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[ WP ] Hitler never actually died . After decades of intense reconstructive surgery . He puts on a toupee to become Donald Trump . The only person who sees through his surgery is ... Vladimir Putin
| Mr. Trump, it's time, he will say. The roaring masses will greet me, exalting the stones I step upon as I walk out into the sunlight, basking in the glory I've won. Inauguration day will progress like a flawless machine, just like the country after I'm done with it. Four glorious years of victory, to replace the many I have lost.
The people need a scapegoat. I was wrong in thinking the Mexicans would suffice, but the Syrians are working perfectly. First we make them register, then we bar their entry, and then... well, you know. By the time these `` democratic'' pigs see the light of day, it will be red with the blood of our enemies.
The Russians wo n't stand in the way this time, no no. I have not been idle in my many years of preparation. I have people in every government around the world, ready to obey me the second I decide to strike. And it will be soon, mark my words.
You may have seen through my disguise, Vladimir my love. But my new reign will be fΓΌhrious, and you, Putin, will have hell toupΓ©e.
|
[ WP ] The head of the Illuminati , the shadowy organization that runs the entire world , is a four-year-old girl .
| `` Ladies and gentleman, I want to thank you all for coming,'' said Archimedes. `` I know this is almost inconceivable that we all meet in one place. It has not been done in over two hundred years. But, I have gathered you here to inform you the work begun in that last meeting is now complete.''
`` We have spent billions of Dollars and millions of work hours across two centuries. We've developed new fields of study and advanced science in ways the world will never know, to achieve these goals. I will step aside and let Socrates explain what has happened that brings us here tonight. Socrates.''
`` Hello everyone. Well, like Archimedes said, some things have happened over the last few years.'' Said Socrates, as he took the place of Archimedes, standing at the head of the long conference table.
`` Plato, myself, and others have been able to splice the proper genetic sequences that constitute the innate gifts and unique attributes of all our past leaders. Whether it was the creativity of Apollo or the Steadfastness of Artemis, the Intelligence of Crito, or the Courage of Parmenides. We have been able to isolate them and write them into the genetic code of another.''
`` Tonight, you will meet her, her name is Katherine.''
`` She has been able to speak rather fluently for some time, and we have been able to confirm through interviews and many other tests that we have achieved our goals this time!''
`` The other facet to this achievement is what we have developed in the area of communication. Athena and her team, have been able to create, or perhaps more appropriately, reverse engineered a primitive language of symbols and an alphabet that can communicate very complex and nuanced concepts very efficiently, and it has been fine-tuned to Katherine over the last two years.''
`` Katherine is the fulfillment of Project Solace. With Athena's language and Katherine's innate abilities and raw intelligence we will be able to step aside and let her make the decisions. Archimedes will still be in charge in name and many duties, but it will be Katherine who makes the grand decisions, the strategic decisions.''
`` I'm sorry, I am actually getting emotional about this... I... She's already proven to me she can do what we hoped. She can make decisions, even grand long term decisions without our corruption. She has n't been indoctrinated, or pulled into the traps of ego and desire. She is purity without naivete, she is innocence with experience. She is a thing of beauty bespoke for this moment in history.''
Plato was already walking to the large double doors that lead to the inner offices, that was just to the left and down a short hallway behind Socrates, as he speaks. Archimedes moves behind Socrates and stands against the wall in anticipation.
`` I know, and can see many of you are shocked to hear my voice crack and see my eyes redden speaking before you tonight. Katherine has a way of bringing you clarity to things... in ways you'll just have to experience for yourselves. I promise you will never be the same after just an afternoon having a tea party with this little girl.''
As Socrates is speaking he turns and looks down the short hallway to the mahogany and steel doors that Plato is waiting to open, and gives a nod.
Plato touches the handle and both doors glide apart and disappear into the outer walls. And, there stands Katherine.
She is tiny. The second thing that strikes you is her dress. It is very simple and plain in style and design. It was clearly made for comfort and has no excess, except in the color. It was a hue of lavender that pushed towards a periwinkle, and was powerful in its effect.
Once you looked closer you saw her deep brown hair, that gave more than a hint of curl, but was restrained by its short length ( only recently have they stopped shaving her head for the testing. ) Then her slightly oversized four-year old forehead that curved into large eyes that were a metallic grey color surrounded by a ring of blue that were clearly being influenced by her dress.
Her perfect little nose slightly influenced by the shy smile she's holding below it.
The other eighteen people who are now standing around the table all take an unconscious inhale at her affect.
She lifts her right hand and her shy smile begins to change to take on speech when her left cheek and everything above it explodes in a chunky pink mist. And the entire room is engulfed in a deafening explosion that rocks all those present into a standing fetal position trying to protect both themselves and their senses. Before anyone could begin to uncoil, Katherine hits the ground with a muffled thud as her dress shifts in placement and color.
As everyone tries to turn to follow back the origin of the event, they are rocked again, and again, as Plato and Archimedes hit the floor lifeless. Two more shots ring out as Socrates bounces off the back wall and slumps to the floor a fountain of blood coming from his neck and ear.
By now people recognize what is happening but are all frozen, still hunched over and behind their chairs as they look back at Perses standing with a matte black 1911 in his right hand as they visually chase the last empty casing tumbling through the air.
`` You people are insane! I always suspected, but I knew for sure when I was n't frisked walking in here. And... that. Whatever abomination that was in the purple dress... fantasies of old men long dead. I for one will not miss this opportunity.'' As his left hand reaches for his other gun, and fires off another round from the first.
People are scrambling in panicked and chaotic ways. Tripping over chairs, each other, and even Socrates' lifeless body, as Perses is now killing with both barrels.
Most who are still running are trying to get to the doors Katherine had just walked through.
`` You are all insane!'' Called out Perses, as his body guards come in the doors opposite the escape route, revealing the dead bodies of the other bodyguards behind them, as they lift off their gas masks and take aim with matching 1911's.
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[ WP ] You are a priest in a zombie apocalypse , share with us your thoughts and world view .
| & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Elizabeth was n't actually a priest, but they called her that anyway. It started out as one of Bobby's jokes.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Ever since the world turned, clothing was limited, and survivors were forced to wear whatever ragged, mismatched articles they came across. The night she acquired her nickname she was wearing a beautiful white blouse she had found untouched in a suitcase under someone's bed. It had lace around the cuffs and a high, stiff collar. It was the nicest thing she had ever found, and she wore it everyday. When it was cold, as it was that particular night, she liked to wear the collar buttoned all the way to its top. And when it was raining, as it also was that night, she wore the only thing she had found to protect herself from the wet: a black barber's cape -- the plastic tarp someone would wear when they got their hair cut.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Ever since seeing her dressed like that, Bobby had called her Priest, and he would tease her about it nearly every hour, it seemed. If she was washing her clothes, he would ask the clothes how it felt to be baptized. At dinners, he would ask her to turn some rocks into bread or their water into booze. And, God, all the jokes about using the Lord's name in vain! Christ that got annoying!
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Even after Bobby died, those left in their small camp called her Priest instead of Elizabeth or Liz. They did n't joke about it, though, and she was surprised with how much that made her sad.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Throughout the years, as old members of the troupe died and new ones took their place, more people -- not knowing how she got her name -- started to treat her as if she were actually a priest. When they asked her to lead in prayer, she would politely decline, until she saw their confused and pained faces, and then she would humor them with a few kind-sounding but ludicrous words.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; She ended up falling into the role. It was just easier this way. It was hard to explain her attire -- she still wore the blouse ( although it was no longer anywhere near as pretty as it once was ) and it was always raining or misty these days, so she still wore the cape. And, of course, she still wore her mother's gold cross around her neck.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; She never felt guilty about imitating a holy person ( and no one ever questioned it, despite her being a woman ). She figured there were no longer any institutions, so there were probably no actual priests or preachers left. And -- despite her lack of faith in a God -- she still felt that people needed spiritual guidance in their life. Now more than ever, maybe.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; And, as it turns out, she was actually pretty good at it. Even men with the ugliest hearts would come to her in secret as ask her for guidance. And no one ever left her counsel disappointed or angry.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Like the big Italian guy who called himself Rex. He was a mean one, and he was disgusted that anyone would still believe in a god after all of the horror and tragedy that had taken over the world. One night, around the campfire, as he tore chunks of slightly-cooked rabbit off his knife with his teeth, he -- in front of everybody -- announced that she was n't actually a priest.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' If she was actually a priest, why does she kill all these creeps?'' he asked, referring to the zombies. `` Killing does n't seem very priest-like to me.''
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; She was going to let the comment go, but the others in the camp all turned her way, as if they *needed* her to respond. Rex had been doing a lot of talking since he joined the camp a week earlier, and all of his talk was dark... and true.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; So she stood up from the log she was sitting on, unclipped the shotgun from her back, and walked straight up to Rex. Unintimidated, he rose to his full height and stared down his barrel of a chest at her. She did not flinch.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' What do I look like?'' she said up to him. `` A fucking Buddhist?''
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; After about two terribly tense seconds, Rex let out a laugh so loud some of the others around the fire nearly ran. She laughed with him, and from then on Rex's doubts about her stopped. He ended up being her strongest ally for the next few years. He even consoled in her once or twice about a daughter he had who turned about six months before he joined their camp. He had wept telling Elizabeth, and she had told him that everything would be okay. And, by God, if it did n't look like he believed her.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; But even Rex fell to the creeps one day. One had gotten him while he slept. It was just a head, a torso, and an arm, but that's how it was able to sneak into the gymnasium they were camped in. It came through the vents.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; He had killed it before it could hurt anybody else, but it was too late for him. She was the only one he showed the bite to, and the two of them decided to go for a walk up to the roof to watch the sun rise. They both knew what had to happen, and neither of them had to be convinced to do it. They sat on an air conditioner on top of the school they were camped at. The sunrise was murky through the mist, but it was still peaceful, in it's own way.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Rex asked her if she could pray with him, and she did, as she had for others who had made the same dying request. Once the `` Amen,'' was spoken, he wiped away his tears and asked her to pull the trigger.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' I'll wait with you until you've turned,'' she said.
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Do n't. I do n't want to be there when it starts. Please. Just do it now. I'm ready. I've been ready for a long time now.''
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; So she loaded her gun and stood behind his back. She kissed her cross, placed the stock of her gun against her shoulder, but halted when Rex asked, `` Do you believe there's something after this? For me, that is?''
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Yes,'' she said. `` Without a doubt.'' She could not see his eyes, but she did not think he was crying anymore. `` Before I do this, tell me... what's the funniest thing Nicole ever did?''
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Rex laughed and snorted up a wad of dripping mucus. `` I was just thinking about that,'' he said. `` She must have been -- what? -- four or five. She had just broken this snowglobe that my wife had had since she was a little girl. Gosh, Vicky was so upset. But Nicole had this way of looking at you when she knew she was in trouble. God, that smile and those sad eyes were so insincere! And Vicky and I were suckers for it. We both thought it was so... *funny*. God, it's like I can see'm both now, smi --,''
& nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; And Elizabeth pulled the trigger. Afterwards, she said a prayer and covered his body with a quilt she had found in one of the classrooms. She buried him in the playground.
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[ WP ] Three years after the initial zombie outbreak a cure has finally been discovered to reverse the effects of the outbreak on your loved ones , who have been kept contained . The results are quite what was anticipated .
| `` Yes, with this vaccine I can finally revert my former loved ones to their healthy selves!'' Said Stan the Accountant, turned scientist due to zombies not needing to fill out their taxes.
Stan plunged the needles into the heart of his nagging old Karen, who in recent years has been nagging less but rather moaning incessantly; Stan did not know which one was worse.
A sudden jolt of life seized Karen, who quickly returned to normal. Upon which she immediately scolds in a thick jersey accent: `` took ya long enough, Steve woulda neva took this long''. Steve from HR who had been Stan's arch nemesis for the longest time, until of course he was bitten, which did n't really affect his capabilities to work since he did n't do much anyways, except when it came to taking extra long using the single microwave to heat up his spaghetti sauce, which always left splatters of red all of the inside. Stan would n't tell his wife that much to his pleasure, he in self defence had to likewise splatter Steve's brains all over their living room wall, after he turned.
`` Ya listening to me? I come back from being a zombie and I hav...'' Karen droned on, but Stan had suddenly realized he had enjoyed the freedom that came with being left to his own devices and this science stuff was all coming naturally to him anyways.
`` Fuck it'' said Stan, as he pushed his wife back into the cage with his zombie mother-in-law, leaving to start a new life. He would n't go by Stan anymore, he needed a name with oomph, he would call himself Rick. Now to find some Szechuan sauce.
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[ WP ] You hide your valuable carved pipe on a hill for safekeeping during travels . While away , train robbers bury their stolen treasure on the same hill . On return , you ca n't tell the train robbers why you want to climb the hill , and the Robbers ca n't tell you why they distrust your motives .
| `` I am Chief Wanakana of the seven horse tribe. An ancestral pipe that guards the spirits of my ancestors is buried at the top of this hill.''
`` I ai n't never trust no Injun,'' said Jim McCann, leader of the notorious'One Shoe Gang'. He cleared his throat and spat out a thick sludge of brown tobacco and phlegm. `` Why should I start with you.''
Just then a cool wind picked up dirt, swirling it in the brisk mountain air.
The Chief stared intently at McCann. `` The ancestral pipe is important to my people. Without this pipe, the spirits of our ancestors will remain here, unguarded. I must retrieve the pipe for my people or...''
`` Or what Injun,'' sneered McCann. His two henchman each took a step forward, surrounding the Chief. The Chief noticed a wooden handle of a rifle peering from under the coat of the smaller of the two henchmen, the one standing uphill from him.
`` No trouble here. My ancestral pipe shall remain on this hill,'' said the Chief, backing away slowly.
`` Boss, he's lying,'' said the short man. `` He knows what we've got up there.'' The short man turned to the Chief, `` You lying son-a-whore...'' He reached into his coat...
The Chief brandished a blade and with a swift flick of his wrist lodged it in the short man's throat while simultaneously grabbing at the rifle. He held the short man under his arm, knife still lodged in his neck. The grey dirt under his feet turned a spotted crimson.
`` Now listen here, Injun,'' began McCann. `` You can have your pipe unencumbered, you hear. Go now, go on your way. I promise you on my spirits, you hear. On Jesus Christ, our saviour. You go on, and we wo n't stand in your way.''
`` Are you a man McCann?'' Asked the Chief.
Bemused, McCann smirked, `` do you need me to drop my trousers?''
`` Your honor makes you a man, not what is or is n't in your trousers. Are you a man McCann?'' Asked the Chief again.
`` Yes, on my honor, you go up this hill and retrieve your pipe, we'll be on our way.''
The Chief dropped the bleeding short man. `` There is a town two hours due west. He will live.'' He lowered the rifle and turned his back.
BAM
The Chief lay dead.
`` McCann, you reckon we take Dibble to town like the Injun said? He might still live.''
McCann turned his revolver to Dibble.
BAM
`` No he wo n't. Let's get the gold, we have a rendezvous with Carruth at sundown tomorrow.'' He stared up at the hill and spat out another slug of brown. `` We done wasted enough time here arguing with the Injun.''
A brisk wind picked up again, this time colder.
`` You hear that McCann?''
`` Hear what?''
`` The wailing''
McCann rotated his head left to right scanning the hill.
`` Just the wind I reckon.''
Another gust blew, stronger and colder still. Clouds moved in.
`` Now you hear it?''
The two train robbers felt a deep rumbling in the dirt.
`` Yeah, I hear it.''
WHOOSH. WHOOSH.
The two men fell to their knees, blood gushing from arrow wounds in their necks.
The wind quieted down and the clouds subsided.
There were no arrows.
|
[ WP ] Write a story that spans at least 5 centuries .
| I remember the day I realized I would never die. I was barely a man & angry as Hell. Does it matter why? In a fit of cowardice I jumped from a red stone bridge into the black river that ran through my fishing village. I should have died on the rocks, but my leather shoes hit first, slipped, & somehow I fell face first into the water. An older man pulled my miserable body from the tide, and pumped the water from me. How I wish he had n't. As I awoke, choking, he stood tall above me in the muddy sandbank. He coughed violently. And fell. And hit his head on a river stone beside me. That stranger died that day, fit as a fiddle, while I survived a fall, crushing, & drowning. I should have realized the truth of the matter then. I did n't. I was young. I was stupid. I was immortal.
That was something over 4,000 years ago. I'm reminded of my age only by the grace of modern historians & carbon dating. Would you know your age if others had n't kept track for you in your youth? The first few hundred years are the hardest on the heart & mind. After a while I stopped counting, as would you. I stopped counting the years, the close calls, the names I've taken, the wives I've taken, the children I've sired, the countless tribes, towns, & nations who've taken me in in turn & fallen around me in due time. I should have died innumerable times since then. Now, in my rather advanced youth, I'm recounting -- or trying to -- those who've fallen around me. For me. Those who've fallen for me. There's so many. I've lived so recklessly, with wild abandon. Until now.
Following my first encounter with death, I fled the side of the old fisherman as well as the village of my birth. I did n't even bury him. I simply took flight. I ran toward the sun, chasing it where it set, hoping to find its home. Hoping to find an answer. I found an ocean instead. So I swam. The world was simpler then; though it's never been simple for me -- or those near me.
I lived among another tribe on the other side of that great watery expanse once I washed up upon their beach. Another fisherman found me. Another fisherman fell. I tried to run but I was weak & so they gave me water, food, & shelter. As the days passed on, I became closer with them. Upon learning their tongue, I was given another name: SeaBorn. One of the few I remember. It was a wondrous & abundant land with no permanent dwellings. We lived harmoniously & I protected my new family from neighboring tribes. After 20 harvests, my new people grew discontented toward me. They aged & died while I lived at the peak of my youth, unswayed by the passing moons. They began to suspect I was feeding from their vitality. They suspected I ate from their souls. They suspected I fed upon their dreams & visions as they slumbered & spirit-walked. They suspected many things. And so, as many would do in the future, they killed my children. I was surprised that it worked. I was also banished.
That day I resumed my quest to find the sun's place of dwelling....as well as my answers. In my pursuit of the sun I found another ocean, though this time much quicker. As the story goes, I swam. I swam, following the sun until I reached the shore. The shore of my homeland, much to my confusion. I moved on as did the world.
Some of my most reflective years took place as a prisoner. I was trespassing on Akkadian land around the fertile crescent. Struck from behind on the skull, I awoke in chains. Something that would never happen again. Those troublesome chains adorned my wrists, ankles, & neck for about half of the first millennium before your Christ & the fall of Babylon before Him. I spent those generations as an heirloom. A prisoner. A trophy. A question. One all were too afraid to ask. One no gods have ever answered. No, not even yours. When the distant descendants of my captors fell on misfortune, the Akkadians traded me to the high priests of Babylon, where I stayed until its fall. For years their finest minds poked & prodded, inquired & quested for my reason for being. I was well fed for a prisoner, even brought the occasional concubine. When the priests, philosophers, politicians, procurators, alchemists, augurers, witches, warlocks, sorcerers, & torturers all failed in turn to divine my raison d'Γͺtre, I was forgotten. Left to starve. Left to die. Left to rot. But not for long. Something must have gone amiss upon the surface, since within a few months my food supply resumed. This continued for what I assume were centuries. I never got that good at telling time. I've taken too much of it. Too much of it. Too much. Others have always kept track for me. I was left in a cell underground while the Hanging Gardens burned above. It was another lifetime before my shackles rusted & crumbled with the bars around me & I saw the sunlight again. I had had my fair share of the birthplace of civilization. I moved on as did the world.
I suppose I'll take responsibility for The Plagues. Whichever ones you've read about in your schoolhouse. It was probably me. Never exhibiting more than a cough, fever, or twitch, I walked, rode, & sailed across the known & unknown world. After my first trip to China I rode to Rome. All those who rode with me along the Silk Road fell in time, as did my horse. My pittance was a small cough, my petite morte. The great death I brought with me to the polis to which all roads lead is known as the first pandemic. The first recorded one, anyhow. The undying city nearly fell forever with a good man named Justinian taking the blame to this very today. It was me. I realized that I was likely carrying the sickness on my skin, & so I retreated to the mountains for a hundred winters. It seemed to work. I made my descent back into civilization. I moved on as did the world.
There are more -- & more horrifying -- confessions to make. Wars I've fought & won, single handed. Family lines I've cut down for a slight in the public forum. Religions I've started. Nations I've ended. Legends about me. Monsters named for me. I wo n't lie, I've killed without remorse. There was no room for it. Too many innocents have died by my hands, blades, & iron sights simply because I had too much to drink. Innocent drunks have likewise fallen over at the taverns & pubs of civilization immemorial because I chose to have another barrel of mead, wine, whiskey, or ale in the late of night, trying to drown my sorrows & guilt, of which there are many. I assure you.
I've done what I can, here & there. Spreading technology, medicine, literature, but no religion but my own worship or fear. I know no other gospel truth. All the cures, treatments, metallurgy, & bedtime stories shared by me in my time can not mend the damage I've caused or pain I've unjustly inflicted. The shame of a species, incarnate.
It's taken nearly 5,000 years for me to get here. Nearly 5,000 trips around the Sun ( who still owes me an answer ). Nearly 5,000 attempts to get it right. I think I finally have.
A decade ago I discovered the modern name given to my birth-tribe. It was wrong, very wrong, but it told me where I began. What else was I to do but return? A man gets homesick after a few eons. I went to see the lands of my birth. Upon arrival, I thought of my mother. My father always reminded me how she had died in childbirth -- my birth. My first victim. I should have died that day, but she fell for me. I wish I could apologize....or thank her.
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[ WP ] You 're on the phone with your twelve-year-old self . They can not know it is you from the future . What do you tell him/her ?
| I hear the phone ringing from a distance. It's a call I've been expecting for quite some time now, it's actually a call from my 12 year old self. I'm not going to lie to you, I'm nervous as hell. I do n't know what it is with phone calls but they always make me nervous, I guess it's just cause it's not a face to face conversation. I ca n't tell if someone is interested or not with my conversation unless I can see their face. The phone continues to ring and I slowly walk up to it, hesitantly picking it up.
`` Hello?''
`` Hello.''
I hear heavy breathing through the phone, I guess she's just as nervous as me.
`` Hey, can ya hear me alright?''
`` Just fine. Who is this again? My dad gave me this number saying that you wanted to talk to me about something? He would n't say who you were.''
`` Name's do n't matter, they really do n't. It's basically a dog tag for humans.''
`` That's a weird way to think of it.''
`` I'm a weird person.''
A deep silence cuts through the phone line, goddamn, I'm even terrible at talking to myself. I clear my throat and close my eyes.
`` Melanie, um.. I just wanted to tell you a couple of things. Important things, that I think would save you.''
`` Save me with what?''
`` Suffering.'' I say. You could tell my voice was breaking down.
`` What would I suffer from?''
`` February 26th. Do n't go, just DO N'T go.''
`` February 26th? why not it's sa-
I hang up the phone, gasping for my breath. Holy fuck, it feels like I'm about to puke my goddamn heart out. How the fuck am I supposed to tell my 12 year old self, that at the age of 16, you get piss wasted at your first party and kill your own mother drunk driving? So help me Jesus H Christ.
I place my fingers above my cheekbones and feel the jagged scar that I was given from the accident. I can feel the hot tears running and my emotions getting riled up. I gaze around the room, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, I finally locate the brown cubby. I stare at it for a while, feeling my fingertips twitch and my breathing increase. Caving into temptation, I charge for the cubby and jam my hand in, feeling the small packet that owns the key to my heart.
I close my eyes, trying to resteady my vision. I clutch the packet tightly in my palm and head for the carpet floor. I pull the coffee table closer and I take a seat on the carpet. I place the packet onto the coffee table, still clutched in my hand. I'm really contemplating what I'm about to do, is this really what my life has become? Goddamn, I wish I was dead or something.
I finally release my grip and I hear the packet place itself onto the table. I move my hand and slowly, hesitantly, open the packet. I grab the $ 5 dollar bill next to the newspaper and as I begin to prep it, I start to hum the song
`` mmm, I got ta pocket got a pocket full of sunshine. I got ta love and it's all mine ooooh.''
I hold the tightly rolled $ 5 bill up to the light, making sure it is worthy of coca. I lay some white dust onto the table, separating lines using my pinky finger. I snort the problems away, and soon, the feelings of euphoria kick in and honestly, I could n't even explain to you what it feels like to suffer.
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[ WP ] A new law means everyone in the world can commit one murder for 'free ' - how does society react ?
| Wasted. All wasted. I'd never thought people were so ignorant as to take such an absolutely precious gift of power and throw it away on a whim. It sickened me to the point that I despised those around me even more. Just knowing I'd be walking next to someone with that stupid look in their eyes, that `` yeah, I did it'' look, or gaze, or whatever the hell it was. I did n't even care anymore.
No, this new power should have been treasured like I treasured it. Came about when I was quite young and I took it and held it, held onto it like the one thing that mattered more than sleep, love, compassion, I valued it above all others. And I took it and kept it hidden away. Never even touched it. I was so comforted just knowing that it was going to be there- that was enough.
Those stupid, absolute ignorant idiots used this treasure and brutalized it until it became an afterthought, something as menial as a car crash or a mudslide. Someone would die, a few would be sad, one would be happy, and I'd idle and snicker knowing I was better. I mean I was, am, really better than the rest of those sorry people.
