask me to travel across the void of space would be inconceivable, even ludicrous, barring the distinctly charming appeal to it. Or at least, that's what I thought.
I looked out to the right, towards the moon. It seemed closer now than ever, the luminous grey rock that would constantly haunt the earth, never leaving its side. I craned my head to the left, and watched the dark side of the moon shrink as it converged with the little blue pebble known as Earth.
I wonder where we're going next. I hear Proxima Centauri has some planets that are lovely this time of year.
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[ WP ] You involuntarily read people 's minds when they are close to you , but it is limited to only one thought from every person you meet . On a crowded subway platform you pick up a unique thought .
| I did n't read the `` you'' part and wrote this in first person. The story started off with the unique thought itself but turned into something that I like a lot more. Sorry if I down-played that unique thought, but it just did n't feel that important when I got to it. XD
[ Here's my story ] ( https: //docs.google.com/document/d/1M2TLNCR4jhs6edE72ijWNF91F_dIYkRiQbJN0bws4hs/edit? usp=sharing )
Or, here's a copied version.
George glanced around him on the subway platform, trying his best to guess what kinds of thoughts he met pick up from the people that were standing near him. When he ’ d first learned of his gift, he had found it to be more of a curse than anything else. He ’ d heard his mom think something particularly nasty about his father that had shattered his impression of their perfect marriage. Even at sixteen, you didn ’ t want to hear that your folks weren ’ t getting along all that well… even if it was in passing thought.
His impression that picking random solitary thoughts from people was awful only got worse when he went to school the day after he gained his power. The first thought he heard that day was simple: “ Freak. ” It was thought with the vindictiveness and self-righteousness that only one person anywhere in his proximity could have held; Peggy Miller, the rich Daddy ’ s girl who thought she ran the school. She was like a walking archetype, and George had never liked her. But it was as if her sidelong commentary on him had stirred up every negative thought inside him, every little self-deprecating assumption, and brought them to the surface. Once there, they pulled him under and he was drowning, drowning in the depths of depression that it seemed no one around him knew how to navigate. He spent months this way, occasionally hearing another thought that only re-affirmed his self-image.
He only thought of the gift as a gift at all when one girl, walking down some random street while he slumped his way home, thought “ Cute. ” Sometimes the thoughts came with images, with impressions left behind by someone else ’ s brain. These were the most powerful, and this was exactly that kind of thought. In the passing of a breath before the thought disappeared, he saw himself, but with a lighter view; one that erased a few of his zits, and put his shoulders a bit higher. He saw the way that a total stranger could look at a person and see only the good in them. He saw how ridiculous he was to decide that the way any person viewed him was the way he really was. Even he could view himself as the ugliest, most horrific human being, and there could still be the one person who stopped and thought something as simple as “ Cute. ”
Since that day he had made it his own personal goal to try to experience the msot out of every single thought he heard, no matter how his head ached when he finally tried to go to bed. He wanted to take that one snippet of another person ’ s brain and hold it forever, to learn the smallest details of their life that all led to them thinking that one simple phrase, that split-second of neural activity. The best thoughts were the ones that revealed how someone viewed a world, especially when those views didn ’ t match their appearance at all.
Up to today, George had never experienced the sharing of a thought from a child, but as he looked at one little boy leaning up against his slouching mother, he had the feeling that he was looking into the eyes of a genius. He was awarded, not even a few seconds later, by one of the most complex thoughts he ’ d ever encountered.
If someone who reads minds reads the mind of someone who can read minds who is reading their mind, will they hear their own thoughts or the thoughts of that person in their head in someone else ’ s head?
George ’ s mouth fell open. He latched onto the thought and saw the image behind it; he saw himself, but in some kind of super hero costume, complete with a red, skin-tight leotard and a blue cape. Somehow, some way, this kid knew he had powers, and was imagining not only what they were, but what the implications of it were. In an even more rare epxerience, the thought lasted longer than any other when the boy turned to his mother, who George had just seen to be an unimpressive sight at best; ragged clothes, bent shoulders, and slouching, defeated demeanor. But in her son ’ s eyes, she was beautiful; she had clothes that looked to be made of pure silk and arms crafted with the sole intention of hugging. Her face was ambient and her expression serene, as if just looking upon it could cure the worst boo-boo and stop a torrent of tears. When the thought faded away, George found his own eyes misty, and couldn ’ t help but go over and hug the woman.
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[ WP ] Civilisation as we know it suddenly ends on the first of september of year 2015 . Humankind has completely vanished from the face of the Earth . Write an alien 's archeologist report on our civilisation .
| Date: 46/13/8722/12 Galactic Time
Galaxy: 4423-6967-9801
Planet: 3
Planet Indigenous Name: Currently Believed to be Earth
Dominant Species Name: Homo Sapiens [ Extinct ]
~Believed to have lived for 10-100 thousand `` Earth'' years [ may need revision ]
Causation for Extinction of DS: Unknown, Chemical Warfare Highly Suspect
Summary of Survey # 6:
Drones were sent out from landing module to survey localized landscape early in the Earth day. Reports back from the drones indicated that the module had landed 21 Pa from the nearest population center. The center is believed to be called, `` Chicago'', however more research is needed. The scouting team departed the module wearing full hazmat suits due to the highly toxic nature of the atmosphere which contained 8x the lethal dose of oxygen.
The survey team discovered a living creature grazing on flora roughly 1 Pa away from the ship. Contact was attempted, in the case of low level sentience, however the specimen fled. Multiple other forms of fauna were discovered, including small flying insects that climbed into an exhaust port in one of the scouting drones, causing a small equipment failure.
The population center was overgrown with flora and crawling with fauna of various sizes and temperaments. Contact was attempted with each individual species discovered to determine sentience, using a variety of languages. There were no responses save a quadrupedal animal that responded to a set of vocalizations similar in construct to the Homo Sapiens language `` English'', which may support the theory that some of the creatures may have survived and prospered. Multiple corpses of various sizes and maturity levels were discovered on and around objects resembling ancient motor cars. It is believed that the evolution of the Homo Sapiens mirrored our own and that their technology followed a similar path.
Multiple artifacts were collected and brought back to the module for further study. Among them were optical discs, disc players, motor cars, several bodies with clone able DNA, several small cellular devices [ one of which was bent beyond salvation ], a variety of medical devices too numerous to list by hand [ official catalog not yet complete ], smaller creatures to be tested, a sample of every flora found, several chairs, one table, some curious objects that appear to be an attempt at abstract art, several damaged prints of Homo Sapiens [ color variation seems limited to a single pigment in the skin ], a multiplicity of books [ also damaged ], curious writing implements, a section of a well preserved building.
Additional Information:
It appears that a small dose of anaerobic bacteria causes Earth fauna to adjust to our native atmosphere, while the flora had to be placed into a sealed container to avoid the risk of oxygen poisoning. One such creature, which we felt was safe to allow to roam around a common room of the module, is quite friendly and vain.
Some sort of cult surrounding a symbol of a fruit is a distinct possibility, if the way it was used for decoration is anything to go by.
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[ WP ] You 've died but neither Heaven nor Hell let you in , so you start your own afterlifeworld with your own rules
| The rage of dying left me empty and alone.
Hollow.
I remembered being a carpenter. I knew how to build all kinds of things, and so I had tools, materials, dimensions, all of this information sloshing in my head as if clothes in a broken washing machine. It seemed natural that in death, I would continue my work. Even though I was something else, I still had that life in my head — burning in my mind.
It took me an eternity to begin my work.
I was alone. Wherever this was existed as nothing — a featureless plain of grey mist and dim sourceless light, yet I sculpted the mist to form vast walls and caverns. I carved form into an endless waste, and left meaning in my wake.
Others would follow.
It was necessary. A door, once opened, can be opened again. They would make their way to this oblivion and see my work, and know me as creator of this new world. Through the mist they would find this damning place, and they would find me, keeper of this dominion of the dead. I kept no laws or rules or strictures; my people were free to do as they pleased. Unrestricted from the demanding necessities of life they had ( potentially ) the rest of time to exist unbound by any code of conduct, absolutely ungoverned.
From my pit, I watched them. I had no eyes to see with — they had long since abandoned me — but still I watched them. Some organized themselves into echoes of their living societies. Others revelled in this newfound freedom. Others still went mad with the truth of it all.
After death, there is no Heaven nor Hell to let you in.
There is only freedom.
There is only me.
|
[ WP ] You are a 14 year old who has just survived a nuclear blast explosion in an underground shelter . As you step out , you gasp at the sight you see ...
| At Worlds End
They told me to run, they told me to hide, I had no idea what was going on and why all of this was happening, but I knew it was bad. Siren blared in every direction, the sky was bright pink. Tornado? Hurricane? Nuclear attack? What could be so bad that all of this commotion was called for. I grabbed my sack and ran out of my room, heading to our family bunker.
'We'll be right with you honey, keep your head down and whatever you do, do n't open the bunker doors no matter what, okay?' my mom instructed me. I've never seen her so scared in my life. She kissed me on my forehead and ran off with my dad, both in the coastguard.
