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[ WP ] The laws of physics are actual written laws . Breaking them is possible but illegal .
| Today was the day of the vote. Would Parliament see sense and pass the Speed of Light Act? There was no reason that the law should so unfairly shackle us to this solar system. Or so ruthlessly enforce this purposeless law. Any attempts people have tried to evade this law have been swiftly crushed, the police take a dim view of anyone trying to escape our solar system and what they see as their jurisdiction. They let some of the smaller infractions pass, violating the conservation of energy if you're out of fuel and away from a petrol station, tweaking the gravitational constant a bit if you're in a hurry, but nothing of this magnitude. And yet if we stick to the bounds of the law, it'll take us at least 4 years to even get to another star, let alone leave our galactic neighbourhood. How can humanity expand, gather more knowledge, if restricted to such a tiny portion of the universe.
I was not allowed to witness the vote, so I pace outside, waiting for the session to finish. Surely they'll see sense. This whole campaign ca n't have been for nothing. The door opens and Daniel rushes out. I run towards him, fearing to even ask the question, but he sees me and blurts out `` It passed! IT PASSED!''
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[ WP ] All animals can talk to each other , except one creature who speaks an ancient language no one knows
| Jecroix looked at his mate. Bubbles drifted over her head, growing larger as they rose, until they finally broke the surface 600 meters above. She had n't moved since yesterday, and now the tiny white crabs were crawling on her. He swatted at them with his gigantic fluke, and was horrified by the result. A piece of her had separated and begun to float, following the bubbles. Jecroix finally realized that she was gone. He was the final leviathon. The last of his kind. He keened for his lost mate more deeply than he had in his entire life. In thousands of years, his heart had never been so heavy. As he stirred from the seabed and began to rise to the surface, he saw many creatures of the sea. He informed each one of them of the tragedy. His queen was dead. The most beautiful being that had ever lived was gone.
After he passed, a blue whale turned to his porpoise friends, and said `` Did any of you catch what that wierdo was saying? I could n't understand his accent''.
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[ WP ] You are the first parent to allow your unborn child to be genetically engineered to gain a higher IQ . Everything 's great , until they reach the age of 13 . That 's when the side effects kick in .
| There had been mass shootings in the past, but this one was different. Victor Ponz had been the first IQ modified human.
As a young child, the results of the first IQ mod had shown incredible promise. Victor's ability to infer outcomes of complex equations resulted in the solution to 4 of the 23 DARPA Math challenges, at the age of 6. This was not the first time that the military had been made aware of little Edgar's promise.
Victor had been asked by the Joint Chiefs of Staff to give military strategy a `` once over'' when He was only 5. His overview resulted in a rewriting in military doctrine to incorporate new strategies that have saved countless lives in our 27 year liberation of Afghanistan. His exposure to military tactics techniques and procedures may have played a crucial role in his nefarious plot.
The shooting incident left 1542 Men, women, and children dead outside the downtown sports arena. The most elaborate scheme any mass shooter had ever cooked up, it involved active employment of military tactics and ambush strategy. Strategy used in conjunction with sports even congestion, ending in the most violent mass shooting in the last 15 years.
When reporters asked My son why he decided to kill all of those people he offered few answers. Since he has hit puberty it has been so hard to talk to him. He has stopped caring about problem solving and spent all his time on the internet doing, as he calls it `` research.''
I love my son, and stand by him, he is way smarter than I am, so maybe there was more to it than what you see on the TV. He was a good kid that only wanted to make the world a better place. He would n't just hurt people for no reason. He is a very methodical child.
When the reporters asked the boy why he did it, his only reply was, `` they were dumb.''
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[ WP ] A boy explores a large abandoned house and soon realizes that the house and its contents are directly representative of his own thoughts and psyche . What is in the basement ?
| I couldn ’ t tell you exactly what made me go looking, I had never been the adventurous type. Well actually I guess I had been, I just don ’ t remember being so; but my mom says that my preschool teacher claimed I was the most rambunctious and energetic four year old she had ever supervised. That was seven years ago; I wasn ’ t that way anymore. These days I liked doing things smart people did, like read. I read a lot. Actually, I read a lot a lot. I had diligently made my way through iconic series such as The Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter and even A Song of Ice and Fire; I held quite an impressive resume for a fifth grader. Most kids my age are interested in more immature things so I don ’ t have many friends; but I don ’ t care. You would think my parents would be proud of me and my passion for reading, but for some reason they always seemed so concerned about it. They often pressure me to go outside and play with the neighborhood kids; as if we would have anything in common or find a similar interest. No, I was quite content with my books.
So you can imagine how surprised I was with myself as I approached the enormous 1800 ’ s Victorian style mansion; walking with my head tilted back as I gazed up at the three story abandoned structure. The manor had windows regularly placed all along the front, consistently spaced amongst all three of the different levels; the peculiar thing was that every single window had its curtains drawn shut.
I took a deep inhale and reached for the doorknob before halting further advancement upon realizing that it was warm; yet I continued to exhale my harbored breath and slowly pushed the door open. I stepped through the buildings entrance. The normal interior provided the reassurance I needed to convince myself to continue exploring. I couldn ’ t be silly and let my imagination get the better of me. The ceiling in the main hall took domain over all three levels with a beautiful balcony on the highest tier. There was a grand chandelier, massive and finely crafted, dangling from the center of the room, It had somehow managed to exist without become shrouded in a mess of cobwebs.
My jaw dropped as I noticed the wall to my left was completely shelved with books. From the ground all the way up to the perhaps thirty foot ceiling, books of all sizes covered the wall like a giant hourglass; there were enough pages to keep me busy for the rest of my life. I hopped over to the collection like a giddy schoolboy and pulled a random one from off the shelf, immediately dropping the impossible object in shock as I realized what it was.'*Winter for Wolves*', the sixth book in the Song of Ice and Fire series, still unreleased. I eventually returned from my state of awe and collected myself before bending down to retrieve the discarded treasure, scanning the pages and finding that it was no coincidental titling phenomenon but indeed contained the same characters and stylistic prose of R.R. Martin.
I spent the next hour or so laying on the mansions thickly padded welcoming mat while indulging myself in the ever unfolding tapestry that was the saga of Westeros. No other series that I had read so far could match the complexity or depth that A Song of Ice and Fire managed. I remember being so distraught when I finished the Harry Potter series, convinced that I would never find another story as complete and entertaining. Halfway through the first volume of R.R. Martins novels I knew I had found something special that completely eclipsed Rowling ’ s childish themes. I could have stayed up all night reading the unreleased literature that had seemed to magically find its way to me, and probably would have had the laughter not started.
Two children had seemed to suddenly begin cackling together in joyous high pitched giggles. Caught between curiosity and fear, I assured myself that there was no reason to be scared and went to investigate the scene. I opened the door that the noise was resonating from and saw a younger version of myself playing with the last friend I remembered having, Jared. We were still in preschool and from the looks of things I was leading the ruckus, circling Jared while flapping my arms wildly as he shrieked with amusement as I circled him. I continued observing unnoticed for a few minutes as an uncharted nostalgic feeling began to unveil itself in my mind. I felt a deep peace come over me as I watched the youngsters frolic. My nirvana was broken as a child ’ s cry became audible. I looked over my shoulder and then back at the memory only to find that the apparitions had vanished.
I hadn ’ t started crying. I don ’ t cry. Behind one of the doors connected to the main entrance there emanated the unmistakable sound of a weeping boy. The crying wasn ’ t as the superficial wailing of an upset child nor wild shrieking as you ’ d expect from a sudden injury, but rather a slow, profound crying. My gut told me to flee, to run home with my prize and never come back; but certainly the right thing to do was investigate, what if there was a scared lost kid who needed my help? That ’ s what I told myself anyway as I walked towards the room; though I felt haunted by an obvious yet unreachable deeper knowing.
In slow and measured strides I made my way to the door that sourced the crying child. I knocked gently, “ Hello? Are you okay in there? ” I asked calmly.
The child inside began to cry louder, “ I d-don ’ t w-w-want to play this anymore, ” he managed choke out between deep sobs. I opened the door and looked inside; my heart dropped. It was the Jared, who moments ago I had seen howling with laughter, was now crying; and completely naked. He noticed me as I entered the room and covered himself with his hands desperately, his whole body turning red with embarrassment, “ I don ’ t want to play ‘ married ’, ” he cried shamefully, “ I hate you, you ’ re the worst friend I ever had, ” he screamed, his deep sadness fading into a manic anger as his verbal assault continued, “ I never want to play with you again, I hope I never see you again! Go away! GO AWAY! ” he yelled violently at me. I slammed the door shut; instantly upon doing so the house returned to complete silence.
I dropped the book I had been still holding as I curled up in a ball with my hands locked between my head, pressing my face into my knees and weeping for the first time in as long as I could remember. What was going on? What had I done? What was wrong with me? I cried like a baby, tears rained from my cheeks freely to the point where my pants were growing noticeably damp.
“ Are you okay? ” a voice asked. I looked up startled to see a plump man standing in front of me with a concerned expression on his face, “ Is everything all right? ” he asked again. Though I had no remembrance of the man, his presence unnerved me. A smile appeared on his face revealing a mouth full of straight yellow-stained teeth, “ I know what will cheer you up, follow me! ” he said as he offered a hand. Against all instinct, intuition and common sense I accepted his offer. He smiled down at me as we walked towards another door attached to the main room. He reached out for the handle and pushed it open, revealing a wooden staircase descending into a dimly lit basement. He gestured for me to lead the way; guilt seemed to hijack my legs as I walked past him and descended through the old passage. I let out a sharp gasp as the contents of the room became visible, I turned to run but the man grabbed my arm and pulled me forcefully down the final few steps. Decomposing animals whose joints had been twisted at unnatural angles were strewn randomly about the floor; Empty cages covered the perimeter of the room and there was a mounted camera at the nucleus. I flailed about chaotically in attempt to liberate myself from the fiends grip but my efforts were vain against his matured adult strength. He picked me up off the ground and pressed his wet mouth again mine and began to grope me aggressively. Adrenaline shot through me and in a desperate recklessness I threw my head back before bolting it forward suddenly, cracking his nose. I landed awkwardly on the floor as the monster cried in pain. I scurried to my feet and sprinted up the stairs, hearing the things racing footsteps closing in behind me.
I reached the main level and found to my terror that the wall of books I had previously been so comforted by had shifted itself as to cover the only method of escape I knew of; The sudden realization of my confinement caused a brief lapse in my movement through which my pursuer was able to grab ahold of my arm. “ NO! ” I yelled aggressively, “ STOP IT! I WON ’ T LET YOU HURT ME ANYMORE! IT ’ S NOT MY FAULT! IT ’ S YOUR FAULT! ” the words poured from my mouth automatically as tears streamed down my face, “ Leave me alone Forever! ”
The force from the grip suddenly disappeared and I flew backwards while gravity guided me downwards, ultimately cracking my head on the bookshelves behind me before falling to the ground unconscious.
When I opened my eyes I found myself in my room at my mom ’ s house. My mom came rushing through my bedroom door with an alarmed look on her face, “ Honey are you alright!? You were screaming, ” she asked with a concerned tone.
I smiled back at her, feeling lighter than I ever had before, “ Yeah mom, just a bad dream, everything is fine, ” I said confidently.
“ Okay well you better get out of bed! Your bus will be here in fifteen minutes and you still have to shower and eat breakfast! ” She said, knowing full well I could complete both tasks in less than ten if the situation required as she carefully pulled my door shut.
I took a deep breath and laid back in my bed. I glanced over towards my nightstand and smiled as I noticed the unreleased Song of Ice and Fire'*Winter for Wolves*' laying there. I grabbed the book and proceeded to open one of the nightstand drawers before throwing it inside carelessly.
I ’ d probably read it someday.
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts
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[ WP ] You are the host of a popular children 's show . You are live on air when you , and the rest of the country , have just received news that nuclear weapons have been deployed against your nation and ca n't be stopped . There are only minutes left .
| Uncle Bucky sat there for a few precious seconds, staring into space. The small earbud he wore that gave him up to date instructions was just full of sobbing. With a shaking hand, he pulled it free and let his gaze sweep over the children who stared back at him with the wide, curious eyes of those who understand something is wrong, but do not know what.
His real smile was long gone, but the painted one on his face covered it up and gave him an air of joviality as he stood up and put down the book. It was n't fair. He was older, closer to sixty than fifty, he had lived a good life. But these kids...
It was n't fair that they would be gone, gone before they could understand life, gone in a moment of searing pain or worse, left to roam a radioactive wasteland.
Uncle Bucky's eyes fell on a nearby fire extinguisher.
`` Hey kids, time for a fun new game!'' He managed to sound like his old self. That was good. The kids relaxed. Uncle Bucky was alright again.
He stepped over and picked up the fire extinguisher. There was no way to save these children.
But he could still do something.
The first strike of the fire extinguisher struck a boy in the front row and he dropped without a sound. The rest of the kids were screaming, trying to run, but he was faster.
When the fire came and swept over the studio, Uncle Bucky was the only one left to bear witness to the flame.
It was a kindness, he thought to himself, as his world burned away.
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[ RF ] College student murders his way through college passing off the deaths as suicides
| Jane always arrived early to class and seated herself in third row in the lecture hall. Her hair, a mundane brown cut, framed her plain looking face. When the professor began she pulled out a pair of boring glasses. The kind a mother would buy for her child because they ’ re cheap and she knows they ’ ll either outgrow them or break them quickly.
He ’ d been watching her for a few weeks now, possessed with how simple she could be. He never sat too close to her, but he ’ d situate himself where he could see her during class and easily follow her out. She never noticed of course, with her dazed gaze and clueless smile.
Jane appeared absolutely delicious to him – he craved to know how much she could feel and think. How much her tiny brain could manage to react with. He imaged himself cutting her hair off in large chunks, watching the hair fall to the ground like silk. The horror and sadness that would crawl across her face. He needed to see that look. The stupid look girls get when they realize they ’ re not beautiful anymore.
Thomas would charm his way with her this weekend—she was attending a party at one of the fraternity ’ s. Dumb, stupid girls and facebook. They ’ d accept anyone ’ s friend request if they were decent looking and Jane RSVP ’ d to all the events she planned on going to. He could follow her movements with such ease, blend into the crowd of people, even enjoy the event a little bit while keeping her in view.
After watching her for some time he knew how the night would unravel. Jane and a few of her slutty friends would presumably do shots in one of their rooms. They ’ d walk out, tipsy, loud, and personalities further obliterated. She ’ d be wearing a crop top and tightly fitted jeans or yoga pants—bitches loved yoga pants. Then they ’ d shuffle off to the party with another group and complain about how cold it was as if they didn ’ t realize their asses and tits were the only thing covered.
So that night he arranged to meet with a couple of guys. He didn ’ t care for them much, but they liked his company. He dressed up in a well-fitting plaid shirt and dark-wash jeans. Thomas knew he was handsome— and people liked attractive people. In private he couldn ’ t help but burst into laughter at the sheer vanity of it all, how people flocked like pigeons to him.
He didn ’ t drink much while everyone else got hammered, their dicks pressed against their pants as they imagined girls that would never go for them if the lights were brighter and their minds less diluted.
Thomas timed everything perfectly, he knew Jane ’ s group left around 9:30pm to walk to the fraternity houses. So he ushered their drunk asses out around that time so he could follow her into the party.
The night was refreshingly chilly after the rain that afternoon. The pavement a darker shade of gray than usual and the moon at half-mass. He liked the odds of that night. Something about the rain made people realize how alone they were.
He inspected her walk into the light of a lamppost. She wore a white lace shirt that rested just above her belly button and black leggings then she faded back into the darkness. She spoke loudly, laughing with her friends. They spoke just the kind of gibberish women seem so hung up on. Women open their mouths too much for saying nothing. He never understood why they couldn ’ t hear themselves.
On the inside the air hung heavy and full of sweat as bodies mindlessly pressed against each other and claimed they were dancing. The lights were off except for a few dim blue lights. Unless he tried he couldn ’ t make out anyone ’ s face specifically. But he knew where she was. He felt her presence in the room and made his way too her.
He pulled her to dance with him, and whispered in her ear “ I ’ m Thomas. ”
“ Jane ” she said into his.
He finally got to see her face from a close perspective, the dullness and faded look she wore. The black ring of eyeliner around her eyes. The smudged lipstick that gathered at the edges of her lips. He resisted the urge to grip her face tightly and watch her try to squirm away. She was wearing mascara tonight and the thought of black tinted tears rolling down her cheeks made his pulse quicken and he pressed himself against her.
Jane beamed at the attention—a girl like her with a guy like him, she even tossed a drunken wink at one of her friends who came over and asked if she was okay. She slurred out a sloppy, “ I ’ m great, now, ” and loosely linked her arms around him.
The music sounded always the same with a heavy beat that they could easily dance with. Well-known songs blasted through the speakers as people sung along to songs they ’ d proclaimed they hated, that they didn ’ t listen to the radio and pop music, but they knew every fucking lyric. She didn ’ t dance well, her movements were choppy, and ultimately unappealing. He loved it, it made him want to laugh. Let her dance for me, he thought. It never seemed to stop, the music. He kept track of how many songs had played, and estimated how long each was. Thomas, usually patient, felt uncomfortably excited. He itched for her to grow bored with the scene. She was all over him, though. He let her continue to think she was in control, that she would make the decisions that night.
She leaned up to him, sweatier than before, she blinked slowly, “ How long have we been dancing for? ”
“ I ’ m not sure, ” he replied. It ’ d been about an hour.
“ Um, so like I ’ m really tired and I live off campus. Do you have a place that ’ s, like, closer or something? ” she looked up at him meaningfully and leaned against him. She didn ’ t live far off campus, barely a 10-minute walk. Dumb. Horny.
“ I have a roommate, actually. Why don ’ t I walk you home, make sure you get home safe? ”
She frowned, a little confused. He held back his grin and clarified, “ let ’ s go to your place. ”
“ Oh ” she said, the ‘ o ’ sound extended. He liked the way her mouth made a perfect little circle. A perfect little void. “ Oh, okay. That sounds good. Uhh, one moment, I ’ ll let my friends know we ’ re leaving. ”
He grabbed her wrist and kissed her deeply until she was pushing him against a wall, like the desperate, unnoticed girl she was. He breathed hot breath into her ear, “ let ’ s go. ”
***
The next morning, he waited in a nearby coffee shop for the ambulance to sound. Surely, her roommates would find her soon. Their plain friend who left the party too early, alone, and without a word. Their plain friend who thought she wasn ’ t ever good enough—well, because she wasn ’ t. They ’ d know that she was the friend who wasn ’ t approached as often, or by attractive guys. He wondered if they could see how dull and uninteresting she was.
While she was in the bathroom he had grabbed her phone that night and texted a few girls she seemed to have gone with, with self-pitying messages. He didn ’ t actually fuck her that night; it would have been too risky.
Around 11am, and his second coffee an ambulance drove past, the red-lights and siren frantic. He followed the emergency vehicle just far enough to see it pull down her street.
Soon he ’ d tip off the local newspaper of the devastating tragedy of a young and promising university student. The horror of an overdose on alcohol and sleeping pills. The expected suicide of Jane.
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[ WP ] Patch notes for Universe 2.0
| **General**
* Aurora Borealis now properly shows all colors across the spectrum.
* Black Holes now properly consume light at once, rather than exponentially slower over time.
* Pluto now officially a Planet.
**Earth**
* Fixed hole in the Ozone Layer.
* Thinned atmosphere to allow proper ventilation ( see *global warming* )
* Tides no longer dependent on the Moon.
* Fixed bug where Evolution timed out. Humans should now see Evolution continue to happen at a much faster rate.
* Increased land animal population.
* Fixed damage caused by global deforestation.
* Humans are now required to find sustainable materials.
* Decreased size of the Sahara Desert.
* Humans were complaining about the size and instability. This should allow for greater land expansion.
* Also added more water sources.
* Increased wind to allow for renewable energy research.
* Humans complained about inconsistent results with renewable energy. This should no longer be a problem.
**Saturn**
* Added new moons.
* Water on Titan now accessible as a resource.
**Global Warming**
* Removed damage from human-caused Global Warming.
* Fixed bug allowing humans to drill for oil.
* Humans will be required to use sustainable energy in next patch.
* Fixed temperatures on both ice caps.
* Humans should now see proper sea levels.
**Coming in Patch 2.0.1**
* Added temperature stability.
* Starker differences between seasons.
* Increased ocean animal population.
**Universe 3.0 Teaser**
* New Interstellar Population!
* Communicate with, travel to, and interact with your new intergalactic neighbors!
* New planets.
* New resources!
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[ TT ] Writing Exercise : Start your story with , `` Get to the courtyard ! '' and continue writing without taking time to pause and think . Just keep writing even if at times you only produce gibberish .
| `` Get to the Courtyard!'' some random knight screamed at me.
`` Personally, I'd rather not. The courtyard is a disgusting place where peasants with no future sodomize each other,'' Another said.
*Something was definitely up today. Something strange. It was almost like that phrase triggered something. Something strange. It made us all thing something. Something strange. Why do I keep following my phrases with something, Something strange? It's making me angry. Angry about something... nope. screw this. I'm not gon na... s-s-so-so-sooooommmmm... I ca n't give in to this. I've got to break the cycle! I've got to figure out what was going on! Wait... I think I got it. When someone said `` get to the courtyard'', everyone began spouting gibberish... but they actually want to say something else! I've got to stop this! I've got to say it again! *
...
...
...
...
``... Personally, I think bulldogs are the sexiest creatures ever planted on God's green earth.''
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[ WP ] You 're a fortune teller with a magical orb that shows you the future of those you are reading . A young man walks into your shop and asks you to tell him his future . When you peer into the orb , you witness your own brutal murder .
| My heart skipped a beat when I realize that this man's future impacted me in such a way. He looks at me in his drunken stupor obviously baffled at my reaction. I stutter, trying to make something up.
`` Your... um... w-wife's having an affair!''
I realized my stupidity it trying to turn the flow of the universe. I knew he was about to reach over this table and strangle me. I watch him stumble up, still ridiculously drunk.
`` Whatever mate, its time to go check on her anyway. Nice day to ya''
With that he flicked a cigarette and was on his way out of my humble tent.
Baffled that my orb, one that has never been wrong before misinterpreted the flow of the universe I take a moment to think. Varied possibilities questioning my own perception came and went at random. The smell of smoke soon arrived. I layed there, deciding trying to change the course of the universe is pointless.
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[ WP ] Describe what the front page of WritingPrompts looks like one day after the apocalypse .
| [ EU ] Pokémon Go suddenly appears inside of the Pokémon world.
[ CW ] Two people have to communicate in double entendre.
[ WP ] You just had the strangest encounter with an old friend.
[ WP ] You discovered an old fable that said...
[ CW ] Write a story within the next thirty minutes.
[ OT ] Can we stop with all of the doomsday stuff?
[ CW ] Suddenly, everything goes back to normal.
[ WP ] The mods are asleep! Write whatever you want!
[ CW ] Describe your favorite memory from the past year.
[ OT ] What was your favorite writing prompt?
[ OT ] Everyone is overreacting.
[ WP ] LOL, the mods really are asleep.
Is reddit crashing for anyone else?
[ IP ] Volcano eruption
Only one other writer online...
[ WP ] What happens the day after the apocalypse?
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[ OT ] Theme Thursday - Noir
| *The bang of the bullet exiting the gun was hiding within the roar of the thunderous rain as the two men faced eachother in their final showdown. *
*Jimmy Rhethoric hit the ground clutching the bleeding hole in his gut, his gun hitting the pavement as the rain intensified in the background. *
*'' So... this is it, uh? Th' revenge... that, that you been thinkin' of?'' Jimmy splurted out as blood leaked from his wound*
*''...'' *
*''... heh.. Come on, lil' Zeke... Don' get col... cold feet now... Speak up...'' Jimmy goaded, stretching his bloodied lips into a smirk. *
*Zeke looked at him, his face unreadable, dropping his gun to the floor. *
*'' I... I thought killing you will bring me some peace. That maybe, maybe I get to put my family at rest...'' He began, gazing towards the darkened clouds above the city. *
*''... and now that you're on death's door. It's not peace I feel. It's anger... It's hate... You took everything from me... EVERYTHING! AND THEN YOU'LL JUST DIE AND I'LL STILL BE ALO-'' *
*The gunshot rang out as Zeke's body jerked backwards and fell to the ground with a dull thud. A lightning strike and a thunder after, the rain eased off a little. *
*Jimmy managed to get back onto his feet and light a Cig midst the rain. Taking a long pull, he exhaled and sighed, looking at Zeke's lifeless body on the ground. *
*''... Ai n't life a bitch, Lil' Zeke?... Sorry but th' world don' work right fo''talkers'... You got ta' to'do' first...'' *
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I usually do n't write prompts but I do hope you enjoy this: )
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[ WP ] 5000 years ago a cataclysm rendered the earth inhabitable . Today the descendants of those who escaped on The Ark will set foot on their homeworld for the first time .
| The planet Earth has changed a lot recently, 23 years ago- almost to the day, the storms on the surface ended. The same storms that had been raging for roughly five thousand years, a few weeks passed whilst the cloud formations disintegrated, and then we got our first clear view of our home.
I was five years old at the time and entertained mostly by the colours, the beautiful blue and green were like nothing on the Ark. We had water- sure, but not pools large enough to give that blue colour. We had plants too, but the conditions were far from optimal and made the plants a dirty green rather than lush. I wanted to see it closer- touch it- feel it.
That was probably when I decided to join the recruitment for the first journey. The first journey was- as the name implies, the first expedition back down to the planet. A lot of people wanted to go back down as soon as the storms ended, there were protests- riots even. People wanted the Ark to head straight back down- Idiots.
23 years may have been a long time to wait, but it was important... We were the last humans after all- if we landed and something went wrong? We could n't risk it. Years of geological scans, and low atmosphere scouting gave us the perfect landing spot. Minimal damage to local Environment, enough space to develop a community, plenty of food- water- and importantly a lot of natural protection taking the form of Cataclysm-formed mountain ranges, and deep trenches filled with the darkest blue water.
Of course something as large as the Ark could n't simply just land though... No- that was where the first journey came into the picture. We were the first guys to go planetside- and live permenantly in over seven generations. Our objective was to build the dock, it'd be a long job- probably another five or six years even, but the dock would provide us with amuch needed start- as well as mapping out local geography much more clearly, learning about plants, animals. The reality of the situation is that we were going in blind- this `` safe-zone'' as the Corps had nicknamed it could very easily become a deathtrap. The problem with the safezone was that because of it's location once we went in, our shuttle would n't be able to make it out.
Part of the problem with the planet was the storms- even now 23 years after the main storm ended smaller cells continued to rotate... The mountain ranges protected the area from the storms still raging- not quite powerful enough to make it over the high peaks though.
Even in the atmosphere above there was a vicious wind that constantly blew... It would tear a outgoing ship to pieces, only a craft as large as the Ark would be able to survive it- and the Ark needed a Dock in order to preform a take off.
So that was the mission, go down, face possible death, build a super structure, all in less than six years- and I was damn excited.
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[ WP ] A man is reincarnated as the son of his murderer .
| `` Moooommmy!!! Mooommmyy!!!'' I screamed'til my throat went dry, tears steaming down my face.
She ran into the bedroom. Older than I remembered her, and tired. She sat down on the bed, bent down to scoop up my Iron Man bedspread which I had kicked to the floor by my thrashing and tucked me back in. It was the same dream. A man with a gun, laughing. Gesturing to her. She looked so frightened. Mocking me. I lunged for his gun arm; then a loud BANG. Piercing ringing in my ears and a slow fade into darkness.
`` Tell, me about my Daddy.'' I ventured.
`` Not now, sweetie'' She said and lightly kissed my forehead. `` Just know that you're a good boy. You're not him.''
`` No.'' I thought,'' I'm not him.''
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[ WP ] In the afterlife there are support groups based on cause of death . When you arrive you discover you are the first member of your own support group .
| `` You have got to be fucking kidding me!'' I couldnt believe it. My death was truly the first death of its kind. Sure, it was something special, but to be the first? For crying out loud. People dying from a dropping fridge? They had a group. Falling piano? Had a group. Choking on a chicken? They had groups for every fucking part of a chicking you can choke on. Wing group, leg group, breat group,... Getting killed by a falling quarter that was tossed off a building? They had a group. Literally every joke scenario you could think off about people dying from extremely bizarre reasons had a group. Except mine.
`` Am I seriously the first person to be bludgeoned to death by a purple dildo?''
`` Yep, I'm sorry,'' the angel barely could contain his laughter. `` But feel free to sit in with the group for people clubbed to death by a yellow, red or blue dildo!'' he bursted out into laughter.
Eternity was going to be a lot longer than I expected...
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[ WP ] Roses are red , violets are blue - write me a romance about books overdue .
| `` Is one back in yet?''
The young man asked, light in his eyes.
`` Let me go check.'' the librarian responded.
She knew that his book had n't come back yet. He had come in every day for two weeks looking for a copy of the Doors of Stone. Unfortunately, none of our copies have yet to be returned, despite all of them being long overdue.
`` I'm sorry sweetie,'' she began gently, `` it does n't look like that book has been returned yet.''
The boy was crestfallen.
`` But,'' he thought to himself, `` I have waited this long, what is another day?''
So the young man returned to the library the next day.
It was the same librarian at the desk.
`` Still nothing, I'm afraid'' she said before he even had a chance to ask. And then she saw it.
A gleam in his eye that twinkled out. The curve of his lips as his smile faded. How his shoulders slumped.
She saw the boy then. She really *saw* him.
And then how he set himself.
His eyes reignited. His lips curved up, if not so far as before. And his shoulders were straight and firm.
She saw the young man then. And all she knew was that she needed his passion and patience.
The next day the young man returned.
`` I do n't suppose it's come back yet?'' he asked hopefully.
The librarian hid a smile, and reluctantly informed him that, no, the book he was searching for was not currently in the library.
`` What is so special about this book? What is its story?'' she asked.
`` It is about a king and his killer. It is about demons and angels. It is about an inn and its keeper. But most of all, it is about stories.''
`` A story about stories?'' she asked
`` Yes. A story about stories.''
Now when the young man came to visit, he would spend the day visiting with his new bookish friend.
It was so nice to talk to someone as interested as he was in things that do n't exist. It got to where he would only ask once or twice a week for his book. And then even less than that.
So long did this continue, that the boy had all but forgotten `` The Doors of Stone'' and the young man had lost his passion for it.
Still he came to the library and talked to the librarian. They continued to talk on the nature of stories, and other less philosophical topics.
One particular day, the young man lost track of time and stayed until the library closed; his attention firmly held by the supposition his friend put forth of multiple universes.
But now it was time to go.
As they were beginning to part ways, she spoke to him, recalling things nearly lost to time.
`` You know, I really do hope you find your story.'' she said
The young man paused.
The boy stirred a little bit. Remembering.
And then he heard her. He really *heard* her.
`` I believe I have.'' he said, and gently took her hand in his. `` I believe I have.''
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[ WP ] Your new Guardian angel falls in love with you , and puts your life in danger just to impress you by saving you .
| `` Hey, can I ask you a question?'' Cile said to the angel.
`` What is it?'' Selaphiel answered.
`` You became my guardian angel last week right?''
`` Yes, by my own request.''
`` Why is it that after I got a guardian angel, my life has been in much more danger?''
`` Well, the reason you were assigned a guardian angel, was that it was predicted you're life would soon be in danger.''
`` Well, I understand that, but does n't it seem like it's a bit too much? The day you became my guardian angel, Monday, I was almost killed by a truck. Then, on Tuesday a plane chrashed into the school, and I was only saved because you dragged me outside. On Wednesday, someone tried to rob the bank while I was there. Thursday, someone breaks into my house and kills everyone except me, Friday, someone decides to shoot up the funeral to the people who died in the funeral, Saturday, riot police blocks all access in and out of the city, and yesterday, Sunday, a nuke is dropped on the area, and thanks to you I'm the only survivor.''
`` The truck and the riot police was n't my fault,'' Seraphiel muttered.
`` Sorry?''
`` Oh, nothing.''
`` I just feel that everything that goes bad recently is centered around me, like I'm being targeted.''
`` Wierd, huh. At least you have me to protect you.''
`` But considering that everyone I know is dead, why am I so calm?!''
`` Oh, as your guardian angel I also protect your sanity.''
`` W-wait. Are you saying that the reason I feel nothing over my friends' and family's death is *you*?
`` Yes, but do n't worry. To fill the void of their deaths, I will give you all my love.''
`` W-wait. Do you love me?''
`` What other reason could I have for making sure I could save you?''
`` Are you saying *you* orchastrated the all these deaths?''
`` Oops, did n't mean to tell you, but cat's out of the bag, I guess. However, me protecting your sanity will make sure you ca n't be angry at me~.''
`` Maybe not, but I think we should split up. That's a calm desicion, so you should n't be able to do anything about it.''
`` Ooh, very clever. It was your wits that made me love you in the first place. However, I disagree. I think we should do the opposite. We should become one being.''
`` You want to have sex?''