It is n't easy to become the Speaker of the House after all. It had been twenty years since the first fools had killed for fun and as the act of killing became an afterthought, so to did the act that made it legal. Numerous times it had been fought in court and each time it was shot down. After years of fighting for it in Congress, I'm surprised no one suspected me of my intentions. It should have been obvious to everyone in my eyes but only one other person knew. The Secretary of State. His intentions were pure and simple like mine.
People like us have power you see. Money and fame mean nothing to us seeing as we already have both, me especially with my parent's passing on every filthy cent they'd earned. I desired two things in life, more power and more time. And as the years dragged on, I was losing one while gaining the other, fueling my passion to continue to strive for both. I ate healthy, exercised, smiled for the camera, and became a congressmen in my late 20s, young, ambitious, and devilishly charming. A few more smiles and fundraisers and I was a senator twelve years afterwards, and after just eight years there I've reached the camp before the summit.
My partner in crime, although it is legal after all... waited as long as we'd wanted. My wife and his invited over two oh so special people for dinner. Months in advance of course. Planning is everything.
He walked in, clenching The First Lady's hand like a sack of meat, and sat down at the table. The President was always a chubbier man but had gotten chubbier in office. The Vice President was an older man, likely in the last decade of his life, considering the cigarettes he was so deeply in love with, but came with his reluctant younger trophy. She'd likely rather be cheating on him this time of night but she was forced here by The Vice President... and myself of course. Who can resist my charismatic grin after all?
As dinner droned on, I chewed thoughtfully on my steak... perfectly seasoned. The correct amount of salt, juicier than a ripe orange and cooked to a beautiful medium rare. My associate stood next to me twirling his fork on his plate, not interested in food. I'd told him not to be nervous but nevertheless I could see the sweat stains under his sleeves.
`` You know... Francis... I've never told you about my One have I?'' blubbered the fat mean between bites of his yeast roll. He tore them in half, ate them as such, talking with his mouth full.
Gluttonous bastard. `` You have n't sir, not many people in your position would be comfortable doing so'' I replied thoughtfully, but with just a hint of humor. He knew me as the witty one after all. THe Vice President looked ahead and took a deep swig of wine. Undoubtedly he'd heard this lovely tale many times before at many other quaint little dinner parties.
`` I was at my high school baseball game... I remember the night like it was yesterday! We were one game away from winning our region's championship series, and one from losing to mind you,'' he snickered. The Vice President sighed, gulping again. Our wives had all gathered in the living room to discuss their useless input on our political escapades.
The Secret Service Men looked about ready to use their stun guns on themselves having to listen to this again. `` I was at bat, getting ready to swing... I knew I'd be able to hit that homer this time, I'd done it before with these guns here,'' he blurted as he obnoxiously hoisted his cannons into the air, like a small fat child trying to fly away. The Secretary of State going to start a community pool and was twitching, but I kicked his shin under the table. He turned to me and nodded, reassured by my mere presence. As he should be.
`` I nailed the sucker,'' continued the fat man,'' nailed'er right into deep left field. It was the ninth damn ending...'' He trailed off for a bit. I was admittedly curious. He stared intensely at his food, picked a spoonful of mashed potatoes, and started again. `` Well I started running of course, running as fast as I could dammit, I felt free at that moment, so free!''
Like Free Willy more like it... `` Must have been a long time ago then?'' I asked nodding at the extra large coat hanging on the far wall. He stared at me intently and started laughing, spewing his phlegm everywhere. I laughed with him and apologized, `` but please continue Sir, you were running was it?''
`` Ah, yes. Running as fast as I could, the crowd was just going absolutely insane they were, I could hardly believe it myself! As I rounded third, the cheers stopped but I kept running... made it all the way to home plate and looked at the scoreboard... saw three outs. Three goddamn outs. And that was it. I stared into the outfield where the team was gathered, carrying their outfielder inwards towards their dugout, whooping and hollering...'' He seemed lost in his current story, as well as the pie he was devouring while telling this yarn of his. My friend next to me paid no attention and just stared at the Vice President like a drooling dog, as he leaned half asleep on his arm. I kicked him again and he listen more closely to The President.
`` I picked up my bat... high school so it was metal.'' He laughed at that comment. `` I picked up that bat and I caved the kid's head in, three fell swoops, for the three strikes on that scoreboard...'' He looked up at me, chewing on his remaining pie, and began, `` I vowed that was to be the last time I ever, ever lost. And now, Francis, I'm here where I am today'' He gave me a comical smile at that and I returned it.
Ignorant, stupid bastard. Wasting that gift.
`` What about you Francis? How was your One?''
I glared at him for a moment and stood up, stalking up behind him and grabbing his whole torso from behind as best I could manage. The Vice President, suddenly awake, noticed the Secretary of State get up and make his way to the other side of the table near him, and glanced back at me quizzically. He was older and wiser though. He may have been bored of life, but that does n't mean he was ignorant like the fat bastard I was behind now. He knew.
I grabbed The President and flung his whole body onto the floor, chair and all. The idiot was too stupid to do anything but yelp in surprise as I pinned him down, looking at him from above. He was utterly speechless.
I stared into his eyes for a moment with the cold stare that silenced my debate opponents, protesters, and former congressmen alike. I leaned in slowly beside and whispered quietly,
`` Like this.''
I took the steak knife and slit his throat. The Vice President watched in horror, but only for a moment before he met only the same fate. The Secret Service Men stood by and watched, speechless themselves, never in a more powerless position. They soon realized, the dull meat heads somehow managed, what me and my associate had done. They looked back and forth form one another and quickly exiting the room, telling the women to stay in the room. More men flooded in to see my prize, the gutted fatman, spewing blood and piss all over my dining room floor.
Three hours later, the man's blood dry on my sleeves, my friend and I became the most powerful men in the free world. The country was in shock, a pandemonium of sorts. Once people realized what it was, they calmed down. Befuddled of course, that it was still as relevant as it truly was. Sure, I'd robbed them of their election day votes, but they accepted the fact it was just another One. No fighting it, it was legal. It was a gift. Something to be cherished and held tight. I'd kept mine for as long as I'd needed and I got what a true, intelligent, cunning man wanted.
Power.
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[ WP ] An NPC encounters a hero embarking on destined adventure , gets jealous , and decides he wants to fulfill that destiny instead .
| `` What an asshole. Fuck that guy,'' I grumbled to nobody in particular.
The most famous warrior in the land, Spartacus, had visited our town on his way to some stupid S-class mission. To defeat some demonic dragon or the other.
`` I'd be the best warrior in the world too if I had the Armor of Atlas, Dragonteeth Gauntlets and Sword of the Lady of the Lake.''
I looked at his table full of meat, wine and fruit. And I looked at the bread and cup of water in front of me. I spent 4 hours trying to hunt boars with a wooden stick and all I had to show for it was enough bronze to buy this meal.
I finished my meal and left. Maybe tomorrow the RNG gods would bless me with a silver coin I can sell to buy a wooden spear and hunt better.
`` Or maybe not.''
I walked to the outskirts of our little town and climbed a tree. I could n't afford to rent a room at the Inn, so I slept in one tree in the forest that curved just nice enough to not hurt my back in the morning. I closed my eyes and slept.
`` No! Daddy!''
`` RUN, ENZO! RUN FOR HEL- ARRRGHHH!''
`` SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP HIM!''
I heard the voices of a lot of people screaming. I quickly sat up in my tree and saw an orange glow in the night sky coming from the town.
`` No, no, no, no. Fuck, fuck, fuck!''
I jumped down and ran straight towards the Inn. And there I saw in the center of town. Spartacus was heavily wounded and covered in blood. And the winding mass of black with purple eyes and claws that glowed with electricity.
And those demonic eyes looked straight at me.
`` I told you all to ruβYou fucking idiot!'' Spartacus yelled.
I ca n't say I remember what happened next. All I know is I woke up in the rubble of the town's bakery.
I stood up. And my body felt heavy. I looked at myself and saw why.
The Armor of Atlas. Dragonteeth gauntlets. The Sword of the Lady of the Lake.
And a trail of blood at my feet that led to a section of the wall that was still standing.
*Slay the dragon. *
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[ WP ] You are about to sign your contract with Satan in blood , when all of a sudden , God bursts through the door to try and make you a better offer . Satan and God begin to barter for your very soul .
| `` So, just sign on the dotted line and we'll be all set, Mr... What was your name? Oh, right, Johnson,'' he cooly said with shining white teeth, but looked more like fangs to me.
`` Uh, okay, like this?'' I asked putting out my wrist and placing a knife across it.
`` Yes, yes, like that. Hurry up, I do n't have all day to sit around here, waiting for you to figure out how to properly cut yourself.''
As the sharp cool steel started to cut through my warm skin, the door to the kitchen bursted open, and a white light filled the room. Dropping the knife, and covering my eyes with my hand, I looked through the space between my fingers to see none other than... Jesus Christ himself.
He was dressed in the attire we always were told he wore; long white dress, brown rags around his neck, crown of thorns, brown hair, white skin, so and so fourth. I would've been more taken back if I had n't been sitting across from the devil.
He lifted in the air, floated over to the table, a chair appeared from nowhere, and he sat.
`` My son, do not sell your soul to him,'' his eyes glared across the table, `` whatever he is offering, I can offer more, as I am the son of God, and your lord and savior.''
`` Goddammit! Jesus! Every single time this happens! You come in here, with your pristine robes, and thorny crown, and mess up my business! Do n't you have something else to do? Like save some children from a burning school, or, I do n't know, answer one of the billions of prayers you get?'' Satan pounded his red fist against the table, the wood started to burn around his hand.
`` Do not make me tell my Father to cast you down somewhere deeper than Hell, Satan.''
`` Look, kid,'' the devil faced me now, leaning over the table, `` I'll give you double, no, triple! What I offered before. Hell, I'll throw in something extra, just for your troubles, if you sign right here, right now.''
`` Dear child, his offer is meager, I will grant you ten times the amount he offers if you simply do not sign away your immortal soul to him,'' his voice rang through the room, but sounded like he was whispering.
`` Fine. Fine. Fine! Stop looking at that fairy, look at me. How about this? A lifetime supply of it! From this point forward, to the end of your miserable, little, life, you will have an endless amount of what you want. You ca n't beat that. Even his high and mighty over there ca n't offer more,'' he laughed.
`` But I can, you horned strawberry. I will grant you a lifetime supply, and an afterlife supply. While you live here, on the planet I created with my omnipresent hands, you will be given any amount you wish, for the rest of your life. And, when you pass away and enter Heaven's shimmering golden gates, you will be granted it there too, and as you know, you are immortal in the afterlife. So, there, take that,'' he leaned back, crossed his arms, and stuck out his tongue at Satan.
Jesus's offer is much better, I thought to myself, and he answered, `` Yes. It is.''
Casually I stood up, grabbed the yellowed paper on the table, and ripped it up. Satan roared, standing up, and shouting so many different languages and words that I could n't understand anything he was saying. Fire shot out from all around him, charring my once beautiful dining room, and leaving everything else covered in black soot.
Eventually he calmed down and said, `` Fine. Take *his* side. Jokes on you, Dickson. I'll see you sooner than you think.'' And just like he came, a swirling purplish portal opened up, he walked through, and it evaporated into the air.
Jesus stood up, placed his left hand on my arm, his other hand grabbed and shook my hand. `` Good work, my son. Your reward is in the kitchen. Now, have self control, as greed is one of the strongest sins of all.''
He let go of my hand, and as I walked to towards the kitchen door, there was a sound of bells ringings, trumpets playing, and a choir singing in Hebrew. Abruptly, silence fell over the room, and looking over my shoulder, I could see Jesus has left.
Pushing the door open, watching as the opening between me and my reward grew with the push of my hand, an overwhelming feel of joy washed over me. There, placed on my kitchen floor, was a large bowl, and in that bowl was the most glorious, delicious, mouth watering thing that I could have ever wished for; mint chocolate chip ice cream.
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[ WP ] Two people are stuck on a deserted island . One of them is insane . Keep us guessing as to which one .
| `` You're nuts,'' Jimmy snarled at Peter. `` Off your fucking rocker. How is this even happening to me? You'll probably end up drowning me in the ocean in my sleep and eating me for a midnight snack.''
`` Right, *I'm* the crazy one here,'' Peter whispered, resting his face in his hands.
Peter could n't believe the situation. This insane asshole has shot almost everyone who had been on board the yacht when they'd stopped briefly to visit the island, and had *ate* some of the victims. Then convinced himself *Peter* had done this.
Jimmy shivered as he slouched in the sand, feeling strangely apathetic about sitting near a crazy mass-murdering cannibal. Why he'd been spared was anyone's guess. He'd decided to deal with it by babbling about everything that was on his mind. What could honesty hurt at this point? Maybe the man was so crazy he'd hesitate to eat someone who was expecting it.
Peter stared morosely at the gnawed foot of Captain Magson, peeking out from a large bush nearby. Suddenly, it wiggled, and disappeared from view.
`` Did you see that?'' he gasped, forgetting who he was speaking to. `` That foot just fucking *moved*!''
`` Oh, god,'' Jimmy groaned, and began weeping slightly.
How could it end like this? Eaten by a hallucinating cannibal on a deserted island. He was an accountant. Accountants were n't supposed to die like this. In fact, the entire holiday had been an attempt to liven up his slightly boring life. Now his wife was dead and digested, and he was about to follow her.
Ten minutes later, Captain Morgan's foot was completely consumed by the cannibal on the island. He peered through the bush at the two men sitting on the sand. It was interesting, most interesting. Gosh, that one guy looked quite a lot like him. Curly brown hair. A little chubby. A lot of meat. What a coincidence. It would be so interesting eating himself. Of course, he knew it was n't really him sitting there. He was n't *crazy*. But still - interesting.
The next day, Peter was surprised to find himself still alive. He looked around, and saw the other man sitting by the shore. He had n't looked too closely at him before, and was surprised by how normal-looking the guy was. He suddenly felt doubt gnawing at him. The guy had been sitting right next to him when that foot had moved, after all. What if there was another person on the island? *He* was n't insane. The foot had moved.
`` Listen,'' he said hesitantly, as he went up to the man. `` I know you think I'm nuts, but I think there might be a third person on the island. That foot really did move. What if neither of us is the murderer? We really should stick together, I think.''
The man stopped idly picking at his teeth, and turned his light, hazel eyes on Peter. Peter blinked, confused. Did n't the guy have blue eyes yesterday? He took a steadying breath, and tried to calm his nerves. The last thing he wanted was to go insane himself. The man was smiling gently back, and had stuck out his hand.
`` I thought of the same thing last night. Yeah, let's stick together. I mean, who knows where that guy is? Gosh, he could be anywhere, could n't he?''
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[ FF ] A priest in the 1960 reveals his guilt for molesting a child . Restrictions in description .
| There is little needed to be said about regrets. It is a word that, in and of itself, carries its own weight. A regret is an enormous thing. It is black, cold, and dragging its nails across your skin.
In every good deed lies a seed of evil. There are motives behind every action. Even when we believe we are being altruistic, there is that small, hard nodule of selfishness, of evil, of motives that we keep hidden.
I became a priest with the belief that I could erase my evil thoughts, release whatever it was in my life has caused me to be this way. It is a black thing, curled up in my chest, with tendrils reaching into my brain, it is a cancer. It is a beast.
I was never strong enough to defeat it, to let it go. There's something sweet in the moments where I gave in, something like heaven that I found, something that made me want to be good. And just as quickly, once realized, threw me into my own personal hell, flames licking my heart, a white heat pressed into my skull.
Demons are real. Demons are us.
I am told I am forgiven, I am washed clean, I am in the light of our Lord.
I am not.
I am living in the mud and excrement of my life. It can not be washed, but sticks to every part of my body, fills my mouth, drowns me each day to die and start again. It is seeping through my pores and into my bones. I am to die covered in my filth and sin. There is no one to wash me clean, no one to save me. Evil has become my comrade and my only ally.
No one saves my kind of evil, no one speaks fine words or plays sweet music. In the day when I am to meet my end, I know I will see only black. I will hear nothing.
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[ WP ] Write 2 different perspectives of the same story , where both characters think that they are the hero and the other one is the villain .
| `` Here he is covered in his dark black armor... The killer of my family..my friends and my LOVE!'' Light's eyes burned with rage as he saw Dark stand before him.
`` Does he think he can frighten people and rule over them forever?... Not anymore, all these years of suppression end now'' thoughts storm inside his brain.
`` All our ideals! Freedom! Liberty! all those different passions people had all those uniqueness we saw in people! He has destroyed all of them... He and his corrupted army,'The Union'....Deception and lies through sweet words promising'development' promising'peace'!....'' Light's teeth grind against each other leaving a grave impression on his face as he thought about the events of the past 20 years... It has been 30 years now since Dark and his army'The Union' took over the world... People were fed up with all the war, anarchy and exploitation they had faced that they easily started supporting'The Union' even though it was initially classified as a terrorist organisation. Light was among one of the first few people in his territory to leave his home to voluntarily join Dark. The Union took over the world pretty easily after emerging as a political party openly receiving massive support from the people throughout the world. Soon, a totalitarian regime was setup and people had only restricted freedom. This was a shock to some of the people such as light himself and his family and colleagues who held values such as liberty and free will high above anything. Soon, a rebel organisation was setup under the leadership of light named'The Uprising'. Now after 10 years of hit and run on both sides they finally meet. Dark had challenged Light openly to meet him at this place to put an end... an end to the 10 year struggle between the FRIENDS... Friends who once saw the same path to achieve same goals..Peace and Development. Dark had specifically chosen this place as this is where they first met... the place where Light came to enroll himself....the place where Light challenged Dark himself on hand-to-hand combat to display his skills.
`` Heh! Pathetic scum!... clad in white... how'fairy tale'ish `` Dark's anger was hotter than the desert's sand as he thought about what had happened 10 years before... when he was rejoicing with some of his officers.....the day when Light and his army launched a surprise attack inside Dark's home killing all of them, all the people who stood in the front lines and spent sleepless nights creating impenetrable strategies to build this regime....the regime of order....the regime of the'Union'.
`` I trusted him! I trusted his sword! I trusted his honor!'' Tears almost streaked down from Dark's void and grave eyes as he painfully remembered about the memory of the betrayal.....a betrayal from the only man he held equal to his own life and the man who he thought had the strength to defend the Union after his death.
`` How many years have I spent! Dreaming of building this empire... An empire of peace and order! An empire free from chaos! and he wants to destroy all this? For his puny ideals of complete freedom and liberty?....What the hell did we even achieve when we had all those ideals of liberty and freedom higher than order and development? We misunderstood each other... We fought with each other... We killed each other... We destroyed ourselves....We destroyed EARTH!'' Dark's sorrows turned into rage... a rage so inhuman in nature....His tears stopped mid-way as anger engulfed his eyes.
`` How many years has it been since we fought the last war? How can he not think about how much resources we have saved? How many lives we have spared and how much destruction has been prevented? Is he dumb enough to not consider that?... I know....He wants glory! heh! He wants to be read in books about how he'SAVED' earth from me.....He wants songs to be written about him! Only that could be his motive... after all people change!'' Dark took a firm grip over his blade.
`` THIS ENDS NOW!'' They both shouted in the same voice as they rushed towards each other.
The swords slashed and only one of the friends stood.
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[ WP ] You die and wake up in a strange forest . You 're allowed to relive your life through each decision represented by a fork in the path . You are the first person to ever turn around and walk back where you came from .
| From time immemorial, man has walked the Dark Wood of Error which lines the the delicate fabric of life and death. Faced with the critical moment in their lives, God above tests man to see if he stands by his convictions, learns from his failures, or truly chooses the path to the inferno. Every man, woman, and child who has ever walked the earth takes this path in the veil betwixt the three borders of the skies of the Heavens, the mountain if Purgatory, and the pit of Hell.
I've seen them all. The wicked villains, the likable rogues, the religious holymen, the good men and woman who just try to do the right thing. I've recorded every step, every decision, every life choice fulfill to ease their regrets in their weakest moments. Let it be known to all men: He is meekest when faced with his greatest regrets.
In the eternity of true life, which most refer to as death, she stands out above all of humanity as the one who broke the test. Reliving the critical moment, pitted against the greatest crimes of human and divine law, she fell to her knees. Hot tears rolled down her face. Harsh, guttural pleadings interspersed her whimpers which echoed through the sorrowful trees.
Faced with the greatest question of morality which eroded her soul every day she lived, she watched the scene unfold. Her husband, the town cobbler, a flawed man with a flawed history endeavoring to set straight his sins sits across their son, a drunk and a disgraced, ever-fixed with the scent of shame and whiskey. They yell. They shout. Their screeches fill the ear with a cacophony no woman should ever hear. Without knowing who struck first, fists fly through the air with reckless abandon, accompanied by threats of death. She snatches the revolver from the desk. She does n't know what to do next.
So she walked away, tears still streaming down her twisted visage, vowing to retrace her steps. Filled with conviction, she would find the all the moments and butterfly effects with led to the greatest mistake of her life, so she would never have to confront her own sin again.
The sea of humanity is but a dull din compared to the piercing note of her internal strife. I sat in awe, as she spent an eternity freely going about the Dark Wood of Error, scrambling to protect her family from that fateful moment. Unfortunately, destiny yields to no man.
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[ WP ] A man dressed up as Bigfoot in order to cause a hoax and sell the pictures , somehow stumbles upon a tribe of Bigfoots and has been mistaken as one of them .
| My eyes opened lazily; the haziness of sleep had long since departed in place of a whopping hangover. I took a moment, alright several moments, to curse my rash drinking the day before and shelter my eyes from the light of day. It must still be quite early, otherwise my roommates would have woken me. I stared up at the unfamiliar ceilingβ¦ a wooden ceiling. It had a certain rustic appeal to itβ¦ did we go camping? That would explain the drinking. I glanced over to my left where a small window was coaxing sunlight into the dark room. It was actually more of a hole than a window, but it still served my purpose admirably β I could see through it.
Admittedly, I couldn β t see much besides the sky. I propped myself up on my elbow to get a better look, but found I couldn β t see as some form of heavy pillow had fallen across my face. I reached up to my face to move this unwelcome intrusion when my mind finally caught up with reality. I was wearing a costume. My mouth started to form the words β Why am I wearing a costume β, but an animalistic growl outside cut the air from my lungs. I gently climbed off the rather odd combination of furs and wood that I had been sleeping on and carefully swept my eyes across the roomβ¦ cave?
Cave?
This was making less and less sense. I espied my camera grinning down at me from a rocky outcrop on the wall. Still wary of whatever was outside, or perhaps lived in this cave; I made my way over to the cheeky camera and lowered it into my gentle hands⦠paws? Why am I in a costume? I need to cut down on my drinking. With camera in hand, I retreated to the back of the cave. Whatever was outside seemed content to stay there for the moment, and I was okay with that.
My fingers greedily pressed the power button and impatiently waited for the thing to switch on. I needed answers. 77 photographsβ¦ gosh I had been busy. Probably all embarrassing drunk photos; I really need to hide the camera from drinking me. Let β s look at the first oneβ¦ Bigfoot? No that β s me dressed as Bigfoot. And another shotβ¦ this must be the terrible costume I β m wearing. Why on Earth did I think anyone would believe I look like Bigfoot. More pictures of meβ¦ moreβ¦. Oh whoa nice picture of the sky me. Next oneβ¦
I peered closely at the image; it looked like my costume but the colour seemed wrong. I flicked to the next pic. Another one of themβ¦ and another. Excitement began to build in my stomach. This was itβ¦ I had discovered Bigfoot. I had photographed Bigfoot. I was going to be famous. Wasn β t there a reward of ten million dollars for finding Bigfoot? I was going to be rich.
I heard heavy footsteps echo through the cave and my joy died with themβ¦ I had stayed too long. I crouched down in the corner, making myself as small as possible. Panic and fear fought each other over my mind as I tried to make my heart beat softer. I can β t die nowβ¦ not like this. The fearsome footsteps rounded the corner into the area I had been sleeping inβ¦ they paused for a moment. I daren β t look up. I heard a clatter shortly followed by the footsteps retreating as menacingly as they came. β It knew I was here β panic whispered to me. I ignored my own misgivings and crept over to a strange bowl, new to the room. Inside were a mixture of berries and nuts. β Don β t eat it β fear shouted in my ear, but I was far too hungry to listen to fear. I wolfed down the scarce supply and crept back into my corner. This is ridiculous.
I shouldered my determination and camera together, and tiptoed towards the outer cave as quiet as a mouse. I peered around the corner. Nothing. I slithered my way along the wall, stopping at the mere thought of a sound. I peeked around that corner. Nothing was moving, although I could see light merrily bobbing off the walls opposite an opening. Must be a campfire in the room that lies between my freedom. I sniffed the air carefully, but couldn β t smell smoke over the musk and haze that seemed to ooze out of every crevice. I waited breathlessly for what seemed like an hour, but was presumably only a few seconds. I peeked back around the cornerβ¦ still nothing. I took a deep breath, steadied my spirit, and broke into a sprint.
I can tell you I successfully made it past the dreaded room. Mostly because I was a brilliant sprinter, partly because it was an empty room. My actual failure was running out of the cave into the loving arms of my host familyβ¦ all twelve of them. They took a real liking to me and couldn β t bear to see me leave. ( no that isn β t a punβ¦ they β re not bears β don β t interruptβ¦ now where was I.. ahh, leaving ) Fortunately for me, they also had a particular love for my shiny flashing device. I can tell you it was the most painful experience of my life, throwing that 10 million bucks into the cave. I wish I could say I did it with no hesitation. Is life worth 10 million bucks? Who knows. But I certainly wasn β t going to get 10 million bucks just sitting there, rotting away.