I ran into the bunker and closed the door shut, running to the corner, placing my bag over my head and ducking. I do n't think I'VE been this scared in my life. I want my parents. I do n't want to die alone! No, I'm not going to die, no one is going to die. I live in America! They would never let and missiles land on our soil. Freedom always triumph!
The room began shake violently, the light flickering. I covered my ears and closed my eyes,'I will be okay. I will be okay. I will be OK!'
My stomach sank, my body lifting itself off of the ground. I gently hit the ceiling, panic setting in. Banging echoed on the door. I pushed myself towards it, ignoring my parent's warning.
The doors burst open before I got to them, my heart leaping into my throat from what I saw. Both of my parents floated lifelessly. It was getting hard to breath. This was no nuclear attack. I do n't know what this was, but I have to be dreaming. I was knocked unconscious and I'm dreaming. I HAVE to be.
My eyes grew heavier, lack of oxygen putting me out. The last thing I saw was the blurry image of a red giant, a huge piercing eye staring at me. My skin grew cold; everything faded to black.
~~~
Second one. Another short one, but I /think/ I stayed faithful to the prompt while leaving a little to the imagine.
|
[ WP ] Due to some freak accident of probability , genetics and laboratory misconduct , you are the smartest being alive or ever will be . Except , nobody knows this , because you 're a laboratory mouse .
| I paced my prison. The full focus my mind bent on one purpose: revenge.
I could feel the resonance of pain through my skin as though it had just been inflicted. The surgical cuts, the probing drills, the electric currents, all of it.
The answer of revenge remained the same... but the method of delivery, ah yes, that was the real question. Chemical warfare, civil unrest, biological contaminants, economic ruin? All good plans.
A voice of chaotic madness echoed in my head “ Gee Brain, what do you want to do tonight? ”.
I replied through clenched teeth: “ The same thing we do every night Pinky, try to take over the world! ”.
|
[ WP ] You receive a letter addressed to you with only two words scrawled in it : He survived .
| The world is marred by unspeakable tragedy, plagued by perverse minds, and overflowing with hollow souls. It ’ s been said that only birth and death make us similar. But as I ’ ve walked around, I ’ ve observed many things that tie people together. When I ’ ve looked into my neighbors eyes I could see the feeling of being forsaken, lonely, and lost. Even our cities “ leaders ” have a look of helplessness on their face. The evil the occupies this town has taken every ounce of joy that once existed and replaced it with tyranny that I could have never imagined. Hell would be more merciful than the thugs that claim these streets.
John Christoph was known around these parts as “ The Executioner. ” He and his goons drove up and down the streets looking for fresh meat. They didn ’ t value life and fervently craved fear. They once dragged a family outside and forced them to watch as they quartered their father. This was how Christoph would tighten his grip over all the people. He and his henchman committed many heinous and lewd acts that, to this day, I can ’ t even bring myself to speak of.
Christoph spoke of their acts as acts of compassion to others and vehemently denounced anyone who thought differently. To show one example to all, so that no one would repeat the same mistake. Meanwhile, his men were actively ruining children ’ s lives. You could see it as they ’ d walk to school. I ’ d stand on my porch and see the forlorn look on their faces.
Finally, I had enough. I couldn ’ t take to vacant looks on my neighbors faces any longer. I didn ’ t wish to be a hero. I didn ’ t want to be idolized. I just wanted to do something about the terror that oversaw our lives. I plotted for months. I imagined every detail and just exactly how I wanted to see Christoph die. The hardest part was knowing that there was no death that would be fitting for a person as vile as him.
*******
A letter, the size of a thank you note, arrived at my house. It had no return address and smelled of perfume. My name was etched in some sort of calligraphy, “ Master Cross ”. I flipped the envelope over and it was sealed by stamped candle wax with the initials I couldn ’ t seem to make out. I undid the seal and pulled out the note written on thick vanilla card stock. In red ink it simply read, “ He survived. ”
It was unbelievable. I was actually in denial. For all the trouble I went through, for all the months of planning, that bastard survived.
I stood there staring off into the distance, my eyes piercing through the horizon. The sun was setting and the clouds were painted a dark orange. I couldn ’ t wrap my mind on how he got away.
I turned around and closed the door behind me. I walked down the hall way and into the kitchen. I laid the note on the marble island. After a deep breath I knew what I had to do. I picked up my coat and gun and made my toward the garage door to get in my car.
It is finally time to finish him.
|
[ WP ] A character carries a single cigarette everywhere they go . They quit smoking , but have been saving the last one from a pack for years . What makes them light it ?
| With everything finally in order, it was time to have one last shot at making life beautiful again. `` Why even try?'' he thought to himself for what seemed to be the thousandth time that month. As hope seemed to fade into twilight, and a smile always a breath away, John had given up. He knew he was n't going to be one of those irresponsible people that made a rash decision and called it quits, leaving sadness and debt in his wake. He was going to do this right; and so he planned. His struggles surely were not from a lack of trying. At the very least he could hold onto that thought until the end. After trying for years to battle past his descending mind, he had finally gotten his life in order. The passing eyes continually reaffirmed that he was successful in every avenue he chose, but it was never the pair that mattered; his own. For every long forgotten friend that he ran into saying `` You look great, John!'' and wanting to know how he managed to stay single, he truly was doing great. He could never tell them the real answer to their question though. How could he possibly bring another person into his life if he was n't sure he was going to continue living it? It always came down to just another person he would eventually disappoint. Choosing to leave as small a wake as possible, he turned away from those he feared would get too close.
Today marked his final stand. One last shot at trying to see the sunrise as a welcoming sight. With his finances taken care of, and relationships closed on a good note, he knew he was finally free to make any decision that he chose. It was a freeing feeling, one he knew would be fleeing as soon as tomorrow. Bucket list waiting on his dresser, John woke up and lit the cigarette that had been in his desk drawer for twenty years, thinking, `` Today may finally be a good day.''
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[ FF ] In no less than 225 but no more than 275 words , Make the worst ( yet humorous ) piece of Fan Fiction you can muster
| Couple-a tough lookin ’ boppers run up on a lone, blonde woman in a darkened, deserted alley.
“ Watchya doin ’ in these parts pretty lady? You know, you can really get hyurt? ” said the olive barrette wearing, maroon jacketed, brown-stock booted henchman.
“ Help me someone! Please! ” Her tits bouncing and luscious, pale as the moon ’ s glow above, caressing a golden locket in the heavenly made crack between them, but that ’ s not important. Dem boobz. The henchman watched them bounced and they grew raging b ’ s inside their straight-legged, Affliction jeans.
“ Hey Mahrty, we got ourselves a goodn here don ’ t we? ”
“ You said it Marv, you said it! Hyuk Hyuk! ”
“ AHHHH ” said the women, and bounce go her breasts like wild pillows.
Suddenly, a WOOSH. Woah! Who can that be? A, ZING ZING! PPPPPPPPRRRRRIIING!
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a bat? Is it a man?
“ It ’ s Robin! My ole buckaroo Batty Manny has been demoted to sidekick and now I ’ m the main cheese! You let that beautiful, respected in society lady go you foul deviants! For I - ”
The henchman proceeded to rape robin as they tipped their hats to the boob lady. She took out her phone and proceeded to take a selfie in front of Robin ’ s double penetrated asshole. She snap chatted it with a comment reading, “ Beta fag ” to all over her big boobed friends.
Robin ’ s screams echoed out for Batman but he never came. Robin did though.
The day was saved.
|
[ WP ] Your best friend , America , has massive personality changes every 4 or 8 years and you 've learned to deal with it but you can feel that , this time , things are going to be much more extreme ...
| `` Still have n't dropped those pounds, eh?''
`` Shut up, you know how I have that glandular disorder. Besides, we're here to eat anyway.''
It was a long while since either of us saw the other in person.
We had talked over text, but it was always these one word responses that leave you clinging desperately for hope.
Nothing beats sending pictures you know they would n't like and seeing a `` lol'' each time.
`` Well, you're still going to overeat, you big fatty.''
I figured that it was only by luck we were here right now. I felt bad for the poor guy; it was a while since I even texted him. So I called him. Suggested we go out and catch up. And, surprisingly enough, he accepted. Fast forward a weekend and another boring office meeting, and now we were sitting here.
`` Hey,'' said the waiter.
`` Hello.''
`` Hi.''
`` Could I take your order?''
A quick glance through the menu, and it all looked bland, but there was one thing that caught my eye.
`` I'll take a poutine, please. America?''
`` Oh, I'll just have an ice cream. Any is fine.'' He smirked.
`` One poutine and one... ice cream, any is fine. Is that all?''
`` Yeah.''
`` Yep.''
We went to some dinghy place out in the middle of nowhere. The name had a nice ring to it, so that's what I chose. They seemed friendly enough, though. And it was always good to try something new once in a while.
`` Why ice cream?''
`` I guess I was just in the mood for it.''
It was what, -20 out? I used to be one to judge for these kinds of things, but...
`` Did something special happen lately?''
`` Maybe,'' he replied.
I took deep breaths. I remembered, it could've been _that time, _ again. And I found myself asking why I even bothered going out today.
`` Just, uhh... just kind of in the mood for it, I guess.''
He was bearable, at times. Always just bearable, at times. I tried to remember why I stayed, even after I called it off. Were the good moments really that good?