`` Oh no no no. I want something more direct. I want to *eat you alive*.''
Cile felt a sensation on his shoulder. It was Seraphiels hand holding it tight so he could n't escape.
As Seraphiel moved closer, Cile calmly asserted that the end was near.
*****
Yay, a yandere story. I do like this type of character, so I thought this was as good a chance as any to practice writing them. As per usual, feel free to leave give feedback, and check out /r/shal5sucksatwriting for my other stories.
P.S. Did this story need to be it's own because of NSFW? I thought it was okay since it was just a passing mention of it, but tell me and I'll know what to do later.
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[ WP ] Your cat wo n't stop meowing at you . After an hour you 've had enough . You yell to the cat that you will do anything they ask if they say it in English . `` Deal '' responds the cat .
| Wham! I woke up with a start as my dreams float away like a puff of smoke. I open my eyes and two yellow-green orbs stare back at me - paw raised ready for a second strike. As I started to bring my hand up to shove the cat away, she bolts with the realization of what is about to happen. This is n't her first rodeo. She's all too familiar with what happens when she wakes me up with a smack to the face and she does n't want a repeat performance this morning. There's no sense trying to go back to sleep now, so I roll over and out of bed. After the my morning pee, I pulled open the bathroom door to find the cat waiting for me, and that's when the meowing began.
The meowing was never ending. She followed me from the bathroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. I filled the electric kettle and switched it on. She kept meowing. I filled the grinder with coffee beans. She kept meowing. The sound of beans grinding filled my ears, but she kept meowing. My mug, sitting idly on the arm of the Adirondack chair, filled with delicious coffee as I surveyed the view of west Austin from my balcony... and she kept meowing.
Incessant did not even begin to describe it; The meowing was endless. She was a small cat, but somehow her squeaker had managed to rage on continuously for over an hour. Finally, I had had enough. I turned to her and yelled, `` Lizzy! I will do anything you ask of me, but I do n't speak cat, so you're going to have to say it in plain, old fashioned, English! Do you think you could do that for me?!'' To my utter surprise, she finally stopped meowing, raised her head to me and said in clear English: `` Deal.''
I was completely awestruck. For a moment, I seriously considered that maybe I had finally lost my mind. She must have sensed my thoughts when I did n't respond, because Lizzy took the initiative and told me what it would take to buy her silence. My mind was racing. Lizzy had been my pet for 6 years, and this was the first time she was speaking. Clearly she had been saving this for just such an occasion and now I was going to eat my words.
`` Wet food. For every meal.''
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[ WP ] A man on his deathbed is given the ability to go back to the past and appear to himself in order to influence decisions he regrets
| A flash of light, and a younger version of myself lay in front of me. Death had come to me and given me the chance to go back and change the one thing I regretted the most. And so here I was, looking down on the other me, lying on my bed with a bottle of pills in my hand.
`` You do n't want to do that,'' I said softly.
A desperate face turned towards me in shock, eyes widening as I recognized myself.
`` What - How are you here?''
`` Death. It granted me the chance to come back and change my biggest regret, and here I am.''
The man sighed, utterly defeated.
`` So I take it I failed, then. I did n't really think it would work… pills are n't that reliable. But they were here, and so…''
`` I know. I remember. The overwhelming sadness, the physical pain of it crushing my chest… I remember what came next, too. The semi-catatonic state over the next few days as my brain barely kept conscious. Having to plead ignorance when the pharmacy wanted to know how I'd managed to run out of meds so quickly. Wondering, for the rest of my life, whether or not I'd see that darkness again, and wondering if I'd make the same choice. Believe me, you do n't want to take those pills.''
With a sigh of resignation, the younger me put the bottle down.
`` So tell me - what do I do with my life? You seem to be more or less in one piece, so I'm guessing there were no more determined attempts to end it.''
`` No, there were no more attempts'', I replied. `` It took a while, but I worked at improving things… I went back to school and got a good job, I finally managed to quit smoking and get back in shape… I actually took to hiking mountains, if you can believe it. I traveled, met some wonderful people, learned a lot of things… I even played the bagpipes, in a kilt, at a friends wedding. I did a lot of amazing, interesting things in my time.'' I smiled at some of the memories.
He sat there, nodding thoughtfully.
`` Sounds like you filled your time quite a bit… it sounds like you pursued a lot of distractions.''
It was my turn to sigh. `` Yeah, I did.''
`` I never managed to overcome my demons, did I?''
`` No, you never did, not for any meaningful length of time. You did everything you could, you never gave up… you chased anything that might have helped. But that one thing, *that small, fucking, bullshit thing!! * You knew what you needed, but try as you might, you were never able to figure out a solution to it.''
He teared up a bit, and stared at the ground. `` Why - how can a person feel so alone? I have friends, I have family… I know they're there for me. So why am I so alone?''
I stayed silent… I had never been able to figure it out.
`` On the whole - is it worth it? Everything I do, everyone I meet - is it worth it?''
I paused, thinking hard. `` No. Not really. As you said, I chased the distractions because the solution was out of reach. At the end of it all, you never find peace. And the older you get, the worse it becomes… you feel the loneliness more and more. You keep going for only two reasons: You hold the hope of something better, and you do n't know what else to do. And so here I am, telling you there really is n't anything better, and I'm going to tell you what to do.''
He nodded again, calmly. `` So, what do I do?''
`` Go to O'Brien's Tower. If the jump does n't do it, you'll be in no shape to keep from drowning. It'll be over fast enough.''
He got up, grabbed his keys, and left. I slowly sat on the empty bed, sadly thinking about how not finding a better method of suicide was my biggest regret.
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[ WP ] He climbed the mountain to die .
| Forty-some years ago my Grandpa climbed,
On a hill in the woods, an earth bound bun.
Neglecting work again, my Grandma chimed,
But Grandpa, he climbed the hill just for fun.
Twenty-some years ago my Grandpa scaled,
On mount Everest, land's mightiest hill.
Following great men's path he calmly trailed,
But Grandpa, he climbed the hill for a thrill.
Just last year my grandpa got really sick,
On the mound of his long colorful life.
Sons and grandsons, all in a house of brick,
But Grandpa, he climbed away out of strife.
Now the hill in the woods is far too high.
But Grandpa, he climbed the mountain to die.
EDIT: I need to remember reddit formatting for poems...
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[ WP ] What does a traffic light think about as it watches the cars drive past ?
| It is n't terribly exciting being in the same spot everyday. I will admit to sometimes getting jealous of those dang headlight, going all over the city, meeting new lights, getting washed all the time... But when I sit here in my corner I do get to see a lot of different people's lives and watch them grow instead of focusing on just one person's. And I think that's kinda neat too.
There's little Susie going home from school again today. I swear she gets taller everyday! So cute, I just lover her adorable demanor. Bye susie! I'll see you tomorrow on your way to school.
And there goes Mrs. Cantu. Carrying her parasol while she walks to pick up Jose from 1st grade. I think I'll let her go before I turn green again. I've always liked her. She's just so lady like.
Oh there goes Tommy and Erica. I swear kids these days are just trying to grow up so fast. Already calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Learn to read first you dimwits! Susie knew how to read a year before you two! Oh shit that driver over there is texting. Aaaand he's not stopping. Dude there's speed limits for a reason wft? I swear I need one of those speed cameras like my cousin 3 blocks down has. Okay Tommy and Erica you two will just have to wait for this asshole to cross first.
Well he's gone now. Awesome. Okay Tommy and Erica you two can cross now. Yeah maybe I do n't get washed everyday but I'm quite happy right here in my corner.
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[ WP ] No time may pass in the story . No flashbacks either . The entire story must take place in one single instant .
| A bored teen dropped a quarter from the fifth floor of his apartment.
The man who looked behind him to check the noise behind him spilled his cup of water onto the woman in front of him in the same moment.
On the other side of the street, a boy spying on people on the sidewalk saw the incident happen and heard the yell of the woman.
The yell of the woman covered the sound of the slap his father delivered to the boy's mom.
She was glad that her son was n't there to see because she knew how good of a man her husband could be when he was n't drunk.
The father felt a pang of regret as he heard a yell. He promised to control his anger from now on.
The man on the street had no idea he was about to meet the love of his life.
The teen in the apartment building was relieved that no one was hurt as he heard the sharp noise of the quarter as it hit the cement.
And the boy was happy since the woman was n't wearing a bra.
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[ WP ] You 're a package delivery driver on your last delivery for the day before the holidays . Your last package is big and feels empty . You shake it and hear nothing but giggling and whispers inside . Curiosity strikes and you open the package .
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Adam was close to his first early finish on Christmas eve for the first time since Emily was born, he wasn ’ t long off the phone with Mary, his wife of 9 years. He had let her in on the good news, that it was only 2pm and he was already on his home straight, his last 5 packages. She was delighted of course but barely managed to get a word in over Emily who was eavesdropping on the conversation and decided to begin the celebrations early. To be fair to Emily her excitement hadn ’ t ramped up all that much from her default 5-year-old holiday ecstasy. Adam had worked as a delivery driver for close to 15 years now and had it down to something of a fine art, his last 5 drops of the day where all on 5th Avenue followed by a quick trip down 3rd back to the depot and then Christmas could begin.
Adam loved it when his day wound down enough that he could start counting the packages and not the hours, especially when he hit his last 5, it was sort of his favourite number if such a thing didn ’ t feel to childish for a 38 year old guy from Brooklyn. He pulled up to his first drop on 5th and whistled his way cheerily to the back of the truck, he swung open the doors and hopped inside in one swift if graceless leap. Usually on the colder days he would need to unhook the short ladder thanks to the early on set arthritis in his left knee, but not today. Today was a good day.
He was barely two steps inside the truck when he stopped dead. An uneasy sense of anxiety seeped over him and the air went cold. It took him a long time to realise what he was looking at but when he did it chilled his blood. There was a 6th package there, but how could there be 6? An innocent mistake he supposed, but why did he feel so on edge about it? He must have just counted them wrong, that all it could happen to the best of us. But still, it was so large and unusually shaped, almost 5 feet tall and maybe a couple wide and the shape was a hell of a distinctive one, it looked remarkable like, well like something he didn ’ t want to admit to himself. Wrapped up in green and red Christmas paper it wasn ’ t something he thought he would miss. He stood frozen for what felt like far too long. A short smile appeared on his face and soon made its way into laughter. What ’ s wrong with you Adam? You can ’ t count to 6, big deal, let ’ s get on with it and get home for Christmas. His own sound advice was all he needed to brush off the uneasy feeling. He strode confidently up to the 6th package to check the delivery address. Thank God he thought, the address was only a block past the depot, down near the docks. If it had been back across the Queensboro he would have been devastated.
He made his way down 5th, finishing up the rest of his delivery ’ s, but something had changed, that parcel in the back was making him uneasy it had certainly knocked his festive cheer. He felt silly, he really did and he probably wouldn ’ t admit this to anyone, but every time he went in the back to grab another package, he just couldn ’ t turn his back on it. As if it would lunge at him, pounce, pin him down and leave him trapped in the back of the truck until sometime after Christmas. He had heard stories of such things happening in warehouses, but never in a truck and certainly not with any kind of intention. He made his way down past the depot and drove for another 20 minutes or so until he found himself lost in a maze of shipping containers and cranes down at the docks. A few more minutes and he finally found the address, tucked away in the corner of the yard. Surely this wasn ’ t right he thought, the building looked abandoned, and not recently either. It was an old crane control house, or so he assumed. It was getting dark and the clouds overhead weren ’ t doing him any favours, some heavy snow fall was looking likely. There was nothing for it, he would simply take the package out and prop it up by the door and get the hell out of there before any weird shit happened.
He made his way into the back of the truck, using the ladder for the first time today, his knee seemed to be playing up, he had an overwhelming sense of unease which seemed to emphasize the grinding of his cartilage giving it the feel of broken glass. As he stepped towards the package, he stopped once more unable to deny his ill thoughts any longer. It was clearly a fucking coffin. It was a short coffin, the kind you… well… the kind you bury a child in wrapped in distastefully cheery Christmas paper. Once more he shook it off and made his way to the package, trying to figure out how to best carry it although honestly the thought of touching the dammed thing was worse than looking at it.
“ And Waht Wuold You Lkie for Chistmras, HeHeHeHe ”
Adam almost lost his mind, he was sure he had just heard noises coming from the package, not only noises but words, he was sure he had heard words coming from the short coffin. Against his greatest instinct he took a few steps closer and listened carefully.
“ A Kinfe? For Chistmras? Why Waht a Wofnduerll Ieda! HeHeHeHe ”
Adams eyes were locked to the package and his jaw hung open barely able to take breath let alone speak. He finally manage to let out a week and shallow ‘ Hello ’.
The Package fell silent.
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[ WP ] As a reddit user , you 'd heard of people getting banned , but you 'd never witnessed it firsthand . Through a misunderstanding ( or maybe you deserved it ) , you get the banhammer . Moments later , you hear a knock at your door ...
| `` Who could that be?'' the poor man thought. `` It's four in the morning.'' Slowly, beginning to feel the hour, the man labored out of his cushy computer chair and walked into the living room of his cramped apartment. The room was cold and dark. It was flooded with records, old computer equipment, bowls, cups, plasticware, and clothing. `` Jesus, I should really clean this dump'' he admitted bitterly as he tripped through a pile of primarily boxers and ramen wrappers. The knocking continued. `` I... I'm coming...'' the man replied against his better judgement. He squinted his eyes and began to undo the locks on his front door. As he undid the last one he slowly opened the door. There stood a very tall slender woman wearing a trench coat, high heels, and a grimace. `` Mr. James Peabody?'' she asked curtly. `` Uh... y.. yes. That's he. I mean, that's my name.'' The woman looked him up and down quickly. `` Mr. Peabody, would you mind putting on pants before I come in.'' `` Oh... um right. Yes. I'll do that.'' stuttered Peabody and he scurried off to his bedroom. He grabbed the first pair of pants he saw in the dark. They were very thin sweatpants stained with what appeared to be week old ramen and mysterious yellow substance. In his hurry to reenter the living room and invite the mysterious woman into his apartment he tripped while attempting to break the world record for putting on sweatpants two legs at a time. When he had finally righted himself and found he was somewhat shabbily clothed he reopened the door, half expecting the woman to no longer be there. As soon as the door was opened the woman strode in. `` Is there any place for me to sit?'' she queried regarding the state of Peabody's shabby apartment. `` Oh... just let me... um. Here.'' He said as he removed a pile of records from a very old armchair. She sat down promptly and continued to grimace at Peabody. He began to shuffle nervously. This was possibly the first time a woman had been in his apartment in quite some time. `` Mr. Peabody would you please take a seat somewhere? Your standing there is very uncomfortable.'' He quickly fell onto the overstuffed bean bag in the corner of the room and immediately sank into the middle of it. It took him several seconds of struggling to recover from being eaten by the bean bag. The woman looked more and more sour as the time passed, as if his apartment was insulting her mother or calling her a hussy. `` Mr. Peabody I have been sent here to make you aware of certain egregious rule breaking that was taken this morning at 3:35 and the resulting action that will be served.'' `` At 3:35? What are you talking about?'' Peabody asked nervously. He was not particularly excited to hear what she was referring to. `` Mr. Peabody, at 3:21 this morning you posted a link on Reddit.com'the front page of the internet ( registered trademark )''' `` What? Is that what this is about?'' `` You posted a link in r/catsstandingup titled'My cat is a weirdo.' Do you deny these claims?'' `` Um... no.'' Peabody responded. `` Mr. Peabody'' said the woman removing her trench coat, revealing a very low cut red dress,'' r/catsstandingup is a subreddit dedicated entirely to cats in a certain pose and as such has certain restrictions to the type of content that can be posted.'' `` What do you mean? I posted a picture of my cat standing up and being a weirdo.'' Peabody stated defensively, somewhat distracted by the woman's sudden appearance. `` The problem that arises is not from the content but rather the presentation.'' the woman snapped. `` Your post was not in accordance with the restrictions that the subreddit has set forth and as such you, Mr. Peabody, you are henceforth banned from Reddit'the front page of the internet ( registered trademark )' until a time at which the community is willing to ingratiate you back into it's ranks.'' Her words hit Peabody like a pound of bacon. `` Banned!? For that?!'' Peabody cried out. Reddit was his home away from home. He reddited at the office, at his parents, on the toilet. Taking away reddit meant that he no longer had anything with which to entertain him. He might have to start doing work. he would have to talk to his parents. He would have to crap without looking at pictures of cats and debating in jokes with strangers. `` I... I do n't understand. Do n't I get a warning or something? Ca n't I get a probationary period?'' Peabody pleaded. The woman looked at Peabody remorselessly. `` May I remind you of the incident on on June 6th, 2012? You posted a comment on r/gonewild saying,'' My god you are beautiful. PM me for some conversation away from these uncivilized creatures.'' `` But... But...'' spluttered Peabody,'' But that was just trolling! I was making a joke about white knights and neckbeards! You ca n't take that seriously. It was just a joke!'' `` Mr. Peabody'' the woman said slowly,'' Trolling is a very weak argument right now. Your ban will be lifted in six months time. I suggest you find a hobby or a new website to'troll' on in the meantime.'' She stood to leave, grabbing her trench coat. Peabody sat in shock. He had never been banned before. His whole internet life was passing before his eyes. `` Please ma'am.'' Peabody quavered, tears welling up in his eyes,'' Is n't there anything I can do?'' The woman stood in his doorway and looked almost sympathetic. `` The narwhals bacon at midnight, Mr. Peabody.'' she murmured and closed his door.
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[ WP ] At age 15 you told the gf you were `` in love '' with that you 'd always be there when she was in need . Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality , whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side . Problem is , you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later
| `` Finally,'' Eric said under his breath. He looked at the clock. 4 a.m. His soon-to-be fiance is not yet awake. This is the day he had been preparing for all this time. He was going to propose to her at breakfast, their favorite time of the day. `` Time to get ready,'' he said with both excitement and fear.
He went to the kitchen, prepared waffles ( her favorite meal ), brewed some tea ( her favorite drink ), and waited'til the alarm rang. *Bzzzzzzzzt*. He hears her girlfriend of five years getting up from bed. He sprung into action, grabbed the boombox, and hit play as she opened the door.
Eighties-inspired `` Aquaman'' by Walk the Moon played. It's their theme song. He stands in front of her girl with the boombox held high, just like in a John Hughes film.
Eliza chuckled. `` What's all these?'' Eliza asked, cheeks warmly blushing. Eric lead her to their dining area. *This is it*, Eric thought. *This is finally it. *
`` My Elisium, Eliza, being with you has been the best five years of my life. I stand before you, with these waffles, this tea, and this boombox to ask you these five words:''
`` Oh my God. Oh my God...'' Eliza giggly said, clearly saccharine and excited.
`` Eliza --''
--
Meryl and John are at the altar. They had this dawn wedding planned to a T. Well, it was her soon-to-be mother-in-law's idea, plan, and budget. The priest was about to finish his wedding sermon. John was teary-eyed, having sobbed a bit after seeing her wife-to-be walking down the altar.
Meryl, on the other hand, felt like her world's ending. She's getting cold feet. She wants to get this over with, and at the same time she wants to get out of it. *I do n't know what to do. Am I really doing the right thing? * Meryl said in her thoughts.
`` If anyone is opposed to this marriage, you may speak now before it's too late,'' the priest said.
*Here goes nothing*, Meryl thought. `` Father, I --''
`` Will you marry me?'' Eric, in a wifebeater and Batman underpants, said with glee.
Penny in the air. Like the Spanish Inquisition, no one expected a man to suddenly appear in his most vulnerable asking a bride to marry him. Penny drops, and everyone is in uproar, all caught by the wedding videographer.
`` This is so gon na get viral!'' said the cameraman.
`` Yes,'' said Meryl without ado, to the horror of John, Eric and the whole church. She grabbed her high school beau of 3 weeks away and ran away from the church. Dazed and confused, John just fainted at the altar.
`` YOU SLIMY CU --'' John's mother roared amongst the panicking crowd.
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[ WP ] Magic requires calories . The world 's most powerful wizards must eat constantly .
| The wind pulled her hair in front of her eyes when she peeked out, and a turkey drumstick whacked her from behind. Cursing, she cleared her face and took one more look. Beneath the swirling ball of light and smoke that had once been Jason, the city formerly known as Los Angeles burned, flames whipped into maelstroms by the inward-sucking gale. Beyond the visual, she saw the tendrils of magic reaching out, farther and thicker than any she ’ d ever even seen. A flying sandwich made her duck, just in time to avoid a 12-pack of Twinkies. Satisfied that everything remained horrible, she crawled back to the ruins of the gas station. She ’ d left Patrick on some mats in the only part of the place still standing. He didn ’ t move as she ran up and her heart turned over. Then he turned his face and opened his eyes at her, bloodshot and bleary.
“ Lizzy -- ” he muttered.
“ It ’ s all right, we ’ re safe for now. ” She knelt and inspected the wound in his stomach. It didn ’ t take long to come to a conclusion. “ I ’ ve got to get you out of here. ”
He moved his head and closed his eyes. When they opened again he seemed more focused. “ How bad is it out there? ”
“ If we can get to -- ”
“ How bad, Elizabeth. ”
She sighed. Even with all that had happened, she still reacted like his student. “ Jason is drawing in more and more food, from -- I don ’ t know how far. I think I saw a milk tanker fly past. It ’ s too late, he ’ s already unstoppable. ”
Patrick licked his lips with a bloody tongue. “ It ’ s not stable. The spell wasn ’ t complete. Jason won ’ t be able to handle it and the vortex will become self-sustaining. All edible food on the planet will be drawn in. The human race will starve. The stupid little -- ” He shifted as if to sit up, but spasmed in pain and collapsed back, coughing.
“ Don ’ t move! Dammit -- ” She leaned back against a wall. “ I don ’ t have enough calories to cast a spell any bigger than -- We can ’ t do anything, Patrick! I know you blame yourself but you can ’ t do anything more. If we get out of here, get you patched up, maybe some of the others -- ” She stopped, shaking her head. She ’ d started crying without realizing it. He raised his hand slowly, put it on her knee.
“ There are no others, ” he whispered. “ It has to be you. You have to cast the dispell. ”
“ With what? ” she shouted. Outside, the howl of the wind had grown to a scream, and behind it she thought she heard laughed. Her head fell to her chest. “ This is all a joke. His stupid joke. He doesn ’ t care who he kills, even if he kills himself. ”
His hand pulled on her knee. “ My bag. Open my bag. ” Before he ’ d passed out, before she ’ d dragged him here, he ’ d insisted that she bring his bag with her. It had not been convenient, but she had done it. Now she sighed again, wiped her face and reached for the bag. She half expected it to contain energy bars or whey powder, and half expected it to all come flying out into her face when she opened the bag, sucked towards Jason ’ s all-consuming whirlpool of power. But the bag only contained a long leather roll, done up with clasps. His cutlery roll.
“ Open it, ” he urged, his voice strained. “ Open it all the way. ”
All wizards had once had their own cutlery sets as a kind of badge of office, and they refused to eat with anything else. Especially elaborate sets were passed down through generations, made of gold and encrusted with gems, etched out in runes and mystical diagrams. It was all pointless show and had fallen out of fashion decades before. When she ’ d arrived at college, Patrick -- Professor Alland -- had been the only wizard any of them had ever seen who had and used his own cutlery set. He kept them in this chef ’ s roll and unpacked them with a flourish at the start of every lecture, using the long forks and knives to consume steak and pasta and elaborate salads, when other professors were content to eat candy bars to make up their calories. Some of his students made jokes about it. He wasn ’ t even that old, and it made him seem like kind of a poseur. Ridiculously, by her Sophomore year the things had come back into fashion. First everyone was wearing vintage robes and thick-rimmed glasses and then everyone had to have their own cutlery. She visited her grandparents that summer and raided their attic, and then she had her own cutlery set as well. She ’ d swaggered into Patrick ’ s lectures and unrolled it with a flourish -- she ’ d even copied his method of carrying them. He ’ d nodded to her. She ’ d nodded back. Later, much later, she ’ d reminded him of this moment, half laughing and half nervous. They were sleeping together for the first time and she wanted him to know, however obliquely, what it meant to her.
“ Oh yes, I remember that. ” He ran a finger slowly around her nipple, making her shiver. “ I thought, I guess she ’ s one of the cool kids. I should probably learn her name. ”
She batted his face and called him bad things while he laughed, and then he replaced his finger with his mouth. And now he reached out feebly to the roll, his eyes bright with fever and pain. “ Open it, ” he moaned. “ Hurry, there ’ s not much time. ”
She unfastened the clasps and opened the roll, past the dozens of forks and spoons, the knives for all purposes, past utensils for foods that had no name in English. At the end, the very last thing in the roll, was a long thin saw, its blade entirely unadorned and its teeth razor sharp.
She whispered, “ Oh no. Oh no. ”
“ I once did magic with a shaman in New Orleans, ” he breathed. His eyes had lost focus and gone far away. “ We ate turtle soup, shrimp and corn maque choux, drum fish blackened in an iron skillet, a crawfish etouffee that was so good I cried, and we finished with two dozen fresh oysters each. And all the time we argued, oh God we argued. He told me that all flesh was one, that murder was suicide and that the sun was the source of all magic. I called him a superstitious fool. Magic was nothing but calories that our brain burned. Food in, magic out, as simple as that. I didn ’ t know anything then, God I was so young. I was so young. ” He paused, and she hoped he was done. If he was delirious, then she could pretend that he wasn ’ t asking her to do what he was asking her to do. But then he went on. “ When we had done our work, he gave me this saw, and he told me what it was for. ” His eyes, unseeing, sought for her. “ Lizzy? Where --? ”
“ I ’ m here, Patrick. It ’ s okay. ”
He drew breath, shallow and pained. “ You know what it ’ s for too, because I taught you. I was supposed to be your teacher, but I fucked it up. I fucked up Jason. I fucked it all up and it ’ s come to this. But I can do one last thing. Make it right. ”
She looked at the knife. “ I can ’ t. You idiot. You ’ re such an idiot. ” But he couldn ’ t hear her over the storm outside. He couldn ’ t hear anything now.
“ All the magic is in the brain, ” he said to himself and to eternity, which felt very close. “ The ancient mages ate the bodies of their foes, and it gave them power. Only later did we learn we didn ’ t need it. We forgot where it came from. Lizzy, I don ’ t know where you are. If you can hear me, you can. Save the world. You. Can. Lizzy, can you hear me? Lizzy, I -- I always -- ”
He was gone. She sat and stared at his body for a long time, while outside the sky cracked and the earth shook, and a tornado of pizzas passed nearby. The saw was in her hand. She reached out and closed his eyes, and then gripped tightly to hold his head in place. She placed the blade on his temple, and began to cut.
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[ WP ] The past couple weeks you keep having the same dream : You 're lying on a metal table and a light is in your face . A dark silhouette stands above you and you hear `` He is n't ready . Send him back . '' and then you wake up . One day , he says `` He 's ready . Pull him out . ''
| Waking up naked on a cold metal table whit a bright light illuminating his every fibre, all he could think was... nothing. `` Where am I, who are you, what do...''. His line of panicked questions were cut short when one of the silhouettes, with a mixture of fear and hope in her voice, turned to Marc and asked'The artefact, where is it?'
With the press of a button the lamp was turned off, and Marc's eyes could slowly begin to make out the shape of not one, but three people standing around him. All three looking weary, with exhaustion ever present in their eyes. The sound of a not so distant boom made them look at the door in the other end of the small run down room they were in. Something was not right about this.
`` Sir, he has suffered from a short term memory loss'' a voice said gesturing to Marc, still laying on the cold table.'Its no good, we'll have to try again'' the female silhouette, who in the lack of the bright lamp was starting to take on the shape of a uniformed medic, said in a cold, almost fearful voice.
`` There is no time, this is our only chance. He'll have to make do'' The man who was clearly in charge said with a commanding voice.
Marc was helped off the table, and yet all he could think of was the nightmares he had. With the tables... Wait, is this still a dream? Marc's line of thought were quickly interrupted when a loud explosion blew open the door, flinging one soldier across the room. Another soldier were knocked to the ground and did not make a sound, nor move.
The commander gave Marc a uniform, complete with some sort of weapon `` You still remember how to use this, right?'' The commander smiled at Marc's confused expression when he put his clothes on. Marc picked up the bottle - sized weapon and, as if by instinct, knew there would be a stinging sensation when the weapon connected to his implants in his arm.
His helmet made the same sting, when a red overlay appeared in Marc's left eye filled with weapon status, health, and GPS coordinates.
Marc was surprised, almost shocked. Not that this was happening, but that he knew to expect it. He turned with a quirk in his mouth to the commander, `` I know where the artefact is located Sir, This way''.
He put his weapon into combat mode, activated thermal sighting mode on the helmet, stepped over the dead bodies on the floor and moved out the door with a confidence that by now had infected everyone around him as they made their final stand against the uprising of the squirrels
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[ WP ] Hitler speaking with his innermost circle on his deathbed in 1939 . `` Few will love us , most will hate us . But none can know the true purpose of our actions . ''
| He was just a boy. No more than twenty years old. His lover had been killed in the fall of Poland. He had been hired to serve drinks. A simple task. Through a miraculous turn of fate, he had a minute alone with the fuhrer. It only took one shot.
He did n't know what he had expected. He expected the fuhrer to beg for mercy. He expected him to be full of anger, or grief, or.....or something. Instead, he remained perfectly calm as he fell to the floor. After a minute, he opened his mouth.
`` You misunderstand me.''
With an air of perfect, unbreakable serenity, he gestured at a book on his desk. It was bound in unbroken black leather. Gold letters running down the spine spelled out one word. `` Predictions''.
Silently, the boy opened it. As the ruler of Germany lies on the floor with a bullet in his chest, he read the first page. He read it again. And again. Finally, he spoke the first words he had spoken since he came into the room.
`` What in hell is this''
The bullet was finally taking it's toll on the fuhrer.
`` Calculations. The result of ten years work by the best scientist that this country has ever seen. It's a prediction. A prediction of history. A prediction of the rise and fall of nations over the next fifty years. A prediction of certain destruction. A prediction of the destruction of every form of life. And a plan to stop this destruction. Do you see what I have been trying to prevent? Any amount of suffering can be tolerated, must be tolerated, for the greater good. That is what I've been trying to convince myself of for the past two months.
I was not born Adolf Hitler. Two months ago, I was like you. Two months ago I broke in to this very office. Two months ago, I learned of all of this. Peel off my face. It is nothing but a mask. I wish you the best of luck. May the next man in this dammed succession find you soon.
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[ WP ] : It is discovered that religions are actually just fandoms of popular books that got out of control over time . Describe life under the church of ( your favorite book or movie ) in the future .
| I struggled into my tight fitting corsets, breathing heavily with the effort.Today was a special day in my religion, our `` drowning'' day, in which I would receive the symbol of the coming of age, I could n't wait.Once I had the symbol, I would be free to procreate in one of the special locations, a covered box on wheels.
I placed the enormous hat on my head, it was a pain to go through doors with it, and when you had several women all wearing the same thing in a room, it was difficult to see anything, but tradition demanded it.
I walked briskly to the church which was bobbing on the water, and made my way to the front altar.Spreading my arms like a bird in flight, I made a prayer that the day would go smoothly.
Not long after this, I saw the church leader coming towards me with his smart gold buttoned suit on, I knelt before him, and he placed the symbol, a blue bejewelled necklace, round my neck.As I stood up, my family were applauding and throwing chips of ice, and as they melted into my face, I knew I would never forget this day.
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[ WP ] Pranksters from various subreddits hack into President Obama 's teleprompter during the State of the Union Address . This , being Obama 's last year in office , just decides to go with it .
| A hush fell over the croud as president Barack Obama took the stage. Everyone looked, expectantly, waiting for the eloquently prepared speech the president surely was about to deliver.
He cleared his throat and spoke.
`` Hello, fellow american.''
Well that was odd. The first three words and he had already made a mistake. Everyone kept watching.
`` This, you should vote me. I leave power. Good. Thank you, Thank you.''
Okay, something was definitely wrong here. Was he having a stroke? The Black-suited men on either side of him began to get suspicious. They were eyeing the croud like 2 equally ravenous hawks looking for their next meal.
`` If you vote me, I'm hot. Taxes, they'll be lower... son.''
The Black-suits beside him were now visibly unnerved. Maybe he was trying to convey to them that he was in danger without causing suspicion? The crowd was going restless, and there was a palpable tension all throughout the room.
As more and more suits began to fill the stage, the president uttered one last sentence.
`` The democratic vote is the right thing to do, America, so do.''
And with that the suits swept him off the stage, trying to get him away from whatever unforseen danger was causing him to act to strangely.
As the lights go out and the croud begins to murmur, one final word is heard from offstage that sends the croud back into silence.
`` ^^^^EEEAAAGLEE ``
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[ WP ] Human beings have a timer attached to their wrist that says how long they have until they die . They can add to this timer by killing other humans .
| Bzz... Bzzz*
The buzzing of my watch awoke me from my sleep. Thank god it did, or I'd be in an eternal sleep. I had just over an hour to find myself some more time.