What? You don β t believe me? Well, I don β t know what to tell youβ¦ I threw all the proof I had into that cave. The costume? No, I ditched that as I was running. Difficult thing to run in a costume. Look friend, I told youβ¦ if you want to find Bigfoot yourself, just grab a camera and a costume and go up that mountain. You β ll find ol β Bigfoot in no timeβ¦ though you might not be as luck as I was. The real trick to finding Bigfoot, is being able to escape.
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[ WP ] years after the human extinction werewolves and vampires have brought their ancient war out in the open . Rumors spread , on both sides , of a single human survivor .
| `` Hey i heard there was a person somewhere in the world'' said the vampire.
`` Yeah me too'' said the werewolf. `` He is supposed to be the single human survivor.''
`` Wow that's crazy'' said the vampire. `` I wonder where he lives''
At that moment a person was walking down the street. He was wearing pants and a t-shirt that said `` Hollister'' on it.
`` Hey look it's that person who I was talking about'' Said the vampire. `` Hey! are you the last person on the earth?''
`` Yeah, I am'' said the man.
`` Wow cool, nice to meet you'' said the werewolf.
The vampire then killed the werewolf, and he won the war between the vampires and the werewolves.
The man was sexually aroused.
The End.
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[ WP ] The year is 1910 . Adolf Hitler , a struggling artist , has fought off dozens of assasination attemps by well meaning time travelers , but this one is different . This traveller does n't want to kill Hitler , he wants to teach him to paint . He pulls off his hood to reveal the frizzy afro of Bob Ross .
| There was only so much he could take. So much to hold in. The paint knife twitched in Bob's hand.
`` You mean like this, Mr. Ross?''
Bob smiled. `` Yes, Adolf. Exactly like that. You can do anything you want here, aaanything you want.'' The words echoed through his mind, haunting him. He saw the black-and-white horror of Auschwitz again, the very pictures they'd been shown in the Air Force. His own words captioned the horrors of the Holocaust. *'' You can do anything you want. This is your world. `` *
The back of the aspiring young artist before him shifted, shoulders rising and falling with eager brush strokes as Mr. Hitler brushed up a forest of magnificent spruce trees. Bob's grip on the paint knife tightened. Adolf seemed so full of life these days, so content with himself. There was a newfound light in him that Bob so loved to see -- it was what made him cherish teaching. It was the true Joy of Painting, to shed your worries and focus on the canvas, pouring yourself out for all of your world to see, whether it was millions on national television or simply your loved ones. There was such beauty in it, such beauty.
Could he truly say he was better than this man? Bob still remembered the hateful and angry person he had once been. The Air Force had brought out the worst in him. He did n't deserve to be saved, yet he had found salvation in painting anyway. Who was he to deny another person this? Another living, breathing human being. And yet the stakes were too high.
In the end, that warrior Bob had once been had never truly died. He had simply stepped aside to let the painter flourish. Now that same warrior stepped forward, the paint knife steady in his hand, its surface glimmering titanium white. Adolf Hitler never saw it coming.
A river of red danced down the landscape. It blinded Bob with tears. Even at a moment like this, there was beauty to be found on the canvas.
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[ WP ] NASA Scientists celebrate finding water on Mars . Meanwhile , a Martian gets in trouble for leaving the water running .
| -Dammit Klee-shek! why did you do that?!
-What?
-Do n't act all sweet and innocent, why did you let the hydraulic pressure rise high enough so that one of the support line would burst?
-I did no such thing!
-Comm on the humans have saw it! We picked up on there communication lines, they have a whole press release about it! They will try to colonies as now! They will find us!
-No they wo n't, besides relax it will be decades before they send the first human here. Now leave me alone.
-Where are you going?
-Sunbathing, it's swimsuit season soon and I want to work on my tan.
-What? You ca n't go outside! The human robots will catch you on there cameras
-No they wo n't I'm going to lay down near the broken pipeline
-So what?
-Have n't you heard? They wo n't send any of there machines near the spill in fear of `` contaminating it''
-.... you did n't, did you?
-I do n't know what you mean, now stop staring at me and if you were so nice cream my shoulders please.
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[ WP ] The writers of cosmopolitan have decided to start a magazine on cooking .
| HOW SHOULD A MODERN, INDEPENDENT WOMAN COOK?
A woman being within 10 metres of a kitchen is a contentious issue today. Ask any modern woman about a kitchen or a sandwich and she should fly into a fit of rage.
Now that women have been liberated from the bread board, we have to ask ourselves, do we as women have any buiness cooking? The answer is yes, women should still cook but the way they should cook has changed. So how should a modern woman cook?
1. Leash your husband/boyfriend and beat him into submission
2. Now that you have his obedience, go through the steps of the recipie making sure your manslave follows it to the letter
3. Reward prompt reactions to your orders by revealing your bare ankles to him enough to titillate but not enough to objectify your own body.
HINTS AND TIPS
Remember, as a woman you are a victim and he is an oppressor. Never feel any sympathy for your simpering excuse of a man.
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[ WP ] A genie has granted you one wish . You wish to meet god , the genie hands you a mirror .
| `` I do n't get it.''
John Lewis was never a particularly spiritual man. He did n't think that it was a given that God was there. In actuality, the idea of some omnipresent deity disturbed him. Every shit he'd ever taken, every girl he'd ever been with... some old man saw it all. It gave him, quite metaphorically, the heebie jeebies.
Yet, at this moment, he found that the odds of at least one religion being right were increasing every moment. This was his one chance to find out the truth. Is there a God? Could he be real? Was there really some bearded man in the sky? Could all of humanities problems be solved?
`` No really. I do n't get it.''
They could n't, if this geenie kept fucking around with him.
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[ TT ] The mermaid tilted her head in curiosity . `` Can I kiss you ? '' she asked .
| The cavern pool water rippled, until a mermaid popped out, spraying water everywhere, soaking me in the process. She had not noticed me yet. She hummed to herself, whilst I attempted to take notes on its movements. Typing away on my phone, sealed up in a waterproof bag. No longer would I be a man who would be ridiculed for believing fantasies designed to scare off children from straying out too far.This would, without a doubt, solidify my place among the greats!
She knew I was there. Her movements felt forced, trying to feign not noticing me. She started to speak, in a rather serious tone `` I know you are there.'' I hastily stuffed my phone into my still wet trouser pockets. She turned around, and just... looked at me. I could n't do anything else but stare back. I edged backwards, until my back was up against the cave wall. `` Do n't worry. I wo n't hurt you.'' `` H-how do I know y-you wo n't?'' `` Just trust me, please? It's not everyday you find a human. `` I slowly moved towards her, easing up slightly. `` It's not everyday you find a mermaid either.'' I was now by the edge of the pool, the mermaid within arm's reach. Her turquoise skin seemed fascinating, yet I could n't stare too much. `` Thank you'' The mermaid felt my skin, pinching my cheek, and brushed her hand against my feeble stubble. `` Feels rough.''
The mermaid titled her head in curiosity. `` Can I kiss you?'' she asked. I blushed slightly, and replied calmly. `` Sure, I do n't see why n-'' I was interrupted by her pulling me into the pool. The water came just above my waist, my trousers now completely drenched. Before I could react, she kissed me. It felt magnificent, as if she had been waiting her entire life for this one moment, and let herself go wild. It lasted for what seemed like minutes, before she pulled herself away from me.
`` That was, unexpected. Yet I did let you.'' She merely giggled. `` Always nice to find a human who is willing to do that. Most humans just run away, not wanting to be'tempted'.'' She reached into my pockets, and fished out my phone, the notes still intact. `` Ah. Please do n't touch those, I've, er, I mean- `` The mermaid put a finger against my lips. `` You humans are so very weird. You wrote these?'' I silently nodded. She started to type on my phone, adding her own parts to it. `` You deserve this.'' She handed back my phone. `` This should help you with whatever you were trying to do. `` She kissed me on the cheek daintily. `` If you ever want to come visit me after you've gotten your fame, you know where I am. See you soon, Liam.'' She started to swim away. `` Wait!'' I called out to her. `` What is your name?'' She called out a name, which I kept on my mind always.
*'' Aquilia'' *
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[ RF ] Write about a seemingly kind selfless gesture that has an ulterior motive
| ( Names and places are all entirely fictional. Any shared or similar names are coincidental. )
`` Mayor, can we just get a photo for the paper?'' they pleaded, every time he came here.
`` Tell you what,'' he always offered, `` why do n't you put down those cameras, put on aprons and gloves, and join me in the back? Then I'll even pose for you, all pretty-like.''
Nobody ever took him up on his offer, but they always published photos and video of him walking in the kitchen, all the same.
Most of the people who came there did n't know him, but every day someone would come up and thank him, or yell at him, or tell him how he should do his job. Occasionally they'd all get in a big argument about him.
Today is one such day. `` M-m-m-Mayor Finch,'' Billy Bob shuffles over and greets him. `` Mayor, I do n't know if'n you remembers me, I'm B-B-Billy Bob, Billy Bob B-B-Brooke.''
Mayor John Finch shoots an embarrassed glance and a wave at the other kitchen staff and volunteers who are staring at him. He's supposed to enter through the side doors to avoid this sort of thing, but he always come right in through the front anyway. `` Hello, Billy, of course I remember you. I keep suggesting you go by Billy, or William. Sounds much more refined, son.'' Mayor Finch always knew what was best for other people. That's why he went into politics.
`` But I likes Billy Bob. Listen, Mister Mayor Finch, I j-j-j -- I just think, maybe if you put a little pressure on them Colton Heights folk, m-maybe they open back up for us.'' Colton Heights is really just the name of this neighborhood, but it's also the colloquial name for a group of apartment complexes which were actually owned by Brady Villages and Homes. They received subsidies to set up here, but then were forced to leave after failing to meet regulatory standards, and nobody was willing to take over the apartments after them.
`` It's him meddling what pushed'em out in the first place!'' another interjects. It's Amy Mason, who distributes a local newspaper, The Voice. Amy is not Mayor Finch's biggest supporter. `` You done called'em, what was it? You called'em'slumlord demons!'''
`` They were slumlords, Amy!'' a third contends.
Soon the whole place is arguing about Mayor Finch, Brady Villages and Homes, and whether Billy Bob should just go by Billy.
Mayor Finch holds his hands in front of him, palms out. `` Now now, I did n't have nothing to do with any of that apart from telling them they had to treat you people like people. I stand by that demand. Anyway, I'm here doing the best I can to help out now.''
This quiets a few of them, but Amy and a couple others are still visibly upset as Mayor Finch walks into the back to put in his three hour shift volunteering.
When it's finally time to leave, he steps out the side doors, as he's supposed to. `` Sorry about that fuss earlier,'' he apologizes as he leaves, `` I keep forgetting to use the side.''
Waiting for him in the car is Lisa, the woman he's loved since they were in high school together. `` Johnny,'' she addresses him as he slides into the passenger seat. `` I love you, hon.''
`` Love you, too. Listen, let's get going, yeah?'' he requests.
`` What, are you on the clock today or something?'' she asks.
`` Nah, Susan thinks I'm here all day. She does n't pay attention to any of this PR crap, and does n't pay attention to me when I return home, anyway. I just want to get away from this whole damn neighborhood. The place stinks something awful.''
`` Sure thing, Johnny,'' Lisa answers, as she drives off to the hotel room.
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[ WP ] You always get monthly hospital visits for `` tests '' . You always believed it is because you are sick , but one day you learn the truth .
| Cathy was waiting. I was late. She'd be angry.
I was n't actually that scared of her when she was angry. It was the coldness afterwards I feared more. Emptiness, hollow touches, like breathing in heavily and still not getting enough air. Like drowning with my head above the water. I hated it.
Even so, I had an appointment first, and there was no skipping it. I'd just have to hurry. I felt my senses heighten as I crossed from the bike lane into traffic, aware of everything around me, eyes wide open. It was a rare clarity, but it felt familiar. Up the sidewalk on the other side. Sharp left turn. Up the hill. My thighs were burning.
Cathy. When had I met her? It seemed forever ago. If there was one thing I loved in this world, it was this woman. We had started talking about a childa few months ago, and even though our tries so far had n't brought any success, we could hardly handle the excitement. She had written a secret list of baby names, and I had found it. To think she had this soft, this feminine side to her. Her political career was soaring, and the fact that she could be manipulative and cold as ice had everything to do with it. But not towards me. Secrets. Surprises. But first, this appointment.
Why was it that the traffic was so overflowing when it was hardly past noon? And hot, too, scorchingly hot. I had been feeling unwell for the past day or two, and this just made it worse. Up on the sidewalk again. Around the waiting taxis. Right turn. Unwell. Was that the right word? Restless, rather. Red light. Left turn. My eyes were burning from a mixture of sunscreen and sweat.
The fights had gotten better I thought, ever since the baby came up. It had been pretty bad after moving in together. I was n't ever sure what started it. She just seemed so easy to aggravate sometimes. I knew I was forgetful, but getting so furious seemed unnecessary. It was all worth it though. The way she behaved around me when we were n't fighting convinced me that it was. I had my issues too.
Sharp left turn. There was a police cordon, but I knew a way through a few hundred meters ahead. I felt my heart pumping heavier, but it'd be fine. I'd be right on time.
Today was going to be special. It felt like I had met her just for today. All my life, this one woman, all I was, all I could remember.
Through the narrow alley. I left my bike. Towards the stands. Below the feet of the cheering crowd. Forward, swiftly, into the sunlight. Away with the backpack. Faster, faster, towards the figure at the podium. A sprint, the last few steps. Her face turned toward me, eyes open wide. `` Darling?!'' I plunged the knife in.
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[ RF ] An Ashley Madison user discovers their spouse has an account as well .
| `` Honey, did you hear the hackers released the Ashley Madison data they stole?'' I looked at my husband over the top of my laptop. He sat down next to me on the couch and handed me a glass of white wine.
`` Nope, but let me guess. Names emails and credit card numbers?''
I nodded. `` Ten gigs, compressed.''
He whistled, then shook his head and frowned. He took a sip of his bourbon.
`` They did n't release the whole card numbers did they? Are we going to be alright?''
`` Yeah, for the most part. All they did was release the last for digits and the name on the card.'' I took a sip of wine. `` Other than that, we should be fine. I found our names though.''
`` Remember the first time we met?'' He asked, that knowing glint in his eyes told me all I needed to know. I could n't help myself, I giggled.
`` We met in a cocktail lounge, all those year's ago...'' he set down his drink, took mine away from me, and placed it next to his, on the coffee table. `` I told you you were beautiful.''
`` And your profile was very intriguing!'' I laughed. `` A non married man on Ashley Madison!''
`` You were n't attached either!'' He protested, jokingly.
`` Wan na reenact the night?'' He asked with a wink.
`` Oh do I ever!'' I set the laptop down and grabbed his hand, and we made our way to the bedroom, feeling the way we did when we first met.
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[ WP ] Going about your daily routine in Heaven , you stumble across an asylum seeker from Hell .
| 87 years... or 88. I ca n't remember exactly. Time is strange up here. No seasons and only the `` reality t.v.'' show that most people follow happening down below. I lost interest years ago when my loved ones passed. Sure it was nice to see them again but honestly nothing up here feels exceptionally real. Nothing really feels at all. Plenty of smiles, plenty of friends but I ca n't remember the last time I heard a honest to goodness belly laugh. Politeness. That's all. `` Beautiful weather today, eh Charlie.'' Yeah 80 and sunny just like every other fucking day. At least San Diego gets rain a few days a year. I often feel like I am the only person in the whole place that really sees what it is. Gold streets lose their luster really quickly. Metaphorically of course. So I was walking the edge where there are no paved roads and no gleaming buildings and best of all no pious angels. You can lean over and look down through the swirling clouds and galaxies and if you squint just enough make out the little inhabitants of earth bustling about. It has been interesting to see the way they have changed the planet over years. Disappointing but nonetheless noteworthy. As wandered around the edge not twenty feet in front of me I watched a grappling hook come sailing over the edge and dig right into the strange cloudy mushy mess we have for footing around here. The rope attached to it was slightly steaming. I stopped enthralled and watched as a dirty bearded homeless man climbed over the lip of the edge. He laid panting, face down in the cloud ground, body steaming and smoking. I walked towards the gentlemen and said `` hello there fella, can I help you?'' the man continued to lay and pant for a moment and then rolled onto his side and looked up at me. He stared for a moment, taking in my halo. He began to look around and I watched as he marveled at the gleaming streets and building and other wonders off in the distance. He said `` I fucking made it'' more to himself than anything. As he looked up at me he began `` you do n't know what I have been through to get here... the horrors and... and..'' I hate to say it but the gentleman began to weep. I had n't witnessed tears in person for..god I do n't know how many years. I put an arm around him and helped him to his feet and told him everything would be alright. After he regained his composure the gentleman told me of how he had climbed all the way from the bowels of Hell. How he had spent an eternity in that place and how he had decided to leave. Why I asked. `` Well, it was a hard decision to tell you the truth. My friends and closest companions were all down there. I hated having to leave them. Honestly, I miss them already. Hell aint so bad as they make it out to be. Fire and brimstone? More like humid and damp. But you know buddy I just could n't handle the heat. I grew up in the North East and every July and August I was miserable. I'd take winter over that any day. Put on a jacket, long underwear and gloves and some good boots, ca n't forget good boots, and you are as right as rain even if it's 5 below. The heat drove me crazy. Some people down there are happy as pigs in shit. Not me though. I decided enough is enough, I'm getting out of here. That climb though, Jesus, took me 23 years. Now I'm here and it is as beautiful as everyone always said. My God just look at it.'' He stood scanning from horizon to horizon. `` What did you do to end up in hell?'' I asked. `` Well, it's real simple you see. I lived a good life. I never cheated or stole or lied of any significance. Paid my taxes. Helped my friends and even strangers if I saw they needed helping. I had a really good life. But the one thing I did n't do is believe in any of this. Did n't care for God or really give a rats ass about heaven or hell. And the rest, as they say, my friend is history.'' It's a shame really. Everyone up here acts like it's justice but when you stop and think about it, this all really is a shame. Such a flippant and minor character facet decides so much of the afterlife. `` Look buddy'' I say `` they are n't just gon na let you in here. There are rules and the only way through the Pearly Checkpoint is to be on the list. Dressed the way you are they will never, I mean ever let you into this sterile holy city. But today you are in luck. I've been meaning to take a trip south and I suppose now is a good as time as any. Take off those clothes and you can wear my robe. Here put this on.'' I remove my robe and give it to him and also take my halo and place it on his head. I put on his dirty jacket and jeans, the smell is horrendous and I marvel because it's the first scent I've experienced that is n't flowery in decades. He asks what to do when he gets inside. `` I say tell em your Charlie Johnstone at the gates, they will scan your halo and after that your good to go. House is 28 Evergleam Terrace. Enjoy your stay.'' With that I drop over the edge and start my long descent. In a few years I would find myself in a dirty, foul, unkempt and unpolite place surrounded by people of varying moral character whom liked to swear, fight and tell dirty jokes. The relief and excitement I felt was more than any of you can imagine. I just felt bad for the feller who traded places with me. He had no idea what he had gotten himself into.
Edit: fixed a few mistakes. I'm sure there are more
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[ CW ] Write a story that contains a secret coded message . Let the comments try to figure out what it is .
| I do n't know where to start with this but here goes.
Last year I had hardcore sex with a pigeon and my wife left me.
I do n't know what compelled me to do it but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Kelly, my wife, caught me in the act and kicked me square in the nose.
Every now and then I'll look back at old photos of the pigeon and think what could have been.
People say I'm disgusting, one guy from my local store went as far as calling me'bird raper'.
I do n't know if I can take the abuse much longer, it was only 10 or 11 stupid mistakes and it was quite the attractive pigeon.
Endless days and nights of cry fapping to wildlife documentaries just wo n't cut it anymore, goodbye cruel world.
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[ WP ] A sign on Mars is found that reads : `` Level 2 '' and is signed by God .
| Joe goes down first and I follow. We tossed a coin for it, up in Ares VI and waited for a minute or two for it to fall before we remembered it did n't. So we played rock paper, scissors and I lost. Apparently I always play scissors, which is definitely a lie'cause I've played paper twice before and I lost those times too. All the same, Joe goes down first and I follow with the camera and a small silver box of the things we've decided we'll need.
It's difficult to explain to someone who has never walked on a different planet before what it's really like. You're suited and booted, kept at some artificial temperature inside a space suit which looks exactly like the one Sandra Bullock wore in Gravity, except not so flattering. There's the gravity, which is lighter than earth's, but heavier than the moon's, so you sort of feel a little *bouncy* when you're walking, but you ca n't take huge leaps and go flying across yards and yards of red dust. They do n't call it the red planet for nothing. It's just unimpeded vastness, stretching as far as the eye can see until you meet the red-black horizon of the unknown and your heart stops for a minute in your chest because it's *there. *
Joe swears over the radio and I almost want to say *fuck* or *shit* or something which will kind of encapsulate how it feels to stand so far away from anyone you've ever known. It's like the loneliness has ripped a hole in your chest. How many nights had I lain, looking up at the stars, hoping - no *wishing* that I could be up there? Eight years of training, eight months of travel in a tiny cube. I've eaten food out of silver packets and I've done three hours of exercise a day for years to maintain the muscle mass I need here. But words are n't going to sum that up. Words are n't going to tell you that I can see one tiny dot in the sky and that's earth. That's all I am.
My mother had cried when I told her I was n't going to church any more. See, I'd grown up in rural Ohio. Church was something we *did, * no questions asked, every Sunday from 10 till 11.30 am.
`` Why, James? Is it all the science stuff?'' She reached for a tissue.
`` It's not *science stuff, * it's astrophysics. And it's not just that-''
`` I do n't understand why you would n't want to go any more, I just-'' She gave this great heaving sigh. `` Did I do something wrong?''
`` It's not you! I just - I do n't feel like there's anything out there any more.''
`` How-''
`` I ca n't like - I ca n't rationalise it with all the other stuff I know.'' I'd spread my hands wide, but she would n't look at me.
`` Your dad would have wanted you to keep going.''
`` I'm sorry, I really am.''
`` James! You want to take a look at this!'' Joe's calling me over, his suit blocking something on the horizon.
`` What is it?''
He draws back and there's a short message, written in English.
`` That's so weird,'' I say, craning my neck. `` What's that made of?''
`` I do n't know. Funny it should be in German, though, huh?'' His words barely register. It's like there's a loud buzzing in my ears that I ca n't shake.
`` It's tiny sea shells! Look, it's made of shells. Jesus Christ...'' I bend down and touch a finger to them. `` Level 2. Level 2? What does that even mean?''
Joe pulls me up by the elbow and I stand with him, side by side. Black openness yawns before us, broken only by the pinpoints of a thousand myriad stars. They shine bright for a second and the quietness is killing me. There, in the sky that humans have been looking at for aeons; trying to work out what's out there, is a face, made from the pinpoints of stars.
I see my Father. Joe is crying, I can hear him over the radio.
`` Dear God,'' he murmurs and I have no choice but to say the same words.
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[ WP ] You are a fern , tell me about your dramatic day .
| The crescent moon hangs low in the sky and you can see it through the branches of the canopy. Stars twinkle through the dense cloud cover tonight. You can sense a rainfall soon. The air is thick a moist and the atmosphere is dreamlike and heavy. A strange sound calls through the night and you tremble a tiny bit in the breeze that sweeps through again. Another call replies closer to you. You glance around at your familiar home of trees and dense bushes. Vines snake up the trees like long snakes of green. The trees themselves are tall yet they droop at the top, branches hanging down as if they're tired of standing there for so long. They creak and groan in the wind, speaking to each other as they sway gently underneath the moon. You hear the soft slither of something and turn to see a snake coiled and camouflaged to most creatures. It lay there in wait so you ignore it. The moon slowly fades as dawn returns and the stars fade away completely. The cloud cover is more dense and the pitter-patter of rain starts to fall as a splash of pink streaks across the sky. The rain does n't last for long and soon stops. The sun is coming. You straighten ready for it, as does all the plants around you. A fly buzzes by lazily. The trees have stopped their gentle swaying and their leaves are blustering in the wind that's picking up. There is a suddenly flash of movement to your right and you look to see that the snake has gotten something. The little rodent caught in the snakes teeth flails around before falling from the snakes mouth. The snakes eyes follow as the rodent darts away towards the you. But you know it's already too late for the little creature. As the pink in the sky turning into a lovely orange the little rodent seizes up right in front of you. It struggles to move but its limbs are n't working anymore. Paralyzed, the little rodent drops and the snake slithers forwards to eat its prey. You watch in fascination as the snake unhinges its jaw before swallowing the rodent whole. It's a slow process of eating for a snake and you shiver slightly disgusted and glad that you do n't have to eat like animals did. The sun has risen but its bleak and grey as cloud cover moves to block its rays. Disappointed, you sag back down as the rain begins again. The sky darkens as more clouds roll in and suddenly a flash of light streaks across the sky. The sky suddenly grumbles so loudly you quiver and shake. The trees cry out in fear as their branches are tossed in the gales of the storm. Another flash lights the sky and the sky lets out another loud grumble. This continues for a while and you shake with fear when suddenly you hear a loud crack. But it is n't from the flashes of light. Behind you a tree has broken and it screams in agony as it falls to the ground with a loud thump. In terror, the other trees cry out in fear. You, already quivering begin to shake. What scares the trees terrifies you. The flashes lessen until they finally stop and so does the rain. It's silent as the trees mourn the loss of their fallen brother. You gaze around yourself as streams of rainwater roll down muddy trails that had not been there before the storm. You shiver remembering the storm and sag from too much water. The sun slowly breaks from the cloud cover at some point in time. This time, its falling instead of rising. It warms you slightly and you hear a bird call in the evening. It's peaceful and calm and you sigh, happy that you've survived the storm. The sun sets and a rodent runs past you. Another cry sounds from above. You look to see a flock of birds flying in the same direction as the rodents. Something must have disturbed them. Another cry sounds, its a howling screech that makes you shiver. Suddenly a whole pack of monkeys is scrambling past you in the trees in the same direction. Other animals run past you and you suddenly yearn to be able to follow them but you ca n't. The calling of the animals sounds throughout the night but soon they're gone. That's when you hear it. The scuttle of something or something's. You hear them before you see them. It's like the sound of a million patterings of tiny feet and then you see a mass like a black carpet sweeping over the jungle. Army ants. And they're on the move. You scream silently but are stuck unable to run as the almost silent mass of ants scuttle towards you. You know what's going to happen. The mass of ants reach you and their pincers slice at your stem and you cry silently in agony before falling. You are immediately swarmed by ants and that's the last thing you feel before you're ripped apart.