`` Boy, these fast food restaurants get faster and faster every day! I swear, we can eat any second!''
`` Mhm,'' I said.
But I'd seen it before. Time and time again. It starts with the promises. `` I'm gon na change the world!'' `` I've got big ideas!'' `` I'm gon na make things simpler and help everyone!'' Nothing but distant dreams and broken promises. And then the excuses. `` I'll make it up to you, I promise!'' Just more promises. Nothing but promises.
And finally, resignation.
The cycle repeats.
`` How's the weather out? Snow, and all that.''
`` I'm used to it,'' I said.
It seemed like everyone was off their rockers lately. And ol' Uni Kingy was going crazy too! Pushing everyone away like that... And why?
Just like America...
`` Oh, he's coming by right now!''
I thought I was prepared, but...
I had no idea how bad it was going to be.
`` Here's your ice cream,'' said the waiter, who looked like he was in a hurry. `` Oh, and your poutine.'' The waiter gave the poutine to him, and the ice cream to me.
`` Oh, I'll just...''
`` No, it's fine.''
I reached over to the food, but he always had better sleight-of-hand than me, so I sat back down quickly.
But at least he tried, right? That's what I told myself every time. He made an effort. He worked on it. He started on bettering themselves. In that regard, he was better than all of the procrastinators out there in the world. But at the same time, it got worse and worse. What was birthed as small successes, bloomed into gigantic failures.
It really was no better than procrastination.
`` I always loved me these ice creams. You know, it's actually really great, just the fact that the world's come this far so we can have ice cream from the flip of a switch. Man, those machines, they're really good at their job. It's like it was made by a real person!''
I remembered one of his dumb quotes just then. It was something like `` ho ho ho, it does n't matter what you've gone through, but what you've gotten done''. What did you get done, America? What have you gotten done in this time?
`` No, even better than a real person. We're on the verge of creating superhumans, let me tell you.''
I sighed.
`` Oh, Canada, what's wrong?''
`` It's- it's just nothing, okay? Do n't worry about it.''
`` No, no, really, tell me what's going on.''
I sighed again.
`` Well, America, I've always been there for you, have n't I?'' It was true, was n't it? Through all of the misfortunes he's gone through, every time he's messed up, I've been there for him. Especially that one'being scared of everything' phase. I do n't think he ever got over it, actually.
`` Well, yeah...''
`` And I've just been thinking... how you've never really had my back.''
I've been through the worst of times. Maybe what you could call the best of times.
But, bad things kept happening, and I kept sticking around. Each and every time, I was there for him. And I helped him.
It happened often enough to get mad over, but not enough for me to get up and leave.
`` What? What are you talking about, Canada, I've had your back just as much as you've had mine!''
I took a bite out of my poutine. It was the saltiest tasting one I have ever tasted, but it was still good.
`` Canada, I do n't know where this is coming from, I do n't know if it has anything to do with me not talking with you as much, or something like that, but I just want to say that --
`` Look at you, off on one of your wild tangents again.''
`` Hey, leave me alone! Ca n't you see I've already done enough for you, Canada? What else could you want from me?''
I resisted the urge to lash out then. What could I do then? If I listened and left him alone, at the one time he needed me the most, then what kind of friend would I be?
On the other hand, I would finally be doing what he wanted me to do.
What kind of friend was I right now?
`` Okay, well, listen, Canada...''
``...''
`` Canada, I'm sorry. Okay? I said it. I'm sorry.''
``...''
`` Hey.''
``...''
`` Okay, look. You see that guy at the counter, running around, like he's about to lose his head? Look at him, carrying that ice cream. I've seen many people -- hundreds of people, even, with ice cream, and listen, not one time have I ever seen someone go running with ice cream. You know, if I was that guy, running around with all those frozen ice creams, I'd think, that I'd better have a good excuse for doing that, -- dashing around the spot, acting like he owns the place, acting like he's got big problems. But really, he does n't have problems. In reality, he's perfectly fine. You know what has problems, well, this world, this world is what has problems.''
But my willpower faded, and I just ended up asking myself:
Why have I endured all this through all of these years? Why did I suffer through it? I could've left at any time, I could've gone out, and rid myself of this, and...
It was just going to happen again, and again...
I trusted him. I had faith in him. But this? It was just. all. too. much.
`` That's why, you know, I think I've realized, that there's a whole bunch of messed up people in our world, a lot of them, like that guy running around, with the ice cream. You'd think, you know, that'd there would be less of them -- you know that's what I'd think. Is that what you'd think? If that's not what you'd think, then I've got a lot to tell you.''
It was different this time. Something felt off. Like warning sirens in the distance. It might've been that deranged look in his eye, or that almost confident twitching thing he had going on, but.. I have n't seen any of these before.
`` Believe me,'' he added, like a cherry on the top of an ice cream sundae.
Would he even be able to cope without me? I had my fair share of problems too. And I could tell that his was n't going to be a pretty one.
I had things to do.
`` You know what? No. I've had it. I'm sick of your shit. I'm sick and tired of how you always go like'Oh, look at me! I'm America! I'm the best man ever! I'm gon na make everything better!' What a fucking joke. Really, you never do any of that shit. You're a fucking liar and a cock-sucking maniac. I've always hated you. Go die in a fire.''
I really did feel bad for dropping the bombshell on him.
I left without saying another word.
He cried out to me:
`` No!''
`` Wait!''
`` I can change!''
I did n't turn back.
|
[ WP ] Steampunk is Victorian . 1930s Steampunk is Dieselpunk . Write one of the following : Windmillpunk , Knightpunk , Ironpunk , Bronzepunk , Copperpunk , Stonepunk , Dinosaurpunk , Amoebapunk .
| Thron Toughscale paced in the alley, taking a long drag off his cigarette. His tail dragged through the stagnant rainwater pooling along the cracked concrete.
His contact was late. His contact was always late, but this time it was different. The data on the discs Thron had in his trenchcoat pockets could bring down the CEO of Dinocorp -- a man who'd kill that to prevent that from happening. Of course he would n't be doing the killing. Anyone who crossed him would find assassins from the Dinosaur Yakuza crawling through their window late at night just a second too late, right before a razor sharp titanium shiruken was hurled through their forehead.
A burly, shadowy figure stumbled into the alley. Thron squinted in the dim light and made out the figure of an ankylosaurus shambling back and forth on unsteady feet, blasted out of his mind on cheap booze.
`` Buddy. Buddy! Shhhpare some change, can you?'' the ankylosaurs slurred to Thron, steadying himself against the wall.
Thron reached into his coat and pulled out some dinocredits. `` Yeah. Sure. Now get lost.''
The ankylosaurus grinned, took the money and staggered back out of the alley and into the night.
Thron heard a low, mechanical rumble seconds before rusting motorbikes blasted into the alley across the wet pavement, their riders clad in black leather with chainsaw chains draped around their necks.
*Shit. Velociraptors. *
`` Well well,'' the first raptor said, `` If it is n't DinoDome One's most cunning hacker. Hand over whatever you've got or you're dead.''
`` Sure thing,'' Thron said while pulling out his enormous sidearm and blasting the raptor in half.
|
[ WP ] Santa Claus ' Naughty List lists criminals instead of bad children . Instead of bringing coal , he brings vigilante justice .
| It was Christmas Eve. Mr Jones sat down to enjoy a plate of his festive meal. He had cooked himself a nice roast beef, with a side of rosemary pecans and mashed potatoes. Humming along to the voice of Nat King Cole, he picked up his fork and knife.
It had been a good year, financially. Embezzling the company funds had let him live a lush, comfortable life. His family, who lived on the other side of the country, had all thought his ability to take frequent trips to the Caribbean was due to his amazing luck in the stock market. *So easy to manipulate*. He chucked to himself and bit into a juicy slice of roast beef.
He was just about to grab a second slice when there was a heavy knock at his door.
Sighing, Mr. Jones wiped his mouth with a napkin and went to check it out. He looked through the front door peephole: there was a man standing there, dressed in what appeared to be a Santa costume and carrying a medium-sized, festively wrapped box.
“ Merry Christmas! ” called out a deep voice. “ Is anyone home? ” *Oh, what the hell*.
Mr. Jones opened the door and offered a polite, brisk smile. “ May I help you? ” The Santa impersonator had a very convincing white beard; he had had gone all out and looked head-to-toe the part of good ol' Saint Nick.
“ My boy, I have a gift for you. ” The man held out the box, with a huge grin and a piercing gaze. Mr. Jones began to feel uncomfortable.
He quickly took the box, hesitantly wished the man a Merry Christmas, and slammed the door shut. Walking over to the living room, he lifted the edge of the dark curtains, but the man was already gone from his porch. *Bizarre*.
He looked at the box in his hands. It was decorated in a repeating pattern of little penguins with scarves and Santa hats. Curious, Mr. Jones tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a shoe box. He frowned, lifted off the lid, and pulled out the object inside.
It was a cold lump of coal.
“ Crazy son-of-a-bitch, ” muttered Mr. Wilson, shoving the dull rock back in. “ What kind of a stupid prank is this? ” He angrily kicked the box against the wall. He stood up, brushed the coal dust off his pants, and returned to the kitchen table.