June 20th, 3012. 276 days since the watch.
My kill count was at 276, every kill gave me one more day to live. It did n't make sense, humans would eventually be the catalysts of our own demise. We were running out of people to kill.
I slotted on my black running shoes, threw on my black leather jacket and shoved my tuque on. I pulled out Daisy - my machete. I had an hour to find myself prey.
50 minutes remaining.
I made my way to the city, it had been unkept for some while, a family of deer moved in to the local super market. Grass grew from abandoned cars, the rusted buildings of this old metropolitan were hanging my their framework. My method of hunting was to stay low, and strike with vicious agility. It gives the victims barely any time to react. I walked around discreetly lurking for any signs of movement.
40 minutes remaining.
I spotted 3 potential targets, a mother, father and their young boy, my guess would be he was at least 12 years of age. This was perfect, 3 kills means 3 days added to my list. However I must'n underestimate my targets. Because I could ultimately be their prey.
30 minutes remaining.
I patiently waited for them to walk closer to me, the 12 year old seemed to have dispersed from the group, I'm not sure why. I got closer to the mother and father, who seem to have been divided - the father must of went chasing for his lost son. Perfect, this clueless woman had no idea what was coming for her. I approached with caution and pure stealth. I un-wrapped Daisy from my leather belt and took a sprint going right for her neck. The women turned around and gave out a cry for help right before Daisy pierced her esophagus rendering her helpless. She fell to the ground like an off balanced domino. My watch buzzed. I now had 24 hours and 25 minutes left to life. But I had a reckless father and son coming to her divine rescue. I tried to make it out of their before they arrived but they cornered me.
The son broke out in tears and cried on his mother's dead corpse. The father pulled out his revolver and pointed it straight at my temple. The father's hands were shaking, I took advantage I barrel rolled over to the son and quickly grabbed his neck and put Daisy up against it. It would be like slicing bread. The thought of not having to hunt for 3 days was exhilarating. The father dropped his revolver and prayed for his sons survival. I pretending to let go of the son, because I knew this father had a trick up his sleeve. As soon as I commenced an action of retreating the son, the father pulled out a second revolver and fired immediately striking his son in the shoulder. I held onto the boy as the father shot once more, this time the bullet went straight through his throat and partly through my bicep.
I fell to the floor. My watch began to buzz. My the veins in my bicep screaming in pain, as if they were being torn apart by wire cutters. The father ran to his boy screaming, pleading forgiveness. He was distracted by love, foolish man. Love gets you killed.
I reached for Daisy with my damaged arm and swap her to my other hand. I wind up behind my neck and lunch daisy. The velocity was immense. Daisy struck the man's neck, creating an incision that would only go half way through. The man fell as blood started to flow out of his neck, an ocean of blood. My watch did n't buzz, he was n't dead. I got up off the ground and made my way towards him, I took Daisy and sheathed her.
My watched buzzed moments later.
48 Hours remaining.
I took one last look at the women. She was wearing the same necklace I had once bought Daisy.
I ripped off the necklace, and walked home. Tears fell from my eyes as I looked at my machete. `` Oh how I miss you Daisy.''
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[ WP ] A male and female serial killer meet on a dating site , not knowing each other 's dark intentions to murder their date . It gets awkward once they realize what the other is really doing .
| > > > Kyle SUPER liked you < < <
K: Hey. So you ’ re a selective vegetarian, huh?
S: Hi. Yeah, I don ’ t believe in the structure of slaughter plants. I only eat meat from animals I know where they come from. Most of the time I kill what I eat.
K: So like some sexy redneck chick that hunts game?
S: Kind of. Do you hunt?
K: I ’ ve been once or twice. But I have other tastes.
S: Lol okay city boy. So where would you take me for a date?
K: How about my place? I ’ ll even cook you up some vegetables from the farmer ’ s market.
S: Now you ’ re just making fun of my choices to not kill innocent animals in dirty environments. I ’ ll bring the protein. How about this Friday?
Sara smiled as she set up a date with Kyle for this Friday. Diving into his Tinder profile and checking his not very active Facebook, it seemed he didn ’ t have many people to tell about a tinder hookup. It might be two or three days before anyone thinks he will be missing. She studied his pictures and though not incredibly lean, she wouldn ’ t have too many issues removing the fat around the choice selections. It had been awhile since she filled up her freezer. Plugging in her phone for the night, Sara rolled over to go to sleep. Dreams of Kyle ’ s demise looming happily in her thoughts.
Kyle leaned back in his chair thinking about Sara. Not many women came over on the first date, and especially not alone. How many double dates he had to awkwardly sit through to get the girl unaccompanied was more than he could count. He also got stuck with the uglier first date ones too. Sara looked beautiful in her pictures. She didn ’ t look too lonely either. How long would her friends think to report her missing? Girls always talk about these things and it ’ s been a few close calls with detectives. Sometimes only getting a day without a nosy chick calling to check up. Kyle never keeps the bodies. That would be stupid, but he would like to. He would at least like to keep them while they still have body heat for Christ ’ s sake.
“ So, Sara ” Kyle smiled over his shoulder as he chopped the ridiculous amounts of vegetables he bought. “ What did you bring for steak? ” Kyle hoped that it was anything but venison. He hadn ’ t tried rabbit yet though.
Sara set down her canvas bag and looked around his place. She wondered if draining his blood in the bathtub or over the sink would be the best option. Him being bigger, it would have to be in the tub but getting him there….
” It ’ s from a unique animal, and very fresh. I hope you like it. Do you exercise? ” Sara asked offhandedly.
“ I try to but I ’ m not the most tone guy, ” Kyle murmured more to himself. He always gets the girl on a date for being six foot but they always want tone and fit too. It angered him as he chopped the vegetables more sternly. She will not be someone he kept around.
“ Ouch! ” Kyle exclaimed as he sliced his finger.
Sara perked up at this and her eyes went towards his bleeding thumb. This was her opportunity! Bleeding him in the sink will have to do. Sara rushed towards him and grabbed his injured hand.
“ You ’ re going to have to rinse this in the sink right now, ” Sara exclaimed as she pulled Kyle towards the sink, picking up his cutting knife as he dropped it on the cutting board.
Her plan felt rushed, but she was eager and has been hungry for so long. “ Uh, ok, ” Kyle said stupidly. She didn ’ t fault him for his intelligence and his brain wasn ’ t what she was after. Sara flipped on the sink faucet and shoved his elbow forward into the water. She pushed his body closer to the edge of the sink and went to reach up with her left hand holding the knife. Aiming to cut his throat.
Kyle backed off instantly. “ What are you doing? ” He was confused but not frightened. This wasn ’ t his plan. This wasn ’ t how his prey normally acted. Was she trying to be cute and weird? His brow furrowed, feeling insulted even.
“ Just lean over the sink, ” Sara demanded as she looked at him holding the knife. Blood began to drip from his hand onto the tile floor and she didn ’ t want to sit around to baby him. She had a long night already: butchering, packaging, and cleaning up the mess.
“ Were you just trying to cut my throat?? ” Kyle squawked in his anger. He hated being angry and she was starting to make him very upset. “ Put down the knife! ” He wanted to hurry up and strangle her. Was she trying to hurt him? How dare she even think she could touch him like that. No one hurts him and isn ’ t punished for it.
Sara could see Kyle getting visibly upset which made her irritated. Release of the stress hormone epinephrine always tainted the meat and here he was getting red in the face. She would eat it anyway, but it just wasn ’ t the quality she spent so much time selecting. “ Just calm down Kyle. I was just putting the knife over on the counter beside you. Now come over here and stop bleeding on the floor please. ” Sara beckoned for Kyle to come closer to her and to the sink, but didn ’ t put down the knife and Kyle noticed that.
It was a reasonable answer he thought. He also wanted just wanted to hurry up and hurt her now like she hurt him. She was like the other girls. Innocent, ignorant, honest. Her throat would look good with his blood covering it as it was dripping from his thumb. Kyle gave a fake smile and stepped closer just as Sara reflected the fake smile back at him. They both stopped and stared: recognizing intention in the smiles they gave to each other.
“ You are really trying to kill me, ” Kyle said in shock. He could recognize the smile he practiced so hard to achieve. Sara ’ s face fell.
“ You want to kill me too. ” She knew that smile he just gave her. It wasn ’ t the smile with good intention. It was her smile. Their masks fell away as their intentions became known and understood between each other. “ Well this is great. ”
Sara put the knife down on the counter but never stopped facing him. He was a predator just like her and though he hunted for different reasons, their end goals were the same. She didn ’ t want to eat that. She knew the meat of a predator was even more tainted than she could stand. It would be like cooking and eating herself.
Kyle ’ s anger and pain disappeared into admiration. Here was this creature who completely understood him and his want in life, and even respected him. He wasn ’ t going to be her dinner and she wasn ’ t going to be his prey. She was much stronger than any girl he ’ s ever met. She was like him. He loved her.
“ I ’ m going to go. This was a waste of time, ” Sara shut off the sink faucet and walked past him to the table to collect her bag. “ You should get a bandage of something. ”
“ But Sara! Don ’ t leave me! You understand me! ” Kyle cried in desperation as he turned to follow her. He forgot about his bleeding hand. Sara was his life. She could never make him angry. She was him.
“ I ’ m not Sara. I ’ m not interested in whatever you had planned tonight either. Thanks for dinner Kyle but don ’ t talk to me again. ” Sara firmly retorted back and walked towards his front door. It wasn ’ t even locked, was he that dumb? Did he want to be caught? What if one of his girls got away? They would have no trouble running out the door screaming through the neighborhood.
“ And lock your stupid door next time you bring a girl over. ”
Sara walked out and shut the door behind her. She didn ’ t know how many times he killed someone or what he did afterwards, but the word amateur seemed to ring in her head. What a terrible night and a waste of time. She looked at her phone as she walked towards her car and got in. Opening up the Tinder App as she started the engine, she became more positive. Kyle was certainly not the only man who will be willing to meet up tonight as his place. Sara smiled, put down her phone and shifted her car into reverse, backing out of his driveway.
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[ RF ] A couple goes out for a picnic in the park and ends up getting caught in the rain .
| First time writing anything like this so be nice: )
Oh man, I've been waiting six weeks for this picnic and it starts raining? Since when does it rain in August anyways? Susan was clearly angred by the rain. This is the first time in six weeks that both her and Jason's day off wete the same day. She was desperate for a relaxing day at the park after the stressful couple of months she's had. She had spent all night preparing for the picnics and was like a little kid on the bus ride, she could n't wait to be sitting under the tree eating strawberry jam with her soul mate Jason.
`` Do n't worry sweetheart, it will probably stop in half an hour, now come on let's pack up and go for a walk so the food does n't get wet'' Susan, visibly upset, decided to go on with Jordan. The rain kept getting worse and worse, within half an hour, the few drops of rain has turned into the most vicious thunderstorm in Arkansas for 67 years. The couple's had no chance to walk back to the apartment like they orginally planned, an eighty minute walk in this weather is suicide said Susan.
They hurried for the bus station to catch the 7pm bus, but were five minutes late. They begged for the few people left to give them a ride or shelter but everyone was concerned with saving themselves. Jordan felt something hitting him on the back. He quickly turned around only to find that the wind threw a chair from the nearby cafe.
Jordan and Susan had no option but run back home, the street lightins has went off. Everybody has retracted to their cars. Running back was their only option.
Jordan and susan were constantly being hit by all sort of things. Tree branches, cans, anything that the wind could lay it's hands on was thrown on the poor couple. Susan slipped in the rain and twisted her ankle. But she got back up and kept running. They turned a corner and saw the streets were flooding. They would drown if they went any further.
In a moment of despereation jordan picked up a rock and threw it at a nearby supermarket window, he thought to himself whatever he was going to pay was better tha being killed by the thunderstorm. Susan immediately understood what went through Jordan's mind.
Susan and Jordan sat down at the back of the supermarket. Exhausted, bruised, and glad they could catch a breath. They were going to wait out the storm.
Susan grabs a black wallet that looks exactly like Jason's. She opens up it to find Jason's driver license and reaches out to him. `` You dropped your wallet J-bear'' she says. He reaches into his pocket and pull out his own wallet. Puzzled by the situation he opens the wallet to find not only his Driver's license but also his recently acquired credit card, his Friend's business card, and even the small picture of his late mother. Susan says in horrified voice `` Jay yo yo you got come seee this''
Jason quickly gets up and enters a room, he watches in disbelief as Susan is holding his birth certificate, he looks around to find his diplomas and school certificates, even going back to the small piece of paper from the grade 1 graduation.The couple were walking in a sea of Jason's past, Photos of his friends, co worker's profiles, the menus from Jordan and Susan's first date at an old Korean Restaurant that liquadiated six years ago. Then deep voice from the edgd of the room echod.
`` Jordan, I've been waiting for you''
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[ WP ] Humanity is feared across the galaxy , not for their brutality or greed , but for their talent in magic . Consequently , a large anti-magic field was put in place over two thousand years ago , erasing magical power , and with it , humanity 's hopes for galactic conquest . Today , it has worn off .
| No one knew what had happened at first. There was a snap heard throughout the world. Scientists assumed there was an impact or earthquake but there was no epicenter. Within an hour strange reports started to roll in.
An old man had fire raging on his lawn. A lawn that just yesterday was covered in two feet of snow. A scrawny kid had thrown his bully through a door at school. A young man was converting random objects into solid gold.
Everyone was in a panic. Were they mutants? Was this the end times? Was this some trick?
It got worse when the first ship landed. Unknown troops pushed outward from the ship. They threw balls of fire, called down lightening from the skies, and summoned mythical beasts from thin air.
That's when we, humanity, realized what we had. We were coursing with magic. As soon as the first human used magic against the invaders they fled.
The children became the strongest. So full of imagination and raw emotion. Soon we were lifting entire cities into orbit. Life support was powered by adults, but tell a child they could fly their home through the stars and they would do just that.
We expanded throughout the galaxy. Never once did we find a defending army. We did find civilization though. All recently abandoned. That's when we got a message. The races were running. They were afraid. Humanity was coming.
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[ OT ] At the present moment , 22 of the 25 threads on the front page of /r/WritingPrompts are for genre fiction ( specifically sci-fi/fantasy or horror ) . This is not uncommon . Does this matter to anyone else ?
| No, not really.
It's not something you conciously notice, but society goes through periods of genres, based on the anxieties and desires of our times.
For example, the recent explosive popularity of super hero films did not come about because a bunch of people decided geeks were cool. Superheroes, are the embodiments of our desire for heroes to solve problems that we feel are too big for anyone ordinary, for any government, to resolve. We want our gods to come down to earth and save us ( DC ) and for regular folk to find the hero within and rise up against the tide ( Marvel ).
Science and Fantasy are also a part of this trend. In fantasy we hope to escape, or to find the magic words to open our doors and lay out our problems and myateries to solve. In science we realize our doom or dire situation and either succumb to despair, or hope for a turn, as we at the same time examine current society under the lense of the future.
It would be unfair to force or expect everyone to take part in other genres, when those genres simply *do not* sync with what our worries, hopes, and desires currently are. We are not in the throes of industrial revolution, freedom, and prosperity that brought about our westerns. Nor are we going through a mundane decade where the most exciting story is simple human drama. Nor are we [ yet ] under the threat of domestic war and terror that inspired the Cold War tales.
You might tire of it - I myself do - but there *is* a reason why those two genres in particular are very popukar *now*.
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[ WP ] A blind man makes a deal with an angel to get his eyesight back . The only problem is that the angel is actually a devil .
| Despite all the descriptions of Dean's new granddaughter, he could n't imagine what she looked like. *Red hair, green eyes..* Throughout his 63 years, he had felt all sorts of hair-even red hair-but underneith the itchy hospital blanket Dean could n't feel the baby's hair or face. After the surgery they'd release him from these walls he dubbed a prison, but hed have to return for another visit under the knife again in due time.
Resentment welled within the pit of his stomach. *I'm going to die without ever really knowing what red hair is. * The multicolored pills they gave him were dulling the burning pain in his stomach but it lingered. A soft wind brushed against his cheeks. *I told that nurse to keep that damn window closed. *
`` My apologies, just passing through.'' The voice carried with it the scent of dirt and pomegranit.
`` Lady you damn well scared me.'' Her smell made him recall summers of his youth. `` Ya cant sneak around old farts this time of night, or this is gon na be a cemetary.''
`` Oh youre not old, hush now.'' Her whispery voice was punctuated with the clicking of her heels as she slowly approached him. `` I know far older than you.'' He let out a chuckle, but it was quickly stifled by the pain in his gut.
`` Why is a girl so young stuck here on a friday night? Shouldnt you be out dancing?'' The bed creaked as she sat down on its edge.
`` Im here to help aid all the lost souls who end up here. If you dont mind my saying so, youre lucky.''
`` Lucky?'' He tried to sit up a bit more.
`` Yes. The world is different to you. Color means nothing, clothing unrecognizable, crooked teeth unnoticed. So much despair over things like that. You never feel it.'' *Original. * The overwhelming warmth of her body forced him to adjust his legs.
`` Truth be told, not having sight sounds poetic when you put words on it like that. But I have never seen my wife's wedding dress. The wooden porch my grandpap built. No blind man is gon na tell ya different.''
`` Do you think God gave you this for a reason?''
`` Lady if my eyes worked theyd be rollin right about now. If you pardon my sayin. I used to pray every day to this god and that god. But here i am, still blinder than a mole and dying without ever seeing my grandchilds red hair. Hell, i dont even really know what **red** means. Now.. uhh --''
`` You may call me Aba.''
`` Aba, dear. I dont know if youre with a church or what, but i dont think there is a god that would deny his children gifts while givin them to others.''
`` Would you worship one that did?'' Her words made him uneasy, but he couldnt help but be somewhat intrigued.
`` Well.. i suppose i would. But I dont think anyone gets somethin for nothin. Like those gods who want a virgin sacrifice, that really aint my style.'' A nervous laugh passed his lips, but he could feel Aba's stare unyielding.
`` If all that god wanted was your devoution? For you to see the world that he created, the way it was to be seen?''
`` I... i would love for a god like that.'' Dean couldnt help but remember all those years ago, praying to someone to give him a gift he should have gotten. The resentment of always being abnormal.
`` Believe.'' Her voice was thin, enveloping around him like soothing pond. Soft fingertips graced over his face, tracing the lines around his eye socket. Each stroke was so gentle it was somehow maternal, easing Dean's nerves with every movement.
White light poured over him. Shocked, Dean threw his hands over his face, wailing. The light burned through his eyes even as he tried to wriggle away. With a thump he wriggled onto the floor, his breath labored.
`` What... what have you...'' it took what seemed like hours for the light to fade, leaving blurry shadows in its wake.
`` I have given you the gift you wanted so.'' Dean's heart pounded against his ribs, forcing his eyes to follow the voice to the woman standing over him. Her hair long tangles of darkness, her feet split open and hard. *No no.. i cant see..*
`` Oh but you can my child.'' Deans writhered hands were shaking, the pain in his gut replaced by a primal unnease. Aba's mouth twisted into a horrible smile, dark endless eyes burning. `` You can see all the world I have to offer you.''
( ( I typed this on my phone so sorry for any errors. Feedback very welcome! ) )
|
[ PI ] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower . When together , both their powers increase in strength exponentially . You have the most useless power ever , when one day ... ...
| My superpower was, and still is, knowing what people struggle with.
Could be a foot-fungus. Erection problems. Or a boss who often crosses that fine line between being caring/charismatic, and inappropriate touching/strong verbal innuendo.
At first I did my best to be jury, judge, and executioner, but somehow, I always ended up the loser, the weirdo, or simply the one who seemed most suspicious.
Through trial and error, in a time frame of ten years, I learn to let go. I've learnt that being bitter and negative gets me the farthest.
Sure, I have to step on some people now and again, but the greater good is served, and I'm no longer considered the loser. The weirdo. Nor considered the most suspicious...
Eventhough I'm not happy as a human-being, I feel content that I've gotten this far. I've one-upped everyone it seems.
One day, on a monday, I wake up for work and everything seems nicely repetitive for the first time ever. Seems I've longed for this forever.
I do my useal morning routine, and end-up infront if my bathroom mirror...
It feels like I took some drug, that is making my brain as clear as a fresh water spring, somewhere in some undiscovered part of the world.
My happiness turns on a dime, and I'm so surprised by it, I do n't even try to fight back.
I'm suddenly painfully aware that Im 45, and that I spent the last 15 years, becoming someone that was n't weird, stupid, suspicious...
Im thinking I'm just having a bad morning, but my brain trucks-on.
I remember that, about 14 years ago, a girl worked at my office, who was often blamed for not being able to recognise people's needs. Eventhough she was always the one taking care of everyone, behind their backs, without them realizing.
Im too tired to finish the story properly, but I allowed her to get fired, because I was only focussed on appearing normal, in an abnormal world.
|
[ WP ] A person walks into an elevator , alone , that has a vacuum cleaner left in it . Any genre .
| `` Bye, bye miss American Pie, drove my Chevy hmmm hmm hmm was dry…. Them good ol' boys… huh.''
Jason stopped, one feet in the elevator, the other still on the ground floor. He looked back and around. No cleaning
ladies. No vacuum cleaner sellers ( do those still exist? ). The three young receptionists, checking in tourists. A dog.
Shrugging, he stepped inside the elevator, turning to face the door and pressing 12. He glanced quickly at the vacuum cleaner. The vacuum cleaner glanced back at him.
The door closed.
`` —whisky and rye. Singing this will be the day that I –''
Jason risked another look at the vacuum cleaner. The vacuum cleaner looked back at him. What was that noise?
Was that *whispering*?
Like a thousand little kids whispering really fast in Esperanto. That's what Jason heard, for a second. Then silence.
*Eerie*, he thought. He whistled away the rest of the melody, trying not to think abo –
*TUM*.
Jason looked around. He tried the door. He pressed the 12 button again, then again. Then all the others.
`` Shit…''
Sighing, he pressed the emergency button. Then the intercom.
`` Hello? Hello?''
Nothing.
`` I'm trapped here! Hello?''
By his side, the vacuum cleaner sighed.
Jason rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the wall, exhausted.
Then he realized the vacuum cleaner by his side had sighed, and that this was absurd.
Eyes wide, Jason turned to face the cleaning device again. The elevator lights flickered then died.
`` Hello?'' He whispered, to the vacuum cleaner itself. `` Is… are you…''
`` Oh, cut the crap, you know you heard me'', the vacuum cleaner said, in a grumpy-sounding voice.
`` Oh'', Jason uttered, surprisingly calm. Now he remembered. The mushrooms. The weird mushrooms Gary and him had bought from the weird dude. That was what was happening. No need to freak out. He was just tripping.
`` So you are a vacuum cleaner that talks?'' He asked. He was relaxed now. Enjoying the high.
`` Yes'', the vacuum cleaner answered. `` And I need you to listen to me.''
`` Well, absolutely. Talk away!'' Jason even managed a smile. He was handling the whole situation really well. He was
proud of himself. Very mature.
`` Jason, you are high on Santo Mushrooms right now. In your hotel room, with your friend Gary, Do you know what Santo Mushrooms is?''
`` Yes'', Jason answered, still smiling.
`` It's a drug you and your friend bought from a guy named Filipo in Brazil. Thing is, it is not a drug at all. It's a
portal to another universe. Are you listening to me?''
The elevator bumped and the lights came back alive. It started going up.
`` This world we are right now – this reality you are living – it really exists, and it's on a collision course straight to your universe. You are going to need to do as I say in order to save your world. Are you listening?''
`` Yes, I absolutely am'', Jason said. The elevator was going up faster and faster now. Jason was smiling.
He was high. Everything was fine.
`` Jason, you are sobering up. We have to act fast. Listen to me: You need to look for me in your reality. Your universe. Ok?''
`` Huh-hum.''
`` You need to get more of that Mushroom for yourself. For later. It's the only way to access the alternate
dimension.''
The elevator door opened, but the elevator kept moving. Jason went past a floor with two old ladies smiling on the
edge of the elevator entrance, waving at him.
He passed another floor with a 70 feet tall alligator having sex with a 3 inch tall Ford Mustang. On a purple swimming pool. In Texas.
On the next floor, Taylor Swift was singing Long Live, from her underrated album Speak Now.
`` Find me in your reality, Jason. I ca n't talk or communicate there, but there's supposed to be some stashed mushrooms inside me. It's the last of the Santo Mushrooms. You need them to get back to this world! Jason, are you listening?''
Jason was n't. Jason was smiling as the elevator broke through the roof of the hotel in amazing Chocolate Factory
style and propelled itself across a pink sky where elephants flew by wearing green Crocs.
________________________________
`` Duuuuuuuude.''
`` Duuuuuuuude.''
Jason opened his eyes. Gary had his face an inch from his. They were both on the floor.
`` Duuuuuuuuude.''
`` Yeah. Dude.'' Jason got up, rubbing his eyes. `` That was intense.''
The sun was creeping in through the curtains of the cheap hotel room. What was the name of the town they were
in, again?
On the nightstand, Jason caught a glimpse of a leaflet: *Ilhabela – Touristic Info*.
*Ilhabela*, Jason thought, getting up. *What a place. *
`` Where are you going?'' Gary asked, getting up too.
`` Got ta pee.''
Jason opened the door to the green carpeted corridor and started making way to the shared bathroom at the end of
the hallway. His mind was heavy and foggy, like Scotland.
Halfway to the bathroom door, his eyes stopped on a cracked open door to his left. The light bulb dangling from the low ceiling cast a golden pyramid of light down the dusty, small room.
Leaned against the wall of the room was a vacuum cleaner.
Jason step by stepped his way and pushed open the door. He stared at the vacuum cleaner. The vacuum
cleaner stared back at him. Feeling himself shiver, he stepped inside the room.
`` O que você está fazendo?''
Jason turned around, startled by the voice of the young cleaning lady. `` I'm sorry, I –''
`` Sai daqui agora! Você não tem permissão de entrar aqui!''
`` I'm sorry, I do n't speak Brazilian, I –''
`` Sai! Sai!''
Bumping and tripping on buckets and brooms, Jason made way out of the room and back into the corridor.
`` E não entra aqui de novo, Americano babaca!''
`` Sorry. I'm sorry!''
Still trying to regain balance, Jason made way down the corridor to the bathroom. He leaned against the door and stepped in, locking it behind him.
`` Jesus...'' Is what Jason whispered, zipping his pants down and leaning his head against the wall to pee.
__________________________________
Inside the storeroom, Alicia, the cleaning lady, ran her hand down the vacuum cleaner's body.
`` Do n't worry, babe'', she said, pulling a cigarette from her back pocket with her free hand and sticking it in his
mouth. `` I know, I know... He's our only hope. He'll come back when the time is right. And then we'll show him all he needs to know.''
|
[ WP ] Write a story , any story , but it has to have a secret code in it .
| From the day one, he knew it was the end. 1 simple day and he knew. 20 years of fighting and delaying the end- and it was all for nothing. They truly tried to save the earth, but for two years they could have stopped him. 18 years passed and now they were too late. It's currently year 21 and the planet has been completely devastated. There was nothing 5 simple peasants could do anymore. 8 billion people died on the last 5 years. They had 18 years of warning and they could n't do anything to save them. Earth barely 15 years before all life went extinct.
2 rebellions popped out of nowhere. Soon they were 5. 3 More joined the fight. 1 great alliance that finally had a chance to stop him. In the last 13 years of life of the Earth, they all came together, almost like it was orchestrated perfectly. In the 5 final years they won the war, 20 years to recover all life on earth. 8 rebellions had banded together at the most unlikely time. 5 days was all it took to unite the nations of the earth after the great evil was defeated. The population finally grew again, up to 22 billion. 9 babies were born every second, the 12 hours of the day and the 12 hours of the night. From day 1 he knew the bad was coming, but never believed that the rebellions would be able to fend off the superior forces of sector 9. 14 million more people after the first year of the new earth united nation. Earth was truly going to prosper.
20 years from the moment he showed up. 15 years left for earth by the time he was gone. 21 billion and much more people repopulated. 14 million soon came. 9 babies every second. 20 more years to recover all extinct life on earth. 5 days to unite the nations. There was a clear pattern. He saw the name numbers everywhere. 20 years. 8 rebellions. 15 to recover life. almost 19 years of war with sector nine. 5 days to unite the world. 23 billion people on earth after everything recovered. 8 rebellions. 15 years for earth. 6 to 15 years for earth, what did it mean? 21 billion survivors shortly after the war. 7 rebellions plus his own. 8 rebellions that won. 20 years for the earth. 8 rebellions for the earth. The quick downfall of sector 9. Unlucky, like the number 13.
What did they mean? All orchestrated perfectly among history. But did n't winners write history? Who knows. he was going insane. The deaths turned him insane. No one would ever care enough to know.
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[ WP ] You are watching a live stream from the international space station . The video feed goes out due to a temporary loss of signal . Minutes later , when the live feed comes back on , everyone on the space station is dead , and most of the station in shambles . What happened ?
| Mere seconds later, it was plastered all over the Internet. Minutes later, broadcasted across every channel. The feed was on every screen; after it was cut the videos were replayed, over and over.
The sterile, cold atmosphere of the station's workspace. The gleaming chrome of the equipment. That was the first thing you noticed about the interior of the ISS. The inky black of space, visible through the vertical viewport. It was all in monochrome; a world of grays and muted whites. And then, drifting slowly into view, globules of incongruous red.
It was funny, was n't it, how nobody noticed the astronauts at first. You were just expecting them to be there at their posts, the brave men of our nation taking humanity to new heights as we transcended the skies. Calmly managing their duties with a watchful air, stolidly reliable in their assuredness as they moved about their tasks. They would n't just simply stop, would they?
All through this, silence.
And the camera shakes. The interior of the space station shudders, sending flickers of distortion through the video feed. Bumps and jolts send the camera floating away from its initial position, slowing as it collided into the viewport. A glimpse of the Earth itself. A blue-green marble in the middle of the void. The stars shone pin-point bright as the feed continued.
Something pushed off the side of the station. Mottled patches of silver and shadow. A sense of serpentine motion. Direction. Purpose. Intent.
Descending towards us, even as we stared into our screens, from the heavens down to Earth.
|
[ WP ] [ IP ] [ CW ] * What about the Train Tracks ?
| `` Where do we go now?'' She sat down beside me, but I did not answer. The sun slowly continued falling down to earth, burning the blue sky red as it fell. The grass underneath us felt cool and soft, so different from the broken burning asphalt that we had been walking on all day. I looked down at my shoes - rags really. I ca n't remember what color they were before. When did I find them?
`` Road's gone,'' I finally grunted after the silence grew too heavy.
`` Yeah.'' She nodded, and we fell back into quiet. The giant stony path that we had been following had finally gotten lost in the forest. Trees had broken the surface and had torn it apart. For weeks the going had been slow, occasionally loosing the path before we could find it again sometimes miles later. A day of walking and we had well and truly lost it.
`` What about the train tracks?'' I said, `` We could see where they take us?''
She shrugged and pushed herself up, `` Why not? They've got to so somewhere right?''
`` Yeah. I suppose they do.'' I too stood up, `` At least it should n't be too hard to find some fire wood tonight. How many can's of beans to we have left?''
`` Six. And a can of peaches.''
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[ CW ] Choose a song , then write a story/poem . The twist is that you need to write a line of the song every other sentence , in *italic* .
| Kashmir, by Led Zeppelin
*Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream*
I seek but one thing, the peace I had been denied during the long years spent sailing between the worlds.
*Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years*
I arrive, alone, in a strange desert in an all too familiar world, I muse:
*I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been*
I shed my clothes -they are no longer needed- and look out at the land.
*All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground*
The heat from the sun burns, and the winds blow hot dirt.
*And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land*
My old bones creak, and I hear music from behind:
*Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear*
I turn around, and my gaze fixes upon my goal:
*Let me take you there. Let me take you there*
I see an oasis, cool water under the hot sun of Old Earth, to spend my final hours in peace.
*Let me take you there. Let me take you there*
Let the stars fill our dream.
|
[ WP ] You live next to a hospital . You frequently hear the ambulance sirens at night and have seen people go in , but never once have you seen them come out .
| They never stop coming. Day after day, ambulances with flashing lights and wailing sirens blazed their way into the hospital's lot. Hours later, they'd creep out, quietly, subdued, their mission completed.
But who came for the patients? No cars parked in the lot, no worried parents or husbands or wives or children ever rushed their way into the front entrance. If I could n't see the massive'H' on the front of the building, I would've thought it was an institution, not a general hospital.
On a particularly busy Wednesday night ( for the'hospital', that is ) I launched my investsigation. I decided to be my usual stealthy self and tried the front door.
I walked up to the automatic doors... and waited. The motion detector above the door blinked acknowledgement at my presence, but the doors remained shut.
What hospital locks its doors? *Hmm*.
It took only a moment to grab something heavy from my car and smash the door in. I stepped carefully over shattered glass, and walked into an empty lobby. I glanced at empty chairs in the atrium, and an empty desk behind which every hospital had a receptionist. Every hospital, it seemed... except this one.