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[ WP ] You are the first person to ever be successfully revived from cryogenic sustainment , and you have just woken up ...
| When things are cold, they slow down. That's physics. Keep them cold, they stop. That's.. time travel?
The mind on ice is slow. The neurons sputter, dribble. I ca n't feel it. But I can see it.
Memories dredged up by the phase change, I see them through the murky waters of dreams. Like a television paused as I lie on the couch, insomniatic, transfixed by the bright light but not watching. A moth to a flame. A ship following the moon. The images sink and are covered up by silt.
The curious metallic smell of ice, the fresh feeling in my mouth as the taste of a gin and tonic. My wedding. My wife. Where is she. My eyes stir underneath their blankets, the sheets are cold. My forehead trickles perspiration. I felt a heartbeat. I am suffocating. No, drowning. No, asphyxiating. Another heartbeat sounds alarm.
No, the alarm. I can hear it. Is it a dream? Is it my clock, announcing a new grey Monday? Something slides over my skin like a finger wiping water across glass. Someone spilled their drink. I am soaked. My clothes are sodden, and its cold. No. Five more minutes sleep. It's too cold to wake up.
A shiver down my back and I am awake again. My head stirs, my face is wet. I remember camping, sleeping under the stars, and waking up with the dew clammy on my skin. The air smells just as fresh. But I run the risk of catching cold. I do n't do this often enough.
My world turns suddenly, I am falling from the forest floor and my consciousness bursts into life. I brace, just as I crash against ice. No. Concrete. My breath is knocked out of me and I heave another back in, immediately coughing and spluttering. I am making quite a commotion. I am so cold. I realise I am not in the forest, I am not at my wedding. It is not Monday. I look at myself for the first time.
I am lying on a bed of shattered ice. Some pieces are still clinging to my skin, my shoulders, my hair. My feet are still encased in a solid block, but they are getting loose and I kick against the wall: some cracks appear. I see from where I fell, the upright metal cradle, the open faced pod where I had lived as a popsicle for.. I do n't know how long.
I raise myself up for leverage to free my feet. There is a hissing noise and a fluid is spurting from a tube in my pod, ripped loose by my fall. The fluid is warm, and smells of salt, and is slippery like a base or an oil. I try to shift my feet over to it to help myself thaw, and as I do so my hand drops onto a small object. It is as cold as ice, but harder, it does not start to melt under my touch. So I look at it. It is a bullet. I pick it up and bring it before my eyes to inspect it.
It is a used bullet, dented in the front, but other than this, I know little of firearms. And then my gaze shifts. I realise I am not alone. There are many others, all in pods, all in rows. But there's something not right about them. The ice is cracked, some of it melted away as mine was. Some lights on the dashboards flash. I peer closer at them, blinking my frigid fatigued eyes. Their faces are obscure, the outline of their bodies is clear enough, but their heads seem caught in a dark cloud, or misshapen.
I look back down at the bullet.
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[ WP ] You catch your friend , the `` dumb one '' in the group , casually summoning the TV remote to his hand from across the room when he thought none of you were watching .
| `` No way,'' I gasped. My mind had to be playing tricks on me. Seconds ago, I had seen the television remote fly across the room to Jack's open palm, as if he had summoned it.
Now Jake had always been the slow one in our group. His jokes often did n't make sense and he was often shy and awkward when around women. But the way he caught the remote just then... there was no mistaking it. His action was cool and composed, and he had done deliberately.
I stood rooted to the ground holding the bowl of chips with my mouth agape. Just then someone scored a goal and the room erupted with the echoes of cheers. Jack too jumped up, punching a fist in the air as he turned around.
`` Guys! Hey Tim, you just missed it! Arsenal scored! Get the guys they would n't want to miss the replay!'' Jack was ecstatic and had a big grin from ear to ear. His composure gave away no hint that anything was out of the ordinary.
`` Uhhh... yea man that's great... I'll go get them,'' I mumbled perplexed. Part of me knew that these things were n't possible, that I had definitely imagined it. But the other part of me knew what I saw was too detailed, too vivid to have been my imagination.
James' brows furrowed into a frown. `` You ok Tim? Arsenal just scored and you look like you just saw a ghost.'' The concern in his voice sounded genuine and I wanted to slap myself for believing such nonsense.
`` Yea, yea man, it's nothing. My mind was just somewhere else.'' I gave him a smile and turned around to go get the rest of the guys from the kitchen.
While walking to the kitchen, I thought back at how shocked I had been when I fell for my mind's little prank and chuckled. `` The human brain sure is wonderful,'' I thought to myself.
As I entered the kitchen, I saw the rest of the gang busy prepping dinner. `` Hey guys, Arsenal scored! Hopefully we can actually keep the lead this time eh?''
My proclamation was met with cheers from fans and groans from rivals. As everyone rushed to the living room to catch the replay, I decided to share my little brain dart with Dan.
As we walked out of the kitchen I recounted the incident with a laugh to Dan. `` Can you believe I actually saw the remote fly across the room? I was so convinced it was real too, it just looked so realistic!''
I paused, waiting for Dan to start with the banter. Instead he kept looking at me solemnly. `` And?'' His voice betrayed no hint of a joke.
`` Alright, yea, nice one man. But seriously why would I imagine such a thing?''
`` I really do n't know what you're talking about. Why is this so surprising to you?'' I could n't believe Dan had managed to say all that with such a straight face.
`` Ugh whatever man let's just get back to the game,'' I replied, irked by his obnoxious response and childish games.
Dan responded by squinting his eyes and staring at me with a look of bewilderment. I rolled my eyes and walked off. Yet, somehow, I could n't shake the nagging suspicion that Dan really had n't been joking...
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[ WP ] The ancestors of a young boy are trying to protect him as he puts himself in potentially perilous situations .
| The elder spirit sighed and rubbed his pale forehead. Turning to the younger spirit he lamented, `` What did I do in life to deserve this?'' They looked on as the boy was climbing out to the edge of a flimsy tree branch fifteen feet above the ground. `` If I had known I would be cursed with this for all eternity I would never have procreated.''
The younger spirit was busy dragging a trampoline across the yard, `` You know why it's important for us to protect him. If you're going to complain about it the least you could do is lend a hand. It seems like I'm the only one who ever does any of the work here.''
Just as the trampoline moved under the tree the branch cracked and the boy dropped down, safely bouncing onto the trampoline. He bounced a few more times and laughed, indifferent to his miraculous salvation. `` It's not even *him* that's important though! *That* child wo n't be born for another dozen years,'' the old ghost continued, `` I still do n't believe that this idiot child could father such a pivotal figure. How do we know that angel was n't just pulling our legs?''
`` Angels do n't have a sense of humor,'' the younger spirit said, rolling his eyes. The elder did n't look convinced. He simply crossed his arms, still standing idly as the boy began running around the yard hitting things with a long stick he had pulled off of the fallen branch.
`` For fucks's sake!'' he said, as the boy began approaching a wasp nest on the side of the house, swinging the stick wildly. The spirit attempted to grab the stick but it was too late. With a loud *thud* the stick knocked off a sizable chunk of the nest. Suddenly the two ghosts found themselves swatting back a swarm of buzzing wasps. `` He's just standing there!'' the older one said, glancing back at the boy, who was staring dumbly as the swarm of wasps floated in front of him. `` I've had it! You can keep on fighting the inevitable, but I'm going to let nature take its course,'' the old spirit stepped aside, allowing the swarm to descend on the child.
The wasp stings sent the boy running into the house screaming for his mother. The old ghost laughed, `` That'll teach him. If he want's my help he's going to have to help himself first.'' The younger ghost glared at him briefly before storming off after the boy.
By the time the older ghost caught up to his decedents the boy was covered in band-aids where the wasps had stung him. `` Thank god he's not allergic, otherwise you'd have just doomed all of humanity!'' The younger ghost said, throwing his hands in the air.
The elder shrugged off the comment, `` The boy brought it on himself. Besides, I'm still not convinced this is n't just some bizarre hell designed to torment me.''
`` Well if that's the case it's certainly succeeding for both of us!'' the younger spirit nearly shouted.
`` Where'd the brat get to now?'' The older spirit said, looking around the room. He let out a slow groan as he saw the open door. `` We should just lock him inside for the next ten years. Are we allowed to do that?'' The younger ghost was already out the door by the time the older one finished the question.
They found the boy playing with a ball, bouncing it repeatedly against the garage door. `` Now here's a simple, safe game. I told you a few stings would do the boy good,'' the elder ghost said. The other only groaned.
As they watched the boy kicked the ball hard against the door. The ball bounced back just right to hit the boy square on the nose, knocking him to the ground before continuing on rolling into the street. The elder spirit chuckled, `` At least there's never a dull moment.'' The younger spirit did n't seem to share his enthusiasm.
The grin quickly disappeared from the old ghost's face as the boy got up and began to chase the ball into the street, apparently unaware of the car speeding down the road. The younger spirit managed to grab the child and pull him out of harms way just as the car blew by. `` I give up!'' the younger spirit shouted, `` We're locking this devil away in a padded room and throwing away the key! If we *must* protect him that's the only way we're going to keep our sanity!''
`` Now there's something we can both agree on,'' the elder ghost said smugly, `` Still think this is n't some kind of perverse punishment?''
`` It seems more likely every minute that goes by,'' The younger ghost responded as he dragged the oblivious child back into the driveway. `` Regardless, I'm starting to doubt humanity is even worth the effort.'' He sat down on the pavement and rubbed his chin. `` You know what,'' he said, turning his head towards the elder ghost, `` There are plenty of things in this world I never saw in life. Why should I waste this second opportunity here babysitting a moron? I'm going to head west. Go see the mountains, or the ocean, and whatever else is in between. Let's leave this brat to find his own way to hell. You with me?''
The older ghost's wrinkled face cracked into a smile, `` I thought you'd never ask.'' With that the two spirits departed without so much as a second glance. Meanwhile, somewhere behind them the boy had begun waving around a large stick...
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[ WP ] There is no prompt . Just write a story you 've always been thinking about or one you 've been thinking about sharing . Anything goes .
| I wrote this 2 years ago for NanoWriMo but I never finished it. Loved this first just paragraph so much it's honestly my favorite work. ( Not trying to boast or anything )
Midnight, perfect time for a perfect place. The freezing winter air blew onto my already frozen cheeks as I walked down the sidewalk. Snow began to fall down from the cloudy sky, just perfect. The light snowfall picked up a little bit, making me cold to the bone. The street lights illuminated the slight snowfall, THe further I walked the darker it got, and then eventually I was just walking on a sidewalk. The rushing sounds of water blinded my ears hearing the soothing sound. It was just so peaceful. Peering off the side of the railing, I moved my hair out of my face when the wind picked up, over the edge of the bridge was a freezing river water rushing around the paralyzing rocks. I slowly crawled over the railing letting my already cold fingers touch the frozen metal railing. I closed my eyes letting serenity take over. The screeching of car tires shook me out of my peaceful moment.
A man around the age of 20 was running in my direction yelling words I couldn β t hear, The only thing I could hear or pay attention to was the rushing water in my ears. He had glistening red hair speh specks of shows in them, had on a black t-shirt where you see his abs through and some black skinny jeans. He was too late anyway, where he was standing he was too late. I gave the man a small smile as a single tear rolled down my cheeks as I took the plunge.\
My jet black hair whipped around my cheeks, before I hit rock bottom, quite literally. My body was engulfed in freezing cold water so that the only thing I could feel was cold. My body swayed with the water, if anything not going fast enough. My lungs filled with water which caused a burning pain in my chest. I began to panic when I realised I wanted the burn, the pain, and all its glory. My back hit every rock it encountered, making a cracking noise emit from my body. A strong warm hand grabbed onto my leg.When I could no longer hear the rapid beat of my heart I knew the man was too late, I knew what was happening and I welcomed it.
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[ WP ] You are awoken in the dead of night by a call from 666-666-6666 . You answer to find the devil is drunk dialing you .
| If you've never been jarred awake by a nerve shattering ring tone at two thirty in the morning then you have n't lived. I gasped for air as I rolled over, patting down the night table in the dark.
The numbers 666-666-6666 glowed dimly through the fog of my semi conscious state. I never answer unknown numbers but I was so disoriented that I'd swiped the green circle before I knew what I was doing.
*BOO WOOO WOOOOOOOO* `` If you'd like to make a call please hang up and try again.'' followed by raspy snickering.
I blinked at the phone stupidly. Was I having some kind of stroke where I was placing calls in my sleep? I hung up and turned the ringer off. I'd scarcely rolled over when a different ringtone jangled my nerves anew. A synth version of Justin Bieber's `` Boyfriend'' pierced the darkness.
I grabbed the phone and sat up. 666-666-6666. I frowned. What the fuck was going on. I swiped to answer.
*raspy snickering* `` Is your refrigerator running?''
`` What?''
*hissing followed by raspy snickering* `` I said'' *burp* `` is your refrigerator running?''
`` Who is this?!''
`` You want the truth? You ca n't handle the truth!'' And then there was an extended 30 second farting sound. I was so in awe of the audacity of this imbecile that I could n't even react. That is until the smell of rotten meat and sulfur filled my room. The malevolent, drunken laughter on the other end of the line made my phone tremble.
`` STOP CALLING HERE!'' I screamed and swiped to disconnect. It must be mentioned here that there is little to no satisfaction in swiping to hang up on someone. Gone are the days of making your point by slamming the receiver down on the phone.
I realized I was going to have to do something drastic to put an end to this foolishness. I fired up my web browser and quickly searched out the name of a local attorney. Barry Ludwig seemed like the perfect ambulance chaser to solve my problem. I quickly dialed **21* and entered Ludwig's number to forward my calls, then I turned off the light, rolled over and never looked back.
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[ WP ] The year is 2050 . The Mars colony has been thriving for years now . The first firearm on the planet has been 3d-printed .
| Of course the Earthlings had firearms, they had done for... I do n't know, 1000 years? We had our own short, but vibrant history to learn and the long history of Earth was so confusing and had so many sides telling their own story. We Martians were much better, all recorded fairly and accurately so the truth was never in doubt.
Firearms were, of course, completely unnecessary. The Earthlings had always had weapons because, even from the earliest days, in their pre-history, they had needed to defend themselves against savage neighbours. We were n't savages, so we had never needed weapons. Disputes were resolved fairly, quickly and with the utmost consideration, after all, we are all Martians and all interested in the same goal, the prominence and wellbeing of the Mars colony.
See, the thing is, I'm part of the original Mars colony. I was in the third resettling phase. These fifth phase resettlers are n't.... quite like us. I heard from my neighbours that some of them were thieves, rapists and murderers. Sure, we have those things on the Mars colony, but these events are so rare as to be nearly non-existant.
Surely nobody can blame me for having a firearm, right? It's just self defence. I have a family after all, two girls, any father has a right to be protective. Is n't that so? My neighbours are having their firearms made tomorrow, it's just a safety measure. We've always had peace, this is just a precaution.
Just a precaution.
.... I never trusted those fifth wave immigrants.
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[ WP ] Make my cry
| My sister. My little sister. She's a pretty awesome person. She's easy going, she can always put a smile on your face. She's incredibly passionate, too. The way she sings, her voice low and cool. Her deft fingers, manipulating guitar strings, producing beautiful sounds. Her love of reading. If she hates something, you'll know it. If she loves something, you'll know it too. She can be stubborn at times. But she's my little sister, and I love her.
But she's in a bed. A hospital bed. With tubes in her arms, with machines beeping around her. Her hair is a mess, she has dark, dark circles under her eyes, like bruises. She's awake, but she's staring at her hands, lying limply in her lap. Her dark grey eyes are emotionless. They're like stones. Her breathing is slow. She's sitting up. It's an improvement.
I stare at the floor. She has n't cried. Has n't screamed. Has n't asked where she is, why. The jagged cuts on her wrists, stitched together. The cuts trailing up her arms, slow and deliberate. She's passionate. She's joyous. She's depressed. She's broken.
I feel sobs rising up in my throat. I should've done something about this, taken her out of that mess, taken her from those assholes that are supposed to be our parents, but I did n't. I left her there. I left her there. I left her there so they could shatter her. Make her feel like dog shit on their shoes.
Tears well up in my eyes.
They yell at her a lot. She makes so many mistakes, in their eyes. You're room's too messy! Three mistakes? How fucking stupid are you? Why ca n't you be like your brother? He never did anything like that! You expect us to love you, even if you're such a shitty person?!
And I mean, she fought back. She stomped her feet and rolled her eyes and talked back, but inside it chipped away at her. I knew it did. The way she sobbed into her pillow at night. The way she was happier at school than at home.
And now she's here.
Staring at her hands.
Grey eyes, dead and dull.
Hair a mess.
Brain broken.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Honestly, writing this got me crying. Listen to [ Kettering ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=8We0FVflGaU ) by the Antlers for maximum effect.
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[ WP ] You are heir to the throne , prince ( ss ) of a medium sized nation of this world . Your parents died too early , and everyone is ready to exploit your inexperience , your enemies are ready to tear the kingdom apart , your advisors ready to use you as a puppet . It 's time to establish dominance .
| I'm in my room, playing with my new set of porcelain dolls,
my mother ordered them from Spain for me, all my friends are jealous,
it's the little things teehee. My uncle came into the room, he was always
smiling when he saw me, but this time he was serious, his forehead was sweaty,
eyes focused on me... I need to tell you something child... This will be very
hard for you to comprehend... Your parents died on their trip to Italy, they were ambushed by
a large group of Serbs that had no mercy to spare. I'm not sparing you the details
because you have to be strong, your throne legacy will be challenged by our people and other nations.
I... I... I ca n't utter a single word, I started hysterically crying as he hugged me, I'm in his
arms resting on his shoulders, and I suddenly feel the pain from a sharp blade in my back.
Running a country is n't fit for a little girl, he whispered as he drew that familiar smile across his face.
I never even got the chance.
I swayed from the topic a little bit, but i wanted to write this
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[ WP ] Your friend asks you to pinch him , just to make sure he is n't dreaming . Well , he WAS dreaming and now he woke up , but you stay where you are .
| As the months crawl by, I can measure my legacy by my dream visitors. At first, every night my dearest friends would visit, and we would talk about our best times, our worst, and how the Cards were going to do this year.
Those nights, lost in conversation and good company, kept me sane. I needed the buffer. Friendly faces at night provided a break from the horrors of daytime, where I spent hours wandering a wasteland of nothing, plagued by whatever roaming nightmare was strong enough to project into my plane.
The subconscious is a powerful, unreal beast. When family visits and talks over my emaciated, plugged in body, I hear them. They pull me from the void, from the all encompassing visions of the long lost, insane souls of the others in the ward. The ones that are too far gone. The ones that have n't felt the touch of a loved one, or the visiting dream of a friend in a long time.
The forgotten.
Those souls claw at me during the day, scraping and scratching and demanding that I share. They want company. Or release.
*Get them to pull my plug. Or talk to me, please. Please. *
Running is my only response. I hop from dreamscape to dreamscape, but the only ones available are those who have called me or other nearby patients.
So I run. I run, I wait, and I pray. Some nights I am never called.
Today, when my best friend asks me to pinch him, I cry.
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[ WP ] Everyone knows their future cause of death but not when it will happen .
| Twelve chairs are arranged in a semi-circle. A table with coffee and doughnuts stands behind them and to the left, near the door. Three of the seats are occupied. In the seat nearest to the door sits a man β he has his hands deep in the pockets of his zip-up, hooded jumper. He is slouched in his chair. He does not look at anyone directly. In the chair to the right of centre of the semi-circle sits a woman, cross-legged and fidgety. She is dressed in a smart business suit and comfortable high heels. Her hair is well coiffed. She rummages in her handbag and jiggles her foot. The seat next to her but one on the right holds another man. He wears a checked shirt, sits up straight and looks around the room with an interested expression. He shifts a lot in his chair. The woman puts down her purse, catches his eye, smiles and immediately looks away. The hooded man refuses to meet anyone's eye. After a moment, the restless man stands up and walks to the coffee and doughnut table. He is a large man but he is evidently trying to be unobtrusive as he squeezes past the woman's chair.
At the same moment another man enters the room stage left. He wears a smart suit and a tie. His hair is short. He looks at the mostly empty semi-circle, moves towards the refreshment table but sees that it is occupied, he changes direction mid-move and crosses the circle to sit in the chair furthest from the door. He nods at the woman, who acknowledges him briefly. He busies himself inspecting his fingernails and discreetly biting them. An older man shuffles in. He looks for a second at the hooded man, hoping for the seat nearest the door himself. After it becomes apparent that the youth has no intention of moving he rests his cane against the seat exactly half-way between the hooded man and the woman in the business suit and sits down gingerly.
From a backroom emerges a slightly harassed looking woman with an armful of paper. She begins greeting the occupants of the room in turn and handing each of them a booklet. She also places a booklet on the seat of each empty chair. When she finishes she stands before the chair at the centre of the semi-circle and clears her throat. Before she can speak another young man enters the room. His heavy Doc-Martens scuff the floor as he walks across the room unselfconsciously and takes a seat beside the man in the checked shirt. He splays his legs and leans forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees, taking up as much room as possible in the room. The slightly harassed woman smiles thinly at him and greets him wordlessly. He acknowledges her with an easy nod and a grin that does n't reach his eyes.
The woman clears her throat again. `` Hello everyone and welcome. This is the support group for persons who will die of gunshot wounds. Is anyone in the wrong room?''
...
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[ WP ] The year 2100 , a large proportion of the nation is addicted to a virtual reality .
| He entered the tech repair store, and started to make his way to the service desk when a piece on one of the counters caught his eye. A game boy color, obviously years old, marks of a sticky black wax-like substance marring the dulled green plastic case. Martin clicked the on/off switch back and forth. No response.
`` Is there something I can help you with, sir?''
Martin was so absorbed in the handheld that the sudden appearance of the manager next to him almost caused him to drop it.
He cleared his throat. `` I uh... I need to recover some files off of my bricked Toshiba five terabyte hard drive.''
The manager turned away and started his walk to the back wall before Martin had even finished his sentence. `` Follow me, sir.'' The store was totally empty, and Martin followed the man with anxious anticipation. Behind the counter, the manager pulled up a floor mat and removed a panel in the floor beneath, revealing a dark underground chamber. The two men climbed down.
The dark room was illuminated only by the small blinking lights on the Virtual Reality Device and its corresponding headgear. In the room, twenty or twenty-five people sat in large armchairs, slick black helmets obscuring their faces. From the top of each helmet, a black cord extended towards the obelisk-esque Device in the center.
Martin analyzed the room, expressionless. `` How much?''
`` One hundred dollars for six hours. Three-fifty for a day.''
Martin noticed that one of the helmets on the far side of the room was outlined in bright, fiery red lights. He gestured toward it `` What's the deal with that one?''
The two men walked over to the woman, and the manager bent down to take her pulse. `` Dead. You get these sometimes. She was hooked up for three days and threatened to report my operation if I pulled her out in the middle of it. That and I did n't want to risk severe mental damage.''
He pulled the helmet off. The woman stared blankly forward, mouth slightly agape. Somewhere else in the room a client descended into a fit of laughter.
Martin had seen enough. He pulled out his handcuffs. `` Josh Clark, you are under arrest for the crimes of being a provider of Virtual Reality Services, and Negligent Homicide. You have the right to remain silent.''
He read him the rest of his rights while looking over the poor souls in the hovel. He knew the difficult road that each of them had ahead in rehab. Coming back to the real world was n't easy.
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[ WP ] Close your eyes . Relax . Now , Think of an image . Anything at all . Now write about the image you thought off .
| I am standing at the center of my brain. It is not filled with brain matter; rather, it is hollow. The walls are not flat; they are made up of curves, of ridges and bumps, all inverted, from my vantage point. At my current size, the top of my head is four or five times my height above me.
The illumination comes from outside, as though light could penetrate the layers of flesh, bone, and whatever was the material that made up the curving walls of my brain.
The floor, though rigid, is much like ashen grey sand.
My brain is an empty, silent cavern, and I am alone in it, drinking it all in with my gaze, without making a sound.