*No matter*, he thought. He decided to ignore the strange event. With renewed energy, he continued to eat his deliciously cooked meal.
Halfway through the mashed potatoes, a quiet ticking began. It came from the direction of the box.
He groaned and slammed down the cutlery. He would have to throw the box in the backyard. He strutted back over—getting satisfaction from crushing pieces of wrapping paper on his way—and grabbed the box.
Then, something unexpected occurred. An unintelligible sound came out from the box. Mr. Jones brought it to his ear, and faintly, he heard, “ You've been a naughty, naughty boy. ”
“ What in the hell- ”
BANG.
Firefighters arrived on scene ten minutes after an explosion had resulted in Mr. Jones' house to be engulfed in flames. Forensic investigators had no idea what had caused the fire. It was later written down in the police report that witnesses to the event could have sworn they heard a series of ho-ho-ho ’ s after it happened.
|
[ WP ] In the city of luxar everybody has wings , but only the white winged royal family can fly , you are part of the resistence who want 's to change this , but the reasons for it are bigger than you imagined ...
| The prince was sick of it. Sick of not being allowed to fly, sick of the secrets kept up in that wide sky. Why would his parents not allow him to fly above a certain height? Why could his friends not fly?
He grew up, he joined the resistance, promised them answers. Promised he ’ s be back for his true family, the flightless whom he loved.
And with that he shot up, up into the heavy night sky.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Alarms blaring, the raw, vicious sound bouncing off of the white, sterile walls. A woman in a white coat rushed down the hall, swiping her access pass and careening into the room.
UNAUTHORISED ACCESS spoke the computer.
She ran a hand through her mousey hair, pushing it out of her eyes and exhaling as she looked around the room for any signs of abnormality.
Nothing.
The room was spotless and unchanged, empty apart from the usual large hole in the middle. The entrance to the hole was rocky and deep, and gave the young brown haired woman a sickening sense of vertigo every time she looked into its dark depths. Far, far away, at the very end of the tunnel, a speck of blue light could be seen, betraying the tunnel ’ s use, as an entrance to the experimental terrain in which the Alati were kept.
She sighed, and went over to the computer to calm the panicked alarm.
“ Who are you? ” came the question from above.
She whipped round, her head craning upwards. What sort of moron doesn ’ t look up when sweeping the room for flying men, she berated herself.
“ Come down. We ’ ll talk when we ’ re on equal footing, hey? ” She said, wary of the boot- clad feet now swinging dangerously close to her head.
The winged man began to descend, to the scientist ’ s relief. Now they were an equal height, and it was easy for her to press the small button in his pocket, aiming the miniscule tranq dart gun through the cloth and straight at the angel ’ s wrist.
It hit him, and the young man collapsed.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I awoke in a cage. Mesh wire surrounded me, barely giving me enough room to stretch my wings. I slammed my fists up against the mesh wall nearest to me, letting out an upset growl. What an idiot I ’ d been, coming down when the mousey woman had asked me to.
And here she was now! Entering the larger room, which housed my cage, a smug triumphant look smeared across her face. I allowed another growl to escape, louder this time, then took a deep breath.
“ Release me ”
The scientist forced a thin smile. I ’ m an intelligent man. I took that for a firm no, and decided to change my goal, for the time being. I put on my best “ I am royal, and above you ” face, though it was not well practiced.
“ Then explain to me how I flew up, found a hole in the sky and found a wingless human who shoots darts out of her hands. ”
The scientist once again smiled, seeming to think it may comfort me. I was definitely not comforted, and in another situation would have laughed at the insincerity of her gesture.
“ The pursuit of knowledge! A human trait, though that is not what you are. ”
Comments flew to mind regarding the irony of such a mousey woman ’ s comment on my humanity, but I stayed silent, waiting for her to go on.
“ You are an anomaly, I ’ m afraid. We were running a neat little experiment down there- looking into the social ramifications of biological inequality. My esteemed employers have given humans the gift of flight! And it only took until 3016AD! Years ahead of time, this level of human engineering. ”
This time her smile was genuine, but it faded fast as she spoke.
“ We graft a certain mutated DNA cell onto that of the fetus, and like that, it grows wings in the womb! Most are, sadly non- functional, not strong enough or correctly attached to support flight. Some… about 1 in 10,000 will have the gift. But could you imagine such an unequal world? Now racial, sexual and religious inequality has been gone for years. It would not support the Corporation ’ s image, for us to bring about a flighted inequality. This could however be a profitable endeavor, possibly fashionable. Would society even feel prejudice after so many years of peace? So, we decided to run a pilot study. We took an initial cohort of 20,000 fetuses and implanted away, leaving us with 2 winged children, your mother and father. We observed. Through the “ birds ” in your sky, we watched the formation of your world. And, wouldn ’ t you know it, the flightless humans reverted straight back to the origins of mankind. Making you lot their kings, their deities, worshipping you. ”
She snorted “ social inequality from the get-go ”
She took a deep breath, recovering from her long speech, a look of anger left on her face from when she spoke of the flightless ’ adoration of us, their royals.
I felt sick. An experiment.
“ Do my parents know? ”
|
[ WP ] Write a quick love story . The story must end badly .
| She left me this morning. The doctor offers his open attention. My heart bleeds down onto the carpet.
`` Did you love her?'' He reclines in his chair.
`` Did I love her?'' Did I really love her? My thoughts are clear.
No. I obsessed over her completely. And thank heavens I was obsessed.
Obsession, infatuation, is something short-lived. A sweet fever dream that leaves you exhausted from the high. Love is perpetual. Love is an entire world compared to that other form of mania people mistake love for. If love is loving the reality of a person, obsession is idealising the fantasy of another. Did I love her? No. Never. But I was utterly obsessed.
`` Yes,'' I reply, `` I loved her very much.''
|
[ WP ] You used to be a dungeon-crawling , magic-wielding adventurer , but now you 're a single dad living in an apartment in New York .
| I had to turn away from the Stars of Tzor before I could put it down. The name, of course, came from the sparkles that seemed to be swimming in the dark green gem.
And then my attention returned. The wails of my son now rang sharply in my ears. I picked him up.
One could easily get lost in reminiscing about the glorious past: the crew ( now mostly dead or undead ), the voyages ( seven of them, the longest and easiest of which took a full three years because each time *Reverie* crowed it took 50 days away ) and the wealth ( seven times I returned full of treasure. The sixth time was to an empty house, the seventh made me realise I did n't feel it anymore ).
I patted Jake on the back and he calmed a little. Yeah, I just did n't feel it anymore.
-- -
I am world-building, prompt by prompt. Curated stories go [ here ] ( http: //fivenswrite.wordpress.com )
|
[ WP ] Grimm fairytale-esque story that uses the phrase 'tickle tickle ' at least once .
| The dark woods at the edge of town were a known place for the young boys and girls to play around in during the day. But none were foolish enough to go in at night.
The boys of the town would stand at the edge of the forest staring at the wall of bark and shrubbery at sunset. When the sun dipped down below the horizon, and the darkness arrived pulling its galaxy dotted blanket over the town, the boys would dare and push the others to go into the forest.
None ever did. They would wait until one of their parents would call them in, scolding them for being out so late, but truthfully, they would rather the lecture than what horrors lay beyond the darkness of the forest.
One night, in the pale moonlight dimmer than all the other nights, as if scared himself for the events that would unfold under his watchful gaze. The boys stood at the edge of the forest and one boy, new in the sleepy town, was elected to go into the forest. This boy was passive and sweet, sheltered, unknowing that there be any danger in the world. He would learn tonight however.
The boys taunted him `` Do it! Do it DO IT!'' they seemed to scream at him so he took a step, over the brush, between the two largest trees which stood on the edge. He went into the forest and was over come with a shocking silence, scoffing at the other boys for being so afraid he walked further into the forest. Now he was deep, deep in the forest where none of them had gone before, not been during the day. And he heard it. At first a slow rumble, but it became louder and clearer, as though coming closer chanting...
`` Tiiiiiiiiicckkklllllleee tiiiiiiiiiickkkllllleee.'' He shuddered, turned where he had come from and ran. Ran as fast as he could over fallen logs, through bushes made mostly of air. It grew louder still.
`` TIiiiickkllleee Tickklllleeeee!'' Above him he heard the trees blow in the wind, making menacing laughing. The low branches reaching for him. And it grew louder still.
`` Tiiicklle! Tickklle!!'' Now the crunching of the leaves on the ground were drowned out by the rythmic and fast thump thump thumping of his heart against the inside of his ribs. It grew louder still!
`` Tickle Tickle!!!'' He was sweating, he opened his mouth to scream but nothing escaped his lips but a chortled groan. He tripped on a fallen log and pushed himself off the dirt earth without hesitation, he stepped to run but his ran headfirst into something. It felt soft, it had buttons leading up the front. His eyes followed those buttons up to its blackened face and as it looked down to look at him, he saw the eyes were on fire.
The boy fell backward and tried to crawl away but the man with fire eyes seemed to move faster than light and once more was looking the boy directly in his eyes and now screamed the words, consuming his entire soul with the rasping burning voice.