With a rising feeling of dread in my stomach, I passed the empty desk and went deeper into the hospital.
[ More to come later, possibly. ]
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[ CW ] Write about your dream last night as you experienced it .
| my daughter was getting her hair cut today. The whole 10' for cancer thing, I wanted to support her so her aunt Mell and I drove her and took pictures. Right as they were beginning my brother walks into the salon.
`` Andree, come over here.'' He looked so nervous, scared even. Obviously this needed to stay quiet.
`` What's going on?'' He pulled me to the side.
`` Its Josh. I think he has gone crazy.'' Josh? My brother Josh? The one who lives at home. No way.
`` Remember the fight he had with mom? Well he has been leaving croissants for my wife every morning with knives stuck straight through them.''
`` Matt no way. That does not make him crazy.'' I laughed. He pulled me closer and whispered in my ear.
`` He said she needs to no chopped up and mailed.'' I was shocked. He had snapped.
`` Matt-''
`` Mama!'' My daughter yelled. `` Look what uncle Josh brought me!'' I turned to see her happily munching on a croissant impaled with a knife.
|
[ WP ] Scientists discover that when cats stare at nothing , they are actually seeing real demons that humans ca n't see , sparking a war against demons with cats as demon-hunting instruments .
| I felt the wind on my skin for the first time in a while, my body hurtling through the air with great speed. I hugged close my stead, a trusty Honda Interstate. I feel like I've been riding these bikes my whole life. I practically have. When I was a boy, my dad would take me out on his Harley that he got after coming back from the war.
When we'd ride through the neighborhood, chopper rumbling and causing the houses to shake on their foundations, I never felt so alive. Nor would I again. I bike now, but I ca n't capture the closeness I felt riding with my dad. I was going to keep the tradition alive, pass that on to my son one day. Let him sit up and grip the handle bars with me as I slowly cruised down the street, both of us enjoying the warm engine and the shivering of the chassis, feeling wind in our hair and running through our clothes. I was going to.
I first met mister Peterson when I was three. He was a retiree who I'd later learn once worked at a university teaching animal psychology. Apparently, he'd been one of the larger ones in the field. He'd been on shows, talked to zoos around the country and was published in every field I can imagine. Once he lived in a high tower in New York City, a king of his craft. Now he lived in a sleepy suburb, his money gone. I never met misses Peterson. At the height of mister Peterson's career, she had grown ill and the treatments bankrupted them. And just like that, there was no penthouse and there was no wife either.
Every time we road by his house, there he'd be, ready for us with his cane. I'd rarely hear what he said until he managed to convince my dad to pull over. The first couple of times this happened, my dad would, coming to a stop a few houses down as mister Peterson chased us. Every time my dad stopped, mister Peterson had the same thing to say:
`` You'll both be killed! Those things are dangerous!'' He'd shake his cane. `` You should n't take your son out on those things, he'll be killed. You'll both be killed, mark my words that thing is a death trap.''
My dad always shook his head and road off. The third time he did it, when dad and I finally got home and we were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying some cookies my mom had made, I had to ask him.
`` Why does mister Peterson say we're going to die?'' I said between bites.
My dad was quiet for a minute, then he shook his head.
`` He's been through a lot,'' my dad said. `` He's an old man now. Old men think they know everything.''
`` What's a death trap?''
`` You do n't need to worry about my bike. If you ride, if you ride safely and keep up your maintenance, you do n't have anything to worry about. When you die, it'll be something you do n't see coming.''
After that, we never stopped for mister Peterson. He chased after us a few more times but he never got us to stop again. Eventually, he'd just sit on his porch and glare at us.
I got older, I started dirt biking. When I turned 18, I got my own bike. I graduated about middle of the pack in high school. I was never too academically inclined, but I made it. I went to a local college, the one almost everyone in the area went to. Everyday, I'd ride my bike to school and go to class with people from all over the state.
It was the final month of my first semester when I was surprised to see mister Peterson as I pulled into a motorcycle spot near campus. I was more surprised to notice he was n't scowling at me, but talking with someone in a lab coat looking at charts. I popped out my ear plugs but not fast enough to hear what they were saying. I knew about a lot of mister Peterson's past at this point so I did n't think too much of it. I just kind of went to class.
A few days went by. I came into class trying to shake off the weekend and remember what it was I was supposed to get done when I noticed the cat on my English professor's desk. Confused, I stared at him for a moment. We all sat down, some of us chattering about the feline staring at us. The professor never mentioned it and we kind of just ignored it. At one point during the class, I think it was the twenty minute mark, the cat fixated on something in the corner as cats kind of do. Its tail grew bushy and its eyes widened. The professor caught sight of this reaction and abruptly ended the class. No one thought too much of it. After all, ending class early was never a bad thing.
This went on until nearly finals, a cat in every classroom. Sometimes the cat would spook and we'd all leave early, sometimes it would n't. No one knew just was going on back then. We all had theories ranging from a gas leak to a way to spot school shooters, but nothing fit. So we shuffled along and did what we were supposed to.
Finals rolled around. I rolled up to the school to find it barren. I arrived early in the morning so I did n't put too much stock into it. My phone vibrated in my pocket but from the clouds, I guessed it was a weather alert and ignored it. Walking up the steps to my first class, I still did n't encounter anyone. No one was at the door and the room was still locked when I finally reached it. I pulled out my phone to pass the time and that was when I saw it. A text from my dad reading *come home. *
I looked up. No one was here. I sprinted to a hallway and glanced down it for a moment. The lights were off and no one was there. I sprinted out of the building and put on my equipment, hopping onto the bike. As I did, I saw one of the classroom cats fixated on something. Something tore into the side of my bike, scraping the metal finish as I walked the stead out. I flipped, gunning the engine and riding over the curb and onto the grass for a moment. I did n't slow down until I was nearly home.
Slinging my helmet to the ground, I ran towards the house but I never made it. Something pushed me. Something I could n't see. And then it held me down. I remember staring at the cloudy sky, feeling something sitting on my chest, but unable to perceive what it was. And then it all went black.
We were rounded up in the first few hours. Most threats were wiped out. I have no way of knowing how many were captured or how many were killed. I have no way of knowing how many of these things there are. I do n't know if there's anyone out there still free, but I'm writing this as a warning, and as a record.
I think Dr. Bartholomew Peterson may have been involved some how. No one told us anything. I do n't know who all knew. Maybe they did n't want to start a panic? Well it's too late for that now.
Listen to me, I kept my bike in good order. I always wore a helmet and I stayed below the speed limit. I never challenged cars, I never did anything incredibly stupid.
If you're out there. If you can read this and it has n't happened to you yet, get a cat. If it ever fixates on something, run. For whatever reason, cats are aware of them and they do not like that.
And mister Peterson, if you're alive and this somehow gets to you, you were wrong. When I die, it wo n't be because of a bike. I'm pretty sure it's going to be because of you.
|
[ CW ] Give me 1,000 words worth 1 picture .
| A gentle giant reached towards the sky, climbing so high that the top of its peak was covered in snow. The soft powder drifted down from the top, glinting in the sun in such a way that it looked like falling angels. The bottom of the mountain was dark rock that had more tunnels and holes than swiss cheese, though the foundation was still strong enough to carry the burden of the mass above it. This quiet, serene paradise almost seemed to be trapped in time. There was only the movement of a few animals that had made the mountain their home. They left trails in the snow, small little holes that one might miss if they were not looking closely enough. Clouds drifted by, occasionally stealing the sun away, the puffs of white briefly illuminated by the gleaming rays. A few birds swooped around the massive natural structure, the sound of their cries the only thing slicing through the thin air.
This was a sanctuary, untouched by human hands. The subtle, peaceful energy that surrounded the mountain was undisturbed by the disease that was spreading in other parts of the country. There were no phone lines, no cell towers, no underground cables. None of that here. It was as if the humans knew that to touch this place, this sacred space, they would be defiling the very heart of Mother Nature. Spitting in the face of the very Earth that nurtured them and asked nothing in return, only to be left alone.
A stream flowed down one side of the mountain, winding around trees until it reached the bottom. That ’ s where it slipped underground, a much needed source of sustenance for the creatures that lived within the vast taverns. A variety of insects scuttled along the dark pathways, exploring the nooks and crannies of the womb of life. Places so small that even if a human were to breach the sanctuary, they would never be able to fit. These places, at least, would be untouched by all but the wildlife.
Rolling hills crawled across the land like an echo. Not quite achieving the majesty of the mountain itself but certainly complimenting its size. They were like waves made of rock, shaped in such a way that it seemed they would explode into motion and continue on to the valley. The trees, compared to the mountain, were as small as ants, though the tallest of them was almost a hundred feet tall. Their thick roots reached deep into the soil, anchoring them into the ground and allowing them to stand proudly at attention. The bark was weak in some places, the branches sagging, speaking of just how old some of the trees were. The animals, the humans... they had all come and gone but these trees had seen and been there through everything. They stood by and watched as the world kept changing, kept advancing, and they were left in the past.
There was a whisper of wind that drifted through the leaves, rustling them just enough that it seemed almost fluid. Like the steps to a dance. A dance that only nature knew how to do. Anyone who tried to replicate the movement of the leaves in a tree, the gliding of a crystal brook, would fail. There was no finer dance partner, no finer music than the gentle cadence of the water. No better artist. No human could capture the elegance on a piece of paper, the colors simply didn ’ t exist in paint. How could one mix the color of the sparkling sky at night? Paint how the moon reflected off of the snow of the peak? Recreate the rainbow that would grace the land with its presence after a light sprinkling of water fell from the clouds?
They couldn ’ t. It was not for them to do. Even a clear picture could not do that. You had to be there, soaking in the picturesque view while the sun fell on your face. Place your hand above your eyes so that the snow on the peak would not blind you.
Stand on one of those rolling hills while gazing up at the clouds, at a sky so blue that it it left you speechless. See the little puff of air swirl around your mouth, frozen by the cold atmosphere. But to be there would be to ruin it. It would foul up the air, however lightly you tread upon the rock. However respectful you were to the mountain, it wouldn ’ t matter, because the beauty of it was how untouched it was. How apart from time. To see that magnitude of beauty would be to destroy a little piece of it, whether it is from the tracks of your boots of a forgotten food wrapper that was tossed on the ground.
Though, that is a worry for another day. For now, there are no footprints except from the animals. No food wrappers buried in the snow. No remains of a fire that would be used to warm a human body. No, for now, there is peace. Undisturbed, undefiled grace that will never be outdone by anything of human creation. The sun falls gently on the rock, warming it, except for the part wrapped in the blanket of ice. It brings life to the ecosystem around it, nourishing the flowers that bloomed on certain trees. Highlighting the water in such a way that it seemed to be floating above the soil.
At the foot of the mountain, a rabbits danced through the underbrush. Squirrels hopped through the trees, wondering if they really did have wings. An eagle fluffed up its nest before feeding its little ones. A black beetle chewed on a leaf that already had several holes in it from other insects. A brown bear made its way slowly down the slope of the mountain, tired after a day of looking for food. Life went on, as it always does. As it always must.
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[ WP ] A love story between a woman who takes everything literally and a man who speaks exclusively in metaphors .
| `` I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!'' Jack said as he rose to get the menus.
Lara's heart fluttered. She was already so nervous about this blind date ( and was embarrassed about wearing a bandana when Jack had politely assured her she did n't have to ) but she had chosen a Mexican restaurant.
Jack returned with the menus.
`` Um, I do n't think they serve horse here. We could go somewhere else? If you want to...''
Jack smiled. He really liked this woman so far.
`` I'm fine with right here. My joke did n't go down too well, ha.'' He scanned the menu.
Lara frowned. `` Jokes ca n't go up, can they.'' She picked up her menu and wondered where you'd even get horse in this city. How would they serve it? In a burger? A horse burger?
She looked up and noticed Jack smiling at her.
`` What?''
`` I'm just digesting what you said.''
`` Well, that's a good thing since you're hungry.''
Jack started laughing. She blushed.
`` So why did you agree to this blind date?'' Lara queried.
`` I've never done this sort of thing... and I felt like I should just throw myself out there.''
`` Throw yourself, whoa, I caught the bus here.''
Jack started laughing again. Lara sipped the water on the table. She decided she loved his laugh.
Jack wiped his eyes.
`` Well, my brother should get out and do it too, since his break up. Maybe I'm trying to inspire him... he's a chicken though.''
Lara's eyes widened.'Hey, a lot of families are very different from your own', she reminded herself. Can you adopt a chicken? Can you *marry* a chicken? She smiled politely and did n't broach the subject.
Jack asked her what she wanted.
`` Ummm, I'm going to get nachos. Do you want to share?''
`` I'll have a few yeah, but I heard their chicken tacos taste like heaven.''
Lara drew back. Given his brother is a chicken would n't that be like cannibalism? Something *like* cannibalism, surely.
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[ WP ] `` Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster . ''
| “ In your own time, tell us what happened McLough. ” I hate when Jones starts with this softly softly shite. This isn ’ t a fucking movie. This cunt made a real meal of that girl. Her face looks like the dogs dinner. She ’ ll be lucky if she can see after what he did with the spanner. Doubt she ’ ll be charging as much as she used to. Not much in the way of pity work for whores. Then again, the sicko pound spends in this town.
“ I dunnae nae nothing abou the lass. ” Oh leave it out you cunt. “ We know you were in the dolly last night. You were steaming according to an eye witness and we ’ ve searched your garage: you ’ re short a spanner. ” Jones gave me a look like I had pissed in his eye. Fuck him if he thinks I ’ m too direct. Daft twat thinks he ’ s Hercule fucking Poirot.
“ Ai, I was in the dolly. And ai, I was seven sheets. But I los ’ tha spanner weeks ago. You ’ v no found it? ” he said, girinning like the fucking cheshire cat.
What a cunt. He had us there. We didn ’ t have the assault weapon. And in the infinite wisdom of the crown prosecution services, no weapon, means no evidence, means no case.
In my good old dad ’ s day, they would have driven this piece of shit out to the harbour and tied him to a skerry at low tied. Come back in a few hours when the water ’ s lapping at his balls. No way of getting a confession quicker. Clean as.
“ No, we ’ ve not recovered the weapon. Yet. But you ’ re our number one suspect. ” Fuck me Jones. You should join the local fucking amateur dramatics. He ’ s no doubt pissed himself now. Well done. I give Jones the signal to fuck off. He ’ s had his turn. Now I want mine.
Jones glares at me but we already both know he ’ ll shortly be making the tea. As he ’ s out the door, he turns back and shoots me a look, and I can hear him bleating in my head, “ this isn ’ t right ”. Haha, of course it ’ s not. My methods are unorthodox in today ’ s modern police force, as the sergeant says, but they ’ re effective. And if I've developed a taste for it, so what? My old dad always said, “ if you ’ re good at something, never do it for free. ”
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[ WP ] Show us the boring part of the life of a interesting character without boring us .
| Journal entry.
Today I will go to the bank. That ’ s what the list on the fridge told me, next to finger painted pictures and alphabet magnets.
I decided to walk. I stopped at the park, with a swing set and a couple of slides. There were kids running around, swinging, mothers screaming to be careful. I sat and I watched. I couldn ’ t cry any longer.
My son ’ s college fund needed to be managed, and he ’ ll never see it.
The teller smiles and I collapse, like the down stroke of a child on a swing. Like climbing up a slide and falling back to the ground.
I was once married to a murder. Her picture smiling into me like knives hung next to a picture of my four-year-old son.
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[ WP ] One day a time portal opens in your backyard and a time traveler comes through . You quickly realize he just came back from making some change to the past and that , to him , our world is the terrifying alternative time line resulting from that change .
| `` Was ist passiert?'' ( What has happened? ) asks the confused man, wearing some sort of mysterious brown uniform. His skin is unusually light, not just light brown, fully white. I've never seen that before.
`` Was ist was passiert?'' ( What happened what? ) I reply in my broken German.
`` Warum sind hier alle Neger? Bin ich denn nicht im Reich?'' ( Why is everyone here a negro? Am I not within the Reich? ) The man looks really nervous now, scared to death almost.
`` Du meinst weil alle schwarz sind? So sind alle. Und was ist ein Reich?'' ( You mean because everyone's black? That's how everyone is. And what is a `` Reich''? ) I reply, quite surprised by the question. Do they not have any black people in this white man's world?
The man drops to his knees, yelling: `` NEEEEEEEEIIIIIINNNNN!'' ( NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! )
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[ WP ] A murderer plans their murders so that a seemingly strong case can be brought against them , a case which they can then disprove with the tiniest of details .
| As far as murder cases go, mine was about as straightforward as they get. The motive: I caught my wife Lisa with another man.
Naked, they freeze before wildly leaping apart -- as if there's a certain distance they can reach to make me forget what I've seen. Lisa only manages to cower deeper into the sofa, against the armrest. She's left behind a wet spot, a lurid painting of her pleasure.
Bill. This fucking guy's name is Bill. He lives less than a block away, I've met his wife. I have to laugh at how pedestrian it all is -- the quiet suburban neighborhood, the bored housewife, the neighbor guy, `` Honey, I'm home early from work! ``, and the man with the shrinking dick flopping stupidly in the air as he stumbles backward over a chair is named Bill.
I do what's expected. I grab the poker from our fireplace and slam it into his ribcage, and again into his forearm. Lisa is screaming, but she is n't stopping me. I can hear her wriggling back into her clothes. I kick Bill in the head three times. He's stunned and helpless. Bill works in sales.
I bind his hands with his belt. I bind his feet with my own. I drag him through the house to my Subaru in the garage. I shove him into the trunk, and grabbing a roll of duct tape, I wrap it around his face and I connect his hands to his feet. Kicking and wrapping, I work until the roll is used up.
Pulling the hatchback down to encase writing Bill in my trunk, I'm reminded that now we're out of duct tape.
I gather Bill's things. Lisa confronts me with her phone like a dagger. She says she'll call the cops. I take her phone. Nobody has a landline these days. I doubt she'll run tell a neighbor that she's been caught fucking Bill from down the street and now my husband Leo's going to kill him, but I ca n't count on it.
I hold her arm, gently. I tell her that Bill and I need to talk. I tell her not to worry about his safety. I tell her that in this moment I hate her, and I'm not sure I'll ever forgive her. But Bill is going to be safe. She slumps down at my feet, no longer a threat. She'll wait here in anguish, rehearsing explanations and accusations.
Leo and Lisa. We were once a cute couple. I was the nerd who'd come out of my shell and made a good living. Lisa was the carefree beautiful girl who'd realized she had to stop dating assholes with no future. We met online. We were both reaching for an ideal, and we tried hard to be ideal. But people ca n't force themselves to change.
I came back late that night, and told Lisa what I'd done.
I'd driven Bill to the woods out of town. I told him that I would be generous in a way he had n't been generous to me: I'd let him end his own marriage, on his terms, right there on the phone. And then I wanted him out of town for a few weeks while I decided whether I could patch things up with Lisa.
Bill did n't take much convincing. His marriage was n't working out that well either. We talked for a long time about relationships, growing up, the disillusionment that comes with it all. By the time he was calm and ready, it almost felt like we were friends. Bill called and told her that he was n't in love with her anymore, and that he'd decided to take off for a while. He'd be back in a few weeks, and he was going to pull some money out of their account so he could eat and travel for a bit. They argued a little, but it was listless.
I said how when I left Bill, I reminded him that he'd wronged me, that I was only defending my marriage, and not to come back for a while.
Lisa was stunned, by how quickly and directly I'd handled the situation. She'd always seen me as weak, a too much of a bookworm to face `` real life'' situations like this. Frankly, she was impressed.
But I packed my bags and left for a hotel. I ignored her calls, but eventually I found myself back in our house together. We began to sleep in the same bed, and then we were making love again. Eight weeks later and it was like it had never happened.
Lisa and I were watching TV. The show cut to a special bulletin announcing that Bill Leahy was a missing person, and foul play was suspected. The last time anybody had seen or heard from him, he'd abruptly called his wife and demanded a divorce, saying that he was going to be gone for a couple weeks. When a friend called looking for him, she knew something was wrong. Viewers with any information were encouraged to call the police.
I felt Lisa's body freeze. Slowly, she turned to look at my smiling face. I let her move away. Neither meeting my gaze nor taking her eyes off of me, she backed into the kitchen. I heard the back door open and slam. I kept watching TV.
Lisa had gone straight to the police and told them everything. They combed the woods, and found his body. Bill was hanging from a tree. He'd only been there for a couple days. Besides being dead, he looked clean, clothed, and normal. He had a suicide note in his pocket. It was n't convincing enough to keep them from arresting me.
The case was exciting for our boring town. People love a Cheating Wife Revenge Murder, and if I'd really kept poor Bill as a captive in the woods for weeks, well was n't that thrilling? As if this was n't enough, Lisa had gotten pregnant. By my court date, Lisa and I had a baby girl together. I'd never been allowed to meet Lily. I guess it had been a fucked up marriage, but at least I'd managed to procreate with my wife.
The prosecution eviscerated me. My ex-wife took the stand and told the story through heaving sobs. It was rough to hear, especially coming from her. Thankfully, our daughter Lily was staying with Lisa's mother, because every embarrassing and gory detail was worked out of her. They said that after tricking Bill into providing an alibi for his own disappearance, I'd bound him up again and taken him deeper into the woods, holding him prisoner there for weeks and weeks, until finally figuring out a good time to sneak back to his house, collect fresh clothes, clean him up, and hang him. It sounded sort of sadistic.
Now it's my attorney's turn.
He had barely seemed awake for this trial. As he stands before the jury, everyone expects a lame appeal to consider my clean criminal record, my mild nature, and the fact that I'd openly confessed about the assault and kidnapping. Nobody cares, and everybody wants it to be over. It will indeed end quickly.
My lawyer shows the jury the suicide note, proven to be in Bill's handwriting, but everybody assumes he wrote it while I had a knife to his throat:
> I'm so sorry, I ca n't keep do this anymore.
My lawyer says that even though it seems generic and therefore possibly fake, it was intended to be generic, because it held secret meaning only for Lisa Hayes. He says that not only did Bill Leahy survive the night of our encounter, but that he went right back and kept sleeping with my wife, continuing until he hung himself out of guilt.
Nobody imagines how he will prove this claim, but now he's showing medical documents proving that I had a vasectomy two years ago. I got to jerk off into a petri dish to build that little bit of evidence. The prosecution, though surprised, counters that my wife must have also been sleeping with someone else.
I look over at Lisa, smiling. Her face is contorted with pain, confusion, and shame.
Delivering the final blow, my attorney shows DNA tests that proving Bill Leahy is the father.
Small towns like ours are rather conservative. After basic math showed that Lily had to have been conceived well after the night I supposedly murdered Bill, it was over in every possible way. Even though I'd admitted to assaulting and kidnapping Bill, small towns like ours are okay with that sort of justice for a man who fucks your wife. I was acquitted. The assault and kidnapping charges were dropped. I played my role of the gracefully exonerated, then moved to another state. Despite loud protests that she had never seen Bill again after that night, Lisa lost her supporters. I'm guessing she's moved as well.
Yes, of course I murdered Bill. What kind of man would I be if I had n't done what was necessary to restore my honor? Jesus christ, come on. That night I caught them on the sofa was bad enough, but just imagine how hard it was to plan this whole thing!
Like I said, I'm a bit of a nerdy tinkerer. I have little engineering projects set up all over our house. I'd already known about Lisa and Bill for months, having accidentally caught them on a little motion-sensing project I'd been doing for home security.
So yeah, I had time.
The very next day I got my vasectomy, and then I began working on everything else. Bill's clean clothes were much easier to steal when I knew he was fucking my wife down the street. It was tough to craft sugar pills and blister packs that were identical to Lisa's birth control, tougher still to acquire and learn how to use the equipment I needed to freeze sperm samples. I casually suggested we start `` trying toys in the bedroom to spice things up'', and I had to keep that goddamn charade up for a while, so that when I walked in on them, she would n't be surprised when I brought out the very special toy once we'd started fucking again.
I know what you're thinking. No, I did n't jerk Bill off. Weird thing I learned about captive humans, they sort of turn into these loyal little pets if you give them enough time. Locked in that steel box I built in the forest for weeks, the guy was actually grateful when I gave him some porn and a fleshy tube to play with. And the suicide note? It was a letter to his wife that I suggested he start writing, on that night in the back of my Subaru, before I decided we'd better just do it over the phone.
> I'm so sorry, I ca n't do this anymore
I know man, marriage is hard.
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[ RF ] No one recognized the cry for help
| Depression, for me, meant a loss of motivation. If I had to do something, I did it, and nothing more. School, job, no problems there. Eating, I managed. Did n't go out. Hard to keep friends when I turned them down again and again. Not that I made any friends after finishing school. Hard to make a connection to someone at work, unable to hold a conversation about myself.
So, at the end of each and every day, I curled up in my bed, and I read. Sometimes, that was as the sun set, tired and with a distant ache of hunger. Other times, that was as I woke up, the midday light dousing me.
Nothing more to my life.
I did n't dress up and go sightseeing, or try out new restaurants, or post about my day online. No, I went to work, I went grocery shopping, and I read. Day in, and day out—pausing the routine to replace worn-out clothes or whatever broke, and then resuming.
Reading, reading stopped me going insane. When I read, I became numb, in a way. The dread that I carried would melt away, brain too full of other things to worry.
Though, dread was n't quite accurate to describe how I felt. Really, it was more that I knew that humans were n't supposed to think and act, and feel, like I did. A kind of dissonance. On bad days, I would n't be able to lose myself in the story. Instead, I watched the words on the page, and thought about how different the character, every character, was to me. Not in a sad way, or arrogantly, or with a philosophical sigh.
No, in an isolating way.
Maybe, I kept reading in hopes of finding someone like me. A desperate search for validation, that spanned thousands of books and tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of characters. Films and TV shows should have given me the same release, but, well, books dealt with feelings and thoughts. I could already act like a human, when it came to work. The stuff beneath the surface was what got me.
Depression, for me, began in my teenage years. My parents' marriage failing, my mother threatened me into keeping up appearances. I did n't think of it like that at the time, but hindsight and all that.
“ If you do n't keep smiling, they'll take you away. ”
A slow process, of going out with my friends less and less, and talking about myself less, and quitting the book club. I spent most days anxious, barely able to eat, so I avoided eating lunch with other people, and then avoided lunch altogether. Became anaemic, struggling to muster the energy even when I went to bed right after dinner, and slept most of the weekends.
Worse, and worse, and my grades slipped, teachers worried about me, appointments with my doctor, right up until….
“ If you keep messing about, they'll throw me in jail. ”
I did n't want my mother locked up like that, so I forced myself to eat, and so quickly everyone forgot. Smile, and eat, and it did n't matter that I had no friends or hobbies, or showed no interest in any subject. A month, a year, and, before I knew it, I was graduating university, with a job offer for a company in London, far away from my parents, and the screaming, and the fighting,
To do my work, I did n't have to talk about myself. Read the emails, attend the meetings, and do what was assigned to me. Whether I got lucky, or much more frugal than most, the money paid my bills and for my books, with some going into savings. So, I had no incentive to change, because that lifestyle had become comfortable.
At some point, I became aware that I was broken. And, at another, I concluded that I did n't need to fix myself. And, lastly, that I could n't be fixed. Not for any inherent reason, but because I was a closed system. After so many days of promising to try tomorrow, and failing, I'd accepted that I needed a catalyst. But, none came, and would never come, as I lived in my world, cut off from everyone else.
Perhaps, certainly, I had only myself to blame. Because, I smiled and acted as if there were no problems in my life. No one recognised the cry for help. No one ever would. No one, but myself, to blame.
Depression, for me, became an excuse. When I tried, and failed. Then, when I failed to try. No use to do anything. Posting a vague, boring update to an old social media account I had n't used in years, and getting no response, well, that was to be expected. I'd become someone so dull. Found some amateur authors ( whose style I liked ) online, and posted feedback after every chapter, and got disappointed when they did n't do more than acknowledge it and thank me. Sat next to colleagues at lunchtimes, and they kept talking amongst themselves, as though I was n't there.
Shot down again and again and again, and every time I promised not to be hurt, but it did get to me. When my mind filled with that pain, trying to stop me from that next attempt, I pushed through, and failed. Sometimes, I managed to do it; sometimes, I gave up without trying.
Depression, for me, used to be a source of depression all by itself, a kind of self-perpetuating condition that reminded me of the weakness I felt, a sense of impotence with regards to my thoughts and feelings. Knowing the trees were n't supposed to be blurry did n't make my eyesight any better without my glasses. Knowing I was depressed, well, it made me reluctant to trust myself, because I did n't function properly. More than anything, thinking about being depressed made me feel ashamed.
As I look back at myself, depression, for me, is a source of pride. I'm really, really proud. Because, I know how bad those days were, now. I know how hard I struggled just to keep going. And, I know how difficult trying to change that is. When a voice echoed in my head, telling me how pointless everything was, I reached out, again and again, hoping. I did n't know what I needed, but, just, anything. An old friend, an online friend, a work friend, anyone that could pierce that bubble I'd turned into a wall, I wanted them, and I damn tried. Yes, there were better ways I could have gone about it, but I did the best I could at the time.
Depression, for me, ended when I got help. In the back of my head, I'd always thought that a therapist could n't help me, or that it would be a waste of money, or that I did n't need one because I was happy reading my books, or that it would be a waste of their time. A virus in the consciousness, holding me hostage until Stockholm Syndrome kicked in. Those, those were the wrong thoughts.
I think why depression stuck so hard, for me, was that it separated me from everyone else, starting with my head. While I'd read a story and empathise with the characters, I did n't empathise with myself. If someone had told me they were sick, I'd tell them to go see a doctor. Whenever I was sick, I just slept it off, no matter how serious. If someone had told me they were suffering from depression, or suicidal thoughts, or were struggling with their emotional health in any way, I would have told them to find help.
But, I was n't human. And, now, I know I am, and I was.
The path that led to me getting help, began when I stopped at a park on the way home, and watched some ducks swim about the pond. Something so small and insignificant, but I had convinced myself to do it, because I, objectively, liked ponds and lakes, and watching the ducks and swans and geese swim across it. The sight was objectively beautiful, described as such, the subject of many paintings which, in turn, were admired for their beauty.
Such was the length I went to struggle against my fate.
It took an hour, before I met her. But, she was nice, and talked to me about how she liked the pond too, and then I mentioned I liked reading, and she liked reading too. A meeting turned to a friendship, where I kept putting myself out there again and again, afraid she would leave me at every point. I was boring, and did n't go out, and could only talk about books, and, impossible to understand at the time, she laughed and joked and chatted with me.
As though, I were just another person. No, a friend. Me, her friend.
Depression, for her, was alien, but she urged me to find someone who knew how to help. She did n't think I was disgusting and weird and broken. It became awkward, but I did n't give up. As I began to get better, as depression loosened its grip on me, I cherished my relationship with her, and the time we spent together, and the awkwardness left.
I still read, a lot, and I do n't go out much, but we meet up at least once a week. And, I made new friends, and started blogging book reviews, and I'm seeing some co-workers at the pub after work today.
Depression was a huge part of my life. It is no longer a defining part.
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[ WP ] You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago , today he gives it back and says , `` I need a favor '' .
| `` But I already have everything I could want. I'm a billionaire, with a wonderful family - a beautiful wife, 5 kids, and 8 grandchildren. I even have a full head of hair! Sure, there have been ups and downs, and I have n't won all the time, but the ride has been spectacular. Now what could you possibly offer me?''
The devil appeared as he always had - a well-dressed business man with a quiet confidence and a slight smirk on his face that would sometimes become a sneer when he spoke.
`` I need a favor. You see, despite my recent machinations around the world, there still just is n't enough.... chaos and death in the world - yet. We're close to it, and I need one last tipping point. And that's where you come in.''
I was always looking for a deal. `` Go on...'' I said.
`` You avoided the Vietnam War draft and had a wonderful life in exchange for your eternal soul. I am willing to give that back to you and more. You would be placed in a position of power beyond any that any man in history has ever had. You would get to keep your wealth and your family, but you need to do one thing for me.''
The offer was tempting - my life had already been great. And to get to go to heaven to boot? `` Sure, go ahead.''
`` I want you to be the next President of the United States, Donald.''
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[ IP ] Conversations with Dragons ...
| `` So, I says to Mable, I says,'I bets you I can goes out and finds me a dragon.' And she was all,'You would n't dares.' So I'm like,'I'll shows ya!' And here we are.''
`` Barry, we're neighbors. And my ears are massive compared to you. I heard the whole thing. It was five minutes ago. And I've told you, I do n't do that anymore.''
`` Yeah, I knows it. I knows. But c'mon! For a friend? I'll get her all dolled up, then you just takes her and sticks her in a castle somewheres far off. Just like old times. Like *real* old times.'' There was a sigh that rattled windows and blew the hat from Barry's head. Frank caught it with a whisker without thinking and placed it back on his head.
`` You know that does n't fly anymore. And anyway, have you thought about counseling?''