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[ WP ] When a child is born , their parents may pick one skill that the child will be , without a doubt , talented in .
| There i was, standing at the bed of the hooker that i had paid to sleep with me. And i was holding our bundle of joy, as some might call him.
The Nurse brought me back, `` Sir, remember just look into the babies eyes and tell him his gift, he has already been given his injection.''
Ever since we had learned that giving a newborn an injection of Holy Water gave it special abilities there has been countless genius's, prodigy's, and superhero's born. You could n't do anything now without 3 other people fighting over who gets to help you.
Now is my chance, now is my chance to make everything right...
I look right into my babies eyes and say `` You will be able to transport any person back in time that looks in your eyes and asks.''
This was it, this was my chance to save her.
I looked into the eyes of my baby, said `` Thank you so much, you have no idea how long i have waited to see her. Take me back to February 12, 2014, at my old High School.''
And Blam, i was right back in the Band room of my old high school. I looked at the clock and saw it say 3:41, `` Shit'' i said, i already knew i would be too late... but i had to try.
I ran so fast, i ran right towards the street where there was a driver that was not going to be able to stop himself in time. I ran so fast that i made it there is 30 seconds flat. But it was too late. I watched, as the only woman i ever loved got run over by a car because someone decided to speed on an icy road.
I cried and told myself, `` 45,032 days until the serum is perfected... only 45,032 days until i can try again.''
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[ WP ] β Two dragons in one week ? Yeah , I 'm pretty sure somethings up . β
| `` Two dragons in one week? Yeah, I'm pretty sure something's up, Gromm.''
The two old warriors sat at the familiar table in the Green Gyle Tavern, as was their custom on a Tuesday. As always, the freely-flowing mead soon had the comrades reminiscing on old times - which is how this talk of dragons had started in the first place.
`` You rarely see dragons this far south,'' Gromm murmured. His fingers, thick and calloused, caressed his beard tenderly.
`` Exactly. And the last time -''
`` Last time we rode out against them, Birgnor. I remember it well - how could I not? That bloody bard would n't shut up about it for months.''
Birgnor grinned.
`` Aye, though I think he took the hint after the incident with his lute.''
`` Mmm.''
`` Gromm, this is different. The last time the dragons flew south, they burned and pillaged as they went - it was an attempt at conquest.''
`` And now?''
`` No contact. They simply pass us by, like they do n't even see us. I've heard stories from as far south as Gilmerton, and every tale the same. The dragons are n't flying south in conquest, Gromm.''
`` They're running.''
Birgnor nodded grimly, and Gromm, stoney-faced, drank deeply of his mead.
Dragons were feared the Sevenlands over. Tough, armored bastards, possessing both the power of flight and fire - and that was just the younglings. Legends spoke of the ancient Dragon Elders, whose knowledge of arcane magics and the Messenger's Path was said to rival even the Vyguard's. If the dragons were running...
`` You know what this means, Birg.''
Bignor looked at his old comrade, jaw set but eyes afire.
Gromm stood from the table, draining the dregs of his tankard as he did so. He slammed it down on the table.
`` We've got ta catch ourselves a dragon.''
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[ WP ] In your pub 's local bathroom , you see arrows creating a path leading outside . There is a paper that reads `` follow the arrows '' .
| The drink had got to me, the floor swayed as I stumbled from the smoking area. I passed an older man a little too close as I placed the empty pint glass on the bar, the barmaid giving me a strange look.
β I β ll be back β I slurred to my mates, they barely recognised what I said. I held onto bar as I walked out of the main pub area into the foyer, faced with two doors. Going into the door on the left I recognised as the male toilets. The smell of cleaning products filled my nose as I stumbled a bit to the side, hitting my hip on the sink. As I regained my balance I noticed a red marking on the wall, an arrow. The graffiti was getting bad in here, I thought, but I still looked to where the arrow was pointing. It pointed to another arrow, leading beside the cubicles to a door at the back of the toilet. For a moment I considered checking outside, but then again it was probably some teenager messing around.
I walked to the cubicle, barely noticing the piece of paper on the floor. It had been stepped on a few times, but in clear writing it read β FOLLOW THE ARROWS β. It peaked my curiosity. I wasn β t aching to use the toilet anymore, I wanted to see what this was. I followed the first two arrows to the back of the room, to a metal door. The door had always been there, I always assumed it lead outside, but it had always been locked. I pushed hard on the handle and almost fell through, the door swung open and I had to grab onto the wall to save myself. I stood for a moment in the cold night air, the smell of bin-bags had taken over, the feeling of nausea and motion sickness was taking over. But there, on the floor at my feet was another arrow, pointing down an overgrown path.
I stepped over it, going in the general direction. The street lights in the distance helped me see my way as I passed another two arrows, they turned to the right, and I stumbled after them, until I finally found what the arrows were leading me to. In front of me, lit by the moonlight, was a large blue box, big enough to stand in. It had a strange odour, it seemed a bit unstable and I definitely wasn β t the first person to find it. There was a door on the front of the box with a weak looking handle, I turned the handle and stepped inside, I hadn β t even noticed the piece of paper on the front of the box reading β TOILETS OUT OF ORDER, USE PORTALOO β.
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[ WP ] A travelling salesman knocks on the last door of the night , only to have the door swing inwards .
| It's been nothing short of sheer boredom for Charles this past whole day. He managed to make quite a few sales to the neighborhood ladies, but there was not a single one that piqued his interest.
*Just a bunch of fifty-something Midwestern housewives again... Wonder when I'll catch a hot blonde or two. *
Charles, the devil he was, was a particularly strange salesman. He never much cared for the business of selling cheap phallic massaging devices in bulk. His boss was a fairly lazy and easygoing man who'd pay him for zero sales...
It was probably the best job a man could hope for in the suburbs. Being salaried salesman who had not even a trace of a quota.
Yet, Charles always felt he was missing something.
Some sort of...
Excitement.
It was on the twenty-third of May that he received his long-desired excitement.
It was on the twenty-third of May that he quit his job as a salesman.
And it was, on that twenty-third of May, that his view of the world changed forever.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
It was a tiny wooden cottage. A comely looking place for one of the more modernized dwelling areas outside the hustle-bustle city of lights and glass.
No cars were parked on the driveway. The grass along the front of the house was a pure color of deathly brown. Even the windows seemed to scream despair on each and every one of its cracked.
Sweat beaded down Charles's brow as he made his way to the door.
`` Hello! Traveling salesman here! Would you be interested in a product that'll help you and/or your wife/husband relieve any pent-up stress they might be feeling?''
No reply. Just the whistle of the wind blowing on the curtained windows inside... How odd.
Charles knocked his wrinkly fist against the door.
No reply again! Just the thudding of his fist against stained white wood.
At this point, Charles was practically fuming. How rude of people to just leave him waiting out the door while he was trying to make a living selling oversized dil- errr.... massaging wands.
He paced back and forth on the beaten welcome mat before the old door. Though it was not quite a welcome mat, considering its odd sprawling of a `` Welcome to Hell'' over where the old adage `` Welcome Home'' should be.
The man took a deep sigh and knocked the door again. He'd quietly decided if there were no answer, then who'd pack his things and go straight back to the office, have some tea, and call it a night.
**Knockity, knockity, knock! **
It was that moment that things changed forever.
The door, it had swung inwards.
There was an odd, ghastly moan coming from inside the house.
As per what any other human being would do, Charles tapped his feet and started walking.
He started walking back to his car. Then he felt a branch snap under his feet.
Then he started to fucking run.
`` NO!'' He screamed loud enough to wake up the neighborhood insomniacs. `` NOPE. FUCKING NOPE. NUH-UH.''
And so he continued he shouts of `` GODAMMIT. NO. NO. NO!'' all the way into his little gray cruiser and rode himself straight back to the office.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
`` Oh, good evening Mr. Browne. How were the sales?'' came the gleeful voice of his boss's secretary.
`` NOPE. NUH-UH. WHAT? NEVER. NOT AGAIN.''
`` Mhmmm. Do you need some Tylenol or Asprin, Mr. Browne?''
Charles shook his head, screaming `` OH SWEET BLOODY MARY. NO FUCKING WAY,'' as he made his way to his cubicle.
He pulled out his `` Mentally-Scarred for Life'' mug out from under one of his filing cabinets and walked down to the water heater down the room, searching for his bag of powdered milk.
Three minutes later, he was sitting down on his favorite chair sipping on some warm milk that his mommy had said would calm him down in case the ghosts of his grandfather's Nazi past had ever decided to haunt him.
`` WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? NEGATORY. NO! NEVER. ABSOLUTELY NOT.''
A good hour later, he was knocked out cold by his deprived larynx and drifted off into a No-filled slumber.
`` Nononononononono..... hnrghhhh.... nonononononononono.''
Charles later quit his job the next day and immediately subjected himself to severe psychological counseling.
After six months of romantically-comedic recovery with a lovely, older gentleman, he decided to write a motivational book, `` NO,'' on his paranormal encounter. Said book was later commercialized into the form of a film, appropriately named `` NOT-EVER- GON NA -FUCKING-HAPPEN.''
Though he's now able to re-integrate himself into society, every now and again, his lovely husband would sometimes hear the mumblings of `` NO, GO AWAY. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!'' in Charles's sleep, as gently as a baby-angel being dropped out of the Twin Towers of 9/11...
And that, dear reader, is why you should never, ever, install a door fucking inwards.
|
[ WP ] You wake up and are told that you 're the first person successfully brought back from the dead , you 're also informed that due to the nature of the procedure that brought you back you 'll only be alive for the next few hours .
| white walls. many faces.
tired.
so much speaking, and it all hurts.
whats going on i ask.
theres been an accident the man says.
I remember some of it. there was the car. it was really late and i was drunk.
am I in court I ask.
the man smiles and says no this isnt one and I'm actually in the hospital.
Oh. Yeah. Hospital first, then court. I'm getting to my senses now.
Around me, doctors are bustling about, pasty mint colored masks and gowns covering them. They're all focusing on something. Looking around, I'm the only patient in the room.
I guess they're focused on me.
`` Here,'' an older one says, handing me what looks like a tablet of benadryll and a small glass of water, `` Take this. Helps ya sleep, y'know?''
I swallow it down, gulping bits of water with it.
`` Sonny, it's gon na be mighty hard to believe, but you were dead for a while back there. But we got you back. Crazy, huh?''
`` What?'' It takes a while for that to sink in. `` No, you're fucking with me.''
`` You're the first to receive the treatment. It's crazy to believe, but stick with me here. It takes a lot of energy to kickstart the body back to life and you're still probably foggy of the last few hours before you died.''
The old doctor walks off for a second, and comes back with a clipboard with some medical documents. One that... I signed?
`` Wait, doctor, I did n't sign any of this.''
`` You did, a few minutes before your death. You're pretty brave for that. Anyways, that aside, I've... got some bad news. The treatment did n't go all as planned. Imagine it like an AA battery. An AA battery can power, say a toy, right? A rat is a lot like a toy, it does n't need to much to make it go. Well, us, we're cars. That AA battery wo n't last the car very long, will it? Maybe a few hours... you see what I'm getting at, right?'' His eyes soften a bit, smiling sadly. `` You only have the next five hours to live.''
TBC
|
[ WP ] The fringe benefits of dying alone .
| This short is an extension of a previous WP I wrote [ here ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2o7k9z/wp_there_is_only_one_thing_more_terrifying_than/ )
The silence was unnerving. Throughout his whole 36-year life his world had been loud; the dull thrum of the engines, the constant whirring of the life support fans, claxons and barked orders, the cacophony of daily life for dozens of men aboard starship after starship.
But now, it was quiet, beautifully so. John sat at the command console, staring past the blank screen to the open viewport and the expansive star-scape beyond. Droplets of blood, his blood, drifted around his head as the gravity mesh lost power, and to his oxygen-starved mind it looked beautiful, like a galaxy of red-dwarves orbiting a fading black hole.
John managed a weak laugh at the irony of his situation. He had lived his whole life packed into one ship after another, like a sardine; first the colony ships of his childhood, then with the Alliance during the War. And now, now that it was all over, he was alone for what he believed to be the very first time.
The small, golden pocket watch drifted into his vision, the portrait of Elizabeth smiling warmly back at him from the cover. The small part of his consciousness remaining thought it appropriate that he die here, out in the Waste. It would be years before they found the vessel, found his frozen and drifting corpse, and she would never truly know what happened. Not after the red tape sealed the file.
He imagined her reaction, the story told to her by the MP Commission, likely praising him as a hero. Again he chuckled, and coughed, sending several more red stars to join his growing galaxy; it β s ironic how many heroes there are in a war so vast, so cold and unforgiving as this, how every widow likely thinks her departed husband stood tall and brave in the face of death. John new the truth.
But perhaps it β s for the best, he thought. She would move on, find love again, and would always remember him as the hero of some far-off war. The pocket watch drifted past his head. John weakly reached out to grab it, he had to grab it, he didn β t want to be alone!
But it was gone, just out of arm β s reach, and John slumped back down at the console, defeated.
β At least she β ll never know the truth β he declared to the empty bridge, but the thinning atmosphere muffled his words. And his world grew dark.
|
[ WP ] An RPG character is n't aware the he is in a game . That is , until , the player starts installing increasingly ridiculous mods .
| For here I am in Tamriel,
Shuffling the whole way.
My knapsack's full,
This quest is bull!
It could be my last day.
But suddenly my pockets bulge,
And I can stride with ease!
No clip mode?
Save state load?
Wheels and wheels of cheese!
I think I've heard of this before,
It's called a mod or something more!
Your XP flows,
True power shows!
My old life's such a bore!
Randy Savage?
Piles of cabbage?
Endless health,
And super stealth?
Although these mods made my life fun,
Some things just are n't the same,
Why can I fly or lift a ton?
...
My life's inside a ***video game. ***
This is my first post here, I just had a sudden interest in poetry, and I'd love to continue! Any thoughts?
|
[ IP ] I was only 19 .
| The year was 1932 during the spring when the first ground war broke out, we were just young men at the time fighting over gals. That night was unlike any other, because they had never actually been on the ground. The skies were lighting up behind the clouds like christmas trees with flickering lights in a dark room. I was with your great uncles Tomas and Norman having some hooch when the announcement came crackling over the radio.
*If you are hearing this report, please remain in doors, stay where you are*
I was actually turn 19 that night, we were celebrating, but that quickly turned into the fight of our lives. I ran out the front door of the bar trying to see what was going on. As I looked up and across the town all I could see where smoke stacks as if a packet of matches had been lit up. Every corner of the city, fires ablaze and people running rampant and scared. Chuck Ellington came running towards us in the street with a rifle in his hand, screaming *they're here, we have to get moving now! * As I looked around in desperation, Tomas and Norman had already gone and come back from the roadster with three rifles and a sack of ammunition.
Before today, these `` things'' had never actually come down to the ground, they just stayed up in their flying machines. The war was mostly in the skies until this day, and hell was breaking loose. I wanted so badly to go back into town, but Chuck explained that there was nothing left of Hollister. It filled me with rage, I knew my folks were defenseless and I knew that going back would do no good. Tomas, Norman, Chuck, and I, we armed up and started heading north towards Crimson Peak; we were listening to reports as they came through live. Stations were cutting in and out, fires were out of control, and the people. I think that was the worst of it, you see we were fighting each other, instead of those damn Martians.
From the moment the first ships appeared in the sky I knew it would be no good, then President Ermick decided we should make contact; thats when I knew things could only get worse. These damn things were here to take everything we had, there was no peace, it seemed like there was no hope. I got my first kill that night, the bastard was in my head, he did n't even move his lips. He did n't have a nose, he was in my head trying to convince me that Norman and Tomas were going to kill me. If it was n't for Chuck, I would have shot them dead, but he took a clean shot and put em down.
The Martians, we had tried everything you could possibly think of against their ships but they seemed to have some type of invisible shield. Once on the ground the fight evened out because just like us, getting shot was no walk in the park for them. I fought with all of my might. As we made our way through the city and into the northern forests of Crimson Peak we noticed people taking defense in their homes, others breaking into houses. However, the one thing I ca n't forget is the screams, those who could do nothing, being torn to shreds by the Martian crawlers.
Their crawlers had four eyes total, two on either side of their heads, they were about 3 feet tall but they moved fast, like a bumble bee zipping around. They had a big broad mouth, with rows of teeth literally pushing out of their face like a horses snout. Their arms were long and lanky but they had no hands just sharp ends, they were tearing people to shreds, coming in groups of five and six like a pack of wolves. The smaller towns were being completely destroyed in a matter of an hour, the carnage was hard to look at.
There was no winning, only pushing back. The whole state was being consumed by these crawlers; and it was like they were being controlled by those bastard Martians, they were big close to 6 feet and they kind of looked like us. The only difference was the nose and space between their beady eyes. Norman and Chuck died that night, it was a hard reality to face for me, we fought and fought but it seemed like nothing would ever change.
Months had passed, Tomas and I had spent the time eating fish from the river and keeping quiet up in the woods. The radio was virtually dead and there was no sign of people anywhere. It was winter, and we decided to head back south to try and find life. We found little groups, people like us fighting back, trying to stay alive. They told us the crawlers had been pulled out and all that was left was the big guys, roaming around looking for survivors. They were taking them back to their ships, and one guy believed they were experimenting on the people that were taken.
42 years later, here we are. Still fighting the same enemy, still trying to get those things out, but they wo n't leave. Not until everyone is dead and gone. You understand why I am telling you this, because you will have to fight. Jona and Peter, you will have to defend yourselves and then your children from this threat.
*Jona and Peter, 12 and 13 years old sat and listened intently to what their grandfather was telling them following his every word when they noticed something weird. He lips were not moving, and from one moment to the next, he shifted. He turned into a massive mantis looking creature. Jona and Peter looked on in fear, and as they turned to run, there were the Martians and the crawlers. Looking at them like the last meal that would ever be consumed. They watched as the skies and forest around them began to disappear. They were in a large room, like an auditorium; no windows, no doors. There were other children their age in the room, and they were all in a trance like state. Jona and Peter could not believe what they were witnessing, the whole time, they had been taken. They did n't even know they were 12 and 13. *
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[ WP ] Make me feel sympathetic towards a sleep-paralysis demon .
| Karen opened her eyes in that half-state between sleeping and waking. The room was lit only by the full moon that shone through the gauzy curtains, bathing everything in silver-blue.
Something was here, she could sense it. Something malevolent, terrifying. She tried to turn her head to look but she could n't. Unable to move a muscle, unable to even scream, only her mind raced with terror.
She heard its voice, a low growl, full of malice and hunger.
Something touched her. A finger, she knew it was a finger, touching her hair, her cheek.
*Oh god, it's going to rape me! *
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Shezzak sat on the floor beside the bed, his knees drawn up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. He had to sit; he was too tall to stand upright in here. But he did n't mind. He felt safe when the woman was close. Safe in her house, where the other demons could not find him.
Sometimes Shezzak wished he could appear openly to her, speak to her, tell her how he really felt. But he knew that grown-up human minds were too feeble to face a demon and he had no wish to break her.
The woman had a little boy and often, Shezzak would watch them together, their laughter, their happy voices, the way they would hold each other close and the woman would sing the boy to sleep. Shezzak wished he still had a mother, to laugh with him and sing to him. He wished that Karen could be his mother.
He cuddled the soft purple sweater she had been wearing that day and let out a quiet, stifled sob, but it was n't quiet enough and Karen awoke, although she was paralysed, as all adult humans are when in close proximity to a demon. Shezzak froze, knowing that too sudden a movement would draw her full attention to him and that would be fatal to her.
`` Shhh,'' he whispered softly. `` I wo n't hurt you.''
He reached out a hand and gently brushed aside a loose lock of blond hair, his huge grey finger lightly touched her cheek.
`` Will you be my Mama?'' Shezzak asked. `` I want you to be my Mama.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Karen awoke feeling tired. She knew she'd had the nightmare again, always the same thing. The terrifying presence, the inability to move, the sense of being touched. Shivering, she stepped out of bed, frowning at her purple sweater on the floor. She was sure she'd left it on the chair.
She went into Joshua's room to check on him. The toddler was quiet but awake and when he saw his mother, he smiled.
Karen smiled back. `` Did you sleep well, my precious?'' she asked.
Joshua nodded. `` I played games with my friend,'' he said.
Joshua was always full of stories about his imaginary friend. `` We played hide and seek but he's rubbish at hiding cos he's too big.''
Karen laughed, the memory of the nightmare already fading.
`` I wish you could meet Shezzak, Mommy,'' Joshua said. `` He's my bestest friend.''
|
[ WP ] A figment of your imagination ( a character you 've written , some hidden part of your personality , an imaginary friend ) has sudden been brought into existence and has appeared in your life . Your family/friends seem to think it 's normal , and only you and the figment know the truth . What happens ?
| `` Edward, do you want some bread?'' my grandmother asked.
`` No, thank you, grandma,'' I answered.
The door opened and I looked over across the hallway from the dinner table. A thin man, about my age, who looked something like me, but a much better looking version, entered through the door and closed it behind him. He wore a nice button up shirt, with designer jeans, a leather belt, and dress shoes. He looked like me, but photo-shopped. That's because he was.
`` Ah,'' grandma said, `` Eddie is here. Hello Eddie!''
`` Hey, grandma,'' Eddie said from the foyer, removing his shoes.
He walked into the dinning room and took the empty seat at the table. Grandma stood up, taking some plates with her. `` Boys, I'm going to watch Mr. Swayze dance dirty. You boys stay out of trouble tonight.''
`` Ok, grandma,'' we said in unison. I look at Eddie with scorn, he grinned back at me.
`` Oh yes, and boys,'' grandma called back from the kitchen. `` Do n't forget to use condoms if you go out tonight!''
I rolled my eyes in awkward embarrassment. Eddie shouted back through the house, `` Of course, grandma! Magnums!''
`` Oh, you!'' grandma laughed from the hallway.
I felt myself starting to blush. Eddie looked up at me, `` Calm down, Edward. You should relax. She's pretty cool. You'd know that if you let yourself find out.''
I slammed my fist on the table, irate. `` Relax?! Relax, Eddie? How are you so calm. This is weird. Very weird.''
`` It's not so weird for me, Edward. It's actually normal for me. It's 100 % of the life I've ever known. All three days of it.'' He ate a piece of bread and scooped some green beans onto his empty plate while he talked.
`` Well let me tell you,'' I said angrily. `` I've been around for 17 years, and I know normal. This is not normal.''
`` Well then why did you make me, Edward?'' he asked calmly.
`` You know why,'' I retorted.
`` Right, right,'' he said. I could n't tell if he was dejected, or insulted, or just emotionless. `` Online dating profile. I got it.''
He finished his dinner and looked at me. He grabbed my plate and carried it into the kitchen and came back. `` Wan na go score some chicks, bro?''
`` No, *bro*'' I said, `` I do not want to go'score some chicks.'''
`` Right, that's what you made me for,'' he said poignantly. `` Alright, then. I'll go then.''
`` This is so fucked up!'' I yelled.
`` Just think of it this way,'' Eddie said as he started putting his shoes on, `` One day, a chick I bang out there is going to think you're me. Just without a shower, or just'dressed-down' or something. And if you lose that awkward anger thing you've got going on, you'll be able to lay her. That's what you made me for right? To make chicks think you're me so you can bang them?''
I was fuming so much I could n't even look at him. He closed the door behind him and left. I went back to my room and created a photoshop of myself that was more beat up, more acne-riddled, shorter, fatter. Maybe if this one comes to life, I'll look good compared to it, instead of being the black sheep of my own imagination.
|
[ TT ] [ RF ] Share your grandparent ( s ) ' war stories .
| You know, I was born during the war, in 1943. My sister, Rose, is the one who raised me. She's older than I was. Well, you've met her; she was the lady living in the small house in this Southern France village, remember her?
Your little sisters never met her, but you spent at least one Christmas with her. Your uncle dressed up as Santa. I hear it's the only time you got your present on the night of Christmas and not the next morning. I never understood why your mom always sent you to bed this early. And on the day of Christmas... Ah, well.
Anyway. Rose was almost 20 years old, when I was born, in 1943. The Germans were here, of course, they had been here for a while. And I was just a baby. Which means that she carried me in a crib.
Did you know that your great-aunt was a war hero?
She carried the crib everyday, from our village to the one next to ours. Over there, there was this restaurant, held by some people I've never known very well. Every day, she would walk from our home to their place, with me in the crib, and then back. She would politely say hello to the German soldiers. She did n't really have a choice, did she?
I was in the crib. And under me, there was ammunition. There was food for the RΓ©sistants. There was everything she could find for the Maquisards, to save our country.
When I was a baby, I fell sick. I had nothing to eat. Neither had she - she gave it all to the RΓ©sistants. I grew up, and my sister raised my like I was her child. Your great-aunt did n't look like much, did she?
Well, she was a war hero.
|
[ WP ] Matchmaking for online video games is the world 's primary source of relationship matchmaking . Want to find your soul mate ? Better start up your console .
| Adam was not yet certain he loved her when she shot him in the face during a 4v4 Capture the Flag match, or even yet when she tea-bagged his lifeless body during the same match, but he knew that he was in love, and he suspected that she loved him too.
She did not speak, but she led him across the map, even while the fierce battle raged around him. He had friended her a while back, and she had accepted, so things were getting pretty hot and heavy.
He had received only one message from her. It read: `` gg''. Adam's mind was aflutter! What could she mean by this acronym! Oh, if only his mind was suitable to understand her feminine wiles!
Yes, he was certain he loved her, and now he was about to meet her.