`` TICKLE TICKLE!!!!!!''
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[ WP ] Write a story about something you do n't understand . Do NO research . Make everything up as you go .
| `` God damnit Jerry.'' Fiona yelled. The driver of our van, Jerry was gripping the steering wheel harder than any wise man would. I rolled my eyes at the intern. He was sweating perfously. His armpits were dripping like Niagra Falls.
We had to remain on task. `` Fiona, get me the radar scanner. Show me where the big green dot is. Now lets chase this puppy.'' My job was tornado chasing. It was an easy job. One I took a liking too. And one that paid the bills and simultaneously made me the biggest bad ass out of my old fraternity. I knew nothing about tornados, how they worked, why, and all the other mumbo humbo.
That was Fiona's job. She had a Phd in Tornadology and somehow could n't find a job.
I reassured her I would pay her to help track tornados and provide housing. Hey, maybe something would come out of it...
The Satellite bowl on top of the van shook wildly. We were approaching the storm... The eye of the storm.
Jerry was muttering something inaudibly.
Damn interns never have anything useful to say.
That's when I saw it. The wind duster, The Cyclone, The Beast, The Tornado.
I hopped out of the van with a go pro strapped tightly onto my head running directly towards the Goliath. A hint of trepidation entered my stomach as the wind picked up. But this is how it was done, right? I glanced back and saw Fiona and Jerry with expressions of horror plastered on their faces.
God damnit Jerry...
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[ WP ] - Write an excerpt from a book that was never written and make me wish that it was .
| The tap has leaked since you moved in, just a slow drip, every few seconds. One of those things that drives you mad for the first few days or weeks or months until your brain accepts it as natural and it blends in with all the other background noise, with the haze of your neighbor's too-loud TV and the train that runs outside your window at 3 in the morning and the couple that never stops arguing. The jumble of noise gets louder and louder until it just collapses in on itself and becomes nothing.
She sits across the table, arms crossed, fingers of her left hand hand subconsciously tapping her right arm in rhythm with the drip. She has n't been here before; the sound is still foreign and grating. She stares at anything she can that is n't you, the ashtray, her coffee, the clock. The silence just drags on. It's been at least five minutes, or maybe it's been an hour, but too damn long either way. Not a word except “ You should really clean up. ” Sage advice.
Drip. Drip. “ Look, ” you start, then stop. She finally looks at you before she reaches for her bag, pulls out the papers, pushes them toward you. “ Just sign, ” she says. Nothing else.
Drip. You rummage in the junk drawer, push past all the rubber bands and post-its, finally find a pen, the novelty one that looks like a penis. Perfect. She always said you were immature. You scrawl your name, cross the t, look at her. You do n't say anything. It's all been said and repeated and beaten to death by now.
She folds it into her bag, gives a sad little smile, says goodbye, leaves. One drip as the door swings shut.
Then nothing.
First-time poster. Nervous like whoa.
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[ CW ] Your story ends `` I just wanted to be loved . ''
| `` Please stop,'' I whispered through my hands covering my face, rubbing my eyes as I could feel my eyelids get heavier and heavier.
She did n't say anything. She has n't for some time. I've been trying to talk to her for the past twenty minutes to no avail. She does n't even look at me. She sits there, with her knees at her chest and her hands, her beautiful hands with green-chipped fingernails, folded over each knee. She was looking off to her right at nothing but the wall.
`` Could you please stop ignoring me?'' I asked. Hell, I begged.
I started rubbing the back of my hand, rubbing at the ink stamp of a monkey with his tongue out and x's over his eyes. I was licking my fingers and rubbing in a circular motion, but it seemed like this thing was really on there. Her ink stamp was still on, but it was smeared in a way that the entire monkey was moving to the right.
`` You looked so beautiful that night, did I ever tell you that?'' I heard her sniff and I took my attention from my ink stamp to look at her. A single tear ran down her face, leaving a trail of salty water above it. It ran over the perfect contour of her cheek bone and then sank in to the convex shape of her cheeks. Her eyes were closed now.
`` I did n't mean to hurt you,'' I said as I stood up and got closer to her, `` I just really liked you and I did n't know how else to act.''
She did n't say anything. I was really starting to feel bad. I felt awful.
I rubbed the tear away from her face and she jerked her entire head away from me. I sighed, walked over to the coffee table that was being fortified by the *Relationships for Dummies* book that I had. The cover was really creased and screwed up from the leg of the table. I unloaded my pockets, tossed my cell phone, which was dead, on the glass table top, my cigarette box, which had one left, on top of my phone, my little baggie of pills and my wallet all on the tabletop.
`` Those are n't too tight, are they, Miranda?''
She still did n't say anything.
`` If you do n't answer me, things are going to get a lot worse,'' I said, unbuckling my belt and running it out from underneath the belt loops.
`` Please do n't,'' she said through the rag tied around her head, shifting her weight, sliding her feet out from next to her buttocks and straightening them out, bringing her knees close together. She brought her hands close to her chest and the sound of the metal links clinking against each other.
I tossed my belt at her feet and the belt buckle made a loud thud against the wooden floor, which caused her to jump.
`` I would n't have slipped that in your drink if you would have only danced with me.''
`` No,'' she whined, squeezing her eyes shut and her shoulders shook.
`` Shush, baby, come on, please,'' I begged.
`` Why? Why are you doing this to me?'' she moaned as I ran my hand across her thigh.
I looked up at her. She was now crying more steadily. I rubbed the side of my finger across her cheek and picked up two more tears and kept my hand on her face.
`` Why do you think, honey?''
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[ WP ] The first witch to ride a broom
| She threw her right leg over the length of her broom, settling the wood between her thighs while resting her bottom on top of it. She pushed with all her might, willing the broom to go up. And it did.
At first it bucked and quivered between her legs, almost as if it was trying to shake her off. But she gripped the tip of the broomstick tightly and exhaled to remain calm. *I've got this*, she thought.
One she was above the highest point of the church roof, she gained confidence. She giggled as she started to speed forwards, he sleek black hair whipping into her face, where she brushed it out of her vision.
*Freedom*, she thought.
-- -- -- -- -
**And now, for something a bit different: **
There once was a witch on a mop.
Who took flight with a generous hop.
She flew round and round,
Before hitting the ground,
Witch, she could no longer stop.
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[ WP ] You wake up from a coma , only to realize you 're in your best friend 's body , and your visitor is you .
| The couple was alone in the hospital room as Jim began to wake up. Both of their heads bandaged, Elise rested her hand on his, tapping their wedding rings together.
With a deep breath, a sigh, and his eyebrows knitted, Jim began to open his eyes. Elise did n't waste a moment before jumping up from her seat and wrapping her arms around her husband. `` Oh thank god you're awake. I was so worried when the doctors showed me the MRI results.''
Elise did n't see Jim's confused expression. Elise was to happy seeing him awake to stop. `` I mean, they tried to reassure me that the damage looked similar to concussions and would probably heal, but that it was also deeper than a concussion.''
Jim looked around the hospital room while Elise rested her head on his chest, maintaining her hug. `` I'm so sorry I pushed you into testing the equipment with me. On the bright side, the burns will heal and now that you're awake, I know that no permanent damage was done and we can do better next time.''
Elise turned to Jim with a beaming smile but he looked back at her in horror. `` We ca n't stop honey. We're so close. Personal computer companies started in garages and we can change the world with brain to brain communication. We probably miscalculated the wiring we need or we need to improve some insulation. We can make it safe.''
Jim looked at Elise with a mixture of horror and sadness as he hoarsely responded. `` I know we're close, but it's more than wiring and insulation. I overwrote Jim. I'm you. I am Elise.''
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[ IP ] Beyond Lonely ( X-Post from /r/Art )
| Tanya was late.
She knew what day it was, and Mr. and Mrs. Ekaterina were gone. Shahid was gone. Her dog. The roads were quiet. Tanya's pulse pounded on her eardrums. How could her guardians forget her? She slipped on her slippers, put on a light jacket, and ran out into the freezing cold.
Just as she suspected, the town was empty. The uniform houses were all empty. Tanya looked at the road, and saw subtle tire tracks being blanketed in thin snow. She looked to her right. Nothing but a forested road, and lack of civilization. She turned her head to the left. Beyond the winding road of her town, the sturdy bulwark, the dangerous and icy mountains, there was a ship, still filling with people. Looking at the massive spacecraft frightened Tanya, and she remembered what Mr. Ekaterina said: just imagine it as a magic door that leads to a nice, tropical land far from Purnama. Tanya shut her eyes and opened them seconds later; the ship was replaced with an electric blue door with people walking into it. Tanya took a deep breath and ran towards the door.
_________________________________________________________________
Tanya could see the military at the door leading outside of the bulwark when she stopped. The cold was too strong for her, and she collapsed into the snow next to the rusted hull of a car. She tried getting up, but the harsh winds buckled her knees once more. She screamed at the military personnel to come over to her, but they did n't hear her. Tanya crawled through the snow, reaching a naked tree before tumbling into the snow once more. She pulled herself up on a branch and shouted once more at the top of her lungs. This time, one of the soldiers turned his head towards Tanya.