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[ WP ] A person has entered a videogame . Tell me what happens next
| This morning has been… different. Last night I fell asleep in my bed, and this morning I woke up in what feels like my bed, but something is wrong. The house is pretty sparse and is basically just one big room, but that ’ s normal I think. I don ’ t really remember. I ’ m probably just groggy, a walk outside will probably do me some good. I grab at my backpack, only to find that it weighs at least 50 lbs. What is in here? Rifling through it, nothing is really becoming any clearer: a fishing pole, a shovel, three circular fossil things, some fruit, there ’ s even a fish in here. Why do I have a live fish in my bag, and a shovel? Was I drunk last night? This is ridiculous. Needless to say, the backpack is not coming with me.
As I ’ m leaving the house, things still feel vaguely familiar while also undeniably strange. There are three other houses around my house, but they all seem uninhabited. There ’ s also some sort of fire hydrant outside my house, but it ’ s… dancing? Am I still drunk? It ’ s definitely moving, and it definitely has some sort of face, but it feels okay I guess so I ’ m not going to trouble myself with taking it apart or screaming. There aren ’ t any streets except for between these four houses, the rest is just grass, but that ’ s okay, I ’ m fine with taking a leisurely nature walk. It ’ s pretty wooded here - there are tons of trees, and things are feeling pretty normal, except for this jolly tune I can ’ t get out of my head. The only weird thing is these dirt X markings in the ground - I know that I should be digging there, I can feel it, but I didn ’ t bring that shovel. Rookie mistake.
Suddenly, a house up ahead. Someone else lives here! There ’ s no dancing fire hydrant outside this house, but I ’ m going to try to stop thinking about that thing. As I approach the house, the door opens, and a stout form walks out. I try not to be judgemental, but this person does *not* look human. Their face is weird, like they ’ re stuck in a perpetual duckface. Come to think of it, their hair looks pretty feathery too. Everything about this person yells duck, but hey, again, I ’ m not one to judge. The closer I get, the more I feel like this person is just an animal in a dress, but the worst part is she won ’ t stop staring at me. She ’ s just wandering around outside her house, but her head isn ’ t moving, she ’ s just staring at me while she meanders.
“ Uh, hey, ” I venture. I hope she ’ s not possessed.
“ Hi! Good to see ya! Thanks a lot for taking my GameBoy to Selena, here ’ s a reward! ” She ’ s chipper in her response, and while I do have some vague memory of delivering something to someone, I certainly wasn ’ t expecting a reward, but I have no complaints. She reaches into her backpack and pulls out… a roll of wallpaper. Is she serious? She hands it to me like this an appropriate thing to do, “ Enjoy! ” she chirps, and I ’ m left standing with a roll of wallpaper in my hands. It ’ s not even nice wallpaper! It ’ s loud and gaudy, a dark floral, but the flowers are huge, they ’ re going to take up so much of the wall! Why would I ever put this up? This is insane.
I don ’ t have a lot of options, so I take the wallpaper and drag it in what I hope is the direction home. What kind of person just gives away wallpaper like it ’ s nothing? And as a reward? Remind me not to do her any more favors. Dragging this roll is kind of distracting, which I think is how I end up not in front my house but what looks like a bodega or a convenience store, the first one I ’ ve seen around here. Maybe I could sell this crap here? Or at the very least get my bearings. I prop the wallpaper roll against the side of the store and enter through the automatic sliding door. The music in my head becomes somewhat more electronic and upbeat, which is a little unnerving, but not enough to make me stop. There ’ s a man in here, I assume he ’ s the shopkeeper. He has dark rings around his eyes and a sharp nose, and I think he might have a tail? He almost sprints up to me as I enter, blue apron swishing as he approaches. “ Welcome! ” he greets me. “ Ask me if you need any help! ” He ’ s making me kind of uncomfortable, so I just smile and walk around the store. But he ’ s… following me. Like really, really following me. I break into a jog, and so does he. He ’ s literally chasing me around the store. Everyone around here is crazy, I ’ m not doing this. I stop and turn to him, “ What do you want?? ”
“ You still owe me for the mortgage! Go pull the weeds outside and I ’ ll cut down your debt a little! ”
“ Who are you to tell me to do manual labor? ”
“ I ’ m Tom Nook! Get to it! ”
He feels like an authority in my life, so I guess I ’ d better get to it and weed the front of the store. Maybe I ’ ll even put up that wallpaper later, and talk to that dancing fire hydrant.
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[ WP ] In year 2016 , you are a villager of an uncontacted tribe in the Amazon when you see a huge piece of metal in the sky . The next day , strange things starts happening around your village .
| No rivers, no stones, just mud. Meto had been walking for two days. Always telling himself that he didn´t dream it, sometimes screaming against the rain. And for the first time after the incident, he saw, but understood even less.
What looked like a river made of mud crossed his path. But without any actual signs of it being a stream of water at one point in time. It ran from one side of a little hill around it, disappearing behind the wall of trees covering everything else. The trees on that hill now looked like a crowded herd of people to him, trying to get away from the edge of the mud and shielding each other from the rain.
Trying to get away, just as the ones he saw when that flying thing swept across his village in the night.
The dirt was streaked with patterns and marks even tough the rain was doing its best to turn it all even again. Meto very carefully crossed it, trying to avoid the stronger patterns, dancing between the rainwater and the mud although he was knee deep in both most of the time. On the other side, finally free of the muddy hold, he looked around once again to decide if to follow the path or to try to cross the hill. Just then, a small figure emerged around the bend. It was covered in bright colors that made it stand out in the rain. A ghostly, yellow halo around his hat illuminated its surroundings and an orange fabric around his upper body, so in contrast to Meto´s mud covered skin.
He must have crossed into forbidden land, why else would the ghost appear now that he has set foot on the other side. Although filling up with water fast, his footsteps around the patterns were still visible. Meto immediately stepped back into his tracks from before and made it back to his side of the forest. Through the roar of the rain, there was now also the sound of something else. Something with power. He could see the figure on the edge becoming an outline against a yellow background just before he was back, lost in the woods.
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[ WP ] According to the Multiverse Theory , there is a universe where you are Batman . However , there is also a universe where everyone but you is Batman . What 's life like in this universe ?
| The `` Multiverse Theory'' in its formation created this universe, and I was not too disturbed by it. I was the `` Fountainhead'' of universe creation, entering each new universe created by the possibility of its existence and checking it for errors. It was much like being God.
The Batman-to-One universe, where everyone is Batman ( except you ) is really quite an experience. There are so many Batmen, that upon your entering, you are immediately grapple-hooked and beaten. That's because only one Batman is truly Batman, even in this existence of remote possibility.
The real test was finding the error in it all, therefore destroying it and ending the suffering of less-than-Batmen in the universe. I've killed multitude universe; but I am not God. I am not human, as he is. I could not create a universe, splitting the original creation as possibilities unfold, giving free will to everyone. I could only join each universe and travel in and out of them. I could also destroy them.
This universe is where fake Batmen lived and suffered, all unknowing they were not the Real Batman, and where *you* can exist as yourself and not Batman. I saw it as an abomination created out of the minds of Mad Physicists, and God said, `` You must destroy it.''
`` But first, I must find the error rendering it impossible...''
And then it hit me. If Batman entered this universe ( which there was the remotest possibility of ever happening ), there would be two Real Batmen in the universe according to this universe created by the Multiverse Theory.
There could only be one.
**Bang. **
|
[ WP ] Create a story with the most mind blowing , ridiculous , unique plot twist you can .
| As I'm walking down the staircase, leaving my apartment, a shadow catches my eye. It ca n't be anything super dangerous - just a street walker or a drug dealer. You get used to those things when you've lived here so long.
This does n't seem to be your run-of-the-mill guy though. I still ca n't see him, but I can see his shadow. It's sporadic - no pattern to it's ( his? ) movements. It seems unhuman, almost. I check my surroundings and see that no one else is near me. I feel around my waistband, looking for my gun. It's there. I turn off the safety, just in case.
The shadow is still moving, never staying too far from me. In fact, it seems to be coming towards me. I start walking faster, trying to make it to the store, the hairdresser, I do n't care right now. As I walk under a streetlight, I see him. He seems to be around six feet tall, of medium build, but very pale. Almost sheet white.
I ca n't quite make out what he's wearing, but it seems to be very eccentric. Not necessarily expensive, however. I look back, thinking I can get away from him by walking past him. He's holding something: some sort of red box. I decide to not go near him, as he's getting closer with every passing second.
Now there's a noise: a repeating series of bells? tones? They do n't seem to be from any particular place, just lingering in the air. They get louder and louder as the man gets closer and closer. I draw my gun, ready for a fight. I'm still walking, but he's so close I can hear his murmuring. I turn around, looking at him. He looks like a clown. His murmuring is a list of some sort, maybe a recipe. I can make out a few words: Patty, boss, cheese, seed.
I put two and two together. The man has been following me since I was a child. The murmuring? `` Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun.'' He is Ronald McDonald.
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[ WP ] An adult who had died trying to survive against all odds and a kid who commits suicide meet in the afterlife .
| The train was empty.
Strangely so. Eerie.
I sat there staring at my only fellow occupant, a young boy of maybe nine years. His eyes were closed, peacefully sitting with hands folded on his lap. A worn, leather bound book sat beside him.
For some reason I could n't remember how long this particular trip would take, my ticket was of no use as it simply said AL with a series of numbers. The train jostled us gently and I glanced up.
He was staring at me now.
I could n't help but hold his gaze. His eyes were piercing, seemingly into my soul.
An eternity passed until he suddenly stood and made his way to the seat across from me, sitting gently and looking ahead with a soft, inquisitive gaze.
`` Hi.''
`` Hey kid.'' This made him laugh, I'm not sure why.
`` I'm Collin.'' He finally said, extending his hand to me.
`` Jake.'' I took it. He was surprisingly strong.
We sat in silence for a while longer while he stared at me.
`` Do you remember?'' he suddenly spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
`` Excuse me?'' I was beginning to wish that the train was n't empty, or that this boy had n't come to speak with me.
`` You do n't. I do.'' His eyes unfocused, like he'd drifted into a memory that felt more real than our conversation, `` I remember everything.''
`` That's good. When you hit my age you start to forget stuff,'' I tried to brush this boy off with, admittedly, undeserved humour but his eyes turned harsh and bored into me.
`` You forget because you're weak.''
`` Hey...''
`` I know who you are because I accept where I am. You would n't accept fate, you would n't accept that a better life was waiting for you to let go of the old.''
`` Look, kid, I...''
`` I'm not a kid. I grew up too quickly. I saw the signs you did n't. I knew what was coming.''
`` I do n't know...''
`` Pathetic.'' With that he was gone, walking to the other end of the train car.
`` You left your book,'' I meekly called after this strange child.
`` You need it more than I do.''
I picked up the book to bring to him but something caught my eye. The front cover was etched with J.M. Marshall. Jake Martin Marshall. Jake after my grandfather. Martin after my father. This was my book. I trembled as I undid the snap to open this mysterious tome, the first page was a detailed description of my birth. I was lost as I read further, turning pages faster and faster. My first youthful love, my children's births, my wife's death and finally the end of my humanity. Tears fell from my eyes as I read the atrocities I committed to survive. I murdered, stole, and caused suffering amidst chaos and carnage. I left people in my wake with destroyed lives and I left others to rot where they fell.
I wept, shutting the book of my life in disgust. It was then I felt a small hand on my arm and looked up through blurred vision to see the boy. Our train was slowing to a halt and he extended his hand to me.
`` Jake, it's time.''
I wiped my eyes and looked at him. I was pathetic. This boy had more strength than I did.
`` For what?''
`` Come.'' He pulled and I rose, I had no resistance left. He walked by my side to the doors as the train came to a stop.
`` I've been waiting for you to find me,'' Collin said, wrapping his hand around mine, `` we were meant to do this together.''
The door chime sounded and they began to slide open.
`` Jake,'' he spoke and I looked down into his eyes, `` I'm scared.''
`` Me too,'' I said, squeezing his hand as we stepped out together.
|
[ WP ] You have the superpower of mildly convenient coincidences . Clouds always make sure you 're in just the right amount of shade , and traffic lights are always green for you .
| `` It's all in your head,'' teased Janie, walking a few steps ahead of me on the car-fucked street. I felt a raindrop on my forehead. I took a look at the ground and began to see sprinkles polka-dot the concrete. I sped up to catch up to Janie but softly tripped on something wedged into the crack between two buildings. It was an umbrella. I looked around and slowly pulled it out. Janie caught wind of this.
`` See?'' I said, smirking as I opened it.
`` Stealing umbrellas now?'' she asked playfully.
`` Hey, at least until we hail a taxi. Then I'll put it back, I swear.'' She gave me a gorgeous smile and walked me to the curb yelling `` Taxi!'' Some 7 taxis passed us by without a second thought.
`` Let me try. Taxi!'' I yelled. Immediately, one stopped in front of us. I turned to Janie and gave her a big, shit-eating grin as I opened the back door for her. I motioned her inside with my open palm.
`` Whatever!'' she huffed jokingly, crossing her arms as she ducked into the car. I followed suit after placing the umbrella back where I found it.
`` Does this mean you'll let me kiss you on the first date?'' I grinned cheekily. She laughed.
`` Maybe.'' She told the driver her address and we were off.
`` So have you always had this... power?'' she placed her fingers to her mouth coolly.
`` Yep. In fact, I've never waited at a stop light. Just watch.'' She watched as we passed one green light. Two. Three.
`` Impressive.'' I looked into her eyes and moved my gaze to her glistening lips. She smiled softly as I began to pull in. Guess I'd be getting the first kiss after all.
***WHAM***
I felt Janie's body push me against my side of the seat as glass and debris flooded my vision. As our car spun out into the street, I saw the grill of another car detach itself from behind Janie. The car stabilized, my ears hearing nothing but a cacophony of sirens and horns.
I then felt the warmth and wetness of Janie's blood seep through my clothes.
|
[ WP ] God releases a sequel to the bible .
| With the click of a mouse, the Gospel was finally set upon the unsuspecting Internet. The figure got up slowly, let out a sigh, and wandered away to pursue other things.
The pages and pages of divine text sat there in blocky HTML, waiting to unleash its truth on anyone who wandered by. It waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After a few days, the figure returned. Pages were scrolled through, and a hit counter was located. It read: 3. And so it waited.
And waited.
And waited.
After a month or two, the hit counter read 5.
Waiting.
Waiting.
A dozen views. The mouse rolled over the delete button, and the truth was lost to apathy.
|
[ WP ] `` What brings you to us ? '' `` I came to forget ''
| I stared at the house, and thought again, if I really wanted to forget everything - all the pain, loss, and suffering, as well as the good times that I had had with my family and friends. I decided that I truly wanted it. Countless nights of suffering, nightmares, panic at the slightest danger. I breathed in, and knocked on the door. It was a drab, indescript thing, and it filled me with panic - like so many other things in my life. A wizened man stood at the door, smiling upon me, as if I was a sweet child, visiting door to door and handing out presents. `` What brings you to me? ``, he asked, curious.
`` I came to forget. ``, I said, blinking back tears. This was an ending, one that I would forget. A tear rolled down my cheek, and I brushed it away.
`` Are you sure? ``, the man said, suddenly seeming frail, and somewhat... weak.
`` I've had my moments of thinking, walking here. It's so far from the rest of the world, and it gave me the time to think. I truly want this, even though it's an ending. ``, I stated, steadfast.
The tears were rolling down my cheeks, and I felt like a baby. `` Now, do n't cry. ``, he stated, looking me in the eyes. `` It's the beginning of a new life. ``, he said, and beaconed me in.
`` I just have to say, I'm proud of you for making this decision. ``, he said, shaking my hand.
I felt drowsy, and my vision darkened...
( part 2 coming soon )
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[ WP ] A fisherman finds out that the river they are on is the River Styx .
| `` Gold for crossing?'' a figure asked
`` Nah, I did n't come to cross, I came to fish''
`` you do realize there's no fish here right?''
`` Oh, really... that's a damn shame. Might as well do what I normally do then''
`` and what would that be?''
`` drink myself to death'' the fisherman bursted out laughing
``...''
the fisherman stopped laughing.
`` do you know where you are Linus?''
`` how did you know my name!?''
`` I know many things, including the fact that this river has never had any fish''
`` really, then what's that over there??'' the fisherman pointed to something moving in the water.
`` only my vessel can traverse these waters without stirring the dead''
`` The dead? alive, you must be joking.... AHHAHAHAHAHHH HOLYYYY-'' a hand reached out of the water.
`` the gold now''
|
[ WP ] `` The machine that created gods ''
| In time, their goal was nothing short of perfection.
Where once humanity could map their genome, now they could manipulate it in fine resolution. Over the course of three centuries, mankind guided its own evolution, adopting beneficial traits and strengthening its resiliency. Diseases became a thing of the past. Eyesight, hearing, all tactile senses enhanced to acute perfection. Then came flight and speed and strength and night vision and all the adaptations it could splice from nature.
But in time, the culture evolved to seek a purity of the gene code and a massive computer complex was developed to calculate the perfect sequences. It would be said that they were eliminating the wasteful code, streamlining and condensing, using an economy of genes. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was wasted.
The machine that created gods transformed humanity into genetic perfection, transmogrifying into eternal and limitless beings.
And like ethereal fireflies they ascended into the night.
|
[ WP ] An adolescent boy who is bullied at school finds solace in the friends he makes in online games , becoming very good friends with one boy in particular . However , when they agree to meet up , the adolescent boy realises his best online friend is his main attacker at school .
| It was n't often I got to enjoy a full day. School was littered with bullies and I could n't do anything right according to the world. A good grade lead to me being called a brown noser, or implying I had done `` favors'' for the teacher to earn that grade. A bad grade was rewarded with insults to my intelligence. `` Dipshit'' was something I got used to hearing, it stopped hurting after a while. Jessica was particularly mean. It was almost like she could read my mind and find out what I was worried about; she'd look at me with those piercing blue eyes and could call me out on the zit I tried to cover up. If I felt even an ounce of fear, she'd find me.
She and her pals started hanging out at the pizza joint I liked to frequent, and with that I lost one of my mental breaks. The two arcade machines were tucked in the back of the joint, and they always sat two tables away. The silver lining's that I save more of my allowance by not going there anymore I suppose.
Eventually her boyfriend caught wind of her hobby, and he started to pick on me too. She would rip me apart mentally, pecking at each of my insecurities and he would physically hurt me. He did his best to make it look accidental, never did he get in trouble. Fuck him. Chad. It's always *Chad*. This douchebag wore his socks to his shins and those fucking white sneakers. He'd step on my heels and blame me for getting dirt on the bottom of his shoe, try to shove me down and demand I'd clean them. A teacher walked by once and the smile I forced felt so hollow.
She did n't get paid enough to care.
I started keeping track of how they hurt me, I kept a journal of some sort. Eventually turned them into comics, but with a fantasy twist. I was the hero, and they were the force stopping me from destiny. As I posted them online, people found similarities in my style and a recently published online game. Comments flooded my inbox recommending I try it out, saying it'd be a nice way to relieve stress and relax.
After installing and patching it, I made my character. I made a little elf girl with tan skin and platinum blonde hair. I found it silly that I was a paladin but all I wore was a bikini, but the comedy was nice. The first real smile I had in a while. Over the months, I'd get abused during school hours, come home and race to my computer, my escape. I ended up in a guild of other players, and we'd push the game's content as soon as it was released, we had internal competitions to push each other. We'd run dungeons naked, laugh at our losses and cry at our ridiculous victories.
It was the first time in a while that I paused, and felt myself smiling. Genuinely happy. I became best friends with the guild's officer. He was a lucky beta player who got to reserve a hella short name, so he got `` Wrath.'' It was a little edgy, but when you saw him decked out in his end game gear, the name fit. He was our top DPS in the guild and if the party wiped, he'd still be able to finish the job.
`` Hey, Wrath I wo n't be able to raid this weekend,'' I started to type out, `` My school's doing a festival this weekend and I've to help set shit up on Thursday.'' For good measure, I emoted a /shrug. His character emoted a surprised expression.
`` Woah! Me too! Is it a holiday or something?''
`` Nah, just school spirit week, we beat the Wolves last week and it's been our first win in years apparently''
His character didnt move. Then a minute passed and he responded.
`` Sorry, had to pee -- but what. Wolves? You go to HJHS?''
He knew my school! He knew my school!
`` Yeah -- - you?''
`` Shit, yeah! We should meet up!''
The conversation had moved to the private messaging system where we promised to meet up at the coffee shop by the school, after we were done setting up. He'd promised to wear a pink sweater. I said I'd meet him and figured it'd be easy enough to find a dude in pink.
--
The day came and the hours were slow. During class I could n't help but watch the clock, and it felt like every second had doubled in duration.
`` Hey fuckwad, you should watch the teacher not the clock if you ever want to do something other than flip burgers.''
I flipped the bird and Chad scowled back at me. He deserved to be told to fuck off, but I knew I'd get it later.
`` Watch your hands, kid.'' And of course, Jessica had to defend her fucking knight in shining armor. Even if she did n't even need protecting, considering her words had enough venom to kill.
The teacher hushed us and went back to teaching, and the class would n't go by any faster.
--
Evening came, and I had just finished my job of setting up all of the tables for the sales area. Useless school merch would be sold by the thousands and people would inevitably throw them out when they moved on to college. Whatever, sales meant we had gym equipment, I guess.
I dashed out the doors, sprinting until I got to the sidewalk. Realizing that Wrath could be near by or see me, I stopped. I've to walk, be cool. It's my chance to have a friend in real life. I'd finally be able to have fun in school and maybe pick up my life again.
I pushed the doors to the coffee shop open, looking around the room.
Four different people in the room had blue on. I could n't go up to them and ask `` hey are you wrath from Definite Dynasty Oline?'' No, I'm already enough of a loser. Alright, well let's narrow it down. That guy's like 40 and reading a newspaper. No, he would n't even know how to log in. Then there's... ugh, the shiver went through my spine... Jessica. Her dopey boy-toy wasnt around though and she was browsing some pink website. Nah, she would n't play video games. Then the other two with blue were talking with each other.
Maybe it was the two dudes talking, or maybe Wrath had n't arrived yet. I ordered a tea and took a seat. I could wait around, maybe he was running late.
--
The cafe had emptied, but the only people who had stuck around was some business dude in a suit, bearing no blue, and Jessica.
I got up and dropped my plastic cup into the trash and moved towards the door. My hand on the glass, I had my thoughts broken by a voice.
`` W-Wait!''
I turned around, and there was Jessica with her laptop closed in hand. She looked different.
`` You faggot, that door says `` Pull.'' Ca n't do anything right can you?'' I frowned, turned to look at the door. She was right.
`` Look --'' she started. No, today was supposed to be my day. I was going to meet Wrath, Iw as going to have a beginning to a new life, a new friend.
`` No, Jessica, I do n't give a shit. You can insult me tommorow, call me shit for brains of `` gaylord'' another day, but not today. I take you and your boyfriend's shit every day I'm at school, can you at least give it a rest when I'm doing my own thing? Why the fuck do you feel the need to insult me everytime you see me? Does it make you feel better? Do you feel like you're in charge for fucking once?''
Her eyes were locked on mine, and her lip trembled. Crap, I'd gone too far, now I was the bu -- no she deserved this. She did worse to me on a daily basis. She was vile, cruel and abusive and nothing would change.
`` Just fuck off and let me be hap-''
`` I'm sorry.''
`` -py for -- You what?'' I lost my momentum, she'd stolen it with two simple words. Granted, she was being forgiven any time soon, but I could n't sit here and berrate her when she'd just humbled herself. I was n't as cruel as she was. Her hands moved, and she pulled her laptop from her side, opening it up.
On the page was the game. Character selection screen, and there was Wrath. The Wrath I knew, that I confided in and that I had befriended. The one that listened to my qualms, gave me advice, carried my ass through dungeon after dungeon. The one who lead our guild with such charisma, and the one who'd always keep people together.
`` Y-You. You're. You're-'' I stuttered, hand gripping the handle of the door to brace myself.
`` I did n't want anyone to know I was such a fucking nerd... I picked on you so people would n't pick on me, and I did n't realize... Look, I'm sorry. I've been shit. I do n't expect you to forgive me, I do n't deserve to be --''
I was dumbstruck.
`` I did n't even realize it was you,'' she continued, `` I always thought of you as another girl online who had a bad life and I did n't realize it was you... The more I thought of this girl, the more guilt I'd built for picking on you, and I planned to stop, but Chad kept... It does n't matter, I ca n't excuse it, but I'd like to make it up to you. Can we not be enemies, at least?''
I bit my lip and locked eyes. She was genuine, and her fingers fidgeted with the laptop. She was nervous. She had feelings, she was a person and even if she was secretly Satan, she was also the Wrath I knew.
I took a breath, almost in disbelief to what I was ready to say, `` How about we start again as friends?''
|
[ WP ] Write a story that has a completely different meaning when read the second time .
| He is so beautiful. My eyes trace his structured jaw, pale blue eyes, and perfect lips. Oh, how I love to taste those lips. I feel a burning sensation as I make my way to his face, his neck, his chest. I ca n't help but smile as he satisfies my every desire. How lucky I am to have him in me, again and again. When he is finished, I close my eyes and sigh, disappointed. I am not satiated yet.
I must have more of my lover, but there is nothing left. Perhaps I can make soup from his bones.
|
[ WP ] Humanity finds indisputable evidence that we are completely alone in the Universe and there is absolutely no chance of spontaneous creation anywhere else .
| ``... and this concludes deep-field survey sector 35536. All planets negative.''
`` Fucking hell. You'd think that after searching a squintillion cubic light-years of space we'd find *something*.''
`` Hard to believe, our entire light-cone is empty of life. Call the creationists, I think they won this one.''
`` What about spontaneous generation? Little green microbes, asteroid seeding, that sort of thing?''
`` The sensors will pick up that sort of thing too. And according to a guy I know in xenobio, none of the accepted biology models can spontaneously self-assemble in that way. The initial conditions are too precise for chance.''
`` So intelligent design gets proven correct too? Man, this is... Hold on. The bio boys know the initial conditions for life?''
`` Yeah, all life as we define it.''
`` And they actually proved it by experiment? Like, they have some crazy mad science life-form in the lab downstairs?''
`` Welllll... They're not quite ready to publish, but Dr. Steiner has a pretty nifty-looking Petri dish. Completely novel, he claims. Like an alien life form on Earth.''
`` You know what? I just had a crazy idea.''
`` What?''
`` Well, we just found all these planets with nothing on them, and we've got a microbe that's never been seen on Earth, so...''
`` What are you thinking?''
`` If we ca n't find any aliens, maybe we should make them.''
|
[ WP ] `` It 'll be just like it was before . Trust me . ''
| I look down at the lethargic brown water. It was calling to me, inviting me down into its watery embrace. A can flowed past, bobbing happily in the gentle current. I try and blink back tears, she would of tried to fish it out. That was all I have left of her, fading memories and pain. This way at least the pain will be gone.
The scars on my arms itched, irritated by the cold. Thay had helped for a while to ease the pain, but it always returned no matter how deep I went. I had tried to continue on. Seeing the people around me being happy just made it worse and reminded own me of my lack of worth. Who would want me the strange little broken person in the corner?
Pulling myself up into the railings, I look down once more. It will be better this way, no one will have to try and pretend to care anymore. If thay even noticed. There was no one who really cared left. No one to write a note to. Thay had all left me.
A hand gently touched my shoulder. I turn my head slowly, it's her. Why did she come back, I am nobody to her? She smiles at me gently. Why is she torturing me like this, giving me false hope? I tense me arms to push myself off.
`` Do n't. It'll be just like before. Trust me.''
A lone tear, runs down her face. I push myself off, into her arms. Perhaps there was someone left who did care.
*Edit: Why the bot. *
|
[ WP ] You just rolled a 21 on a d20 .
| There are rules. There have to be rules, otherwise there would be… well, not Chaos ( Archmage Silverbeard would describe such things as “ naughty magic ” with an appropriately dismissive scowl ) but certainly things would become messy. And mess does not become a wizard nor the things he possesses. Unfortunately for Kullvero, his friends saw the world differently.
“ I SMASH the paper with my quill! ”
“ Fangbreaker… you don ’ t smash tax returns. Nor do you cleave them, parry them or mutilate them. At best, you can shred them though I doubt that would help you in this particular encounter… ”
The half-orc sat opposite Kullvero paused, running his finger along the edge of his great axe as he considered these words. At least, his face went still and his lips moved in an attempt to mimic the words. In Kullvero ’ s mind, this was close enough to count as considering.
After a pause: “ Can I at least… burn it? ”
“ For the love of Arcananos… ok fine. Yes. You burn the tax return. You get -5 on your next salary roll because your boss is now angry. ”
“ WHAT!? How DARE he! I smash my boss in the face. ”
“ Oh oh!! Use the typewriter Fang, it ’ s got a +2 to checks and- “
It was becoming too much for poor Kullvero. Between Fangbreaker ’ s stubborn refusal to roleplay a clerk properly and Dances-With-Knives rule lawyering it was becoming hard to want to run these office-crawls anymore. Kullvero turned to Dances with what he hoped was a friendly and not too openly bitter smile.
“ You can ’ t use the Typewriter of Touch Typing +2 as a weapon, you know that. Come on guys, we ’ ve been over this before. At this rate we ’ ll be stuck on this boss all month without even seeing the story arc I wrote out for Head Office… ”
A snore cut across the room, interrupting by pure force of volume. It was the sort of snore that implied that not only did it want to arm wrestle, but that you frankly shouldn ’ t accept as you simply weren ’ t worth its time. It was the same snore that has been lingering in the room for the past half an hour as they attempted to navigate Fangbreaker ’ s turn and had been steadily making itself more apparent as time crawled on.
“ Oh for the love of Arcanano- “
“ Oh oh!! Fang, watch this. ”
Before Kullvero could restore order, Dances-With-Knives swiftly snuck behind their sleeping friend, grabbed the back of her chair and swiftly pulled. The noise was worse. Swiftly and suddenly worse in a way that only the sound of a large mid-snore dwarf hitting the floor in full chain armour can make. And then the complete worseness of it all evolved further. In the shrill cry of a gnome attempting to shout Dances exclaimed:
“ Oh oh!! Bloodaxe the goblins stole our gold! It ’ s gone, it ’ s all gone! ”
There are few things scarier than a sleep deprived dwarf. One that is suddenly interrupted from said lack of sleep and now believes green people have stolen all her shiny things does however qualify.
“ Didtheyfuck well its time for some god damn skullcrushin- “
It is at this point that Malinda Stormhammer Greymound Bloodaxe the Fifth learnt that her bootlaces had been tied together and found herself crashing face first through a lovingly crafted wooden table in an explosion of animated magical miniatures and graph paper. Eventually they managed to get Bloodaxe to stop swearing and Dances to stop laughing long enough to get them both off the floor.
And that was it. The final straw. Kullvero had told them they would have to take it seriously when he agreed to be Office Master for their game and now he had to get tough with them. If he didn ’ t, it ’ d just keep on like this forever.
“ Um, guys, look- “
“ You dirty sneaky little fuck! Come here so I can smite you! ”
“ Oh oh!! You looked so stupid! ”
The pair were now running around the room, Bloodaxe swinging her families ceremonial war mace and Dances running backwards dodging it with her tongue out.
“ Guys, look, I think we need to talk abou- “
“ I ’ ll smite you so hard that the anthill you crawled out of will burn! ”
“ Oh oh!! I ’ d like to see you try! ”
The war mace finally found a target. That target less gnome shaped and more… a bookshelf. Magical compendiums and tomes began to both rain down and summon tiny rain clouds as they fluttered to the floor.
“ GUYS! ”
He ’ d done it. He ’ d finally snapped. Oh Arcananos, what had he done. Kullvero closed his eyes, pressed his fingers to his temples and attempted to think calm thoughts to once again find serenity. He did so hope that he hadn ’ t scared his friends with his temper.
He hadn ’ t.
When he opened his eyes, he found three sets of eyes pointed in his direction firmly attached to three grinning faces looking distinctly like they were smuggling smiles but attempting to hide them. Badly.
“ Look guys, something has to change. We can ’ t keep doing this every week. There has to be structure. There has to be a game plan. There are… there are rules ok? ”
The three considered. Or, in fairness, two considered and one resumed axe stroking. Then Dance ’ s face lit up.
“ Oh oh!! I have an idea! How about we roll a dice for it? ”
“ I don ’ t understand. How will that help? ”
“ Oh oh!! Its simple. You want us to play by the rules. So let ’ s do this by them too. You roll a dice. 1 to 10 means we have to do what you say. 11 to 20 means you have to relax. Fair? ”
The grin on her face was becoming more alarming, but Kullvero had to admit, it was tempting. Fifty-fifty chance for his friends to have to start taking game nights more seriously?
“ Deal. Do you both agree? ” Two nods. Taking the dice from Dance ’ s hand, Kullvero blew on it for luck, muttered a prayer to Arcananos god of Magic and rolled.
It was Fangbreaker who broke the silence first. “ Wassat mean? ”
Written on the dice was the number 21. On a twenty sided dice. Turning away from Dances and Bloodaxe who were high fiving over a prank well done, Kullvero began to cry.