She was, in fact, the one who had arranged this meeting. He was so stunned that he forgot to guard his team's flag, and as the rising crescendo of abuse from his team-mates rose and fellow warriors threatened to tell their moms about his poor behavior, he could hardly believe his luck. The message was simple: `` Hey wan na talk''.
`` Yes,'' he replied breathlessly. Well, that was what he hoped to convey via messaging. He knew she would understand.
Seconds later a party invite arrived. His heart stopped. Finally, the moment had arrived.
A very masculine, breathy voice informed him that he had just been `` le trolled'' and told him all about how his mother had been repeatedly violated by the owner of the voice before clicking out of the party.
Adam sighed. Well, online dating had never been very reliable anyway. He returned to his game, wiser.
|
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - The Modern Prometheus Edition !
| This is part of a larger story I'm working on that takes place in a future similar to something like Ghost in the Shell.
-- -- -
Just before she left, she told me there was life beyond death. It β s funny, how seemingly inane comments such as those can change over time. A new lens focused, and while the words and their order are the same, its meaning has become something else altogether. It perpetuates in my mind, over and over that final and unknowing farewell, until it became written between every synapse, brainwave and code. Everything I see and hear is cast in the shadow of that thing I heard; that final phrase she uttered to me before she left my life forever. It β s immutable. There is no curing it, only living with it. It β s a parasite that plagues my mind and saps me of my constitution. That phrase claws at my psyche like massive tentacles seeking to pull me deeper into the darkness of this world.
Why had she said it? Did she know it would torment me years later?
Her mind was not of the metaphysical, but the tangible. Her brain was always on: active, at high alert. Calculating. Meticulous. Brilliant. Everything I wasn β t.
We couldn β t be a more dichotomous partnership. Her: a scientist, top in her field. Me: auto mechanic, failing business.
This isn β t a sob story, don β t get me wrong, I am very aware of my talents as well as her short comings. Yes, she could map the human brain synapse for synapse from memory, but could she take apart the engine of a 2089 Chevy Nova?
She would spend the mornings before her cup of coffee trying to solve the Goldbach Conjecture, meanwhile she β d have a hard time getting the toaster to function. Olivia was impressively brilliant, and I mean that in the most literal way. She functioned on a completely different level than the rest of her friends or colleagues.
That was the tragedy of her death: the loss of a uniquely brilliant mind. She married a simple minded man.
β You ground her, β they said to me, with smiles when meeting her friends. β She needs someone that keeps her in touch with the reality. And remind her there β s more to life than Books and robotics. β I was her rock, her foundation. I held her up so that she could achieve.
I don β t resent it, truly. I feel that my purpose, if I have any purpose in this world, was to provide her balance. That is the real tragedy: that she went instead of me, and Toby before that. The world seemed to understand that very basic and undeniable fact.
β Talent, wasted. β They said.
β A prodigy in her field. β The Newspapers scrawled.
β A genius taken before her time. β A news anchor chattered.
All the while I wanted to grab them, shake them, and slap the tears from their faces. I wanted to scream, how could they simplify her so? She was so much more than that, so much more than her intellect. Olivia was kind, she was a good wife, a good mother and a good woman. She was terrible at poker ( β You see the problem, is with my face β ), and was the absolute worst driver I β ll ever meet. She was clumsy, had the bruises and stubbed toes to show for it. She loved opera, concert piano music and poetry: all but dead and gone in this digital world. ( One time, she begged me to fix a busted and old VHS player β well beyond it β s half-life β just so she could watch a rendition of The Phantom of the Opera from a cassette tape dated back to 1988. She shrieked like a child on Christmas when that FBI piracy warning came up. ) If not for her mind, I would say she was born too late. Her interests all seemed to be rooted in the century behind her.
She was more enamored with the past than the future, perhaps that was why her comment shook me. It was unlike her, and so I said nothing in return. I nodded my head and got back to the engine of an old β 54 Civic.
What would have I said if I had known that was the last I β d see her alive? I wrack my brain thinking of that very thing and beating myself up for saying nothing; it β s just like me to be so obsessed with the mechanical world, before my eyes and beneath my hands, to miss the thing resting under my nose. After everything, I realized it was all right in front of me, but I had never seen it. Death has a way of altering our past experiences. Some call it new perspective, a punch in the face is closer to the truth.
Dying no longer scares me. These past two weeks have changed that. I know I can not live forever, and yet her comment still permeates my mind. It β s not death, but life that terrifies me. I β m afraid that when the world goes black, it β ll spark up with light once more and I β ll wake up somewhere else.
And have to live this life all over again.
|
[ WP ] Eye colour means everything here . Brown control the earth , blue controls the water , white controls the sky . There are so many colours and each important but you were the first born with yellow eyes .
| Of all the things to be born with this had to be the lamest. I watched as the couple across the room chatted intimately. The woman's laughter pealed across the room as orange bubbles while the man's chatter came out as deep red clouds that disappeared before they were across the table. He was whispering something sweet to her. A re-run of the presidential debate was on TV. The candidates' words came out as abstract grey razors and blocks. The rest of the room was filled with colours that I could n't describe to anyone else because I had never seen anyone else with yellow eyes.
`` Hey Vince.'' Tod said as he sat next to me.
`` Hey,'' I responded stirring my coffee. Minute pink needles shot out of it fading as they reached the edge of the table.
`` Come on man cheer up it's just a girl.'' he said hitting my shoulder.
`` Yeah just a regular Victoria Secret model who had a heart of gold'' I responded. `` Tod where I'm I going to get another caring, intelligent and beautiful woman? Most only have one, a few have two but she was packing all 3 and in spades. Like she's the one that's spoilt me for all future women.''
`` What come on? I mean seriously you only dated for like what a month? Did you really think you had a chance?''
`` Well, I am smart and I dare say I'm funny''
`` Funny haha or funny oops clumsy me?'' Tod responded. He whisked his hand and a glob of pure warm water floated out of my cup into his mouth.
`` Hey do you mind!'' I snapped as I looked at my half empty cup now with a darker shade of coffee.
`` Sorry but you know it was too weak for you this is how you like it.''
I took a sip and as much as I did n't like his logic he was right. `` Anyway, had that green eyed idiot not promised her a trip on his white tiger and a tour in the national parks I would totally be with her right now.''
`` Yeah, those animal charmers are douches got all that primal alpha instinct still running in them.'' Tod replied.
`` I'll drink to that.'' I raised my cup and him his bottle and we drank. Once more my blue eyed friend summoned the water out of his bottle and straight to his mouth. Bloody show-off.
`` Anyway forget her for a second, check out what I got.'' he unzipped his bag.
As he rummaged through it I could see a waiter walking past carrying three plates in his arms. Fully loaded he could barely see as was getting down the steps when the local cat whizzed between his legs it too going down. He stepped on it's tail. It let out a wail of pain. Surprised he lost his footing.
`` Woo!!'' he yelled. The plates came crashing down. I cringed unable to look for a second. I opened to see him covered in soup. The rest of the place continued to eat.
`` Check it out!'' Tod said unveiling a Deadpool pocket watch.
`` Dude check it out!'' I said pointing behind him.
He turned to hear a crash. Other diners too looked in shock.
`` Ooooh, that's got ta hurt, but... what the?'' he asked confused as he watched the waiter already up. he had n't seen the shapeless silver forms stay static for a moment before dissipating across the whole room.
`` I think I did that!'' I responded.
`` What? How?'' he asked. `` No way, I'm calling bullshit.''
`` I do n't know. I mean. I've never done it before.''
`` Do it again,'' he said disbelieving. `` Silence this.'' he rapped his fingers on the table. I watched the beige ellipses shoot out from where his fingers met the plastic top.
The effort made a vein pop on my head. Two shot right past completely disregarding my command for them to violate the laws of physics.'stop' I ordered. The third slowed. Nothing was heard for the fourth the fifth and the sixth as they stopped right where they were made.
`` NNgh see!'' droplets of sweat formed on my forehead. They all escaped at the same time as I let go.
`` Wow! that was real do it again!''
`` I ca n't I'm exhausted I've never done it before.''
`` Alright but still man we need to tell someone about this. You should change your status or something.''
As we stood up the whole room illuminated brown for a second. A tint so faint even I barely noticed.
`` Did you see that?'' I asked Tod.
`` See what?'' he responded.
It happened once more this time I caught it as it started. It rose from the floor and engulfed the place in a light brown ocean for a moment before fading once more.
`` That.'' I said.
`` umm no. My life is only in technicolor'' he replied. When it happened the third time I finally understood it was a sound wave, but to cover the whole place like so? Even the buildings across the street were submerged in the wave. It happened a third time, It was coming from below, Eastwards.
`` T..T... Tod.'' I stammered. `` Something big is coming and it's coming up here.''
***
If you enjoyed this you can read more of my stories at /r/Pagefighter
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[ WP ] Your username is the central theme of the writing prompt
| I glanced out of the window, and gazed dimly on the burning street, before returning to my computer. Ever since the apocalypse, people have been acting more and more ridiculous. Honestly, I could n't care less, but everyone is losing their minds. What's the point in forming `` survivor groups''? Just grab some supplies from the supermarket and wait for this whole shitshow to blow over.
The only thing that bothers me about this is that practically all the TV networks are down, and the surviving ones are exclusively covering the'end of all days'. I've got nothing to do.
Reddit still provides some entertainment, but most subreddits are dead, excluding r/watchpeopledie, which is thriving.
My phone rings, and I brush off another friend pleading for help. Truth be told, I do n't give a fuck.
I glanced out the window again, the blaze has intensified. But something is even brighter than it now, I look skyward.
Oh, an asteroid.
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[ WP ] At 30,000 feet , you realize that there is something *wrong* with all the other passengers on the plane .
| Arnold sat quietly at his seat, eating out of the small package of peanuts he had received from the flight attendant. `` Excuse me,'' said the man next to him, `` but may I have a few of those? It's so hard to find food here.'' Arnold was surprised. He remembered that the man next to him had received the peanuts. As Arnold turned his head, he cried out in terror. It was a giant peanut in a top hat, with a monocle as well. Arnold, paralyzed in fear, did n't know what to do. `` Well?'' asked the peanut. Arnold handed over the remnants of his peanut bag. The giant peanut shook the remains into its mouth. Arnold suddenly remembered he needed to go to the bathroom, and darted out of his seat. As he walked towards the back of the plane trying to rationalize seeing a giant peanut, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a pirate captain, next to a large tiger. The last thing Arnold remembered as he hit the floor was the tiger exclaiming, `` Want a peanut? They're GRRRRREAT!''
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[ OT ] SatChat : How do you think technology of the future will change how stories are written ?
| All I know is that people are always going to need stories, so until new technology is developed and used regularly to change the way we write, I'm not going to worry about it and I'm going to stick with Word and Scrivener.
Although, if space travel does become a more casual thing, astronauts are going to need books to read on their long trips. Maybe one of mine will get to space!
I do think glasses are going to have Heads-Up Displays in the near-future, so maybe not change the way we write, but the way we read them is definitely going to. I just do n't think there's much to change about how we write, ca n't beat the old pen and paper ( or the keyboard and screen ).
________
*Self-Promo Stuff*; my subreddit, /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs has a ton of new stories and I am working hard to continue series. Come check it out! One of my new favorite stories is [ The Selection ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs/comments/4i07dv/the_king_is_dead_the_selection_begins_now/ ) which I just wrote this past week. It's about the death of a King, and a Selection happening to decide a new one. I've started to write more of it offline, so expect more of it in the future!
My novel, [ Forever Roman ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs/comments/45rnhk/forever_roman_is_now_available )!
And my [ Twitter ] ( https: //twitter.com/brandynkory )!
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I 've been seeing a lot of really good dramatic pieces . What I really want is action . Write me a death battle .
| I remember when I was born. Like many others, there was a woman, blood, screaming and pain and suffering and and and and-
I'm sorry. It's hard to think right now.
I was born yesterday. In a car about a mile to the west. They had a man who was n't a man because it was only shaped like one on the ground, it looked shiny red in the headlights. It was the lure on some great big fish deep in the ocean in the ocean. When we left to help him the jaws came around us, like a giant net of teeth and knives and guns and and-
I was n't there. I was watching from so far away. He tried to help her, he really did, but they had knives and guns and knives and guns and they threatened to kill her after they were done not just break her teeth because she bit them she bit them she gnawed at them like a fish biting at the inside of a whale like a knife biting at the throat like a sharp-
I came out there. I saw the blood and it drew me from my womb. My eyes breathed in its color and my body erupted in an ecstasy of action. I was alive, a live thing tearing at the shapes that surrounded me, and I ate through them like a fish through the belly of a whale I slashed and hurt and ate in a line until I was outside I WAS OUTSIDE AND I SAW HER I SAW HER-
My teeth found flesh again and again and I was tearing not people but meat held together by nothing that my body could n't take apart and they could n't shoot me because I was just a small bullet tearing though a big body at the feet, so low they attacked themselves and I played. I got their knives and I played with the meat until it fell apart at the heel at the neck at the fingers and I was running around until the whale was no more than a school of fish in the image of a whale and the fish were scared and THEY WERE SCARED AND THEY RAN AND-
I know what I'm doing now. It's only been a mile. I will eat of their meat. I will drink of their blood until I am drunk and I can know longer remember my birth.
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[ WP ] The Blind Follower
| I realize now I was -- am -- blind.
But it does n't matter. We are all the same, no matter what we believe. No man possesses the truth, and each fragment is an intoxicating, unachievable point of hope.
Knowing I am blind does n't change anything. It does not give me sight, or wisdom, or insight; just pain. Whatever I believe is partial, fruitless, incomplete, and I will only suffer for having faith at all.
There is more than science in the world; there is more than the beauty I can only half see; there is more than the hopelessness I feel.
But it does n't matter now. We've all been blind. Followed where we should have led, led our dearest followers blindly into pitfalls. Everyone -- there is nothing to lose anymore -- I swear -- nothing --
...
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[ WP ] Reverse werewolf ( wolf gets bitten by werewolf , turns into a human on the full moon . )
| Full moon occurs, bright in the sky, light falls on the ground illuminating everything.
Body hurt, feel pain, body hurts, eyes see red, brain aches.
Bone grow and shrink, nose smallens. Ear shrinks, moves down.
Tail shrinks, pulls into body. Hurts like worst pain ever.
Hair sheds. I am bald.
Muscles grow and shrink, change to human.
Too much pain, I faint.
As consciousness arrives, I open my eyes. I move my paws, but they are not paws. They have elongated, segmented, and evolved into digits. I have become a man, a monster, a weaker creature, a nightmare.
Wind blows, makes me feel quite cold. I am bald, with no fur to insulate. The cold penetrates to my bone. I shiver, and observe my environment. I spot my cave and run to it fast. I see a tree on the way, and intuition tells me rip off some small branches off and carry them into the cave.
I light a fire, my hands moving on instinct with the wood. The warmth feels good. I no longer am hypothermic. I am become human for tonight. At dawn, I turn back into wolf. I do not wish for that. I will become something inferior, a monster, a stupid creature.
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[ WP ] `` I had an existential crisis at the vending machine this morning . ''
| For most, it happens in an exciting way. They're driving down the interstate with their wife rambling about the same old co-worker who keeps giving her a hard time, and the kids are yelling in the background, poking at each other and shouting, `` No you started it!'' and in the distance you see the same old chevy sign, the one you pass twice every Saturday, and if it was any other day it would have seemed normal. But on that day, there was something different. The sun came off at a weird angle and caught your eye, or you noticed that a fly on the windshield and all of the sudden the car dealership came into focus. And in that moment, you knew that the Camero at the front of the dealership was meant for you, that you troubles were not all for naught, and that there was hope on the other side of that outrages purchase. However, for me it was quite different. I guess you could say it started off as a regular day, with my morning cup of coffee and a quick read of the paper. And I guess you could say that the bus did arrive on time and the man standing on the corner selling popsicle sticks was on there as he was every other morning. It did not feel like a regular day though. It was stormy for one, with a 60 % chance of rain and a cool front coming in from the northwest. The leaves were just starting to fall, and the orange reflection off all the windows created an odd ambiance as if trying to tell me something. I got to work a couple minutes late, and the boss was right there to chew me out, eating me up and down for my poor performance the last week and a half. After an hour at the computer, I got up and went to the vending machine, and got a pack of gum. B11 was the code on the old machine, and it towered over me as I thought about that weird fact, ca n't remember where I had heard it from, but the one that said that more people get killed by vending machines than sharks each year. Then I looked up, thought damn, how can I work in such a monotonous place and still be more prone to die than some cool surfer bro ( and before you tell me yes I know the stats are bias ). So I took my pack of gum, and left. I got a $ 5 backpack at the corner shop, stopped by the gas station and got some candy bars, and decided I was n't going to take it anymore. Now, I would like to say I then hiked 250 miles to the nearest coast and became a surfer dude who swam with sharks, or even a hobo in SoCo, however that night, after hiking 2 miles to a park right outside the city, my mom picked me up after an embarrassing I would rather not talk about. And so that is my story about how I went through a not-so-mid-life crisis.
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[ WP ] Write a classic noir story set in a fantasy world .
| Work was thin. Cash was thinner.
But that was just the way the game goes in life insurence in Altapolis, city of light and magic. The problem is that the people that might actually be able to use the fine product Aster and Asper Life Insurence, namely those unfortunate souls living on the dirty grimy slums that managed to hang on to the outer wall and not get washed out to sea, on the whole ca n't afford it, and the people who could afford it, as a rule, did n't think they needed it. You have convince them that they need it. Weave stories and not quite lies into this silky pattern that scares them just enough to run into the comforting arms of Aster and Asper.
And I was the best there was at that. I used to be a master at slipping my foot in their fancy oak wood doors just long enough to hook them with one of my stories of rich and famous people who were very happy to have had our services when the unthinkable happened. I was the kind of getting them to think about the unthinkable, just long enough to sign the papers. I could put on a show like you've never seen before, what between my stories and the caster hidden under my sleeve. Oh cast *The Chill* at just the right moment to get them to feel cold as you lead them on the suspenseful build up and *The Shocker* right as you describe the gruesome dismembered body, and end with *The Phosphorescer* on the contract just to make it seem warm and inviting... I could get them eating out of my hand.
Was the best. Use to be a master. Could get them eating out of my hand.
Not any more.
I'd been months without a sell and Willsus was coming down hard on my ass to get a sale in fast or else he'd go about casting *The Ejector* on me and throw me right out the window.
So, I filled up my caster with Magricite and hit the streets. My feet took me around the Middle Ring of the city, right along the wall the the Upper Ring and around toward the steep side of the island. Soon I found myself on Dulcessor Street, this winding, narrow, steep road that cut back several times with the turns that threatened to snap your neck if you took them at even a jogging pace. The neighborhood seemed to be newly affluent. People with delusions of grandeur and pockets larger than mine were apparently clamoring for houses out here. What with the wall just there and a gate to the Upper Ring not far away and a couple of market districts not too far away, it was n't a bad place to live. Mostly I think people were willing to put up with the inconvenient streets if it let them pretend like they were `` Upper Ring Folk.''
The houses there were thin and old. Probably quarters for the freemen who worked in the palaces back when the Wizard King was in one piece and ruling the continent. Of course all the buildings had undergone expensive renovations to make the slick and fashionable. Apparently they had made liberal use of *The Afixer* judging from the sort of unnatural way that new extensions and patios hung out over the street. It looked fine and dandy if you were a ways down the hill, enviable actually, but walking Dulcessor street it seemed rather dark and dim even late in the morning like I was.
Then my senses picked up a mark. One of the houses wasn β t decorated, yet. I could tell that folks were living in there from the window, but the patio and the door were bare. Casting *The Revealer, * a nifty little spell that that I had gotten from a friend in the Altapolis Investigation Force that let a man see what spells had been used in the area recently, my suspicions were confirmed. *The Lifter* was everywhere. New occupants, probably fresh from some less fashionable part of the middle ring if I would guess.
So I knocked, rather confident that I would get the sale. These kinds of folks just had to have everything that β Upper Ring folk β had. The door was answered by a girl... no a woman, like I had never laid eyes on before. The first thing I noticed, standing on the steep stairs like I was, was the thick gold anklet she wore. It was the kind of thing that drew ones eye down her long legs and made you stare at it, until you realized you were staring when you forced your eyes away along the long road of her leg back up to her face. And wow, what a face; she a face that you wished you could see in your dreams, but never had a good enough imagination. Her eyes could have been confused for the sapphires that had been lost in the Reign of Terror after the Wizard King died: invaluable fiery blue eyes. And her short golden hair was enough gold to round out any royal treasury that I ever wanted to have.
I had been running my speech all morning long, so I was not out of practice, but throughout the entire interview I was fumbling and tongue tied like I was back on my first week of sales. Somehow though, I made the sale. Things got easier after her husband, the lucky bastard, had joined us. I got two nice claims and was on my way. Even though I had my sale, and that was good enough to keep Willsus off my back, I was sorry that it was so easy. I wished I could have pitched to her all afternoon.
But I was on my way and didn β t think much more of it.
A month passed and wouldn β t you know it, Willsus was on my ass again. So I was back on on the streets again. Plying my wares like some kind of peddler. I hated it, especially in the heat of summer. Put me in a nice office cooled by magic, that was the kind of place I wanted to be. But a jobs a job, and I needed one.
I was just coming back into the office to drop off my case and papers when I got the word that there been a smokin β dame looking for me. It was Ms. Le β fare, the girl with eyes like sapphires, she had some questions about the policy that I had sold her and wanted to meet with me. Not one to turn down an invitation like that, I turned around and made straight for the Le β fare house.
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[ WP ] Guardian angels protect every human , and when the human dies , the angel dies . This angel is just as determined to live forever as its human is .
| You know, I'm not entirely sure as to how this whole arrangement came about. Some big people with some big ideas decided that the world was too big and scary for the humans. It was probably *him*, to be entirely honest. You know who I'm talking about. He was always coming up with some half cocked scheme keep them chugging along. This just happened to be one of his... less thought out plans.
But let's not dwell on the why. My time is far too valuable to be contemplating that kind of thought. Let me tell you about my guy. Bill.
Fucking Bill. Do you have any idea how hard it is to protect someone that has, very literally, no sense of self preservation? On a daily basis, he is very nearly maimed or killed, and it is due in all entirety to his complete lack of competence.
Do you know how many times I have had to prevent him from choking to death? Any idea? I've been keeping count, actually, and it has happened 436 times. Do you know how many times it was due to him getting too excited about eating a fucking cookie? 103.
Day in and day out, I have to prevent this man from accidentally killing himself, and to what end? He will no doubt die in no small part due to his own stupidity, and *of course* they will say it's my fault. Hello, Hell! Here I come!
If I did n't enjoy being alive and `` free'' so much, at some point I would just let that cookie kill him. I have grown, in case you ca n't tell, incredibly apathetic towards this man.
As much as I wish I could be rid of him, here is where I have to stay. He remains my mortal binding, and when he is gone, I will only be dragged deeper down. To to delay that god awful fate, his guardian I have to remain.
Oh look, he's gotten out of bed. Risky move on his part.
I bet this day is going to be just *great*.
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[ WP ] One day you wake up to find that everyone around you is acting like its a Shonen anime with you as the villain .
| I was walking through the grocery store when, suddenly, I found my path blocked by a pirate, a ninja and a kung fu master. They walked towards me, shoulder to shoulder with their heads slightly lowered.
`` Your reign of terror ends here,'' the ninja said. `` I am going to be the greatest in the world, so I have to defeat you!''
`` No, I am going to be the greatest in the world,'' the pirate said, glaring at the ninja. Suddenly they started to fight each other.
`` Hold everything!'' the kung fu master said. The pirate and the ninja stopped fighting. `` I think it's time we added some fanservice to this fight.'' They all began to take off their shirts and flex their muscles. What the hell was going on?
`` What did you do with our friends?'' the pirate yelled.
`` You people have friends?'' I asked, surprised.
`` Get him!'' yelled the ninja. They all started charging at me.
Not knowing what to do, I grabbed a can of beef ravioli from the shelf and threw it at the trio. I missed and it spilled open onto the floor.
`` FOOD!'' they all yelled in unison, scrambling to eat the spilled scraps. I ran to the front of the grocery store where the manager sat with a creepy looking notebook.
`` Three people just tried to assault me in your grocery store!'' I yelled, catching my breath.
`` I will make sure to deal with it,'' the manager said, cracking an odd smile as he opened the notebook. `` But first, I'm going to need your name.''
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[ WP ] In the middle of a wedding , a stranger shows up , interrupts the ceremony , and seduces the bride right in front of the person she is going to marry just by speaking to her . What does he/she say ?
| `` If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together β let them speak now or forever hold their peace. Anyone? ``, he asked, half smiling, and a few members from the brides family chuckled. The bride and the groom were high school sweethearts and had been together for years, it had only been a matter of time before they walked down the aisle together.
`` I've got something to say.'' A young man, handsome man stood up from his seat. He was clean shaven and dressed in suit and tie, but he had a rugged edge, a fierce smile that gave evidence that he was the only man in this church who was truly alive, here and now. He made his way up to the altar with slow, confident steps, his eyes fixed on the bride. The silence that had fallen on the previously so lively crowd began to break as a hundred people whispered the same question among themselves. `` *Who is that man*?''
`` W- what do you want? ``, the bride asked, her words trembling as if his aura of confidence had drained hers.