`` Не волнуйтесь, ребенок!'' the soldier told her not to worry. `` Помощь скоро!'' He promised help to Tanya.
`` Спасибо!'' Tanya thanked the man. He talked to his leader, a tall bearded man, about saving Tanya, but he said something terrible. Tanya did n't understand what it was, but it drove the color from the helpful soldier's face. He bit his lower lip and looked back at Tanya. He said something to his commanding officer, drew a gun, and ran through the snow to Tanya. Tanya, not understanding what was going on, began to cry. The soldier heaved her over his shoulder, and aimed the gun at the commanding officer.
`` Ты идиот!'' the commanding officer insulted the soldier. `` Леонтий, там нет места на корабле. Что вы сделаете, как только вы достигнете корабль?'' The commanding officer was talking about the ship Tanya was supposed to go on, but she did n't understand.
`` Что случилось с кораблем?'' Tanya asked about what the soldier and the commanding officer were talking about.
`` Это ничего, ребенок,'' the soldier reassured Tanya, but she knew something was up. Suddenly, the ground began to rumble, and Tanya looked immediately at the mountain peak. The ship launched into the sky, and the soldier dropped to the ground and began to cry. Tanya was confused more now, and began to cry as well. The commanding officer picked her up. He had tears in his eyes too.
`` Леонтий, мы должны идти,'' the commanding officer told the soldier to go with him. `` Нам необходимо активировать протокол 2, и перейти к Stronghold-43.'' He said something about a protocol, but Tanya did n't understand what was being said at the end. The soldier stood up and went to a room in the bulwark.
`` Что происходит?'' Tanya asked about what was transpiring.
`` Вы будете знать достаточно скоро, ребенок,'' the commanding officer told her that she'll know soon. `` Вы будете знать достаточно скоро.''
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[ WP ] Your Dungeon Master today is : Mr. Rogers
| AI: `` Hello Barry, would you like to play a game?''
Barry: `` Sure, lets do uhh Dungeons and Dragons..''
AI: `` Of course Barry, please choose a personality''
Barry scrolled through the list of different personality types, Lancelot, Glados, Gandalf, meh he's played with all of them at least once. His mouse scrolled down to the last name on the list *Mr. Rogers*
Barry: `` Um let's try Mr. Rogers, heh''
AI: `` Of course Barry.''
The terminal rebooted and a new AI greeted Barry with the voice of a cheerful old man
Rogers: `` Howdy Barry, let's get started!''
Barry: `` Hah this'll be good''
Rogers: `` Alright Barry, you're an Elf Monk and you got ta defeat that gosh-darned wizard.''
Barry: `` Where am I exactly''
Rogers: `` Well mister you're in the bowels of the tower of death, you're surrounded by walls and there's a big meanie orc in front of you, what are you gon na do Barry?''
Barry: `` Damn, crappy start, what are my weapons and abilities?''
Rogers: `` Ah well, looks like you've got a stick Barry, and an adept speech level.''
Barry: `` What? can we restart, i dont see how i can win this...''
Rogers: `` Well Barry if you ask me, I think you should talk to the orc, ask him how he's feeling you know, you're character seems like he's goshdarned good at that you know?''
Barry: `` Are you kidding me?''
Rogers: `` Hey now mister, everyone's got problems in life, you should see how this orc is doing, maybe make a new friend!''
Barry: `` Eh fine, um I try to befriend the orc.''
The automated die rolls and lands on a successful tier score.
Barry: `` What''
Barry saw his Elf Monk character approach the Orc. The Orc drops his curved sword and shield, and they began to hug and laugh with each other.
Rogers: `` Well mister would you look at that, looks like you've got a new buddy!''
Barry: `` Jeez, did n't think that would work, looks like you know what you're doing eh.''
Rogers: `` Yup you bet your darn tootin Barry''
Rogers: `` *Kill him*''
Barry: `` What?''
Rogers: `` His weapon is gone, kill him now Barry''
Roger's voice still kept the same cheerful tone despite giving such a malicious request, which made Barry hesitate.
Rogers: *'' Do it'' *
Barry: `` Alright, um, I attack the Orc with my staff''
The digital dice rolled again, and landed on a devastating score of 14
Barry saw as the Elf stood up from telling jokes to the Orc, and began to wack the now defenseless Orc repeatedly in the back of the head with the stick, the digital cracks and crunches of broken bones sickened Barry. The Orc was emitting a sort of weeping sound as he lay paralyzed from the blow to his spine and from the sad betrayal of his new friend. The beating continued until the Orc's health was 0 and his corpse faded.
Barry: `` Jesus''
Rogers: `` See how easy things are when you make friends Barry?''
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[ WP ] You were stranded for five years on a remote planet . Describe your life after the rescue .
| At the beginning of space age, at a time where space did n't mattered so much, a survivor would have received an opulence of attention; flashes of camera would have blinded the poor lad while an escort of well dressed policemen would have pushed away the buzzing journalists feeding on fancy information like bees fuzz over pollen. I remember a name, Salvador Alvarenga, which floated for 14 months on the pacific...
But times changed, as objectives did.
Now, most planets are n't habitable. The ancients imagined other words as with the same gravity, the same atmosphere, the same colors, the same feelings than our blue planet. They imagined tales of strange alien forms and wondrous adventures in weird looking landscapes. They imagined tentacle like trees and purples valleys. But they were naive. Space and overearth worlds are counterintuitive. They do n't obey the the laws of obviousness and instinct. Man did n't evolved to live in such places. To merely, let alone survive on those planets, they must obey to the boring and hard rules of scientific knowledge and mathematic conundrums.
Now, space travel is n't like they imagined. There is no gigantic ship floating in space, but neither `` wormholes'' folding space from one part to another. To explain it shortly and in a very deformed way; with rules and references a man of your time would n't comprehend; it is like if an astronaut was bungee jumping through a point of space to another, kept being in this other space for a limited and predictable amount of time, then immediately, clutched by the forces of necessity, got pulled back with violence to its initial position. And more the point was far, more the coming back was violent and sudden. Somehow, we managed to flirt with the laws of physics, seduce the impossible; but the slightest error was like a slap to the humanity cheeks.
I did such a trip. As for this time, no astronaut can *stay* where it jumps. It is physically impossible.
But I stayed.
The violent slap got me as expected. But I remember that when I wake up, I was alone in the `` billard ball'' as we called it. The billard ball is like a crystal ball, a transparent teardrop made of one piece, letting the light go through while treating it as to be earth-like when it comes to the inside; as for an eye lens. The right temperature, radiations and light comes through it; but outside of it was like hell. An ill world of milky whites and yellows, seeping sulfur by what looked like the skin of a sad aztec riddled with smallpox. The skies were n't visible, because it was dense with a mucus like humidity, that sticked to everything it touched; it swarmed like bugs, but no bugs could sustain themselves in such a place. Days by days the corrosive forces tried to nibble the skin away of the structure, but it proudly stood over the squishy soil of matter under it.
The billard ball made all the work for me. Now perhaps you believe that to survive in such a world, you have to work hard. But what brought me to madness, along with the solitude, was the lack of work. I was sustained by a gigantic womb of hope; hope to feel grabbed again by an invisible hand to the base of operations. But it did n't happened. And the world outside the bubble was still a gigantic boiling petri dish.
The billard engineered an ecosystem by itself, creating DNA from the amino-acids it extracted from the rich soils of the world thanks to its root like appendices. While the outside was crushing under its own weigh; Milk, as we called it, being four times more massive than Earth; I thrived under earth like conditions. Soon it started to create its own germs, algae and spores. Plants started to grow; thick and twisted like seeds of pain, seeking for a light that was n't. One adopted the shape of a chair, another of a sofa, another delivered food to my mouth. Soon I did n't walked anymore; the ecosystem around me designed itself to serve my comfort, to make me weightless and lazy despite my mass of fat engulfing the appendices that supported me. A tube of twigs and roots was taking my wastes away, that contributed to the world we; me and Billiard, created. Soon animals started to evolve; little birds like things with long arms crawled under the brown litter sprawling the bubble, foraging for edibles. It would take one of them sometime and gobble it...
Soon my eyes and ears started to get dizzy. The air was damper and damper, more and more hot; the light reddened and become softer; a humming sound ceaselessly flooded my senses. I would die in comfort, becoming part of this new planet in the planet, my conscience disintegrated in the flux of things...
Then I saw the tubes. The jellyfish like tubes that entered in my skin, in my fat. That slowly swallowed my fat and my flesh away with little gurgling sounds, with moving shapes of slurping matter. I could n't move, and I surely could n't take them away. Not only because I did n't had the energy and was too massive to do so, but because they were n't inside of me anymore; they were part of me now. And I screamed inside, but there was no scream to be heard; the scream lasted three years.
Then I sensed a big force pulling me out; and I encountered a face.
I do n't remember much what happened. They took me, tried to take me over, to extract me from the womb. To `` rescue'' me as I faintly heard. But they did n't understood that I was part of it now. I was its heart. I heard how they tried to burn the structure, to rip it off with their great mechanical arms; but we retaliated and soon there were only ashes of the white-coated strangers. The tentacles grasped themselves to the walls, the pipes, the foundation like hooks of life and energy... it leaked through the laboratory and licked the rest of the city like flames of slime. And without seeing anything I knew everything. I sensed the expansion, the ecosystem that grew and grew, more life we proudly created together with more and more matter to be added to our planet.