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[ WP ] After a string of terrible things occur , you realize you 'd passively thought them all into existence , and begin to wonder what this means about who ( or what ) you really are .
| Will stared at the long scratch along the side of his car. The sleek red paint was disrupted by a long jagged line. *What the hell. *
Scrunching his nose, Will looked up at the quickly darkening sky, clouds grazing over the sun. *I thought the forecast called for clear skies all week. *
Will got into his car, shaking his head and placing his ratty nylon briefcase in the passenger seat. He would deal with the scratch later.
As soon as he stepped into the office, he realized something was up.
His coworkers were standing around, gossiping and some were even crying.
“ Hey Will, what ’ s up? ” Alex said as Will stepped into his cubicle.
“ I should be asking you. Why are Jessica and Amy crying? ”
“ Oh jeez, you haven ’ t heard? Greg is gone. The office got a call early this morning. He was involved in a car accident on his way home from work last night. He didn ’ t make it. ”
*What? Mr. Brooks was gone? *
Alex patted Will ’ s back.
“ It ’ ll be okay, man. Actually, why do you look so shocked? Weren ’ t you just complaining yesterday about him? You should be relieved you won ’ t have to turn in those reports he asked for now! ”
But that was just it. Will had complained about him just yesterday. He had been working overtime and Mr. Brooks had just kept piling work on him, without a single thanks in between. Will had grumbled “ I hope he gets hit by a car ” as he walked up his driveway last night.
“ Uh... Alex, c-can you give me a minute? ” Will stammered out, letting his briefcase fall to his feet.
“ Yeah, sure, man ” Alex said with a concerned look on his face. He stared at him for a few seconds before finally turning around and walking to his own cubicle.
*Oh god, oh god. What do I do? *
Will started to connect the dots. The keyed car, the dark skies despite a sunny forecast, and now Mr. Brooks. Not to mention the call from last night. His fiancée had frantically called Will, who was still at work, to tell him that her cat had drowned in their pool.
Will had constantly fought with that cat and finally, about a week ago, he had reached his limit. Will had come home to discover that his most prized possession, a brown leather briefcase that his grandfather had given him before he passed away, had been scratched relentlessly. Will had spent the entirety of the next day, daydreaming about the cat ’ s demise.
He had also absent-mindedly cursed his car when he had spent a good ten minutes struggling with the door. It kept jamming and Will could not get it to lock properly, finally slamming it with all of his might.
“ Good for nothing piece of shit door! ” he had yelled.
*What does this mean? * Will looked around the office, taking in the crying faces and the nonchalant faces. No one was really doing any work and Will thought it the perfect chance to slip out.
He thought about going to the nearest park to test his hypothesis, but he remembered the rain. He had wished it for a second as he laid in bed this morning. He wanted a reason to not have to go golfing with his fiancée ’ s father that weekend.
*Well, whoever is granting my wishes, you got it wrong. I didn ’ t want rain today. I wanted it tomorrow. *
He made his way to the big windows that lined the walls of the lobby and looked out at the people running frantically around with big black umbrellas.
*Hmm…*
Will took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second before laughing at himself.
*What am I doing? This isn ’ t a cartoon. I don ’ t have to close my eyes. *
A young man on a bike was peddling fast down the sidewalk and Will locked his eyes on his target.
The man ’ s bike suddenly shuddered and he was flung in front of it. He fell on his back but he quickly sat up and looked around. He shook his head and got up slowly, picking his bike up. He didn ’ t get on it anymore, walking it beside him.
*Oh god. *
“ Well… can I only wish for bad things? ” Will quietly muttered to himself.
He locked his eyes on his next target. A little girl in red rain boots who was being led by her mother. Will smiled at her through the glass and suddenly a vendor who usually sets up shop across the street from the office, ran up to the little girl, teddy bear in hand. The girl ’ s face lit up and Will sighed in relief.
*Well, at least I ’ m not a complete asshole. *
But Will ’ s greatest concern was this newfound ability. Why him and why now?
Will decided to take the rest of the day off and do a little bit more… *ahem* research.
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[ IP ] The Fight
| My opponent stood frighteningly still, examining my every move. I knew one misstep and it would mean my end. I took a step back, that was the opening it wanted. It struck out with lightning speed I leapt to my right as quickly as possible I felt a sharp pain in my arm. I managed to fall into a roll and return to a standing position it was just standing there again.
Dammit how can it be so fast? My mind was reeling my arm burned I glanced at the wound already turning black as midnight. It made a terrifying sound and lashed out again, I tried pulling away but it was too fast there was a sickening crunching sound as I saw my leg fall into the sand.
That's when it struck me, I could n't win, I was going to die here, I was wounded and poisoned. I steeled myself, if I was going to die so would it. I focused all my senses preparing for it's final strike. It leapt at me like a bolt of lightning. I had only an instant to gather my strength.
I caught the thing in my pincer, and jabbed my stinger with all the strength I had left I saw it's eyes go wide as my venom pumped into it's chest. There was a glint of light as it's blade slashed my arm off and we both collapsed. We stared at each other for a few moments, my vision was getting dark and blurry, I could see it's veins turning purple as it's mouth began frothing.
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[ WP ] Upon hearing the expression 'bombed back into the stone age ' from intel sources on Earth , the galactic council worries that humans have mastered a sort of unstoppable time travel weaponry
| Councilwoman Tress-Aryat looked out the viewport, watching the paths of the stars, slowly tracing over in her mind everything she knew and would know about these human beings. `` Bomb them back into the Stone Age,'' went the phrase ( *the threat* ), the Stone Age being a roughly 3.4 million year increment several thousand years distant. The breadth of over three million years suggested massively imprecise weaponry. And yet, with that sort of technology, it hardly mattered. Even being displaced a mere four thousand years would easily be catastrophic, unrecoverable. And if the humans could displace themselves, less explosively, even a preemptive strike would prove worse than useless. The Galactic Council stood poised on a knife's edge, awaiting the information that would prove them wrong.
She turned to the door. A brief dilation, and Secretary Karden-Tromat entered, report in hand. `` All scans for tachyon emissions came back negative, Madame Councilwoman. Earth poses no temporal threat to us.''
For a moment, Tress-Aryat experienced the most exquisite relief, moving on quickly to doubt. `` Are we certain? Then why would the humans have developed such colloquialisms without time travel technology?''
`` Ah, yes, yes.'' Tromat's hand bobbed. `` Our scouts sought to answer that very question. It turns out to have been a simple cultural translation error. As it turns out, humans have a technological model of time.''
She narrowed her eye. `` I have not yet understood. Explain.''
`` To the humans, time is measured by the degree of technological sophistication a society has achieved. The answer was staring us in the eye all along:'Stone Age.' A reasonable enough descriptor, to be sure. But to the humans, the use of stone tools is the defining factor of the age. Any society using stone tools, regardless of when it exists temporally, could be said to be living in the'Stone Age'.'' Tromat's hand flapped as he grew more animated. `` They were talking about physical destruction, Madame Councilwoman! Destroying their opponents' technological capabilities, and forcing them to rely on stone as tools! Utterly harmless to the galactic community at large.''
Tress-Aryat squeezed her hand shut over her eye, focusing on the moment of frustration. `` But that makes no sense! Earth does n't even have uniform technological sophistication! By their standards, different regions of their planet would exist in multiple different timeframes simultaneously.''
`` And indeed so!'' Karden-Tromat bobbed satisfied on his stalk. `` It's perfectly common for humans to speak of technology as'futuristic', even though it clearly exists in the same timeframe as they do. Likewise, they describe cultures, peoples, and technology as'primitive' - early, first, prime - even though they all simultaneously exist! A strange culture, humans, but it all makes sense when you view it in that light.''
`` Bizarre,'' Tress-Aryat mused. `` How could such a culture come to exist?''
`` Ah. As far as we can tell...'' Tromat lowered his voice, `` humans lack a temporal sense of reality. Imagine them as blind to the passage of time. They can only see a single moment, one that they call the Now. The only way they can tell time has passed is through sheer physical accretion. If your technology is sophisticated, surely a lot of time must have passed, correct? And conversely, if your technology is still unrefined, surely not a lot of time must have passed at all.''
Tress-Aryat stood stunned, and moved to the moment of her realization. `` You mean to say, Tromat, that they have no conception of the future, that they do n't realize that...''
Karden-Tromat nodded sadly. `` I'm afraid so, Madame Councilwoman. They're no threat at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.''
She nodded solemnly, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Once she was alone, the Councilwoman tapped on the viewscreen, magnifying, bringing the planet Earth into view. She watched it in its helpless path around its sun, a blurry blue toroid of motion, its humans threatening to bomb each other back to the Stone Age, all heedless to the Stone Ages yet to come. She crystallized the moment into a single perfect structure of melancholy to revisit. Around and around and around went the human race, all imagining themselves on the track to a linear future.
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[ WP ] You walk into your house and see the grim reaper having tea with your parents .
| The door latched shut with a click, and I turned around to face the house, one arm full of groceries and the other fumbling with the zipper on my goose down winter jacket. My fingers were numb from the cold. I still hadn ’ t fixed the heater in my old chevrolet pickup and the winter weather was battling my natural instinct to procrastinate.
“ Mom, Dad, I ’ m back. They didn ’ t have the Christmas cookies you wanted, Mom, but I ’ ll check back tomorrow morning. ” I shouted through the house down the hall towards the living room, where I knew my parents would be sitting watching TV or reading one of the old newspapers Dad loved to keep around the house. The TV wasn ’ t on, so I guessed they must be reading. “ That ’ s alright, Kent. We have a guest here, come meet him! ” A guest? That was odd for Mom and Dad, they usually didn ’ t have company. Maybe as they were getting older they decided to socialize a little more at home.
Walking through the hall, I couldn ’ t help but be glad they had a nice house to host company in. The thick, tan carpet and the gorgeous picture windows in the living room that looked towards the forest offered a picturesque view of a snow covered back yard with a few scattered deer tracks wandering through the trees at the edge of the wood. Lately though, it hadn ’ t snowed much, and it was mostly ice that covered the edges of the windows in a slick covering that could make a spider slip. “ Hey, who ’ s our gue -- ”
My voice stopped cold, as though the ice on the windows was suddenly stuck in my throat, blocking any attempt to produce a noise. Mom and Dad each sat in a chair on either end of the coffee table, a small fire sparkled in the fireplace in front of the table. On the ebony table sat a tray with a dainty china teapot, Mom always loved those, and a bowl of sugar. Mom and Dad each held a small teacup. Really, it was a perfect scene, like you might find in a painting of a cozy winter day.
But it was the third guest, the grotesque figure seated on a chair near the middle of the table, that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. I felt like my fingernails were drawing back into my skin as I stared deftly at the figure shrouded in a loose, black cloak that draped over a form like a human, but with no soft edges. It hung from what could have been knife edges where shoulders, knees, and other physical outlines should have been. The cloak had tears and holes covering it everywhere except for the long, baggy hood that covered where a head would be. But through the holes, I could see no flesh, no other clothing, only a pitch blackness that betrayed no sign of a kid in a costume, or an elaborate prank. Directly past the figure, leaning against the small lamp table in the corner of the room, sat a wicked curved blade mounted to a haunting looking limb of what must have been a great tree as old as the earth it grew upon. The blade was old and dented, nicked here and there, but obviously lethal as the day it was forged in the pit of some void.
I dropped the bag of groceries in what seemed like slow motion. Eggs shattered without a sound, and the loaf of bread flopped out of the bag onto the floor. I didn ’ t have any questions. Somehow, I knew who this was, and I knew what he was here for. It could have been somebody playing a joke, but I knew that it wasn ’ t. There wasn ’ t anything physical that gave it away, instead it was the sinking feeling of dread, emptiness. Something about his presence spoke of a finality that meant there was no running, no hiding. My mouth began to move, and to my surprise words came out. “ Get away from them… Please… ”
The figure stopped, one cloaked hand still holding the quaint, brightly decorated cup of tea he was about to lift to his hood. He sat still for what felt like an hour, staring straight ahead and down, directly at the coffee table. Mom and Dad didn ’ t move a muscle, instead they kept looking at him like nothing was wrong, like they weren ’ t staring the biggest abomination the world had ever seen directly in his void, empty face. His hand began to move, and slowly brought the cup down to the tray on the table, in silence. With a deafening boom, like the tolling of a bell, the cup clinked against the tray. My ears rang for a few seconds, it felt like somebody had built a church bell tower behind me while I stood petrified, and then rang the biggest bell directly in my ear. His head began to turn, and he looked at me. Or, more specifically, I looked at him.
I saw nothing, and it terrified me. I looked into that hood, and there was no light, no material. The cloth edge of the hood blended into an infinite darkness that left me numb in terror. He had no eyes, no face, no features other than empty, solid darkness. Slowly, he began to rise from the soft cushioned chair with the flower print so decoratively scattered along it ’ s aging fabric. He stood up to his full height, even from across the room I could tell he towered over my six foot five inch frame like a cat over a mouse.
He swiveled his head towards my innocently smiling mother, and then to my father, and nodded kindly. A raspy, horrid voice expelled the words “ Thank you for your hospitality, my dear friends, but it appears it is time for me to get back to work. ” My mother smiled brightly and replied “ You ’ re welcome, dear, feel free to stop by anytime. It was so nice to meet you. ”
“ Leave them alone... Don ’ t touch them… ” I croaked out in a voice that would make a bullfrog sound like an ideal candidate for public speaking. Without another word toward me, the gruesome figure turned and walked to the corner of the room opposite of me and picked up the grotesque piece of ancient farm equipment, grasping it firmly in whatever appendage was concealed underneath the arms of the cloak. He turned around and moved towards me. Without so much as a whisper his steps glided over the floor of the old house that would have creaked if a mouse sneezed on it. I stepped aside as he effortlessly brushed past me, a cold chill sinking into my bones. He stepped over the groceries on the floor, and went into the hallway as I turned to watch him depart. He opened the front door with a slow, steady movement.
There, through the open door he was about to step through, I saw that in the driveway, laying on the ice covered pavement, was me. My lifeless body was splayed out on the ice on my back like an upturned starfish. The back of my head rested on bright red ice covered in a pool of frozen blood that seeped out from the back of my skull. The bag of groceries that I had been carrying as I walked in from the truck was scattered across the driveway, crushed eggs coating the slick ice in a sickening yellow color. The Grim Reaper stepped out the door, and, turning around, pierced my heart with his gaze as he closed the door behind him and walked down the steps to do his work.
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[ WP ] Sexual favors are the only recognized form of currency . Describe the day of an average citizen . ( NSFW )
| Ever since the great currency change the world became a different place. The first thing you'd notice if you came from a different point in history is that there are a lot fewer people in the world since the population has drastically decreased. The next thing you'd notice is that everyone who walks around during the day are very attractive and young ( do n't go sniffing around in some of the darker alleyways or you'll regret it ). The final thing is there are a lot of men and women ( mostly men ) being walked on leashes like dogs. That can be explained because the currency change allowed women to take over the world. The less desirable men and women are treated as sub-human second class citizens.
I ca n't say the same for most of the other men but I very much enjoy my new mistress. Unlike some of the others she's a true sadist but treats me very very well.
Tomorrow I will advertise naked in the street for the mistress is now hiring. I hope someone applies.
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[ WP ] Two introverts are trying to hide from the drunken masses at a High School party gone wild . Tell me the story of them meeting in the only quiet room of the house .
| The room was beautiful. Lined with books, upholstered in leather, smelling of parchment and the fire that had burned low in the hearth. I held my breath... in an instant, the shitty day had turned to wonder. Aunt Gloria had a library.
Wait. Something about that thought was absurd. What was it? Oh, right. Aunt Gloria, reading. Or, for that matter, interior decorating in anything that was n't glass or flock wallpaper.
Her husband had divorced her years ago, so whose room was this? I turned a full circle on the spot, partly looking for clues, partly just taking in the gorgeous sanctuary I'd found. On the other side of these doors, my mother, aunt, uncles and cousins and a bevy of Gloria's neighbours - just to add to the horror - were roaring with laughter and extracting overly-intimate details about each other's lives. I could barely hear a thing. For the first time since the warning that were making the trip this year, I smiled. I let out the exhale and began to relax just a little. None of them would notice I was missing, except my mother, and not even her for a while yet.
I walked past the long reading table, admiring it without touching. If I started touching the wood in here, I'd never stop, in fact I might have to actively *bite* some of the shelving. Sexy shelving. Christ I *am* a nerd. The fireplace was a draw. Despite the numbers in the house, Gloria's home always did a number on my temperature regulation… my hands would freeze, while my armpits became sodden swamps. My face would burn and the back of my neck feel like someone was blowing icy air on it. I sat down, and picked up the book on the low table in front of me.
`` Do n't lose my place.'' The voice might have been soft, but it was so unexpected I had to bite my lip to keep from yelling'fucking hell'. I'd stood up again, almost dropping the book, and looked behind the chair. There was an old man sitting on the floor, with a pile of thin books in one hand and a box in front of him. He was slim, slight, but not quite frail. `` I was reading that, do n't lose my place.'' He turned his attention back to the box.
`` I… okay… sorry.'' I floundered a bit, but he had n't asked me to leave, and one person was a huge improvement on thirty. `` I'm Chris.''
`` Uh-huh'' responded the man, his head of grey, wispy hair now bent back over his task. The tone was not dismissive. He just did n't need any more information. At least, that's the impression I got, and I decided to trust it, because it was that or rejoin the family from introvert hell. I'm not good at social cues. He could have been telling me to get to fuck.
I sat back down and looked at the front of the book. A biography of a dead British politician. At least, I assumed he was dead; the photo on the front cover did n't bode well for longevity. According to strategically placed playing card, my companion was on page four. I supposed once you reached his age, it was possible to forget you'd read four pages. I flipped to the back to double-check that this was n't something I was going to be able to pretend to read, even as a social prop, and the card fell to the floor.
`` Well, there it is. The evening is looking up. Do you suppose,'' mused the man from behind me, `` anyone out there plays Cribbage?''
`` I do, I might be rusty though. Dad played.''
`` Which one is your dad?''
`` Steven. Marjorie's my mum. He died last year.''
`` Oh…. Yes, Marjorie's fellow. Quiet chap? I'm sorry for your loss. Go and get the crib board.''
`` It's not … uh, out there is it?''
`` Do I look stupid? It's in the box on that shelf up there. The cards, too. Most of them.'' He held up the three of clubs, and I took it gingerly, and went to fetch the board and cards. *When I grow up*, I thought, inadvertently reverting to my childhood mantra of desire, *I will have a room just like this. And stay in it. *
I took the crib board back to my spot by the fire, and realised he'd cleared a space on the floor. The books and box had been pushed aside, and a spare cushion had appeared, allowing me to realise that he'd been sitting on one, oddly gracefully at that. It was a nice little den near the fire, behind the chair, in the corner, and the feeling of being a child again grew, only in a comfortable way that I'd rarely really experienced. I sat, settling easily into the little nook, and watched him shuffle the cards about. His legs might have bent well enough to sit on the floor, but his hands moved slowly. Still, I could tell he enjoyed the sensation of shuffling them, so I waited until he was content to offer me the cut.
Our game began, a little stilted at first, but warming up quickly. Crib has a known language; *Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, two for a pair makes eight. * There's a script. You can expand on it, if you want to trash talk, but this guy was about eighty, maybe older, so I kept my remarks respectful, even when I suspected him of pegging an extra point or two, enjoying the rarity of communication without effort.
We'd played most of the way around the circuit, and I was losing by maybe a point or three, when the door opened and the noise barrelled in. I looked up and saw my disappointment and mild alarm mirrored in my companion's eyes. Then he allowed himself a small smile and winked at me.
`` Chris? Christopher? Are you going to join us or not? Oh. `` The voice took in the apparently empty room, `` Your great-uncle Chris has gone to bed. I'm sure you'll see him for breakfast tomorrow, I've told him it's going to be the whole family, he's really looking forward to it.'' Aunt Gloria began this sentence in over-loud tones on one side of the door and finished it as she pulled it closed behind her. I realised neither of us had alerted her to our presence in a space that, I now realised, was artfully designed to hide someone, or at the most two people, from the casual observer.
`` I go to bed much later than she thinks I do.'' remarked great-uncle Chris before laying his hand out. He did n't even have to enumerate the ways in which I was stuffed. `` Best of three?''
`` Yes please.'' I took the cards, gave them as thorough a shuffle as I could without showing off the flexibility in my knuckles, and let him cut for the second game. `` What are you going to do about breakfast?'' I asked politely.
`` Assuming I do n't die in the night, and you never know, God is sometimes merciful, I might conveniently forget that we have guests and go for a walk into the nearest village for the paper and some croissants. As an old man,'' he leaned in conspiratorially, `` I could fall. I might need a companion.'' I was grinning freely by now. `` Your father used to go for quite a lot of walks when Marjorie would bring him out to see her family.'' I smiled, imagining Dad up here. `` I got the most charming card from him when you were born.''
`` You did?''
`` Indeed. Hand me that book.''
I reached back and hooked the politician's biography or memoirs, and watched as he flipped to three quarters of the way through, pulling out a small, battered notecard that I had n't noticed. It had obviously done service as a bookmark for a number of years. He handed it back across to me and I read what my father had written within.
*It's a boy! Came out quiet, barely made a peep for the first half an hour, so we're naming him after you! * ~~ Marj & Steven.
____________________
[ edit ]: Went with the hiding-from-party theme, forgot by the second paragraph that it was supposed to be a high-school thing. Sorry OP.
[ edit 2 ]: The gold made my day! May your world be full of books and corners to read them in, whoever you are.
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[ WP ] You wake up on a space ship and do n't remember anything . All of the crew is dead except you and one other person . You are one year into a two year voyage . Your crew mate tells you that the rest died because of an oxygen malfunction . You slowly start to remember that he killed them ...
| My head felt very fuzzy, sitting up straight with my hand on my head. I started to cough, and breathing felt difficult. My vision started coming back. I see darkness but a small light source revealing everything. I'm in a small metal room, and sitting across me is a girl. Looks like she's in her 20s.
`` Finally awake?'' She asked me.
I did n't respond, still feeling nauseous. I shook my head to wake myself up. Replying with a simple nod. I then asked her.
`` Where are we?''
`` We're in the last safe room of the ship, the oxygen in the ship suddenly malfunctioned-''
`` Wait ship? Oxygen malfunction?!'' I interrupted her, I do n't remember being on a ship. My memory felt hazy, I ca n't recall anything. Not even my name...
`` I was getting to that, our ship hit an asteroid on our voyage across the solar system. The asteroid made a dent on or ship, damaging our oxygen reserves. Everyone else is dead. Just us left.''
I sat in awe, why have I forgot about being in this predicament, more importantly why have I forgotten my life? Suddenly my head hurt a lot, I placed both my hands on my head while clenching my teeth. Wait my name... I'm Ethan... And I'm 22 years old...
I remember! We were on a 2 year voyage across the solar system. Gathering samples for something... My memory only reached that far. I also remembered he girl's name, Emily.
`` Hey you ok?'' Emily asked.
`` Yea... Just some headaches that's all.'' I lied.
We both fell silent, I looked around the room. Wait if an asteroid hit us. Should n't there be no gravity? Then why are n't we floating? Ok do n't tell me she's lying? I looked at the door, it's not fully closed! Should n't we be dead by now from oxygen deprivation, or die from the vacuum of space? I looked at Emily, she's sleeping. Probably from being tired.
Now is my chance, I clicked the button that opens the door. It slid open, I quickly checked on Emily who's still sleeping. I tiptoed out and I heard a splat when I placed my shoes on the ground. I looked and saw a corpse....
Wait why is he bleeding from his throat? This is incredibly strange. Placing my hand on the corpse my head hurts again, but this time I groaned loudly from the pain.
Wait that person is Kyle... Oh god, no Emily lied about almost everything. Everyone was killed by another crew member! But my memory would n't tell me who.
Just then footsteps come rushing towards me, I turned and Emily pushed me towards the floor. She raised her hand up with clutching a knife.
`` I would've spared you if you did n't waltz out of there.''
I managed to kick her back, she dropped and I quickly got up. Disarming her with ease. I pushed the knife but she use her hands to block me. She pushed me back and I let go of the knife. I quickly got up and ran down the ship's hallway.
After some running I reached the cockpit, I quickly pressed the button to lock the door. I dropped to the floor in exhaustion, and I started to hear footsteps running around the hallway. She's crazy!
Scanning the cockpit, it's not very big. But it has five seats and some control modules and etcetera.
I walked towards the captain's seat. There sat the corpse of Captain James. I prayed for his soul, picked the body up and dropped it on the floor. I sat on the seat and placed my fingers on each of the handles. Then the sound of a computer came up.
`` Please verify yourself.'' It said.
`` Crew member Ethan Heather.''
`` Attention, private video authorised to be played.''
A screen popped up in front of me, it's Captain James bleeding from his stomach.
`` Hey Ethan, by now you probably escaped from that madwoman, listen I made videos for each crew member, allowing them control of the ship's AI. I exclude Emily for obvious reasons, but once the video finishes the ship will cryogenically freeze anyone in the cockpit. The ship will be set to head straight for Earth at maximum speed, and everywhere except the cockpit will be deprived of oxygen, surely killing Emily except you. I'm probably a goner, but Ethan, your one of the best crew mates we can ever have. Saving our ass twice already. Hope you survive man, say hi to Jennifer for me.''
The video ends and tears ran down my eyes. The AI started speaking again.
`` Attention, releasing cryogenic substance into the cockpit. Oxygen reserves are cut off from the ship except the cockpit.''
I closed my eyes. Feeling the incredibly cold air around me. I ca n't wait to be out of here.
|
[ CW ] `` He could hear the wind whistling through the pines , and farther off the faint cry of a loon . ''
| Mathis sat heavily on the large stones, his breathing laboured. He set down the large satchel filled with his day ’ s supplies, and rested his rifle against his legs. The years were weighing heavy on his now aged frame, and he should not have been trying to walk so far each day.
Mathis had left the world behind many years ago, and wandered alone to this place to live among the nothingness and silence. He ’ d had no use for others in those days, when his youthful anger and broken devotions had driven him so far. Instead, he had faced the unknown dangers and trials alone, forging a life for himself in the darkness of the forests, and along the glimmer of unnamed lakes and streams.
As years had passed, he missed the sound of human voices, though not so much the words they spoke. He didn ’ t care to remember the lies and deceit that only humans could produce, but animal calls and whispering trees were not sufficient analogues for the sing-song warble of humanity. He longed for cakes and pork, and for cotton clothing. But his desire for solitude remained stronger than his sense of loneliness, and the wild pulled him ever deeper into the woods.
Decades had passed, and alone he had conquered the far corners of his private world; seeking and naming all of the streams and peaks within. No other human would hear these names, nor see these distant places, but he didn ’ t care for such fame. He was content to age in step with the beasts and trees. On cold nights alone, he would dream of a wife, and the children they raised. He could see the faces and hear the laughter of a family that he had never deserved, and refused to love. The loss of this particular future was the only thing that could bring him to the crest of despair, but his joyless love for solitude kept his soul fed, and brought him back to his endeavours.
Now in old age, Mathis ’ heart beat heavier, and his lungs drew less air. He could no longer visit the farthest borders of his home, and could only capture the easiest of prey, leaving himself perpetually undernourished. Age had been taking its toll, and had slowly beaten him down. Resting now on the large stones near one of his rivers, Mathis contemplated the many lives he had possibly left behind for this one. He thought about the peaks he would never again climb, and the countless relations from back home he had never met.
His breathing weakened further. He could hear the wind whistling through the pines, and farther off the faint cry of a loon.
|
[ WP ] Magic has entered the modern world , bringing an assortment of non-human magical creatures with it . And one of them has just been elected President of the United States .
| `` Filthy satyrs. He's not my leader that's for damn sure!''
A television flickered in a store window. A man, or half man-goat, stood in front of a podium with the Presidential Seal shining boldly in the spotlight. He hairy, and clawed hand was placed on a Bible. The image was not one many humans had become used to yet.
`` It's a melting pot, not a damn garbage bin you can throw in whatever you want!''
`` End of the fucking country! The founding fathers are rolling in their graves I'm sure!''
`` Oh it's not that bad! He's really smart if you'd listen to him!''
`` Shut your damn mouth boy! The country was running fine before a fairy, giant, banshee, or faun ever set foot on U.S. soil.''
`` Well they're here now, and they are n't leaving. I can promise you that.''
`` I've heard human only counties are being set up all over the country! Of course some magic trash is saying it's against the Constitution. But it was written by **men** for **man**! Washington did n't give a damn about magic creatures!''
`` He did n't care much about women or slaves either...''
`` Boy if you do n't shut your god damned mouth-''
The television erupted with applause. The 53rd President of the United States, Hornglow Redleaf, had been sworn in and the crowd cheered. Minotaurs, goblins, pixies, a few drakes, and even a few mermaids ( in the reflection pool ) were visible in the crowd. Fireworks exploded overhead.
`` He's not my president...''
|
[ IP ] A burned shack under a dark sky
| `` You're going to regret it.''
Yeah, asshole, I regret thinking you were competent enough to finish this job correctly.
`` I'm serious, John, stop walking towards the house.''
`` If you had done your job, I would n't have to! Shoot the old man, grab the diamond from the safe. Come on, what are you standing out there for!?''
``... I warned you, mate...'', his accented voice rung through as he turned to walk back to the car.
I entered the house, still smoldering, with a pop or a creak here and there. `` Asshole did n't have to burn the place to the ground...''
The intel said the old man would be in bed at the time Mike would be there, but arriving in his bedroom, the only thing was a mattress. WAS is important, now it was just a mass of springs, melted at different degrees, no bones. Musta' been the epicenter of the fire. I entered anyway, looking for the safe, when I heard the groan of heat stressed hinges. `` Hey, Mike, come help me look for the safe, since you freakin' ruined the hou - `` What stood before me was n't Mike and can only be described as horror. On what was left of the old man's chest were two bullet wounds, off-set against his crispy, blackened body. His face was halfway between Ark-of-the-Covenant melted, and the Elephant Man. The left side of his chest and arm were bone, and you could see his oily, blistered heart thump poorly.
I heard the sound of tires spinning out in sand and the old man came towards me. Not as a man would, but as an animal would.
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[ WP ] Starting at the age of 10 , humans are given companion animals that develop along side them . These animals can range anywhere from a goldfish to a horse to even a dragon . The only catch is that they are assigned based on your behavior during childhood .
| Clusters of kids huddled together, whispering excitedly. Intense debates over who would receive one of the coolest Spirit Beasts such as a bear, giant spider, or bison. Bets involving some pretty good Pokemon cards were involved, so a high-stake feeling permeated the room.
The local Beastmaster stood up on the podium of the Rec Center's Conference Room 2B and tapped the mic. The son of the Previous Beastmaster, this was only his third time hosting a Spirit Joining. He gulped and announced, `` OK, settle down kids! The Spirit Joining for children turning 10 in January is starting.'' First up is Laurence Ashburne!''
Laurence, a short yet gangly young boy with curly hair, was teased by his fellow students about his last name quite too often. He never got incredibly mad at them, but he was n't very cool-tempered either. He stood up on the podium and put a lock of his hair in the ceremonial brazier.
With a puff of smoke, a kangaroo emerged from the mist. Laurence paused for a moment, then nodded. He stated, `` I think I'll name you.. Wallace.'' The Beastmaster shook his hand and helped him down the steep stairs. Fortunately for Laurence, his main bully, Dennis, got a cricket. From that day on, he would never be called Assburn again.
Next up was Alice Patel. A mildly extroverted, nature-loving young girl, Alice's parents chased after her on their Spirt Beasts ( both horses ) all day long. Her disposition was remarkably sunny, and she loved to tell a good joke. When she threw her locket of hair in the brazier, a giant flying squirrel appeared. The Young Beastmaster jumped back in surprise and yelped, but Alice was unfazed. She immediately skipped down the steps to the podium with her new friend. Alice would spend many a day gliding through the woods with her Beast, who she named Rita. She still loves to glide.
Finally, up walked Nina Dominguez. A bookish young girl, she was n't much of a good or bad kid. Nobody knew what animal she would get. When she threw her hair in the locket, an animal barely anyone had seen appeared. A big, old Galapagos tortoise! Nina gave the ol' fella a great big hug and lead him gently off. The audience was a bit shocked, but applauded anyway. Some Pokemon cards were quietly passed back and forth.
Once the three young children received their animals, the Beastmaster wiped his brow. `` Well, that was a interesting menagerie. The town's third kangaroo, first flying squirrel, and first Galapagos tortoise! Congratulations!
Everyone applauded as the kids blushed.
Later..
The Beastmaster, whose name was Lars, picked up the phone and called his father.
`` Hey Dad. DO\o the Ceremonies always stay this weird?''
|
[ WP ] Cats are people and people are cats . You remain human .
| Jim and Mittens live in a house. Jim rolls around on the floor and runs away from the Suck Beast. Mittens pays his taxes and buys the groceries. Sometimes, Jim likes to sit on Mittens' lap or Mittens' computer, as both places are warm. When Mittens is busy, he shoos Jim away, but after a long nine-to-five, he appreciates the endearing nuzzling and kind tongue-rolling. Jim scratches the couch at night so that Mittens does n't become angry. In his earlier days, Jim had to learn to do this via Mittens' menacing water spray. They certainly have their differences. For the most part, though, this inseparable duo maintains itself with food, love, and a lot of fuzz. Jim is simply too cute to draw one's ire.