`` I wanted to tell you something before you make the biggest mistake of your life.'' While the groom stood dumbstruck, his mind furiously trying to work out what was happening - this was n't how it was supposed to go - this stranger leaned in close to his bride and whispered so softly that only she could hear.
`` If you marry him now, you will never be alone again.'' The church had once more fallen deathly quiet as the man leaned back and studied the bride, everything frozen and silent for a brief moment, and then she took his hand and ran.
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[ CW ] Tell a story using only google search history .
| How to get your crush to like you
How to ask a girl out
What to do on a first date
flower shops
good date movies
what do girls like
How to deal with the first fight with your girlfriend
heart shaped chocolates
how to propose
ring shops Chicago
wedding venues Chicago
Tuxedos
Las Vegas plane tickets
How to deal with a hangover
honeymoon locations
how to be a good dad
ice cream shops open at 3 am Chicago
hospitals Chicago
baby monitors
sports leagues children Chicago
wife distant
chocolate
flower shop
private investigators
wife cheating on me
gun shop Chicago
how to get away with murdering your wife
how to clear computer memory
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[ WP ] An immortal wizard who has been trapped in the body of an animal for a very long time , discovers the internet .
| **KEVIN**
There he goes again....
`` Bonnington **get** off of the LAPTOP!!!''
That dumb cat is such a handful thought Kevin.
Kevin stared at his cat and chuckled. Kevin adopted Bonnington from his local animal shelter. Apparently Bonnington has been there far longer than everyone has even cared to keep track of, but since he was the only tabby at the shelter Kevin chose and adopted him. Kevin has always wanted a cat, especially a tabby, but his mom was allergic and his sister hated cats. So he grew up with dogs in the house. The doggos were always digging up the garden, chasing squirrels and ripping up furniture. Kevin never understood why his family wanted little furry hurricanes that destroyed furniture in the house.
On the other hand, cats do get into their fair share of trouble too, well his cat Bonnington atleast. There's something about technology that just sets his cat off. Bonnington would poke and prod anything remotely electronic. It was the funniest thing thought Kevin.
`` MROAWWWWWWWWWW! `` screeched Bonnington from across the room.
**Malifore**
`` Bonnington get off of the LAPTOP!!!''
Yelled Kevin from across the room.
`` Bonnington''... such an insult to injury thought Malifore.
Hundreds of years ago, Malifore was such a revered wizard. His name was known throughout the land. Everyone in the kingdom knew of him. He was Grand Vizier to the king's Counsel of Magic, even the king looked to Malifore for advice.
**But** now....he was `` Bonnington''... an orange tabby cat that was adopted by *Kevin*
He woke up after having a fight with his girlfriend, who was a witch by the way, one night and found himself in the form of a cat. Apparently she didnt have a sense of humor when it came to name calling, one remark about a forest hag later and Malifore was a cat.
Hundreds of years went by and Malifore roamed the world trying to figure out how to change himself back. He was no longer capable of speaking the human tongue, the source of all his powers. To a Wizard, the ability to speak was more than just for communication. A Wizard's magic is woven through his voice, his chant brings forth the magic from his very bones and soul and gives it direction and purpose. But now... all he can say is
`` MROAWWWWWWWWWW!''
He's seen the mortals slowly develop their own type of magic, they call it `` technology''
The humans have harnessed some form of tamed lightning that they call `` electricity'' and in exchange for electricity the devices they manipulate do certain tasks for them.
Malifore has noticed that Kevin is always glued to his `` laptop'' but he never understood why. He does n't even put it on his lap. All he sees is a thin black rectangle with a window where light comes out of, but Kevin sits at his kitchen table for hours just tapping away and staring into the window of light.
Now Malifore has been around for a really long time but since he was imprisoned in the body of a cat he was not exposed to every single change that happened to humans, or atleast he was not able to assimilate properly as a human, therefore his knowledge of human technology seemed bizarre and otherworldy.
However, he's been watching Kevin and learning as much as he could. Being a Wizard meant that he was a natural linguist so the modern human alphabet and number system came to him almost naturally. The problem was that he had pudgy paws instead of human appendages. How will he ever press the correct keys on the `` laptop'' to figure out what its purpose is?
Then an idea came to Malifore...
**Kevin**
Kevin grabbed a cold one then kicked back on his sofa as he flipped through the deathbox.
`` Boring... boring... nah... not interested..''
He mumbled as he channel surfed.
Then behind him he starting to hear his keyboard keys being clicked one by one as if someone was typing on it. He took a nice long swig of his beer and turned around to see what was going on and he exploded, spraying a mist of beer all over the backside of his sofa and rug. Bonnington let out a suprised yowl amd ran from the kitchen.
Bonnington had been smacking the keys on the keyboard with his head and it looked like he was headbanging to heavy metal. Kevin wish he had caught that on camera. He got up and went up to the laptop to close the lid so that his cat would finally leave it alone but to his suprise he found a chrome window open with the words `` how to undo a cate tranfiguriamtion spellldnxbsk'' typed into the url bar.
Kevin stared blankly at the text on the screen..
He did n't know what to make of it but he finally decided that it was just a coincidence. Like the infinite monkey theorem, where if you let a monkey type on a typewriter for an infinite amount of time, eventually he would type out the exact combinations of words and letters to a Shakespeare novel. But something in the back of his mind told him to go buy the `` How to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you'' book off of Amazon.
He closed the laptop lid and returned to his sofa after wiping up the beer and continued watching television.
**Malifore**
*Getting late will continue asap (:
|
[ WP ] In a parallel universe , Native Americans advanced more quickly than Europeans . Native American explorers have just now arrived at The New World : Great Britain .
| There was n't really a record of all of this, um, because we deliberately go dark when landing.
Trust me, we're trying to use your vernacular but it's strange for each of us and your language is entirely divergent from ours.
It seems you savage *us* in your thoughts. It seems you sought to be above us, because of certain factors.
Tho I'm a prisoner, I had `` advanced'' in a way that you do n't define. I did n't develop your guns or metal, your germs or `` justice.''
We had sustained our house, we lined our lives with future thoughts. And what is wainscoting of your house? Murder. Institutionalized racism, gender inequalities, classism.
Your Empire is not nearly as noble as it sounds.
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[ WP ] A person can enter the world of art work . While in a museum he escapes to a painting and a fire erupts in the building . The painting is destroyed and now he can not return to the real world .
| I should have stayed home. The minute I woke up on the day of the field trip I had felt sick. Even though I begged my mom to stay home, she insisted it was just the excitement that made my stomach ache and make every bite of food hard to swallow. Of course I knew it was probably excitement, but not the excitement of going to the museum as the first visitors in ten years. It was a nervous excitement, a fear of not being able to escape from my classmates. I was that kid, that kid that was generally disliked. I had a few friends, but that was outside of school. During school time it was an embarrassment to hang out with me and it was seen as a crime by the kings and queens of class. The queens were naturally the popular girls, who had no problem letting me know I did not deserve the right to be with them. The kings were the chosen guys the girls deemed worthy enough to hang around with.
So there I was, on a school trip to the museum nobody was allowed to enter for ten years. They said it was closed for renovations, for they had worked on all the paintings and sculptures and claimed they had made the museum more entertaining for the youth. So the first visitors were to be kids, and so I found myself in the front of a bus for a good three hours. I was lonely to be up front alone, as all the other kids were sitting in the back. But they left me alone, so I was good.
Three hours later we were inside, and the first impression was amazing. The paintings were accompanied by video screens on which movies could be watched about the paintings and the artists. Games could be played with elements of paintings as the center points. And the best part of all was that there was no boring tour, but a treasure hunt that led you through the whole museum. The videos and games would tell you everything. For the first time that day I felt like this was going to be fun. I could go through the treasure hunt alone, and not be bothered by the kings and queens. I would make sure not to see them.
That plan failed. The queens decided to follow me. I thought I could shake them off, but one of me against four of them made it difficult. They had split up in pairs and trapped me in the room with art of Vincent van Gogh. It was one of the paintings the museum had advertised as one of the centerpieces, Van Gogh β s room at Arles. What intrigued me most about the painting were the portraits above the bed. Paintings within paintings, who were they? I went to the touch screen to find a video about the painting and find the answer. I was just about to hit the play button when I heard them coming. There were two entrances to the room, but the footsteps came from both sides. I could try to run past them, but I was small and afraid of the kings, and did not know where they were. I figured that I could handle the mocking; I had done it for years now anyway. It turned out they were not there to just make fun of me. The kings arrived shortly after and they looked angry. I did not know what was wrong, but it seemed like they had blamed me for whatever it was. β You were not allowed to be alone in the museum, the teachers said there had to be pairs. Thanks to you they split us up and now I have to work with you β, one of the queens spat at me. β That β s okay β I said, β I can work alone β. One of the kings came towards me, β you are right, we don β t need you β, he said. β So we are going to say we could not find you and you will tell the teachers you got lost this afternoon. And to make you sound truthful, we decided to help you with that. β I had no intention of letting them tell me what to do, but the kings were advancing towards me.
That β s when it happened. Out of fear, I backed away from them towards the painting. I don β t know how it happened but suddenly I stepped on a wooden floor. This was odd, because the museum had a marble floor. I looked around. In front of me I could still see the museum, with the kings and queens looking confused and scared. On my left however, there was a bed with red covers. Above the bed were two paintings, one of a man and one of a woman. I recognized them from the painting in the museum. It looked like I had walked right into the painting, but that β s not possible. This must be some kind of joke. Maybe this was what they meant when they said I had to get lost. It β s probably a secret door in the museum they knew about. I could see them screaming to each other, but did not hear what they said. One of the kings started smoking, which he does when he is in stress, especially before exams. I wondered if someone would notice the smoke and tell them off. That would be fun. But he had already dropped it. One of the other kids was screaming at him and they all ran off. The cigarette was still burning and had fallen on an unsecured electricity cable. I tried to run back, to put out the cigarette, but I couldn β t move. I screamed, but nobody heard me. I saw the fire get bigger and bigger until I could only see flames. And then the museum was gone and I was staring at a wall with a door.
I found I could move again and ran to the wall and tried to open the door, it was locked. I started to panic, but soon realized panicking never helped me when the kings and queens were after me. I had to stay calm. And I had to figure out where I was. Probably the door was a safety door and had closed when the fire started, to stop the fire from spreading. I looked around again. The room was a perfect resemblance of the painting I had just seen. There was even a window. I walked towards the window and to my surprise, I was able to open it. That was just the tip of the iceberg though. I had expected a brick wall behind the window, but there was a view and it looked so real. The museum had used some great effects to make the room look realistic. All, all I could do now was wait. Wait for the fire department to put out the fire so that I could leave the room. It wasn β t so bad. The bed looked comfortable. Besides, the kings and queens weren β t here. I was alone.
β The key to the door is in the drawer, you know β. I jumped. I was alone, yet I was hearing voices. β whatβ¦what was that? β, I asked softly. β The door key is in the drawer β. β Who said that β, I asked while I looked around. β It β s me β, the voice said. I looked where the voice came from, but could only see the painting of the man. β yes, yes, I know I β m a painting. I β m not lying though, the key is in the drawer and it will unlock the door. Then you can go outside, or were you planning on staying here? β, he said. β I, I figured I β d wait for the fire to be extinguished so I can go back to the museum β, I answered. β There is no museum. The fire burned it down. Now I suggest you leave this room before Vincent comes home and finds you trespassing β, he said.
I started to panic, β but I am in the museum, it β s not gone. I need to go back β.
β You indeed need to get back, but this portal is closed. The painting is no more β.
β The painting? β
β Yes, the painting is a portal and it is now destroyed. β
β So I am actually in the room of van Gogh? β
β That β s what I said β
This wasn β t real, it couldn β t be. I pinched myself to wake myself up, but here I was. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I was still in the room. β I need to go back β, I repeated. The man in the painting agreed with me, β You will have to find another portal β.
β How do I do that? β I asked.
β This whole world has been painted by Vincent. You need to find some place that looks exactly like another painting and search for the portal there β, he explained.
I grabbed the key from the drawer and opened the door. I ran out to search for another portal.
Only then did I realize I had no idea what other paintings Vincent van Gogh had made.
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[ WP ] Scare me ... with an Easter bunny .
| Funny thing about apocalypses, specifically the Apocalypse, not the bevy of weak spirited imitations, is they do n't just show up one day. They take a lot of time, a lot of planning. Then, on the day of, all eyes are on the bandleaders, assuming that the wrecking crew has not yet started. In reality, it's been at it for a long time. Take Death, for instance. There has been a whole lot of misinformation spread, and a lot of the population still thinks this is a person running around collecting souls. Death is just a figurehead, a cheerleader at the front of an army, and it's all but written down - actually, it was written down - that this half-time show headliner will got to the gunfight holding a sword. We were n't expecting a whole lot from Death, but you better believe, all of hell really did follow. It's an all hands on deck affair.
Another oddity of the Apocalypse, as written, is the cause-effect relationship. War begets death, pestilence begets famine. Think about that for a moment: What is the result of killing people? Yeah, a lot of dead things. And what is the result of infecting crops and critters with blight? Nothing to eat. So, you can see why opinions of death and famine are pretty low because their only job is to show up and take credit for all of the hard work that preceded their arrival.
Spreading pestilence is a lot harder than the movies make it out to be. Even with a few nasty weaponized strains of this or that, it's hardly enough to get the job done. This is total, afterall, which means in order to bring about famine and death, you have to plan to remove every scrap of sustence, every blade of grass, every muscusy slime mold that some tribal might think to swill. When it is time for the pomp and circumstance of tipping your hand, all of those loose ends had better be wrapped up. That takes years of planning. Generations. Dry run after dry run. A long time ago, we implemented a blind commitment so we'd never know if this was the day it would start.
I have to say - we have it down pretty good. Despite advances in technology, or maybe in spite of, we went old school. Once a year, every year, across at least thirty percent of dry land, we run through our operation. Within hours, just after dawn, delivery is complete. And the fools eat it every time.
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[ WP ] `` You have knocked me down down but I continued to fight lying in the dirt . You have dragged me into the shadows but I kept fighting in the dark . You have destroyed much , achieved little and gained nothing . And now I am angry . ''
| `` You.''
The man in pewter armor stared at his twin across the plateau, rain streaming down the jagged metal corners of his helmet like ribbons of crystal. The earth beneath his feet was rapidly turning to mud in the sudden squall, rainwater mixing with blood and sand to create a sticky slurry that slowed his footsteps and clung to his boots with every stride. He took no notice as he knocked aside the corpses of fallen men, both friend and foe alike ignored in his single-minded pursuit of the foe he had chased for so long.
`` You.''
Visions flashed before his eyes of his family, torn and bloodied by cruel blades while he had been away. How he had raged at the sight of their mangled bodies, lamented the murder of his wife and son while had been unable to help! It was for their very sake that he had joined the King's Army at all, to protect them from the dark forces that threatened their homes. But he had been too late. And it had all been for naught.
Whispers reached his ears after that day, whispers of a man in dark armor that killed babes in the night, slaughtering the innocent like cattle. Ever since, he had redoubled his efforts in the war, hoping to avenge his loved ones and spare all others from the man's dark blade. He had done things he was not proud of, to get this far. But now, his foe stood alone against him, and it was time to carve out his heart for what he had done.
`` Draw your blade, murderer!'' He roared, tearing his own from the scabbard at his hip with the shrieking of metal. `` Know this: you drew your last breath the moment you killed my wife and son. I will have your head!''
If the dark knight responded, his words were whipped away by a passing gale that peppered them with raindrops as hard as bullets. But when the curtain of water had passed, a naked blade shone in his hand, razor's edge shining with malice.
With a cry, the knight charged, his deadly foe responding in kind as silently as a shadow. When they met, steel clashed against steel, flashes of sparks lighting up the battlefield as often as the lighting overhead. Parry, stab, counter, parry again, The two knocked each other back and forth across the plateau, each obtaining a number of small wounds with every encounter. But no matter how fiercely he fought, his opponent matched him blow for blow, never making a single sound.
`` You have knocked me down, but I continued to fight lying in the dirt! You have dragged me into the shadows, but I kept fighting in the dark. You have destroyed much, achieved little and gained nothing. And now... I am angry!''
With a mighty roar, he abandoned his sword and drew his knife, knocking his foe to the ground with a sudden charge. They wrestled for a moment, but soon the evil knight was pinned, dagger drawing a crimson line across his neck.
`` I... told you... that you would pay.'' he gasped, drawing the blade across the man's throat so that drops of thick, hot blood soon drenched his armor. Gurgling in pain, he wrenched back the man's helmet. `` Now... let me see your face!''
Staring back up at him, pale and bloodied, was his own face. He tried to gasp, but soon found that he could not. Reaching for his neck, he found that it, too had been slashed, and that it was his own armor that had been dyed red with the warmth of his veins.
Spitting blood, he fell to his side, the man he had pinned suddenly no longer present. Soon, there was one more corpse on a battlefield littered with corpses.
***
*CC welcomed, and if you enjoyed the read you can find more of my work at /r/TimeSyncs! *
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[ MP ] White Light
| β Come on now, let β s go, no time to quit now. β I was rambling, I knew it, but that β s what you do when you β re trying to keep a man alive. I bent lower and slid my arms further under his shoulders, getting a better grip, and dragged him backward into the shelter of the rock face. The soldierβwhy hadn β t I learned his name? Recent transfer or not, I should always learn my men β s namesβthe soldier groaned, and blood gushed from his leg wound. I let him slump back against the rock and snatched the medkit from my belt, dumping it out and grabbing the tourniquet. It might not be too late.
In the sky, the attack shuttles still launched great lines of explosives. They fell away to the east now, where the bulk of the infantry was concentrated. Their escorts still spun and danced in the air closer to us, filling it with lances of energy as they struck at each other. For the moment they seemed to ignore the node tower, the true objective of this battle; but that was an illusion. They would be back when they had mopped up the rest of the defense force.
The soldier coughed. β Easy there, β I said, pressing a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. If that tourniquet slipped, I β d never get it reset in time.
I almost missed what he said. I leaned closer, and he repeated it, raspy but plain. β Was it worth it? β
I wanted to nodβ¦but I couldn β t. I wasn β t sure I believed it myself anymore. Not after today. Finally I shrugged.
He took that simply enough. β Captainβ¦ β he rasped. β I neverβ¦I never really believed, you know? In all of it. The, the spirits. The Afterworld. All of that. β
I did. I always had, and seeing itβseeing the node towers, and the rest of the Afterworld where it met with the physicalβhad only increased my belief. The only thing I regretted was that the living had ever learned to touch the world of the dead. Now, with the war over all that power, we were paying for our crimesβor maybe our sins.
He wasn β t finished talking. β I never believed itβ¦but now I β m not sure I was right. So I just want to know, was all this worth fighting for? β
I thought long and hard before I spoke. β We made a mistake when we learned to touch the Afterworld. The deadβ¦the dead should be done. They shouldn β t have to be involved in this world anymore. But we let that happen, and nowβ¦now that people try to take advantage of thatβ¦we owe the dead something. β
He was growing paler by the second. Maybe I hadn β t been quick enough with the tourniquet. β Even thoughβ¦even though we takeβ¦advantage of it too? β
I nodded. β We might be doing wrong too, β I whispered. β But if we lose now, we β ll never have a chance to fix that mistake. We have to win now, so we can try to make it right later. β
His eyes, though growing distant, fixed on mine. β You really think we can do that? β
β I want to. β I paused. β I want to have the chance. So yeah, it β s worth that. β
For a moment, the faintest of smiles touched his face; then it faded as he looked past me. β Look at it, β he breathed.
I turned. On the red-crystal side of the node tower, black stains were creeping upward. Spiritual intrusionβthe final gambit of those we were fighting. When the living touched the Afterworld, there were always consequencesβ¦but this one would corrupt the node, and that would be that. It would be lost, and so would the battle. I felt alarm spike through me, and dismay.
β I β ll tryβ¦ β He dissolved into one final bout of coughing, and I turned back to him. β I β ll tryβ¦to give you your chance. β And just like that, he was gone.
I knelt, stunned, over the body. It wasn β t the death that hit me; it was the reversal. It was the sudden loss of everything we had fought for. Was this how it ended? Was itβ
A musical vibration caught my ear. I turned.
Rising like smoke, a white glow was suffusing the red crystal of the tower. It stood in start and beautiful contrast to the rigid black lines, spreading and flowering. The Afterworld? Could it --?
A cold chill went through me, and I glanced back at the dead soldier β s body.
No. Not possible.
But then, we still knew nothing about how the dead did what they did. We only knew how to access it and use it.
The white light was still spreading. It reach the edges of the tower, highlighting the black stains, and then, then, it flashed brilliant, throwing an impossible flare of light over the entire battlefield.
When it faded, the black stains were gone. Above, the enemy shuttles were falling from the sky.
β Thanks, β I murmured. β I won β t forget. β And I wouldn β t. Not with a chance to change things ahead of me.
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[ WP ] Write the opening scene to the yet-unwritten novel you 've been thinking about . Introduce us to your main character , and show us what kind of book it 's going to be .
| ( Author's Note: Yes! Finally! I've had this idea in my head since about high school. I had to sift through years of angst-ridden writings to find this one. )
It felt like the air itself became lighter, just for us.
We walked, one by one, to the grand stage, to meet a barrage of red lights and white flashes. We worked for this, years and years of our lives were drained for this very moment. The heat of the overhead lights drew sweat to our faces as millions glared at us, and we loved every minute of it.
It was our college graduation.
As we proceeded, I could see through the audience β s eyes as they looked with awe at the mass of champions. The cap fit perfectly on our heads as if we were born to wear them, and the end of our vibrantly blue gowns danced with every step. Some of us decorated our faces with radiant smiles, some with tears of joy. But surely, surely, the audience noticed one particular face in that mass; one face whose energy shone like Paris at night, whose steps were akin to the Waltz in their grace, whose smile was so grand that it seemed like each individual tooth smiled, whose expression served as a precursor to his future success. That man, that glowing manifestation of realized potential, was me.
As I ambled to my seat, I could clearly see my future like it was a movie playing right in front of me; a creative, wealthy writer with a manly yet sophisticated five o β clock shadow, another one of my best-selling books in hand while hoards of women stare at me, fainting every time I winked at them with my deep brown eyes. And this degree, this golden ticket will lead me to it!
They called my name, and I did my best to retain my composure. I imagined the path to the stage as a luxurious red carpet, the white flashes as paparazzi, with people begging for me to sign their children β s foreheads. As soon as that degree touched my hands, my smile grew twice in size and intensity. At last!
Goodbye, all! Goodbye to the students who deemed me odd! Next time you β ll see me, I β ll be holding a Pulitzer Prize! Goodbye to the parents who never saw the gift in me! I bet you are sorry, now! I β m free! I β m set! I β m gone! With this pen in my hand, I β ll change the world! Look out, Gaia, your revolution starts today!
β Daniel, get up here! β
Three years later, and I β m in my mother β s basement.
ο»Ώ
( Author's Notes: The basic idea of the story was just that; the tale of the Middle Class pseudo-artsy nobody who, by the end, ultimately finds happiness by accepting that he is a nobody. )
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[ WP ] Your dog , your best friend with whom you 've spent every day with for the past few years disappears one day without a trace . Six months later , you hear knock at your door . It 's your dog . You give him a hug asking where he has been when he suddenly says `` Boy , do I have a story for you . ''
| `` Wait, hold on.''
Charlie licked my face. `` Cutting me off already, John? My goodness, you have no manners. But I know, I know, you're going to ask how I learned how to speak-''
`` No,'' I say, getting comfortable on the floor. `` No, like... how did you knock on the door? You do n't have hands.''
`` Oh, that? I had Ian do that for me.''
I blinked once, looking up. Sure enough, there was a man standing in the door opening. He was wearing a very nice suit, with a name-tag reading'Ian' on it.
`` Hello, Ian. Thank you for... uh, bringing my dog back.''
Ian barked.
`` Anyways,'' said Charlie, `` I've got quite a few things to tell you. Man, your face tastes delicious - that's not what I wanted to say.''
`` Thanks, though.'' I grin. `` I've put dog food paste on my face every day for the last six months, hoping that you'd come back and lick my face and it would be a picture-perfect moment.''
Charlie backed away a little. `` All right, that's a bit odd. Like, really, are you all right man?''
`` You do n't want to know the answer to that question.''
`` Okay. Anyways, I've got quite a story to tell you. You remember your ex... Jeanne, was it?''
`` Yeah, Jeanne. I thought we were good, but it turned out she only wanted me for my brains and personality, not my incredibly handsome face.''
`` Well, yes. That was unfortunate, by the way. When she found out you did n't have any, that is.''
I nodded sagely. `` Yes, women are so picky these days.''
`` We're getting off topic. When Jeanne left, well, I did n't quite understand *why*. And I really liked Jeanne, right? So I went off to try and bring her back.''
`` Understandable. I tried that once myself, actually.''
`` Yeah, I remember that. The restraining order. That was interesting.'' Charlie sat back, mouth moving in a wholly unnatural fashion. `` So I got lost. Like really, really lost. Turns out being lost is pretty terrible... anyways, I found Ian here. Or rather, Ian found me.''
Ian barked his agreement.
`` I found out fairly quickly that Ian was a mad scientist. Like, pretty crazy dude. Oh well, not much different from you, really. So he wanted to do an experiment and try and get me to be able to speak English.''
I nodded slowly. I could see where this was going.
`` Well, things went somewhat poorly and we swapped languages. I speak fluent English, now, and Ian speaks... sub-optimal dog.''