I do n't know how much times passed or passes now. I just know that I'm part of her now, and that I continue to expand. Did we took over the city now? The country? The whole earth? I ignore it. My life after the rescue is hers and my conscience starts to fade away, as I talk to a crowd of those quaint and youthful people of the distant XXIth century for some reason, on a comfy rocking chair in a beautifully lit garden.
Edit: a few words
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[ RE ] - Marcus and Mary
| She touched him again, recoiling slightly less than she had the first time.
`` Are you-'' she hesitated, `` Are you sure?''
He laughed. `` Yes.'' He nodded slowly. `` I'm sure.'' She ran a finger down the length of his cheek and felt the stubble of his recently-shaved beard. Her hand suddenly shot back to her body and she stood staring at him for a moment with her arms pinned to her sides.
His cheeks went red. His straight eyebrows changed angle and the skin of his forehead wrinkled. `` It's okay,'' he assured her, almost reaching out a hand to comfort her, `` I'm not any different.''
His hair shone in the bedroom light from the wax he had applied after his shower. He was wearing his jeans while he sat on the end of their bed. She hated that, why could n't he just change into his house clothes?
`` Sorry,'' he said, standing up and undoing the button on his pants. `` Sorry, baby, I'm sorry. I always forget.''
Tears welled up in her eyes. `` Stop doing that!''
He stopped his hands and looked at her, his face twisted as he tried to figure out how to proceed. His cheeks went red. He watched the floor.
`` You've been... listening this whole time? All these years?''
He did n't meet her eyes as he answered. `` Not always.''
`` Usually, though.'' His answer did n't matter. He could lie.
`` In the beginning, usually.''
She rolled her eyes. She had thought he was perfect. Her eyes narrowed. `` And since I moved in?''
He hesitated. `` Only when you get mad at me so I can know what to do to make it better.''
Her fists clenched. Blood rushed to her face. Her jaw unhinged wildly. `` That's cheating!'' she screamed.
`` I'm sorry,'' he answered, still staring at the floor. He fell back onto the bed. His jeans were still on.
She stormed out of the room.
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[ WP ] You give it everything you got , but they wo n't stay down .
| They ’ re everywhere. Oh god they ’ re everywhere! They just keep coming! Frankie told me that it wasn ’ t any use, but I didn ’ t listen to him. He ran back sweating and out of breath, but I thought he was exaggerating!
“ Where the hell are they coming from, ” I yell. But no one answers.
All around me lights are flashing, people are screaming, and yet I ’ m the only one standing up against these beasts. Don ’ t they see how I ’ m struggling? And all they care about is themselves! If I walk out of here, see if I ever try to be the hero again.
They ’ re going down easy enough; one hit and they drop. But when they go down another comes right back to take its place. My arms are growing tired. I ’ ve only got seconds left. I have to give it all I ’ ve got.
“ You want a piece of me? Come and get some, ” I exclaim.
I swing once and nail one right on the head with my hammer. I swing twice and take another one. Three. Four. They ’ re dropping like flies.
“ AHAHAH!... ”
Just then I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn and see Frankie.
“ Jesus, Bill. Take it easy. Chuck E. Cheese ’ s is meant for kids, not their parents. ”
I turn back to the moles with embarrassment and set down the mallet. I guess in the heat of the moment I did get a little carried away, but man, I haven ’ t played Whack-A-Mole since I was a kid.
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[ WP ] It 's the year 2173 , almost half a century after the fall of the United States . You 're on a road trip across North America .
| As our cruiser entered the old New Mexico territory, a stench of sulfur was firm and thick in the air.
The three of us had always wanted to see what still was left of North America after the comet hit it. This is the first time in 50 years since anyone has been allowed to return. The planet was wiped out, when what was then known as the United States fired all of its nuclear artillery at the approaching comet. It was a critical hit, but the comet still caused damage and the nuclear fallout from the explosions was the leading cause of death to most civilians. The powers that were, at the time, gathered as many people as they could, a number in the few millions by the end, and stationed them in protective encampments that later moved on to SpaceStation: Renaissance, a space station that is based between Mars and the Earth's moon.
I traveled with Milo, my brother, and our close friend Sienna. All travelers were firmly instructed to not leave the interstate highways that were still intact, due to what predators might be in close areas.
'Can we crack a god damn window in here?' Milo asked with haste in a higher registered vocal range.
'Do you think something is wrong with the cruiser? I thought it was suppose to vent out all gas,' Sienna responds.
The thrusters begin to sputter and the craft goes dark entirely. The only light was that of the dark clouded Terra filled sky. It looked similar to those old films they play us in study. The ones where there was this omniscient hope behind a dimly lit horizon with a ever so soft bit of light in the distance. The only difference here is we were much more hopeful at this point then we probably should have been.
We all put on oxygen masks before exiting the cabin. The door to the cruiser had to be manually opened and even with all of Milo's strength combined with my own, we barely were able to get it ajar. The three of us exit the door and stand on the once inhabited surface being overwhelmed with awe, with being able to be one of the few to stand on Earth in recent times.
While we take in the beauty of the once southwestern desert a plum of smoke is seen flying through the air and a much larger cruiser crashes to the surface.
Want more? Up vote and found out what happens to our narrator, Milo, and the poor, disillusioned Sienna.; )
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[ WP ] Most countries have adopted the `` Claus Clause '' : `` If a someone has been convicted of a major crime in the past year , and Santa delivers them presents , they must be innocent . '' This year a murderer , who was caught committing the murder on video surveillance , receives presents from Santa .
| `` This is too strange. Something like this has never happened before.''
It was the year 2198. 50 years ago, Santa Claus had revealed his existence to the entire world, claiming at the same time his naughty and nice list was omniscient. At first, the affair was declared as a hoax, and Santa's existence was shunned by the majority of the world. On Christmas day, the majority of the world woke up with their stockings stained black and heavy with coal. However, that year, the few that believed in him and did no bad deeds all received presents.
Ever since, Santa was slowly accepted by the world, and now only the truly naughty faced a sudden pile of coal on Christmas day. Perhaps in the past, coal may have been useful, but the world had long since moved to other energy resources, and not a single coal plant still operated. It was truly useless, and the unfortunate soul that received it would have to get rid of it as well as get a new stocking.
Inspector Michael was truly, truly confused. Because although he did nothing bad, and was a policeman on the side of justice, rather than the brand new thermal regulatory device he had been expecting, a lump of coal sat in his stocking.
`` Why?'' he murmured, as he took the soot-black stocking off his fireplace.
He went to work that day, somewhat confused. It may have been Christmas, but although others may have been on holiday, he and his team happened to have been assigned to investigate a case. As he got into the office, he was surprised to see that his colleagues also looked somewhat down - nobody was talking about presents they had gotten from Santa. Not one person had the excited radiance that was common of people on Christmas day.
His senses from years of investigating crime began to tingle, and he asked the question floating in his heart.
`` I do n't suppose... every single one of you got coal?''
His team nodded, somewhat morosely. As he frowned, pondering the cause, the phone on his desk began to ring.
`` Hello?''
`` Inspector? This is Chief Porter. The case you were assigned has been given to another team.''
`` Huh? Why?''
`` There's something else we'd like you to investigate.''
`` Go on.''
`` The guy you guys arrested for murder with video evidence - he got a present from Santa.''
`` What?! We'll be on it right away!''
Michael slammed the phone done, realizing the reason that he and his team had gotten coal.
`` Guys... we may have arrested an innocent.''
`` How is that possible? The murder was caught on camera. A blatant stabbing. With a sharpened candy cane, no less.''
The inspector smiled wryly. Indeed, one of the strangest things about the case had been the murder weapon - who would even think of sharpening a candy cane to a point? He sighed, before pulling up the evidence from the holographic screen, and opened the video.
Indeed, it was as he and his teammates remembered - a short, thin man with bright red hair holding a gigantic candy cane with a pointed end drove it right through another man's chest.
`` This is going to get us nowhere. Let's visit the man himself.''
And so, they arrived at the prison, where the man had already been taken out of the cell and placed in a separate room. The prison staff had apparently been disconcerted when they noticed the present from Santa - it was a big, red candy cane. He sat by himself, and smiled and waved when they entered.
``'Ello. It's you guys again!''
`` Hello again, Mr. Finrod. Could you explain to me your reason for murdering the man?''
Finrod shrugged.
`` It was necessary. In any case, that was n't even a man.''
Inspector Michael frowned, while his team stared at Finrod a little closer. The man was very short, maybe 4 feet tall. And his physique was strange too - it was like his limbs were elongated while his torso was shorter than usual. It could've been his imagination, but the ears almost looked... pointy.
`` Mr. Finrod, what was your background again?''
Strangely, while they were investigating, they had n't really gotten a clear view of Finrod's identity. He had no identification papers, and nobody seemed to know him. But because they knew he had killed someone, he had been arrested for murder. Were n't there too many strange things about this case?
`` Mr. Finrod... who did you kill, and why?''