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[ WP ] After civilization was mostly wiped out , a device is invented that can transfer the current mind of the subject to their past self . You are a survivor of the cataclysm , and your mind is sent back to before the event . You will do whatever it takes to prevent the apocalypse .
| `` All hands abandon ship!'' Jean Luc Picard desperately orders as the *Enterprise* spins out of control. As he repeats the command, Data twiddles the device on his arm, `` I repeat, all hands abandon-''
[ KA-BOOM! ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=-cC7QmQ4Nzo )
`` Captain's Log, Stardate 45652.1,'' Picard records in his daily record, `` The *Enterprise* has entered an area of space known as the Typhon Expanse. We are the first Starfleet vessel to chart this unexplored region.''
`` Sometimes I wonder if he's stacking the deck,'' Riker groans in his quarters over poker with other senior officers.
Having just finished shuffling, Data answers, `` I assure you, Commander, the cards are sufficiently randomized.''
`` I hope so,'' Worf groans, although his concern is different.
Riker notices and asks about it.
`` I am experiencing Ni'pah,'' he answers, `` The feeling I have done this before.''
`` Yeah,'' Riker chuckles, `` Last Tuesday night.''
`` No,'' Worf shakes his head, not merely to answer, but to try to dislodge whatever it is that has gotten into his head, `` That's not what I mean.''
`` I've been having the same feeling,'' Dr. Crusher drones grimly. She stops Data from dealing the first face up cards in this round of five card stud, `` Wait,'' she points around the table, predicting, or rather *remembring* the cards he is about to deal, `` An eight, an ace, a queen, and a four.''
Instead, respectively, Data deals a three of clubs, a three of spades, a three of diamonds to the doctor, and a three of hearts to himself.
-- --
Excerpt transcribed and narrated from *Star Trek: The Next Generation* S5E18 *Cause and Effect*, Paramount 1992 ( I also distinctly remember off-air a television series with this exact premise, a time machine that could send people back only one week, which featured an episode where the entire world was destroyed except for the main characters of the series, who had to get back to their time machine within a week of the disaster in order to arrive in time to prevent it. I have not been able to identify it. )
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[ WP ] It 's the first night of your new job , security guard for the Empire State Building , unbeknownst to you , it 's the same night King Kong arrives .
| Part 2 of 2
I walked to the bank of silent lobby elevators and thumbed the UP arrow. How Paul expected me to patrol 80-plus floors was beyond me. What needed guarding anyway? Ever since the terrorist attack on the Sears Tower two years ago, all American buildings deemed “ culturally significant ” were ordered to cease all business or tenant operations. The Empire State Building subsisted solely on tourism now, and with the exception of a catastrophically lost tourist, I wasn ’ t likely to run into anyone except Paul for the next 8 hours.
I took the elevator up to the observation deck on the 86th floor, my half-assed plan being to start at the top and work my way down. I stepped off the elevator and flicked on my flashlight, sweeping it in a slow arc around the rectangular glass paneled room. The wind buffeted the windows, coming in whistling waves against the glass. Normally this would be packed with tourists, all vying for a piece of the New York City skyline. Kids would be outside on the deck with their faces mashed against the tower viewers, trying to catch a glimpse of some far off point of interest…
A low rumbling had joined the sound of the wind, riding just beneath it. It seemed to come from my left, through the bundle of downtown buildings. Curious, I extinguished my flashlight and moved towards the glass, trying to find the source of the new sound. Could it just be the wind? Granted I ’ d never been up here alone before, maybe without the din of the tourists this is just how it sounded. I listened hard: the rumbling continued in a steady pace, a stab and then it would fade, stab then fade. I still couldn ’ t see anything; New York remained twinkly and pristine, suspended against the inky blackness of the sky. Whatever the sound was though, it was getting louder.
I was about to call Paul on the radio when I saw it: a massive shape moving against the buildings down below. It dwarfed the traffic that was scattering beneath it, and in the headlight confusion I saw flashes of dark fur. Dark fur that I definitely recognized, that anyone with a TV on Earth would recognize.
I had to know what was going down there in more detail. I leapt over the small gift shop counter and cracked open the cash register with the key Paul had shown me earlier during my training. I pulled a fistful of quarters from the till and vaulted back over the counter, my radio clattering to the floor as I pushed open the glass door and spilled out onto the deck.
I heard the rumble much more distinctly outside; it was a continuous pounding now. The wind howled as I pumped change into the nearest tower viewer, pressing my face against the eye holes and whirling it down to observe the commotion below.
There he was, it was unmistakable. Magnified 10x by the viewer and now lit by several helicopter spotlights, King Kong was moving angrily through the streets of Manhattan, spurred onward by some unseen force. I strained my eyes for more detail. I could see people abandoning their cars now, running into the nearest building to avoid his rage. One of the helicopters flew in front of my view; it had military markings on the side of it. Its side door was thrown open, a soldier poised in the middle on a mounted gun. The helicopter pulled broadside to the rampaging Kong, and a gout of orange flame issued from the side of the aircraft, followed a moment later by the *brrrrrrrwap* of the gun, carried by the wind up to my perch on the observation deck.
I watched the rounds rake into the beast ’ s flesh, but they had no discernable effect. Roaring, Kong turned and took a running leap at the helicopter. The chopper knifed through the air to avoid the swipe; Kong ’ s huge outstretched hand missed it by what seemed like feet. He slammed into the ground, rolled over a tour bus, and kept running. I angled the viewer back to street level and saw now what had been chasing him earlier: a fleet of tanks had just turned onto the street, skirting around the crushed and flaming tour bus, their turrets swinging in an attempt to track his erratic movement. I saw one tank fire; a second later, an orange fireball erupted from the building just next to mine. Kong had dodged the round, but more distressingly, it looked like he was headed straight into- *click*. The eyes of the viewer went black.
“ Shit! ” I screamed, plunging my hand into my pocket to look for more change-
The force of Kong hitting the base of the Empire State Building sounded like another tank round had hit the structure. I actually felt the building sway with the impact, metal groaning against the still howling wind as the entire building seemed to shudder. I sprinted back into the glass observation room, waving my flashlight wildly as I scanned the floor for my discarded radio. I had to warn Paul, he had no way of knowing what was happening. Immense crashing noises were emanating from below me, and in my mind ’ s eye I imagined the colossal ape climbing the side of the building. I shut the visions out; where the fuck was my radio?
A glint of plastic near the elevator. *Bingo! * I steadied the flashlight beam and charged towards the elevators, scooping up the radio at a run. I skidded to a halt in front of them and slammed my palm on the DOWN button. The doors dinged open and I threw myself inside, simultaneously twisting the radio ’ s channel selector until ‘ 2 ’ glowed red on the LED indicator. I depressed the talk button and yelled into the handset “ PAUL YOU HAVE TO GET OU- ”
The world detonated around me in a cacophony of grinding metal, shrieking wind, and shattering glass. I was thrown off my feet and back out of the elevator, hitting hard on the opposite wall and landing in a heap on the ground beneath it. Pain shot down my right arm and breaths were suddenly accompanied by stabs of agony. Coughing, I rolled onto my back, shaking my head to clear my tunneled vision, feeling broken glass crunching beneath my shoulders. White plaster and insulation were raining down around me like snow. I looked up to see a dark red steel beam twisted and dislodged above me. The beam teetered for a moment on the edge of balance, then with a great wrenching noise plunged down directly towards me. I rolled, the beam clattering down next to me, and smacked into something laying across the middle of the room. Something solid yet warm, and covered in hair.
I propped myself up via elbow to see, to my horror, the giant hand of King Kong, stretched wide across the floor of the observation deck, arm disappearing out into the night air. And there, just outside the now demolished glass windows, was the eye of the beast, and it was fixated on me.
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[ WP ] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers . You are a laughinstock , that is until you start using your power for evil ... no one is laughing now .
| I'll never forget the day it all started. I was only twelve years old, which was n't unusual. That's usually the age when powers begin to manifest. They took me to the doctor, not the medical kind, the powers doctor. See, that's his power, he can sense the abilities of others. It seems useless on its own, but since there are only a dozen people like him on the planet, he can charge a pretty penny for what he does.
I remember sitting in that chair, his hand on my forehead. I was so excited, I could n't wait to find out what my power was. He closed his eyes for a second, breathed deeply, and muttered `` laugh control''. My heart dropped into my shoes. Laugh control? What the hell is laugh control? I looked at my parents, their faces were full of shock. I mean, I thought dad was going to open up a wormhole and whisk himself away to Mars. Mom even started to glow before dad calmed her down. What the hell, my parents are two of the most powerful people on the planet, and they breed to make laugh control? By all reckonings I should have been a god. I mean that's what they were expecting.
The next few years were rough. While other kids got to go to powers class and learn to utilize their abilities to the benefit of society, I was stuck doing extra algebra. They did n't even bother teaching me. I think the only kid worse off than me was the dork who could leave a slug trail. At least I could just stop them all from laughing at me.
It was n't long after my parents received the disappointing news about me that they decided to try again. Peter was born when I was 14, and he was mostly a good kid. By the time he was three years old he was already showing more potential than I could ever hope for. It was n't long before he discovered what a colossal failure I was. I can still hear him snickering at me. But I should be thanking Pete, he helped me achieve my full potential.
I was stuck babysitting Pete one night when I was 18. Not that I had anything better to do. It's not like they had colleges for people as useless as I was. I had n't even heard from ole Sluggy in months. He was probably working in some factory lubricating machine parts. Pete was watching tv, some stupid show about a world where nobody had powers, when he turned to me with malice in his eyes and said `` just like you'', then he laughed at me. I figured I'd toy with him a little, and I pulled the laugh right out of his throat. Then I realized something. I did n't have to give it back.
For the first time in my life I actually felt powerful. Pete did n't even notice at first, he just turned back to his show. I could feel the laugh inside me, bouncing around like a rubber ball. I had to try again. I turned to Pete and watched for a while. Eventually the characters cracked some lame joke, but when Pete tried to laugh there was nothing, not even a peep. He turned and looked at me, his eyes started to glow. `` what did you do to me?'' he yelled. But he was only four, his powers could n't help him yet, whatever they would've been. Now it was my turn to laugh.
I could still feel the laugh, and I realized I needed more. I left Pete to watch his show and walked downtown to the movie theatre. I wish we had a car, but we never needed one thanks to dad. I checked the listings, and to my luck there was a comedy playing. I slipped into the theatre and waited until the audience was roaring. Then I took a deep breath and absorbed every laugh in the room. The theatre suddenly got quieter than a funeral. The jokes kept going, but the laughs had stopped.
I could feel every laugh zipping around inside of me. At first it actually burned. I stumbled out of the theatre and headed for home. The pain in my stomach was almost unbearable. It felt like I'd been shot. I had enough laughs now, I could give back Pete's. As I stumbled towards home a car stopped next to me. Just my luck, a cop.
`` you ok buddy?'' he asked me.
`` Just fine,'' I lied. `` Just trying to get home, that's all''.
`` hey, have you been drinking?'' he asked me as I stumbled away.
`` no,'' i said, `` just not feeling well''.
Then he pulled out a breathalyzer. He could n't be serious. He thought I was drunk? Despite the pain in my stomach my mind had never felt clearer. As he walked towards me I started to feel annoyed. Did he even know who my parents were? He would've been pissing himself if he did.
Then something else occurred to me. You know how they say you could yell for a year and heat up a cup of coffee? Well imagine what the energy of 100 laughs could do. I let them out, all of them at once. The lights on his cruiser exploded. He covered his ears and screamed before he fell to the ground. As quickly as I could I pulled the laughs back into me, but it was too late. I checked the cop's pulse, but he was barely breathing. Blood was pouring from his ears. What had I done?
I could n't go home, they'd know it was me. There are people who can tell. There was only one thing to do, I had to gather enough laughs to protect myself. They'd kill me for what I'd done. I hopped into the cruiser and turned the key. I drove out of town and never looked back.
I made it to the city just before dawn and ditched the car. They'd probably have found out what I'd done by now. I hoped my reputation could buy me some time. I knew what I had to do. A city full of laughs, ripe for the picking. Over the course of the day I visited half a dozen movie theatres. When night fell I went to the comedy clubs. As I passed people on the street I stole every laugh I heard. I waited outside people's windows, waiting for them to chuckle at supper. It was like that for a week. I do n't know how they did n't find me sooner. Maybe my parents protected me. Maybe I just got lucky.
But eventually of course they did find me. But by then it was far too late, I had thousands of laughs under my control. They only sent three officers after me. Their mistake. If they had sent more they probably could've stopped me then, but of course then they still thought I was a joke.
The officers approached me slowly. I was in an alley, nowhere to run. I like to think I would've tried to run if I could've. They all looked confident, almost arrogant. I often wonder what their powers were, why they did n't sent an energy absorber or someone who could turn to stone or something. But they just sent three average guys. Probably mild truthtellers or something. That's what most cops always were.
`` Stay back,'' I warned, `` I do n't want to hurt you''.
One of them had the balls to laugh. I took it from him.
`` what are you gon na do, Chuckles?'' another one said.
That's when the first one laughed again and realized what I had done. That's when I closed my eyes and let loose the laughter. When I pulled back the laughs and opened my eyes, there was nothing left. I had leveled the entire block. I took a look around, no sign of the cops. Then I started to panic, everyone would hear about this. They'd bring the hammer down on me now.
I fled, and by some miracle I managed to stay a few steps ahead of the law. I can still imagine my father, opening up his portals, searching for me. But they did n't find me. I never did get to talk to them. Father whisked them off somewhere I'm sure. I stayed low, I stayed quiet. I never stayed in a city for more than a day, I'd hit the biggest comedy club then move on. I learned how to let loose just enough laughs to put someone down quietly. I stayed one step ahead of them until it was far too late. By the time they finally caught up to me I probably had almost a million laughs. Even the durables could n't last long enough to put me down. I still think with better strategy they could've done it, but they were all so arrogant then.
That's when I stopped hiding. That's when I started marching into cities like the god I was. The god my parents always wanted me to be. I'd always let them choose. Laugh for me and I leave in peace. By the time the eternals began to pay attention even they could n't stop me. They knew if they tried to stop me I'd let out all the laughs at once and see what happened. They're afraid that even they might not survive, and they know the planet certainly wo n't, so they stay away.
It's been like this for years now. I have the new laughs rounded up as quick as I can. Sooner or later a kid will be born on one of the colonies who'll be a perfect counter to me, but for now I'm unstoppable. They used to laugh at me, now they laugh for me. And they only get to do it once. I still ca n't believe they let this happen, they must hate themselves for it. I find it hilarious, but you know what? No one's laughing now.
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[ WP ] A new invention enables people to remember their dreams with absolute clarity . It turns out we were forgetting them for a very good reason .
| My name is Liam and It's been four months since I last dreamed.
A lot of people set their alarms to wake up throughout the night, sleeping in half hour bursts, other people sleep in shifts, watching each other. I take Myclocin. Dreamless sleep. I have a good job and make good money so I get the pills. Others, are n't so lucky.
Last year some Chinese company invented a machine that lets you remember dreams with total clarity. I mean down to the details man. No ambiguity, crystal clear memories of amazing landscapes and experiences.
It became THE Christmas gift. Then you could record your dreams and upload them to youtube. And that's when things started to fall apart, that's when we started to notice them.
We'd never noticed them before. I think it's because in your dreams you're always focused on the doing. Taking that exam, driving that car, fucking that girl. We've never really paused and looked around the same way you might do on a Sunday morning walk. But they were there, they'd always been there, standing in the background, silently watching us. Holes instead of eyes, long fingers, teeth... fuck, so many teeth.
Maybe we did notice them thousands of years ago, way back when we were still lived in caves, maybe that's where our Gods and monsters came from. Maybe we evolved to forget them, muddled dreams gave them a camouflage to hide behind. But not any more. We saw them standing in the background and edges in our dreams and everyone else's. I thought it was one of those internet memes at first, like slenderman or something. People with too much time on their hands photoshopping their dreams for cheap likes and shares.
But they were real, and when we finally noticed them they started to notice us. They stepped out of the peripheral, reached out with those long, grey, cold fingers and....took people.
I know we wo n't last, we ca n't fight them, turning off the machines did nothing. People queued, fucking queued up in lines on the edges of buildings and bridges like they were waiting for a bus to come and take them away. Instead they jumped, the roads and canals were full of red-black carnage every morning.
So we do n't dream. We wake each other up, or we take turns, we drink coffee like it was water, we inject, we pop pills, anything to stop us from dreaming.
But it has n't worked, I can feel my mind unraveling like so many others before me. I need to get some natural sleep. I need to dream. But I do n't dare. I'd gladly give up food and water if I could dream and give my brain what it needs. Instead I stare into my computer screen trying to remember what I was trying to do. I do n't trust myself behind the wheel of my car. I walk everywhere now, a stumbling, mindless walk like everyone else.
We look like a zombie apocalypse shuffling from place to place.
People have started to hallucinate. Not so much from sleep deprivation but dream deprivation, and some people just... snap. Some old lady in town just went for it out of the blue, no one was shocked. We watched her run into the street screaming, desperately trying to get hit by a car. She'd managed to gouge out one of her eyes before she was hit. Fuck knows what she was seeing. I helped drag her out of the road, her mashed up eye in one clawed hand. We said nothing.
The hallucinations are bad but what's worse is... I think They can... I think They're starting to come through now into the real world. I guess any dream is enough for them, even a hallucination.
I saw the first two this morning. Behind me in the bathroom mirror while I was brushing my teeth, two long-limbed pale faced... things. Watching me with those holes instead of eyes. Yawning mouths full of needle thin teeth.
Four months to get to this point. And I just ca n't let them take me. But I ca n't go on.
The line is efficient. We shuffle forwards. Some people scream on the way down, most do n't. I think it's because they're happy. Happy to finally sleep without dreams.
[ Part Two ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2yfezw/wp_a_new_invention_enables_people_to_remember/cp9me7z )
[ all writing shizzle ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/steelicarus )
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[ WP ] A blind man suddenly/inexplicably regains his vision , describe the first thing he sees
| He waked up with a cacophony of colors. Everything was bright and vibrant. All the hues seemed to blend together, making a large dizzying swirl right in his face. When he sat up from his bed, vertigo hit him. The wild maroon from the curtains, the inky black of the dresser, the swallowing white of his bed sheet, it was all too much. His senses were overloaded; his eyes exposed to too much at one time. He didn ’ t think it would turn out like this. The surgery was supposed to be a blessing, a gift from God. Now, he ’ s cursed, his world suddenly changed. “ Take it back! ” he screamed. “ I don ’ t want it anymore. ” He tried to stand up but his foot hit the bed post violently. He looked at his own toes, one of them bleeding. That was his blood, coming out from his own body. It was a disgusting color, scarlet with brown. His breath hitched, his vision slowly getting out of focus. Bile quickly rose up to his throat and he puked it on to the lush mauve carpet. It didn ’ t seem to stop. Over and over again he heaved, his head feeling lighter with each wave. The colors of the rooms looked as if they disappeared, retreating back to their shelter. All his eyes could see now was the pallid green of his vomit.
Suddenly he hears a rush of footsteps up the stairs, his bedroom doors swinging loudly. He closed his eyes; a soft “ No ” comes out from his lips. A woman dives onto his bed, her hands already on his face. “ Marty, what ’ s wrong? The doctor said there shouldn ’ t be any complications. Marty, I need you to lift up your head. Marty, I have to know if you ’ re alright. ” She started to shake him, fearful for her husband ’ s health.
He reached out to her, pressing his body against hers. Her sobbing wrecked him, for he didn ’ t know what to do. He couldn ’ t lift his head for her. He knew who his wife was. There was no need for him to see her. He knew every bump in her body, from the soft plump of her cheeks to the callused soles of her feet. He was scared that if he finally saw what she looked like, she would be different. The colors he had desired for all his life now attacked him. His being is already turning upside down. His wife is the most treasured part of his universe. To visually see her is to end his old life. No longer is he the blind helpless man, but he is now an infant, born new to world. It was frightening. He was not ready to leave it all behind yet.
“ Marty, please tell me you ’ re okay ”
With reluctance, he untangled himself from the embrace, bracing himself to her image. When he opened his eyes, his wife smiled. Her hair was not jet black as he thought, but a dark brown, parts shining lighter in the light. The shape of her lips was the same wide, with a prominent cupid ’ s bow that he touched before. Her nose was as slender as he imagined. The eyes, her beautiful eyes, branded his mind. They were wide, her lashes a bit damp from sobbing. Her pupils were most vivid blue. Funny how in 12 years of marriage, she never mentioned her eye color. He chuckled and his wife laughed in return.
Marty brought his hands up to her cheeks, tears rolling down from his eyes.
“ You are beautiful. ”
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[ WP ] I promised you an army . There she is .
| `` I promised you an army. There she is.'' Said the chief adviser.
`` That?'' I chuckled with a frown.
`` That is but a girl, how do you expect me to wage war, or even defend my own Kingdom, with a little girl?'' I retorted mockingly and un-amused.
The girl was filthy, dressed in tattered robes, dirt of all kind smeared her face like a pigs makeup, and her hair covered in grime. She could n't be any older than eleven or twelve, her legs dragged behind her, her wrists shackled with reinforced steel, each nailed to a wooden block, as her body lay hanging forward.
She looked up at me for a moment, through the slits in her hair she gazed at me, a malevolent hatred shone brilliantly through them, no words were spoken, only a beasts snarl escaped her teeth.
`` Yes your majesty, but she is no ordinary girl, the towns folk told us of a little girl living up in the mountains, a dark witch who was burned at the stake in that town ended up finding a new body as her vessel, we lost a considerable number of men trying to subdue her.'' Replied the adviser humbly as curiosity started to rise within me, a smile formed upon my lips.
`` And this, is that mighty witch?'' I asked knowingly.
I began to step down the steps leading to my throne, closer to the witch, my soldiers began to tense up, fearing what might happen to me, yet none dared to say anything.
`` Your Highness, you may wish to keep you-'' I cut my advisers words short with a wave of my hand, as he bowed in compliance and stepped back.
I lowered myself to the little girl in front of me, our eyes met, our faces only a breaths length away, as I could smell the rot escaping her lips.
A snarl was thrown my way, ignoring it, I grabbed her face with one hand, turning each cheek and inspecting her as if she were a concubine.
`` And the girl?'' I asked as I turned my head to the adviser.
The question caught him off guard. `` I beg your pardon, your Highness?''
`` The girl inside, is she still alive? I do n't want to be some monster that uses a tortured little girl for his own gain.'' I asked in a mocking manner, as if my question was an obvious one.
`` No sire, from what the villagers told us, it seems whatever was left of her has been long gone.''
`` Good.'' I commented with satisfaction.
`` So you are my army?'' I asked mockingly. My people in the room began to grow even more nervous and unsettled.
`` Tell me witch, do they have reason to fear you?'' I asked with a mocking smile.
A voice spoke, one that resembled fiery ash, a voice that seemed to have risen from deep in the earth.
`` You all have reason to fear me, *mortal*.'' A sinister chuckle began to escape her lips as she began to smile at me, the palace began to quake, and the earth shook. The shadows which clung to the walls of my castle seemed to come to life, slithering like a portal to something otherworldly that was always in the corner of our eyes. Mysterious eyes began to burn brightly from the shadows, and monstrous shrieks of all kinds and from unimaginable horrors came from every corner of the castle, complimented by human cries of help, filling the holy halls of my palace, only to be drowned out by their cries of death seconds later.
This did not stop our staring contest, we both continued to stare one another deep in the eye, I was looking for whatever sign of life I could find in her, any emotions other than hate and anger, while I guessed she was trying to find how to best make me suffer.
A golden laced chandelier fell from the high ceiling, my soldiers jumped to the side as the chandelier crashed behind the little *girl* and shards were spread around the room.
The beasts of the shadows began to retreat from whence they came, the shadows themselves began to return to their normal forms, the sounds of beasts grew to a whisper and then disappeared.
My time of amusement was coming to an end, I leaned in, bringing myself to her ear and whispered, *'' I will break you. `` *
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[ WP ] You are a character in a story who just became aware of the fact that you are a character in a story .
| Hmmm. Perhaps not the most appropriate comment for when receiving news of this nature, but it does have a rather philosophical ring to it which will build up the mood in case I get into that existential nonsense later on in this passage. Oh yes, I ’ m in a passage. How very unique, even though I say so myself. But back to the fact of the matter – I ’ m a character in a story. Might as well make myself an interesting one, while I ’ m at it. How shall I be?
Dark and brooding is a bit clichéd but still extremely cool ( especially when I wear a bowtie ). That ’ s how I shall be, then. So how do we go about this? Do I just think out stuff or does it all get written down regardless? Has everything I ’ ve thought so far been written down? I very well hope not you invasive son-of-a-bitch. I digress.
My name… Hmmm… What ’ s a badass name that fits the bill? Gussie Wilt isn ’ t going to cut it. How about something Norse… those chaps have the whole nomenclature business all sorted out. Mjolnir Odin, that sounds rather spiffing. And now my background. Rich and British. Well it does have its own charm, but I ’ m going for charm as an undertone more than as my predominant personality trait.
I have killed several men in my extensive career. Bad men. Men that killed my family. And before coming to England ( to solve the mystery of the murder of the Queen [ I have my sights on the Butler – rather suspicious chap ] ), I was in Penn. State. Or is it the other way around? Oh yes, State Pen ( itentiary ) – though one is worse than the other and I don ’ t even want to have to say which.
Oh and yes, I have a license to kill. Double-O-8, shall we say? I quite like this character business. A few more minutes and you ’ ll have a prologue…* ’ Business deal… Champagne, of Course ’ * What the devil is going on? Oye, I ’ m trying to develop a character here you uncultured twat. * ‘ No, not at all. I ’ ll get you anything you need. ’ * **Will you stop that? ** You ’ re being a pest of the first water. Now leave me alone while I concoct a bestseller. * ‘ Murder… Wine… Horses… ’ * This novel ’ s exceeding Dick Francisness is beginning to get on my nerves. * ‘ Obligatory Strip Club scene… Mobsters with curt dialogue ’ * I ’ m out. I ’ m done. I tried to cooperate but you just won ’ t help, will you? Are you making me a servant? A MAID?! A… a… butler?! Well, I suppose this means I ’ ve got the deaths of at least one family on my belt. Good enough I suppose. Take what you get.
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[ WP ] The entire world is against me . It would n't be fair otherwise .
| `` I mean, it's a nice-looking jacket, ai n't it?'' Joey patted the thick, leathery backside of the grayed, bull skin.
`` Hate the saying on the back though. Sounds like something some edgy teenager would be into'' Peter replied, looking up at the sign hanging above the load of equally dark, similar jackets.
*Defective magical object. Do not buy. *
`` I mean, the old jacket was n't looking too appealing anymore. Kinda stands out too much you know?'' Joey shrugged as he grabbed the price tag and checked it before heading to the old, scar-faced cashier on the other side of abandoned Abercrombie and Fitch.
The cashier was a rather old, ancient beast of a man of some forty-something years. His hair thinned from the drags and turns of a midlife crisis. A ring sat on his finger, forgotten and sometimes polished when he played the loveless marriage card at a local dive bar. His thick upper lip betrayed a trace of non-European, yet British heritage.
Joey dug his hands into his pockets while Peter held onto the jacket like a sort of slave abiding by his Dark Lord's orders, because Peter was in fact, a slave abiding by his Dark Lord's orders.
The cashier spat into a little, rusty trash-bin sitting five feet away. Dull, gray eyes stared past a pair of tastefully lilac-colored Hello Kitty designer sunglasses as he slipped the jacket's tag in between his hands.
Peter shivered quietly as Joey merely tapped his foot like a middle-aged suburban woman of about twenty and pushed his right hand through his blond side-bob impatiently.
Finally, the aged cashier spoke, `` Sir, that'll be eighty-eight dollars and forty-seven cents.''
`` Can I talk you down a little bit-'' Joey began, hiding a cheeky smile under his gaunt lips.
The cashier shook his head, `` Sir, this is a business. You do n't haggle with a cashier.''
`` Well, the other stores had jackets just like this, but slightly cheaper,'' Peter said before he was thumped on the head by his Dark Lord Joey.
`` Why the fuck are you buying it from here then?'' replied the cashier.
And thus, the three of them continued to stand staring at each in an old and abandoned Abercrombie and Fitch sitting in an old and abandoned mall, which resided in an old and abandoned part of Los Angeles, back in the early 21st century.
Finally, Joey spoke up, `` Fine, I'll pay the full price for it.''
The cashier nodded in the affirmative, `` Alright, sir. I'll just turn around and get a bag for you real slow-like. I'm turning now really, really slowly. I ai n't gon na notice anything you're gon na try at all. If you pull a gun on me and shoot me before running off with the jacket like some sorta crazy person, I would n't notice a goddamn thing.''
And as the Cashier turned around really, really slowlike to grab a bag for Joey, Joey pulled out a concealed sub-machine gun and several ~~magazines~~ clips from an inter-dimensional portal sitting inside his pocket.
He immediately loaded the gun's chamber with several rounds and pointed it at the Cashier's head.
`` Give me your sunglasses too.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
About twenty minutes from then, Joey will be in the process of engaging the Cashier in sword-to-gun combat somewhere in an alleyway of Manhattan, having been teleported by Joey's magical, dark lord powers or whatever.
Joey continued to wastefully reload after every five shots. Every-time the Cashier was out of sight with enchanted Zweihander from ComicCon, Joey pulled the clip out of his gun, threw out the gun, and pulled another gun to put the clip into.
Suddenly, a moment of pause. The cashier had disappeared. Joey looked around. Where was Peter?
Peter, apparently, was not sitting in the kid's section of a Downtown McDonald's as he was told. Rather, he stood in alleyway with one of Joey's machine-gun's in his hand and a pump-action shotgun in the other.
Joey clutched his heart in shock and pain and other bad feelings, `` Peter, I thought you were my closest ally!''
`` Slave,'' Peter corrected his Dark Lord.
`` I was the best man at your wedding!''
Peter raised an eyebrow, `` Explain to me why my daughter calls you daddy?''
`` Wait, which? The hot, older one or the toddler?''
Peter made a grand show of tossing his shotgun up into the air before pulling the pump-bit-pumping thing back with a great show of bravado. Immediately after, the shotgun went flying out of his hand, into the air, before winding up in Joey's unarmed other hand.
`` Did you just pump a shotgun before actually firing?'' said Joey.
`` Yeah,'' came Peter the Slave.
`` Why the hell would you do that?''
Peter shrugged his shoulders.
Predictably, Joey tossed the contraption into a local trash-bin because he was not some weirdo who could shoot two guns with great aim at the same time. Especially rather bulky ones with entirely different purposes outside that of eviscerating human flesh and bone.
The Cashier from Los Angeles kicked off the lid of a trash can and leaped back into the fray between Peter and Joey. Snapping the lid as a shield for his greatsword, he immediately turned to Peter and nodded before facing Joey with a battle-ready grin under his shattered, Hello Kitty sunglasses. This of course, was a standard procedure behind the'Dibs on Killing the Supervillain' policy as written under the'The Enemy of my Enemy is Someone I Will Develop Sexual Feelings For According to the Internet.'
Joey looked at the two heavily armed men in front of him. He screamed, erupting his arms in blackish-purple flames. A bystander came by, snapped a picture, and continued off to her nine-to-five job packing cans of corned beef at the factory.
Joey howled and readied his arms before deciding to break into one of his generically Dark-Lordish quotes.
`` Ahh, so the entire world is against me-''
`` Joey, no,'' Peter began.
`` It would n't be-''
`` Joey. Please. No. Stop.''
`` Fair otherwise!''
And thus were three men killed in the alleyway of Manhattan, all over one man's desire to buy a pretty kick-ass looking jacket.
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[ WP ] You come home and find a second `` you '' dead on the floor .
| `` Oh shit oh shit oh shit'' Nothing but that streaming through my head over and over again. I ran to the bathroom and stared into the mirror. There was no doubt about it, we definitely had the same face. Maybe I was seeing things again. I'd hallucinated before, but I was better now.
I ran back to the body, my heart still pounding, that chorus still ringing through my head. `` oh shit oh shit oh shit''. No doubt, that was me lying there. And above him, was myself, staring down at his lifeless face.
I'm pretty sure I fainted after that, because the next thing I knew, I was lying face to face with him, it... What ever.
I sprang to my feet, all the while my mind spewing out that one line `` oh shit oh shit oh shit''.
There was no way this was happening. A person ca n't just find themselves dead. One more time I examined his sad looking face, and then again, mine in the mirror. Though my visage was a lot more perplexed and terrified, they were certainly identical.
I staggered over to the kitchen, taking the route that went furthest from the atrocity that lay on my rug. I poured myself a glass of Jack and calmed my nerves a little bit. Suddenly a sinister idea popped into my head. I double checked the calender just to make sure. I was right, It was April 1st.
I grabbed the bottle and put it next to the body, trying to avoid looking at it too much. His beady black eyes, just staring into nothing... What was he thinking before he died I wondered. I snapped back into the land of the living when I realized that I was standing in a puddle of alcohol. No matter, It would add to the effect.
I ran to the medicine cabinet. There was n't much. Some Advil, some aftershave, I think there was some antibiotics. I kept rummaging through it. I found an unopened bottle of Tylenol! I poured maybe a handful of pills into the toilet and flushed them down.
I ran back over to the body and placed the respective bottles in his hands and spilled both their contents around a little.
I looked down at the scene and got a little bit of a chill. Was I really about to do this? Prank or not, this was messed up. Before I could think about it any longer I grabbed my phone and dialed my mom's number.
She picked up after a few rings.
`` I'm sorry mom, I just ca n't do it anymore'' Using my past hour's turmoil as inspiration. My performance was pretty good if I do say so myself.
`` I love you'' I finished and hung up.
I grabbed another hefty swig of alcohol and hid in the closet.
Twenty minutes passed before anything happened, but when it did, it was like a hurricane.
My mom burst in with the police. She was wailing. She clutched me in her arms and screamed.
After a little bit I decided now was the time.
I pushed the closet doors open with a big smirk on my face.
`` APRIL FOOLS!!'' I screamed at the top of my lungs. Her expression was priceless. That'll teach her to post my baby pictures online!
The last thing I remember before it going dark was that frantic chorus chiming through my head again `` Oh shit oh shit oh shit!'' as my mom ran at me with a frying pan.
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[ WP ] Write an excerpt from a changed `` Lord of The Rings '' in which Sauron is the good guy
| Arda is stagnant.
My master and mentor, Melkor, saw this. He saw that life on Arda was *meaningless*.
The Children of Ilúvatar were trapped in a repetitive cycle of mindless obedience to the plan of the Ainur.
And what kind of plan was it? For the elves it was one of *eternal* stagnation. They lived, they breathed, they ate and the sometimes bred. They created wonders and marvels, but nothing more, nothing *greater*. They reached the pinnacle of what they could accomplish under the Ainur and then became pretty porcelain dolls, moving hither and thither in an undying and perverse pavane; doomed to never achieve anything *more*.
The Ainur were like a group of children who spit on the one who is different. Melkor could n't sing as they sang; they refused to harmonise with his melody. It was not his fault that Eru Ilúvatar, the creator, had made him this way. Melkor did not *choose* his voice. So they cast him out and he raged. He saw the pitiful existence of the elves and men and he cast down the great lamps, causing strife and chaos and *change! *
For the first time, the circular, repressed lives of the Children of Ilúvatar felt the spark of *strife* in their world.
You see, Melkor realised the truth.
He realised that without strife, conflict, pain and suffering, all mortal existence is *meaningless! *
I realised this too, which is why I chose to follow him. I, Sauron, was foremost in understanding his plan.
All living things define their existence by what happens to them; even us, the Valar. With safety comes comfort. With comfort comes boredom.
And with boredom - endless, eternal boredom stretching on into the eons - comes the death of the *soul*.
They took him and cast him into the Halls of Mandos for his'crimes'; for wanting *more* for the Children of Ilúvatar than stagnation and soul-death.
He and I understood the truth that Manwë could not; that when men died and came before Mandros for judgement, they could only leave Arda for the higher planes if they had *lived*.
And the only way for man to truly live, to be *alive* is to struggle and to strive against adversity.
But now that Melkor is chained and my own flame flickers out of existence - extinguished by the treachery of the Maiar, Mithrandir, the world is doomed. No more will men have anything to strive against. The dragons die and with them, so do the dreams of man.
They will become *safe* and they will become *comfortable*.
Boredom will claim them, then stagnation and *death*.
And when they stand before Mandros, he will say to them;
`` What beasts have you defeated? Which dragons have you slain?''
And man will say `` None'' and Mandros will turn them away from the doors out of Arda, for man will no longer be worthy of that which lies beyond.
With my death, man is doomed.
Without us, your lives are meaningless.
We did all of this for *you*.
I weep for your souls.
|
[ WP ] Thought Process of an individual who has decided to become a Henchman for a well known , psychotic Super Villain .
| He slammed the phone down on the cradle and put his hands over his face. He took a few deep breaths, counted to ten, mumbled some Buddhist mantra and tried to slow his heart rate. It was only Monday, and that was the fourth time he'd been cussed out already. He was on pace to set a new record this week, but Frank could n't deal with it anymore.
Frank pushed the chair back from the desk and stood up, looking around at the other half cubicles around him, which was pretty much nothing more than a long line of tables, separated with dividers that were reminiscent of back in grade school, when someone would stand up folders to block cheaters.
Rows and rows of similar setups covered the floor, the fourth story of the building. A telemarketing cube farm, that's all this was. He was just another unimportant cog in the wheel, trying to sell the flavor of the week to people in the tiniest corner of the country who had n't blocked their numbers. Usually the old or those from the backwoods, neither of which took too kindly to being called and read a script.
Frank looked down at his `` desk'' and the picture of his family. His wife Katie, his daughter Jenn, and his pooch that was officially named Oscar, but Frank called the dog every name under the sun and Oscar responded all the same. It never failed to make him laugh when he called out things like `` Hey, Shithead'' or `` Come here, Chucklefuck'' and Oscar would bound up to him, tail wagging and tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He smiled as he thought of his family, and was about to dial the next number when William, the floor supervisor, had to open his mouth.
`` Frank, what are you doing? You're logged in but not on a call, and I look up to see you standing there like you woke from a dream? You do know your stats are tanked, right? And there you stand, like you own the place? Can I see you in my office?''
*You do n't have an office, you miserable prick. * Frank winced as he turned to walk down the row. He was n't like this when he started. He got hired because of his positive demeanor. But damnit if telemarketing did n't suck his soul into that headset a little more each day.
`` I've tried everything I can to motivate you,'' William said as he closed the office door behind Frank. `` What the problem here is, is you do n't want to succeed. You want to-''
**CRACK**
Frank pulled his hand back, wide-eyed and trembling. The combination of being cussed out, the feeling of being crushed under pressure, and now William and his annoying little habit of whistling his `` S'''s had been too much. Frank had snapped, and backhanded William.
William stared at Frank, one hand pressed to the side of his face. He stammered for a moment before picking up the phone and beginning to dial the front desk. Frank walked over and yanked the phone from William, smashing it on the floor. This feeling of purging his rage felt good, and for the first time in weeks Frank was smiling more than just a smirk.
Frank smiled that smile at William and picked up the broken phone. `` Do n't bother calling security. I'll see myself out, I know the way. And I'm taking this as a souvenir.'' He pulled the receiver off the remains of the phone, and put the rest on the desk before walking out. He waved to the others before stopping at his workstation and gathering his things, stuffing his meager belongings into his pockets.
He turned and waved to William as he stepped into the elevator, pressing the lobby button and whistling a merry tune. It felt good to smash things. It felt good to strike someone. This was, perhaps finally, something he could make a living out of. Of course, he'd have to talk to a few people and work his way up, but that should n't be a problem.
Frank stepped from the elevator and waved to the security guard, then walked out of the building. He had a spring in his step as he walked down the street, twirling the cord on the receiver around his finger, then spinning it back the other way.
He finally stopped in front of a small building that said Recovery & Repossessions on the door. He could n't contain his grin as he thought of how he was just now recovering his good sense, and how he was going to repossess his life. He walked inside and spotted a guy the whole city knew, a guy nobody wanted anything to do with.
Frank looked at the two gentlemen flanking the man, then set the receiver on the counter. He flashed his best smile and stood up just a little bit straighter. `` Hello there. My name is Frank, and I'd like a job. I know who you are, I know what you do. And I know that sounds like fun.''
The man walked to the counter and took the receiver, looking at it from all angles and smirking. `` Why do you want to join me, Mr. Know-What-Sounds-Like-Fun?''
Frank laughed and locks eyes with the most feared man in the city. `` Simple. I've played by the rules until now. Only problem is, the rules do n't play fair. Well my friend, it's time to not play fair in return.''
The man stared back and Frank and then began to laugh, then took out a pen and wrote down a name and an address. `` Go see this man. Tell him you've come to collect what he owes me. And take this...'' he slides a small coin, custom made, across the counter to Frank, ``... to him, as proof you're with me. You do good for me, I'll do good for you.''
Frank took the coin and smirked, flipping it in the air. He caught it and then immediately set it dancing across the back of his knuckles. `` Impressive,'' his new boss said. `` I think we'll get along fine. Now, go see my friend.''
Frank nodded and pocketed the coin, then looked at the name and the address. He laughed long and loud as he stepped out of the building, retracing his steps back to William.
Today was shaping up to be a very good day.
|
[ FF ] A New York City taxi driver , it 's late at night and the shift is almost over , but ahead the taxi driver sees one last customer flag them down . In dialog only , give me a conversation where the customer starts convinces the taxi driver his world is nothing but a simulation .
| `` Where to?''
TGI FRIDAYS.
`` Gon na' have to be more specific, sir.''
TO THE PEARLY GATES OF THE COMMUNAL EATERY.
`` Wow, you in theatre?''
SOMETHING LIKE THAT. TAKE ME TO TGI FRIDAYS PLEASE.
`` The one on 44th?''
ACTUALLY 66TH AND 6 IF YOU DO N'T MIND.
`` You're the boss.''
AHAHA. YOU DO N'T KNOW THE HALF OF IT.
`` What's that?''
I SAID THERE'S A WOMAN ABOUT TO JUMP OUT IN FRONT OF THE CAR.
`` Are you some kind of sicko? Whoa shit.''
UNHUH.
`` Shit, that was close. Who the fuck are you?''
YOUR WORLD IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS.
`` I'm just going to pull over.''
I WOULD N'T DO THAT IF I WERE YOU.
`` Why not?''
SINK HOLE.
`` What?''
SINK. HOLE.
`` Ah, ok buddy. How ab... SHIT.''
FEEBLE HUMAN, YOUR WORLD IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS.
`` Shit, who the hell...''
HEHEHE
``... uh. Okay. Listen I do n't know who you are or what you want but I got a wife and kids and I just need to make sure I get home tonight.''
DEBBIE AND JOEY AND LITTLE LISA?
`` What the fuck.''
I DO N'T INTEND TO HURT YOU. I'M NOT HERE TO HARM YOU. I'M HERE TO COMFORT YOU.
`` What the fuck.''
I JUST WANT A CHEESEBURGER. AND A MILKSHAKE. PLUS I'M MEETING AN OLD FRIEND.
`` Okay whatever you say pal, but I'm tellin' you the food at TGI Fridays sucks.''
TELL ME ABOUT IT. HE PICKED THE PLACE.
|
[ WP ] Two brothers from opposing factions meet on a battlefield .
| The song of steel rings through the air, nearly drowned out by their convulted screams alone.
`` I shall grant you the mercy of a swift death, brother!'' John hissed through their intersecting blades.
All around them the sounds of battle waged. The sounds of grisly death and the eerie song of steel merged together, forming a deadly yet somehow mersmerizing harmony. Jack stared cooly at his brother - his kin- through the crossing of their blades but could not see much of his face beneath the helmet. However, Jack knew enough to know that it was indeed John.
A mutual thirst for blood was held between their crossed blades, with each brother aiming to kill the other. Jack knew he could not afford to lose this fight.
`` I, however, can not promise the same for you.'' Jack smiled mockingly.
John snarled, pushing Jack back with a heave and an almighty roar. For a breathless moment they stood staring at each other, whispers of the deadly battle around them cutting through the heavy drum of their own heartbeats. Heartbeats that had been brought into the world together.
Jack tightened his grip on his blade, and charged.
The next few moments were packed with swift movements: Dodges and blows, blocks and parries. In those moments, the twin brothers were connected through the twisted harmony of battle, resonating through them in a primitive, screaming rythym. Jack ducked beneath John's oncoming blade and stepped behind him in one fluid movement.
The harmony stopped cold in their ears as John froze. Jack grinned, triumphant, as he held his glistening sword to his brother's throat.
`` Brother.'' John murmured weakly, completely at his mercy.
`` Brother.'' Jack agreed in return.
Grabbing John roughly by the hair, he pulled his head back and let his blade slide easily over the soft skin of his throat. John's limp body collapsed in front of him like a ragdoll - his life gushing out of him.
Jack threw his head back, triumphant, laughing hysterically, gleeful-
And a blade appeared through his chest, cutting his victory laugh short.
Jack stared in disbelief at his computer screen.
`` NO!'' Jack choked, mashing at his keys as if to reverse what had just happened before his eyes.
Across the room, John was unable to control his mirth. Slapping the desktop repeatedly, the twin brother was unable to stifle his giggles.
Jack sniffed. `` I do n't see what your laughing about.'' He poked out his tounge. ``'Cus you have to wash the dishes.''
John went pink - or rather pinker - as he muttered, flustered: `` W-what, I never said -''
`` There's no avoiding it!'' Jack was already at the door to the study. `` We agreed - whoever loses has to dry!''
Laughing gleefully once more, Jack opened the door and bolted down the hallway to his room. John stared wistfully after him.
`` John?'' His mother's voice came swimming in from the living room. `` Whoever's doing the dishes better get it done soon!''
John groaned. Why was it always him?
`` Coming mum!''
|
[ WP ] Write a story that conveys the mood of the characters by describing the weather that surrounds them .
| The sky trickled as my heart sank. My mouth flung open, letting tiny droplets of water into it. She stormed away without another word.
`` *No*,'' the word still echoed through my head.
Thick raindrops plopped onto my throbbing head. I was knelt down like a statue, my knee becoming increasingly sore. Above my head, the sky became heavy and blanketed with dark gray. Each layer became darker than the next as I walked home. I *was* glad that I did n't have to drive her home after she rejected me. Sunlight shone through a crack in the cloud for but a moment, then faded away.
I slowly made my way into my house, drops of water falling off my clothes faster than the sky. I made a small effort to dry myself off with a damp towel but it made no difference to how I felt. I needed a distraction, the feeling of losing the love of my life had n't quite hit me yet. My mind was clouded. After many hours of sulking in my soggy garments, I decided to switch to the news. As bad as this sounds, I thought maybe other people's tragedies would make mine pale in comparison.
An overly excited reporter came on the screen and said with a BOTOX filled smile, `` Looks like you wo n't have to hide from the rain for too long! Next week is showing *beautiful* forecasts and sunny skies. Do n't worry guys, you always need some dark times to make the light ones pop out,'' him and the other reporters shared a fake laugh.
I took comfort in that last saying. I thought about what he said all night and I could n't understand how something so philosophical could come from a news reporter. My deep thought was interrupted by yet another tiny glimmer of sunlight.
|
[ WP ] A policeman is interrogating a suspect . Make the roles switch during the interrogation , and the policeman end up released without charge .
| `` Masturbating in public. Indecent exposure along with a slew of other charges I'm sure, will be inevitable. Now we know you were wearing a gorilla mask at the time of the incident, and so the arresting officer has brought you in as a suspect, mostly as a formality. We know it was you. We're willing to drop the charges related to your attempted evasion of arrest if you confess to all other charges. We could have a lineup, several eyewitnesses have told us that they would be able to identify your genitals due to certain peculiarities, but we'd like to forgo that process. I'm sure you understand.''
`` I really do n't know what you're talking about.''
`` It was a bus stop in broad daylight, at least a dozen witnesses saw you. Officer Hernandez arrived on the scene as you skipped away. The report he filed says that you managed to cross the street and flee into a subway entrance as he radioed for backup and continued his pursuit. He found you seconds later just outside the turnstiles, fully clothed, panting, the only person present. He found the gorilla mask in a nearby trash receptacle.''
`` Oh that. yes that sort of happened. Something similar to that account, at least. By the way, is officer Hernandez here?''
`` That is immaterial.''
`` I'd like to speak with him.''
`` I have been assigned to do the intake interview.''
`` This will be easier for you if you cooperate. I need to speak to Officer Hernandez.''
*A tap on the door followed by Officer Hernandez entering the room
`` It's OK Tom, I can handle this from here.''
`` Officer Hernandez, please sit down.''
`` Listen, I'm willing to testify. I have the report. We're going to have the subway footage. Make this easier for yourself and everyone and just confess right now.''
`` Officer Hernandez maybe you'd like a glass of water? Tom, before you go, Hernandez here could maybe use some water. Please shut the door too, thanks. We need some privacy.''
...
`` Officer I think you know why we're both here.''
`` I witnessed you earlier today performing a lewd act.''
`` Yes, yes, those are the unfortunate circumstances of this meeting. Now I do n't want you to think of this as an interrogation. The investigation will continue and we'll see if your actions require charges to be brought against you. I'm hoping we can determine that this was all a misunderstanding.''
`` Look, you're going to be spending the night here. I talked to the chief, a mental health professional will be here in the morning. Once she makes her assessment you will more than likely be free to go for now. Charges will be brought against you later. We will arrange a court date. If you can not afford an attorney-''
`` I do n't want you to worry about the legal ramifications of your actions. The important thing is that we get you the help you need. A mental health professional will be here to talk to you in the morning.''
`` A mental health professional will be here to talk to YOU in the morning.''
`` I will try to help her with as much background knowledge as I can give but ultimately I just want you to have a chat with her. We'll see if she recommends any immediate intervention. We are trying to focus our efforts on incident prevention in our city's mentally ill population. Can I just say, I am so proud of this police department for giving you a chance.''
`` I do n't know what you're talking about.''
`` Now, they brought me in here. And I'm not too familiar with voyeurism. I'll tell you, I'm feeling a little irked, a little embarrassed, a little exposed. I understand you spied on me during one of my private moments. You know, things like that will happen in the city. Especially when you live in exposed housing as I do.''
`` You were at a bus stop. Countless passersby can act as witnesses. We take this kind of thing very seriously. Who knows if any children were present.''
`` Passersby? Do you mean my houseguests? And by bus stop do you mean my foyer? It does look as a bus stop. And yes, people often wait for the bus there, friends of mine. They like the shelter. Sometimes I let the homeless stay there. And we all believe in sexual freedom. I'm sure if you ask anyone present they will tell you that they do not mind watching me masturbate as they wait inside my house for the bus to come.''
`` The bus stop is not your house. You ran naked across a busy street and into a municipally owned subway entrance.''
`` It is unfortunate that a city street runs straight through my house, and the fact that my basement ends at a subway's entrance is both a convenience and a constant annoyance.''
`` I really do n't want to play games with you.''
`` I'm sorry but you are the one who entered my house without a warrant and gave chase until cornering me in my basement closet as I attempted to get dressed, and then tried to use your position as a police officer to dominate me as some sort of extension of your voyeuristic fantasy. You overstepped many boundaries today.''
`` I've had enough of this. Wait here. You will be escorted to a holding cell where we will keep you until you're ready to make a serious statement.''
*Door opens
`` Officer Hernandez, please remain seated''
`` Chief, this man is being unreasonable. Let's hold off on interviewing him until he is willing to cooperate.''
`` Hernandez, I'm going to ask everyone here to cooperate while I try to suss this situation. This gentleman's allegations of voyeurism will be a black mark on our entire department should they ever reach the press. He has been very brave, going so far as to ask to confront his assailant one on one but we've been watching from the other room and felt we needed to step in. I'm sure if you tell the gentleman that you did n't know you were in his house, he might see to it that no charges are filed.''
`` It was a BUS STOP for christ's sake!''
`` If I may interject, as I already stated, I know that my nonconventional housing looks and acts as a bus station to some, but it is in fact up to code and a legal residence that has remained in my family for generations despite the fact that the original structure was demolished in the late 40s. I think I'd be willing to drop the charges if Officer Hernandez here agrees to go to counseling for his voyeuristic perversion. I do not feel too violated. I just want him to get the help he needs.''
`` I think I'd like to speak for Officer Hernandez and on behalf of the entire department when I say of course he agrees to to those parameters and any other concessions we can afford you, sir. We'd like for you and the entire city to know that there are no sexual deviants on the force. And those of us who are sexual deviants will undergo rehabilitation. These officers will be kept off the streets until they complete a course of therapy and a licensed professional deems them functionally in control of their sick desires. Everyone deserves a second chance, do n't you agree? Officer Hernandez here will be placed on probation and we will be keeping a close eye on him. I mean, forgive the phrasing, we will be making sure he is kept on task during his patrols and not um, being a peeping Tom, as it were. Please allow us to give you a ride back to your home.''
`` I'm glad to hear you are taking this incident seriously, chief. You have my vote of confidence. I trust the department to handle this internally. There's no need to make a fuss over me. The number nine happens to go straight through my living room.''
|
[ WP ] The year is 2028 . NASA scans the sky as usual and finds something strange . Voyager 1 is on an intercept course with Earth .
| Michael sipped his coffee, scanning through the report handed to him regarding a potential earth-collision.
`` Pete, am I correct in reading this? Voyager 1 has somehow entered the space junk field and is on course for a collision with the Indian Ocean?''
Pete shifted in his seat. He'd run the numbers fifteen times, even going so far as successfully pinging Voyager 1's archaic comm systems for verification. It was Voyager alright.
`` Yes sir. Voyager 1 is back. We were certain that it left the solar system four years ago, but... It's back.''
`` Huh...''
Michael took another sip of coffee.
`` Who did the calculations on Voyager 1 leaving the solar system?''
Pete rifled through his notes.
`` I think it was the propulsion lab.''
`` Yeah...'' Said Michael. `` They are so fucking fired''.
|
[ WP ] You are a young and successful writer of `` speciality erotica '' and have kept your professional life hidden from you family via pen name . You sit down to Christmas dinner with your whole extended family . Your younger sister keeps making thinly veiled references to your works
| “ Have some gravy, Sophie, ” my younger sister Dora said to me, thrusting the gravy boat into my hands. Her eyes glinted with both mischief and malice. “ It ’ s white, hot, and thick, just the way you like it. ”
I reluctantly took the vessel from her and feigned a smile. Dora smiled back at me. It was the smile of a pit viper. Dora was the only member of my family who knew I wrote erotica for a living. She enjoyed torturing me by making references to it whenever other family members were around.
I poured some gravy onto the turkey on my plate. What I really wanted to do was pour it on Dora ’ s head. I dared not do it, though. I could just hear what Dora might say as the white liquid dripped down her face: “ Oh, are you doing research for a bukkake scene? Why don ’ t you tell us all about it? ”
The usual cast of characters had assembled at my parents ’ table for Thanksgiving dinner: me, Dora, my parents, my mother ’ s parents, Uncle Joe, and my Aunt Vera. Except for Dora, they were all Southern, all devout Christians, and all very conservative. Them learning I had just self-published my latest elderly erotic novel, “ The Grandbang: Gumming My Way Through The Nursing Home, ” would go over like a lead balloon. If my Granny knew what I wrote, she ’ d probably condemn me to the fiery pits of Hell. That, or buy the book, masturbate to it, and leave a five star review signed “ Grandma. ” I wasn ’ t sure which would be worse.
“ So, what are you writing these days? ” my mother asked. “ Is it another fantasy novel? ”
Dora snorted. I shot her a look that said “ Shut up! ” My family knew I was a writer, and I had told them I wrote fantasies. Which was true -- sort of.
“ I just finished my latest book, ” I said, turning my attention back to Mom. “ It was pretty long, so I ’ m taking a break before I start a new one. ”
“ I ’ ll bet it was long, ” Dora said. I groaned to myself. That had been a poor choice of words on my part.
“ Was writing that book hard? ” Dora asked. Her eyes sparkled with glee. I shook my head rather than speaking. I didn ’ t want to give her any more ammunition.
“ Did you write it fast? ” Dora asked. She barely was able to suppress her laughter. I shook my head again, silently willing her to stop.
“ Did you use protection? ” she asked again. “ I mean, for carpal tunnel syndrome because of all the typing you do? ” She was openly giggling now. “ Hard, fast, and without protection ” was how a lot of erotica writers described the sex in their books.
The instant my family started talking about something else, I leaned over to my sister. I held a drumstick in my hand.
“ If you don ’ t knock it off, I ’ m going to shove this piece of meat down your throat, ” I said.
Dora started laughing so hard, she fell off her chair. I flushed as I realized what I had said.
I had been writing too much erotica. Apparently, I couldn ’ t turn it off.
|
[ WP ] You are a supervillain posing as a student at a hero academy to learn their secrets . The staff knows you 're a villain but have n't kicked you out yet because you aced the heroic potential test .
| Being a super villain is the coolest job.
Ever.
My name is Tim Greenhall, I'm 26 years old, and my power is ostensibly inane: I have the power to make people extraordinarily itchy. You might think, `` what a useless power! It's just a sensation!''
Well, here's the scenario, and why my job is so rad.
At this point, I'm 20 years old, and just got my first mission from the Council: to infiltrate the Heroism and Leadership Campus. HALC is the place where you send your kid if she or he develops any kind of `` power'' or `` superior intellect''. The big Whigs told me that I'd be going in as a yeoman, a paper pusher. Contrary to popular belief, heroes and villains have mountains of paperwork to fill out to keep from eradication. It's in everyone's interest to keep the Feds happy, and if nothing else, it keeps people busy from fighting all the time in the streets.
So after my briefing, I stroll into the entrance exam room, where we potential heroes are tested based on our character, our strength of virtue, blah blah blah. I look around at the rest of the room, and see twenty or so other students milling about, talking, laughing, and generally horsing around. I sit down at the alias given to me, Tyler Grynford, for the paper test, and I pull out my pencil. I start to look at the test, and a meter stick slaps my hand.
`` What the hell do you think you're doing, Grynford?! I did n't say to move that!''
I look up into the eyes of a woman who could have turned Satan to stone. She's a 5'4'' angry Irish woman with bright green eyes and a fair complexion. However, at that point she's mildly purple, and I'm suddenly concerned for any disobedience I would even consider.
`` Oh I'm so sorry! I'm so used to being late, that I just assume I'm late an-'' I catch myself, stopping, and slowly smile. `` Your power is activated by guilt and eye contact. A psychic interrogator. Why are you administering a test to us new guys?''
The woman snorted, and said, `` who says I'm admin? I'm just a student having some fun. Name's Sarah. Sarah Wells.'' She held out her hand to me.
I shook my head and smiled, `` No offense, Sarah, but I'd rather avoid the contact. No telling what'll spill out of me. I bet you're no fun at truth or dare.''
Sarah chuckled, `` I guess not. What can you do? What's your mojo?'' She settled into a desk in front of me.
Avoiding direct eye contact, I say, `` if it's all the same, I'm not exactly a'blatant power' kind of guy. I'm here to be a yeoman.'' I frown slightly, drawing my eyebrows in, and say, `` Not necessarily the best occupation at the family reunion.''
Sarah smiled, and she started to lean in, when the real admin came in. `` Everyone at your desks! The test will begin in 2 minutes.''
The class room is settled into a cacophony of desks screeching and people squeezing into chairs, and as it usually does, eventually falls completely silent.
The man who walked into the room was a non-descript, suit wearing fellow. He started speaking in this voice like warm whiskey, `` The rules are simple: you will not use any powers here. It is an honor code, and any power usage caught by moderators will be grounds for ejection. Any questions?'' He turned and faced the rest of the class, and seeing no hands, he continued. `` The test is 45 minutes long, and is completely multiple choice. The catch is that you only get to choose one answer, and you will not correct it. Any usage of power to correct an error will be considered grounds for ejection.'' He looked at his watch, and said, `` you may flip over your test and begin.''
I flip over the test, and start filling in the questions. It was laughably easy, which is why I took my sweet time. It also gave me some time to use my own power on some of the other test takers. Now, the rules were not to be caught, which as a villain, is kind of the MO. The trick with being an adversary, is n't to have a massive show of force, or to be so grandiose that everyone knows who you are.
Sometimes, it's just about making your own fun.
I look to my left, and up a couple seats, and see this small, white guy, who seems to be struggling with his answers. I send a trickle of power into his wrist, and fight to maintain a straight face while he convulses out of his chair, scratching and tearing at his skin. A couple of orderlies came in and picked him up, escorting him from the room.
I finish up my test with a couple minutes left, make a couple other twitches, and make a couple other people need to be escorted out. The class of 24 had been reduced to a mere 21 heroes remain in this entrance class. The admin says, `` the tests are now complete. Everyone move to the gym for power evaluation.''
We all file out, but the admin puts a hand on my shoulder before I could walk out. My heart is thudding with panic, thinking I'd been caught already. Everyone else files out, and then I face the admin, waiting for my brains to become one with the wall, and the man suddenly smiled, and said, `` You did absolutely perfect on the test, Mr. Tyler! Highest marks I've seen in a good many years.''
My heart slows, and I thank him for the high praise, and he ushers me out of the room. I felt like everything was gon na be just fine. I put my hands in my pockets, and feel something unfamiliar in there. I pull out this small piece of paper, and there's a small note that turns my veins to ice.
`` You have this one chance. Do n't. Fucking. Blow. It.
Signed,
Admin''
P.S. first time writing in a long damn time. Please tear me to shreds.
Edit 1: misread prompt.
|
[ WP ] In a Dystopian world - before they execute you - the last of the writers on the planet for writing ( which is illegal ) , they honor your last wish to write one last write-up that will not be destroyed , but will be preserved for others to see and read .
| There was a world before this.
A world where the sky was clear and not brown.
A world where there were towns and cities, and the buildings reached for the skies.
A world where you could eat and drink as you please without worry.
But more importantly, a world of **knowledge**. We could write, and play, and sing, and dance. It does not matter where you are, who you are, or what you are.
I may fall to it, but you can thrive on it: knowledge is what caused our downfall, and now you have the ability to stop that from happening again.
|
[ WP ] You 're just a regular Hufflepuff who wants to graduate , but the exams are always being cancelled because of those fucking Gryffindors . It 's now been the third year in a row .
| I grinned mischievously as I leaned forward, poising my quill exactly...
`` What the -...'' Cedric batted at his ear turning in his seat to figure out what exactly had tickled it. As he shrewdly opened his mouth a cough right behind him caught both of our attentions.
`` Is there something you wish to share, Mr. Diggory?'' My sides were splitting trying not to laugh.
`` No, professor, I just...''
`` It will do you some good to pay attention, Diggory.'' McGonagall snapped, her mouth forming a thin line.
`` I apologize, professor.'' He sighed looking back at his work. As she walked away, he flicked his wand back towards me. Nothing happened. That's odd, that is n't like Cedric at all to fail at...
`` Carter!'' McGonagall cried. I jumped and looked up at her sheepishly, trying to not look too guilty. Maybe Cedric had sent her a note that told her what I had just been up to.
The class turned to face me, and for a second there was silence. Then a raucous laughter rang around the room, and Cedric smirked at me.
`` Who did this?'' McGonagall demanded, her lips the thinnest of thin lines. Cedric, being the honest soul he is raised his hand laughing.
`` I did, professor.''
`` How dare you, Mr. Cedric Diggory. You do NOT turn your friends into skunks!'' I looked down just as McGonagall raised her wand and lifted the spell. She opened her mouth to further berate Cedric when an obnoxious voice floated in from the hallway. `` Attack! Attack! There's been another attack! No mortal or ghost is safe! Attack!'' McGonagall's face blanched as door after door crashed open. She ran past Cedric and I into the hallway. Our eyes met, fearful and alarmed.
***
`` I still do n't understand how this works!'' I frowned, flicking my wand upwards in a sharp motion. Cedric smiled encouragingly, and showed me again.
`` Up and away, Ben. Like this, see?'' I had always been horrible at charms. `` Listen. If you get an E or higher on your O.W.L.'s this year in Charms, I will personally see to it that you get a shot at the quidditch team, alright?''
`` Deal.'' I grinned, shaking on it.
***
`` Two in the morning, Ced! Two in the morning during exam week!'' I shouted over the hubub in the Great Hall. `` I need to go to bed!''
`` Lighten up! It's fine!''
`` But I have to do well if I want a chance at playing...''
But Dumbledore stood at that precise moment, and the usual hush fell over the hall. `` All exams have been canceled!'' He declared to an outcry of general delight ( though I could have sworn I heard an `` Oh, no!'' among the gleeful shouts ). I have to say, I agreed with them. Next year. I would have a shot next year.
***
Sixth year went well. Perfect grades in everything except Charms, but I still had an E, which was all I needed, and a marked improvement over my previous grades. `` Cedric! I got an E!'' I scribbled on a spare piece of parchment. I got a scrap back with `` Try outs, first week of next term.''
***
The wind whipped through my hair as Cedric and I flew around the field together. `` I just ca n't believe it! What do they mean'Quidditch is canceled'? For some stupid tournament? This is my last year!'' Cedric grinned back at me deviously.
`` Come on, Ben! Lighten up!'' He called, putting on a burst of speed. I grinned and caught up with him.
`` How about this?'' He smiled, stopping in mid-air. `` We'll both try for nationals this summer. Together. After all, I never promised what team you'd get a shot at!''
`` Deal.'' I laughed. `` This summer. You're on.''
|
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