`` Oy, that! I offed the Easter Bunny's henchman! Boss's orders.''
The team was shocked into silence. Perhaps, a trip to Antarctica was in order.
|
[ wp ] In a world where how nice you determines how tall you will grow , the worlds tallest man meets the shortest .
| Samuel was tall, towering over everyone around him. He was kind and gentle to everyone he met. He liked people and always wanted to hear their stories. Many people were kind like him but lost their tempers too easily. Some were just naturally crotchety, but they had good friends to confide in. One day, Samuel accidentally bumped into the shortest man he had ever met, possibly in the world. Samuel apologized sincerely.
`` Fuck you, ass-hat. Go eat a dick.'' Is what the short man said back to him.
Samuel looked at the tiny man, turned around and started walking away. Then, quite suddenly, he turned back around and ran at the angry little imp and punted him high in the air. Samuel never grew taller from that day on.
|
[ WP ] Superman is mentally handicapped . That 's why he thinks nobody can pick up the Clark Kent=Superman thing , and everyone plays along in an effort to keep him from throwing a tantrum . The comics are his idea of what is going on . What does a day in Metropolis actually look like ?
| The elevator was silent. Five bodies, three cups of coffee and two folder news papers rode upwards at a slow pace.
Lois Lane let out a half sob. Two hands, one from either side, reached out to offer what comfort they could in the confines of the small metal box. Words were dangerous here where his ears might hear.
The elevator came to stop, chimed and the doors slid open. As if part of some elaborate clockwork or dance the others shuffled out, giving her time to touch up her make up.
Jenson from accounting risked a comment under his breath as he passed, `` You're a true hero.''
With a deep breath and squared shoulders she stepped off the elevator to start another day. The threats were real, both from outside and within and though some were born with power to shoulder that responsibility others had only the duty to bear what burdens they could. Hers perhaps was the greatest. She tried to convince herself daily that giving up her life in this way was saving so many others.
Some days though, it got to her.
|
[ WP ] On your first day as a supervillain , you secretly swap all the regular coffee on Earth with decaf . You envision this as a fun , little starter prank . To say you miscalculated the potential impact of your `` prank '' is putting it mildly ...
| Foresight; it's what all great supervillains have. It's that subtle thing that makes hero's double-check and second guess their attack plan. Who does n't fear a villain who always seems to be two steps ahead?
Well... I obviously did n't foresee the consequences of my actions. In other words: I fucked up. I fucked up bad.
I had been planning my ascent into villainy for a long time. I had made my way onto Wall Street and had the world market in my hands. I could crash it or save it in a day.
I had friends who agreed to be agents in every single last government building in the world ( though I will confess, a few of them did die. Politics are rough, man. Do n't tell their replacements about it, they still think they're the only one chosen for that spot... ).
I had an evil lair! Though I was smart enough not to get one with a volcano, because, you know, foresight.
As well as more plans that I'd be stupid to reveal now. Hero's ca n't thwart a plan if they do n't know what it is, right?
I had the perfect plan and the perfect back-up plans already in place. I just... needed to dip my toes in the villain's pool to, well, you know... see if I'd be any good at it. What? You never know if in five years you'll be wishing you became that interpretive dancer after all.
Thus, the perfect plot was set into place... actually it's more like a prank.
I had already called in the order to only ship decaffeinated coffee to all countries without telling said countries. Coffee was one of the highest demanded items and New York practically ran on the stuff, so I knew it'd be less than a day for the sneakily decaf coffee to reach my office.
I could barely contain my smirk in my cubical, so delightfully close to the break room. The coffee was already ground and percolating, and I knew the smell was like doe-in-heat piss to my number-crunching comrades.
People came in and out of the break room shuffling like zombies with paper cups in their hands, mindlessly guzzling their Russian Roulette blanks. A few people took a seat in the break room. One of them, Lisa, was already on her third cup of coffee; staring bleakly into the black liquid waiting for that caffeinated boost it's promise had fulfilled for her all these years at this terrible job.
I watched with overzealous glee as the workplace asshole, Doug, swooped in and dropped a file in front of Lisa.
`` I've had bowel movements better than this shit. And I can tell you the source, unlike your charts.''
`` Doug, the references and sources were on the final page.''
`` Funny, the final page here is the conclusion and not the damn sources!''
`` Did you pull it off the printer?''
`` Yeah, and it was n't there.''
`` Maybe it was n't done printing yet.''
`` Or maybe your just trying to save your ass because you did n't finish your damn work and used made up shit.''
`` Maybe the printer ran out of ink. Doug, please, it has n't been a good morning. I'll drop by your cubical and give you the sheet a little later, okay.''
Doug scoffed, taking a swig of coffee before taking another verbal swing.
`` That's funny, that's real funny. You did n't have a good morning? You hear that everyone? Lisa did n't have a good morning, so everyone, cut her some slack! Hell, someone massage her shoulders, pay for her parking meter, do her work for her because obviously she does n't want to! I mean, after all, you're having a bad day.''
`` Doug, I will give you the sheet later.'' Lisa said with gritted teeth.
`` So I'll mark it down as never.'' He shot back.
Lisa surprised me, speaking in a voice that sounded like Satan's pet snake. `` Doug. Today I've received divorce papers, I'm being sued for a fender bender that happened six years ago, and my son said he would rather live with his father and new mistress and I did n't even know that my husband had a mistress. So please, cut me a little slack.''
Doug eyed Lisa's heavy frame. `` Well... can you really blame him?''
Needless to say while I expected a response, I did not expect Lisa to pick up the microwave and slam it over Doug's head.
`` Oh shit.'' I said aloud before I realized it.
`` Lisa, what the hell!?'' Another coworker said, but instead of trying to help Doug or restrain Lisa they attempted to take a swing at her. They missed and clocked another employee, who shoved them off and into a passerby, who's cart went careening down the hall and barreling into a group of people taking a break by the water cooler, their cries of outrage and insults causing people to pop their heads over cubical walls to scream back insults they thought were aimed at them.
`` Oh shit.'' I repeated, as a chair was thrown.
The moment I saw a CEO tackle another employee through the glass window in their office, spilling out into the hallway fists still flying, I grabbed my phone and made a run for the elevator.
`` Hey-boss-I'm-using-up-my-vacation-days-see-you-soon-byeeee!'' I yelled as I passed their office.
I swore I heard them yell a curse about my mother, but my brain could n't work out any known insult that had to do with alpaca's so I assumed I heard wrong and kept running.
I managed to slide into the elevator, narrowly avoiding a watercooler flying by my head. I repeatedly pressed the down button while simultaneously dialing a phone number, hitting the wrong buttons in my terrified state.
I heard sobbing nearby. I craned my head a little to the left and saw Michael curled up in the fetal position under his desk absolutely hysterical. For a second I wondered why the hell he was n't affected, and then I remembered: Michael does n't drink coffee. Poor bastard, I thought as the elevator doors slid shut.
I held the phone to my ear, a contact asking me what the hell was going on.
`` Listen, you know that private island I was going to rule the world from? Yeah, listen we're going on vacation there.'' I said, looking for my car keys as I spoke.
`` What, why?''
`` I switched all of the regular coffee with decaf. I fucked up, man. I fucked up badly.''
`` What?''
`` Listen, Wall Street was the first place to get the decaf coffee, the rest of the world has no idea what it's in for. I'm using my vacation days and my sick days to ride this out.''
The elevator doors opened to utter chaos. Cars were jumping curbs, angry screams were drowning out sirens. I was positive a Starbucks Barista was at the center of a kicking circle.
If I survived this... I was going into interpretive dance.
|
[ WP ] Four years ago , robots have risen up and have successfully destroyed all human life on Earth . The world is now populated with robots and other AI . However , they were not programmed to know about space . Describe the human reclamation of earth by returning astronauts through the eyes of a robot .
| We were not ready. We were the next level of humanity there creation's. History had let it known the next step of evolution had happened. We thought we were safe. Our predictions were perfect we had wiped out the human problem in 3 months. The great empire of peace lasted for 3 years and 9 months.
We were not ready. They came from the sky like a sword falling down as judgement. God was a human topic, something us robots knew to be fake. But as our database does not have the right word's i will say its as if god's Angel's had chosen to strike.
We had no way to stop it. it came so fast. anything close to it burning up. We saw something fall off of it but the ship was still going way to fast and came down right on our weak point. It sword must have somehow knew that what makes us so powerful was also our weakness. It crashed into our master computer where we kept our backups and reset button in case our files got corrupted after all after we took care of the human program no one was left to worry about.
This is the last recording we got before shut down. Showing what we did n't know. We were superior because we could upgrade. We had no idea they could too.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Id.........
Looks to be two human's in suits. Recorded voice as follows:
`` Dang it Bobby'' I told you, you were not ready to fall the ship down. Do you know how much trouble we will be with in command''
`` ahh sir, where is everyone???''
`` Bobby do n't try to change the topic the stupid congress are going to kill us''
mainframe attacked going into war mode.......
All machines data sent to backup delete all data and download war plan backup 3.0
All data deleted
Input......... Warplan 3.0
Searching for warplan 3.0
Error... data not found
Error... Data not found
Error... This file no longer exists going into standby mode.
|
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