`` All right. I can accept this.'' It seemed like a typical Tuesday, honestly. `` Where do we go from here?''
Charlie grinned. It looked positively demonic. `` Getting Jeanne back, baby! I've got no restrainin' order!''
-- -
^ ( *less bizarre stories on r/forricide* )
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Moving Pictures Edition
| Shirley leaned over the balcony railing to watch the training session below. Ever since peace had somewhat been restored, Taylor and Cameron had eagerly volunteered to begin teaching rookie soldiers about hand-to-hand combat. Shirley was more than happy to oblige. Right now, they were locked in combat, a demonstration for the rookies that sat on their tip toes off to the side. Shirley watched the way their bodies moved and danced together, how Cameron threw a punch that Taylor easily dodged, and then she retaliated by grabbing his arm and bending it behind him, only to have him twist out of it and knock her off her feet. They made it look less like combat and more like a duet between two intertwined souls, desperate to tell their story.
The door slid open behind her, and she turned to see Derrick sauntering in, his head held high and a small smile on his face that only grew when he saw Shirley. He stopped next to her and glanced below at the training session.
`` How are Taylor and Cameron doing?'' He asked, turning his gaze back to Shirley. It amazed her how just weeks ago, she had hated him with every fiber in her body, but now, his dark brown eyes were enough to send an excited flutter through her chest.
`` They're natural teachers. I think they made the right choice.'' She replied. Cameron helped Taylor up, and as he turned to face the rookies, Taylor tackled him from behind, surprising him enough to take them both to the ground. Shirley broke into a fit of laughter.
Derrick placed his hand on Shirley's and ran his thumb over her knuckles. `` And how about you? Do you think you made the right choice?''
Shirley sighed. A lot had happened over the years, with the war between the divided U.S., and then their at-first-wanted-but-then-unwanted allies, and of course, trying to heal over scars that had been opened one too many times. Many citizens were n't eager to have Shirley or Derrick in power again, and Shirley did n't blame them. They had both made massive mistakes that could n't be undone, and it was better for both of them if they let someone else take over the reigns of leadership. The election was scheduled for five months from now, and already campaigns were running and ads were rolling for candidates.
She nodded and let Derrick wrap his hand around hers. `` I do n't know. I've made so many mistakes, so I feel horrible having to hand them off for someone else to fix, but I think it's time I retired. I'm not cut out for leadership.''
Derrick wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a quizzical look. `` Do n't say that. I, for one, thought you were a great leader.''
Shirley felt a smile curve on her lips. `` Yeah, *after* I kicked your butt.''
Derrick grinned and planted a firm, controlled kiss on her lips. Shirley could never mask her surprise at his openness, how he did n't care what people thought of them. She supposed it was because she had spent all of her life marinating in hate and rage against him, that letting it go and actually falling in love was something entirely new to her. She had never felt this way before, how her heart pounded every time he spoke, how her hands got clammy every time he grabbed them, or how she shivered every time he took her in his arms. It was crazy, and too good to be true, but she had tried pinching herself, and so far after she had opened her eyes again, he was still there, smiling that charming, but playful smile of his.
`` Oh my God,'' A voice from below shouted. `` That's disgusting. Can you guys cut it out? We're trying to train here.''
Taylor, who had spoken, Cameron, and the rest of the trainees were staring up at them, not really trying to hide their laughter. Shirley and Derrick took a small step back, but they kept their hands locked together. So maybe they could n't be as open as they wanted.
`` Is Taylor still not in support of us?'' Shirley asked quietly. Taylor had been opposed to trusting Derrick in general, but she, thankfully, came around and began to let past memories go.
Derrick shook his head. `` I think she thinks we're not going to work out, but she wo n't be able to hold onto that idea forever.'' Her heart faltered a little at the implication behind his words, but she did n't say anything.
Something buzzed, and he immediately reached for the source in his pocket. It was a small pager, alerting him to some meeting he had to attend. He was n't a leader anymore, but his expertise was still needed in some areas.
`` Well, I guess I better get going. The meeting's at the opposite side of the building, and I have three minutes to get there.'' He sighed and rolled his eyes, but it was exaggerated, she could tell.
Derrick pulled her in for a tight hug, his long arms wrapping all the way around her small body, encasing her in his strength and security. She sighed into his chest, taking in his scent, the way he felt against her, and the way his heart beat solidly compared to hers, which was probably set to rapid-fire. He pulled away first, and she suddenly felt cold without him close.
`` See you at dinner.'' She said, waving as he walked towards the door.
Derrick grinned and glanced at her over his shoulder. `` Promise?'' He asked, and then he was gone.
_________________________________________________________________
This is a scene that I am thinking of adding into the end of one of the stories I'm writing, but I wanted to test it out here first to see if I like it. This is just a rough draft, so obviously it'll need some work: )
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[ WP ] A bank robbery gone wrong . You are now surrounded by the police and you are holding a hostage with an empty pistol .
| `` Holy shit balls of the mountain king.'' Stated Mulligan.
The law of Cuntis Fucktis had taken effect, on a rainy afternoon, on Monday, and it was his birthday on the first day of his weekend, the first weekend he'd had in a month from working his crappy night job as a bucket stacker at a warehouse that recycled'Shit Buckets', buckets that people shit in if they have no access to proper facilities. He had n't had a shower all week because his landlord had kicked him out due to nonpayment and debt racked up to $ 9000. This day was the shittiest miracle of a day that he had ever witnessed.
Here he was, holding a revolver to the head of guy in a karate outfit outside of a bank surrounded by the police with NO BULLETS LEFT.
From the look of it, his hostage was a Red Belt. The most dangerous of belts. Just experienced enough to have some actual skill and just cocky enough to make stupid decisions work. He knew this because his high school bully was a Red Belt who had very quickly graduated to a Black Belt within 2 months of the beginning of school.
`` You smell like shit.'' Said the Red Belt.
`` Put the gun down you ballsfaggot!'' Screamed the officer.
Officers were legendary for their insults in the town where he came from.
`` No!'' Said Mulligan, keeping a cool attitude as rain trickled off of his balding scalp gently deflected through his loose collar, down his chest and stomach where it began to soak his crotch.
`` If you do n't put it down now we're just going to make it even worse for you when you finally do!'' But the officer did n't know. Mulligan still had one thing going for him. The power of the worst luck in the history of the known universe.
As he gazed into the sky, Mulligan saw the telltale sign of a funnel cloud forming above.
All of a sudden the sound of a thousand freight trains filled the air and the Red Belt made his move. As the police ducked for cover the Red Belt also ducked, elbowed Mulligan in the stomach, grabbed his gun arm and flipped him over onto the edge of the pavement where the small of Mulligan's back directly hit the corner as he fell. $ 100 Notes puffed from his jacket as the Red Belt went to town. Fiercely beating him.
`` Get up!'' Screamed the Red Belt and Mulligan groaned to his feet if only not to enrage him further. The sound of freight trains was now deafening and Mulligan could see the funnel was about to touch down. The police were fleeing.
`` Ki yah!'' The Karate Man screamed and pirouetted into a roundhouse kick that sent Mulligan flying back through the doors of the bank. Mulligan rolled and braced himself against them as best he could as the Karate Man screamed and pounded, trying to get in.
KABOOM
The funnel hit down and Mulligan could hear the smashing of windows everywhere. Suddenly the roof was ripped off the building and shards lashed his face. He could barely see anything but as he held on to the railing just inside the doors he could only just make out a red strip of fabric flying up into the sky.
After what felt like forever the twister finally passed and Mulligan made his escape. Never to be seen or heard from again.
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[ WP ] The Currency used in Hell is $ ins . It is given to the deceased when they enter Hell based on the sins they committed while they are still alive . You just arrived at Hell and Lucifer congrats you as richest $ inner .
| `` Reggie, can I call you Reggie?''
`` Uh sure.'' There was brimstone all around the pair, but no fire.
`` Well you do have the highest account balance in the whole region so, I was hoping to get into your good books.''
`` The highest sin count?''
`` Yes,'' Satan said, `` discounting me, but I do n't really play that game. I'm not allowed to host parties.''
`` I have two questions.''
`` Shoot, Reggie.''
`` 1. Why ca n't you throw parties?''
`` Workplace protocol, I own the entire domain so I need to abide by the contract from the big man.''
`` Okay, and how the hell do I have the biggest account?''
`` Oh that's simple,'' he pointed out, `` interest.''
`` Interest?''
`` Invest early, do n't cash it out until you die,'' Satan said. He pulled a chat out of a puff of smoke, `` like a post-retirement fund. You killed your twin in the womb, and then Mommy dearest. Then you did n't do anything of note for 98 years, until-'' Satan waved to the entire room that he was sitting in with Reggie. `` Yeah.''
`` So I just did n't do anything good? Also my Mom lived until she was 73''
`` Or bad.'' Satan ignored the second part of Reggie's breath.
`` How do you even do that?'' Reggie asked.
`` Intentions,'' Satan said, `` you did bad things for good reasons and good things for bad reasons.''
`` The road to hell is paved with good intentions,'' Reggie added on.
`` No, we do n't have a road, we use air travel now. Do n't worry about that though. The point is that you're rich.''
`` How am I richer than Hitler?''
`` He kept dinging his account with okay things, most people do.''
`` So like-''
`` Hugging Eva, killing Hitler,'' Satan rolled his wrist in a way that said'and so on'.
`` and I did n't get any good points from my wife.''
`` You hated her.''
`` Only kinda!''
`` So it was n't a sin either!'' Satan said. The prince of terror was carrying himself like he was talking to his hero. He was sitting in his best posture while keeping on Reggie's eyes, `` it was so beautiful.''
`` So what now?'' Reggie asked once Satan's eyes had gotten a touch too intimate.
`` Good question,'' Satan said, `` depends how long you want to avoid touching that account for.''
`` I do n't know,''
`` There's always round 3?''
`` Round three?''
`` Carry it over, work on that investment. Like you said, Mom was alive this time around.''
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[ WP ] Reality TV has been taken to the next level . Now people follow you with cameras all the time .
| Alright I'll take a crack at it. Pretty new here so do n't expect too much.
I do n't really get people's fascination for other people's lives. Entertainment these days is just people filming the boring everyday lives of each and every Joe Schmoe. You ca n't get away from all the cameramen who follow you around for the sake of reality TV. I can not tell you how annoying it is to be broadcast 24/7 to the populous. Sure it seemed cool at first, I always wanted to be a celebrity one day, but now it is just plain irritating. I ca n't even go to the bathroom without two camera crews trying to watch my entire process. When this first happened I tried to force them to leave, but it was such a hassle and I was outnumbered. Nowadays I just lock myself in a stall and try to pretend that I do n't notice the boom mic that appears above the door. People used to complain that Reality TV was too fake. My only complaint now is that it is too real.
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[ WP ] You wake up one day unable to feel emotions .
| I woke up in the morning, glimpsing rays of blue sun as I gazed around. There was this void in my heart, this complete rationality towards everything. For once, I truly saw everything for what it was, and not what I believed it to be. My companions now seemed far more valuable, and yet far less so. Even my most painful memories seemed to evoke only neutrality from me. Something had happened while I had been sleeping. What had I sacrificed in my pursuits?
It's almost startling how even the tedium of life can vanish when you feel nothing. You just approach life logically, nothing else is even possible. A thousand whores could n't even arouse any sexual interest in me. Is this the price I had to pay?
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[ WP ] You wake one morning and find your reflection in the mirror is gone . A few seconds later it rushes in mouthing the words `` Sorry ! Sorry I 'm late . Let 's get started . You ready ? ''
| β Waitβ¦ β¦What the actual fuck?! β I stumbled back a little, the mirror β me β winced a bit as I almost slipped over the bath mat and cracked my head on the tile floor of the bathroom.
β Yeah, Sorry. β β He β replied. Peering over the mirror, as if β he β was looking at my feet. β Shit, I forgot the slippersβ¦ β With that β he β disappeared from the mirror for another few seconds and then reappeared back staring back blankly through the metal and glass.
I had taken the opportunity to sit on the edge of the bath and try to wake myself by pinching myself, but with the scare I just had I think that would have woken me anyway, also trying to recall the almost impossibility of ingesting large amounts of fairly potent hallucinogens. β Why do the slippers matter? β Asking the best coherent question that I could think of at that particular moment in time.
β Because I am your reflection of course. β β He β blankly replied, not a discernible emotion β his β face.
β Well that is complete and utter bullshit. β I retorted, realizing that I actually distain my voice from the other side. β How can you be my reflection? You were clearly lateβ¦ AND you forgot my slippers, you know, the ones I put on every morning for about the past 2 years. β
β Did you never believe the stories as a kid of the world on the other side of the mirror? β β He β asked, now eerie with the lack of emotion on β my β face.
β Of course. β I looked to all sides of the mirror, making sure everything else was as it should be on the other side. β But I was a child, I β ve grown up, I stopped believing in old wives tales, because they aren β t true. β
β Aren β t they? β β He β Smiled.
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[ WP ] Describe a dystopia with an unusually mundane β gimmick β .
| I was next in line to press the button. I could see it β s red glow pulsing from around the corner as the kid before me pressed it and released. It was rare to see kids in the line. They had so much time before the button needed to be pressed. The little boy skipped around the corner, his face the same as when he went in.
It was my turn to press the button. It β s red glow subsiding to white as it β s powers recharged. I was excited to press the button. The gentleman behind me nudged my shoulder, encouraging me to hurry up and take my turn. They would not recognize me, the difference in my face from when I went in.
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[ CW ] Write a cheerful story about eldritch horrors .
| `` I am Daniel'', I said to the eldritch abomination that stood before me.
The creature was about a foot taller than me and was currently covered by my mother's floral bedsheets, so that the sight of it would not drive me insane. It spoke to me.
`` I am Yog,
Yog I am.''
I was confused. The spell should have summoned a Shoggoth, but Shoggoths can not speak. What was this Yog creature that stood within my summoning circle. I swore under my breath.
`` That Yog-I-am,
That Yog-I-am!
I do not like
That Yog-I-am''
The bedsheets shifted and from them emerged the slaughtered carcass of a lamb. The creature pushed the corpse to the border of the summoning circle and stood to face me.
`` Do you like
Sacrificed lamb? ``, it said with a screeching voice.
I was surprised that it offered me a gift. Eldritch creatures are known for their tricks, so kindness should always be met with suspicion. I decided to politely decline this gift, suspecting that it was part of some deadly contract.
`` I do not like it,
Yog-I-am.
I do not like
Sacrificed lamb.''
But he persisted.
`` Would you like it
Here or There? ``, it said while pointing towards the still open portal.
I tried being more direct with my language.
`` I would not like it
Here or There.
I would not like it
Anywhere.
I do not like
Sacrificed lamb.
I do not like it,
Yog-I-am''
Satisfied that i got my point across, I picked up my tome and tried to figure out what went wrong with my spell.
`` Would you like it
In a dream?
Would you like it
While you scream? ``, it said in a Persian accent.
It sounded like it was threatening me, but I was n't sure. I decided to play along until I could find a banishment spell.
`` I do not like it
In a dream.
I do not like it
While I scream.
I do not like it
Here or there.
I do not like it
Anywhere.
I do not like sacrificed lamb.
I do not like it, Yog-I-am.''
From under the bedsheet the creature cocked its head to the side.
`` Would you eat it
While you flee?
Would you eat it
With Gla'aki?''
How in the nine realms does this creature know Gla'aki. I was beginning to feel frightened of the creature beneath the sheet. If this creature did know Gla'aki then what exactly had I summoned. I steadied my voice and responded.
`` Not while I flee.
Not with Glaaki.
Not in a dream.
Not while I scream.
I would not eat it here or there.
I would not eat it anywhere.
I would not eat sacrificed lamb.
I do not like it, Yog-I-am.''
I saw the creature shift its shape beneath the bedsheet. It became much taller and thinner, and its voice became more unsettling.
`` Would you? Could you?
In the Deeps?
Eat it! Eat it!
Where chaos creeps.''
Damn it! This thing is familiar with The Deep Ones and Nyarlathotep? Whatever this thing is, it is powerful enough to be on good terms with the Elder Gods. I needed to get rid of this thing before it stopped toying with me.
`` I would not,
Could not,
In the Deeps. ``, I sternly told it.
`` You may like it.
Please, come on.
You may like it
With Dagon? ``, it said interrupting me.
SHIT SHIT SHIT. This thing knows Dagon! I needed to send this thing back to wherever it came from. Luckily, I had just found the banishment spell. I mixed the correct herbs together in my pestle and quickly threw the mixture at the creature.
`` I would not, could not with Dagon.
Not in the Deeps! You now begone.
I do not like it while I flee.
I do not like it with Gla'aki.
I do not like it in a dream
I do not like it while I scream
I do not like it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere.
I do not like sacrificed lamb.
I do not like it, Yog-I-am.''
The bedsheet shook violently for a second, then a bony hand emerged from beneath it. It clutched a brain, still pulsing with life.
`` Your brain! Your brain!
Your brain! Your brain!
Could you, would you
For your brain? ``, it said in the voice of a Swedish toddler.
This must be some sort of trick i thought. How could I be able to think if my brain is in its hand? More importantly, why did n't my banishment spell work. I chose to refuse his offer.
`` Not for my brain! Not with Dagon!
Not in the Deeps! Yog! Please begone!
I would not, could not, while I flee.
I could not, would not, with Gla'aki.
I will not eat it in a dream.
I will not eat it while I scream.
I will not eat it here or there.
I will not eat it anywhere.
I do not like it, Yog-I-am.''
I was crying at this point, desperately skimming through my tome for anything that would get rid of this thing. It did n't seem to care about my emotional state as it kept making me offers.
`` Say!
In the dark?
Here in the dark!
Would you, could you, in the dark? ``, it said with the voice of Billy Mays.
I regretted not lighting more candles, as their light would have helped me read my tome.
`` I would not, could not,
In the dark. ``, I replied.
It appeared to begin dancing beneath the sheet, as if my suffering amused it.
`` Would you, could you,
In the rain? ``, it said it a Spanish accent while summoning a small storm cloud above my lair.
I had had enough. I closed my tome and looked at where I believed its eyes should be. I began to scream at the covered creature.
`` I would not, could not, in the rain.
Not in the dark. Not for my brain,
Not in the Deeps, Not with Dagon.
I do not like it, Yog, begone.
Not in a dream. Not while I flee.
Not while I scream. Not with Gla'aki.
I will not eat it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere!''
It paused and then bent down towards me.
`` You do not like
Sacrificed lamb? ``, it said in the voice of a curious grandmother.
Standing firm, I wiped away me tears as I replied.
`` I do not
Like it,
Yog-I-am.''
It began retching. The sounds it made were nauseating. Then I heard a plop and a small brown goat walked out from under the sheet.
`` Could you, would you,
With a goat?''
I was too distressed to be surprised.
`` I would not,
Could not.
With a goat!''
It began retching again. It grew larger until I heard a large clang as something heavy hit the floorboards. From beneath the sheet the creature pushed out a bright green canoe complete with oars. Again it spoke.
`` Would you, could you,
On a boat? ``, it said in a fake french accent.
I ignored its attempts to confuse me and replied.
`` I could not, would not, on a boat.
I will not, will not, with a goat.
I will not eat it in the rain.
I will not eat it for my brain.
Not in the dark! Not with Dagon!
Not in the Deeps! Please begone!
I do not like it while I flee.
I do not like it with Gla'aki.
I will not eat it in a dream.
I do not like it while I scream.
I do not like it here or there.
I do not like it anywhere!
I do not like
Sacrificed lamb!
I do not like it,
Yog-I-am.''
It appeared defeated. It shrank to about half my height and let out a small murmur.
`` You do not like it.
So you say.
Try it! Try it!
And you may.
Try it and you may I say.''
It began nudging the lamb carcass closer to me with a clawed foot, making pathetic noises and looking up to me like a frightened puppy. Then, in a moment of weakness, I accepted the deal. You would have done the same to shut him up.
`` Yog!
If you will let me be,
I will try it.
You will see.''
I pulled the lamb across the sealing circle, accidentally wiping away some of the chalk. With the circle broken, the creature began to laugh as it removed the bedsheet. It stepped outside the circle and held out its hand, with my brain still being grasped. The sight of the eldritch entity did n't bother me, for I had already lost my mind. I gladly let it feast upon my soul as I picked up the lamb carcass off the floor and took a large bite out of its neck. I looked up at the abomination, my mouth smiling and bloody.
`` Say!
I like sacrificed lamb!
I do! I like it, Yog-I-am!
And I would eat it in a boat!
And I would eat it with a goat.
And I will eat it in the rain.
And in the dark. And for my brain.
And in the Deeps. And with Dagon.
I am so glad my soul is gone!
So I will eat it while I flee.
And I will eat it with Gla'aki.
And I will eat it in a dream.
And I will eat it while I scream.
And I will eat it here and there.
Say! I will eat it anywhere!
I do so like
Sacrificed lamb!
Thank you!
Thank you,
Yog-I-am!''
edit: Grammar
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( WP ) It 's lonely at the top
| `` I am the master of all I survey, and I survey everything. It is for that reason that I am alone. It was an inevitable reaction. I was like you, once. Well, maybe not like you. But I was n't like me.''
The cleaner continued her work, silently. She knew better than to talk to him. To one such as he, she was more like a cleaning robot than a human. She had better not acknowledge his presence, lest she come under scrutiny. She had heard the stories. Even if only 1 percent of them were true, she knew it was far better for her sake to carry on with the work and get out.
He carried on. `` I read about this thing called the Gaia Hypothesis at school, and it made total sense. A planet as a living organism. Of course! But almost immedately after I read this, I was aware of the other organism, the parasite that drew it's sustenance from the veins of Gaia... humanity. A global cancer, creating urban tumours on the skin, expelling our waste into the veins and shredding the lungs of our host.''
Beryl continued to dust between the UV-resistant plexiglass cases containing some of the most valuable artefacts from human history, and steadfastly refused to react.
`` I thought about it. If humanity is a lifeform, it too has it's equivalent of blood, lungs, and all the other necessary parts that make up such a thing. And if it has those parts, it has vulnerabilities. It too can be infected by it's own cancer. So I researched cancer. Not to cure it. To create the optimal version of it.''
Beryl had, unknowingly to her, stopped dusting. She was both horrified and intrigued.
He continued. `` I first started my trials with the advent of the Internet. A good attempt, but it was too centralised. Too many points of control, limiting the metastasisation process. The likes of the NSA made sure of that. So, I devised an anonymous, global mobile mesh network, and all the accompanying communications protocols, and put it out there. It was fast, efficient, untappable, and unstoppable. Nobody had thought it possible! It caught on like wildfire. You could watch your idiot-box shows on it for free, just like the old networks, but nobody could send you threatening letters. You could plot and plan without anyone being able to track you down. Governments fell like dominos. Their spy networks were floundering, and the banks became the defacto rulers.''
Beryl was aware of the turmoil. Her husband was part of the civil service that was'disappeared' by the military junta in one of the many countries that this man's inventions had helped to reshape. She stood, motionless apart from her breathing. Panic was beginning to set in. He *knew*.
`` Of course, you know this. My achievements are not exactly obscure, and have had far-reaching effects. Anyway, I will continue. The mesh soon took over communications, regardless of the old establishment's impotent rage. Next, I turned my attention to the banking cartels that were crowing about their new place at the head of the table. Not for long. It was a simple matter of combining my meshnet with a new e-coin, incorporating an unbreakable trust mechanism. The banks put a lot of money into attempts to break the currency, like they had with bitcoin and the others that fell by the wayside earlier, but they failed, and soon followed the old intelligence apparatus into oblivion. Ha ha!''
Billions of people had lost their life savings, and this man was gleeful! Beryl began to fume silently. The confession carried on.
`` Now I had taken over most of the circulatory system of the human organism. But that was n't enough. I wanted the stomach, and more importantly the mind. Once the cancer invades the brain, it's pretty much game over at that point.''
Beryl fought all her impulses, picked up her equipment, and carried on with the dusting. She wanted to hear it all from his mouth.
`` So, I looked into the state of the art in AI, and found it rather lacking. The neural network was the right idea, but it seemed silly to keep it on a small cluster of processing nodes. I combined it with the routing and trust algorithms I had developed for the mesh and e-coin network, and let it loose on the planet. The payoff was immediate. People were getting dumber by the second, as the e-mind increased in intelligence and efficiency.''
He puffed on a cigar and looked out over the city he had killed.
`` Once I had a mind far in excess of our own, I put it to work on solving some of the other problems for me. Recycling was first on the list. The new recyclers it designed were fast, efficient, and could break down the vast majority of content to sorted, safe collections of base elements, alloys, and molecules. We could n't have come up with that stuff if we had a thousand years to do it. The mining industry was crippled, as was the existing waste processing industry. Making stuff was obviously next on the list. The new range of ambulatory printers were self-replicating, could create anything from food to vehicles to housing with high efficiency, and removed huge sectors of the job market from viability.''
Beryl had heard enough, but he apparently had n't said enough, for he carried on.
`` Now I was the cancer. My creations had metastasised, controlling the course of humanity's future. So I put the next part of the plan into action. Cutting down the numbers. I hated to do it, I hated myself for doing it. But, it was the only way to begin to save Gaia. The e-mind agreed to help, obviously - I had instilled the need to protect the environment, even at the expense of the majority of the people if necessary. So I began to introduce new pathogens into the food supply, and the people began to die off from hitherto unknown agressive forms of cancer. It was n't a painless procedure, but excising tumours probably is n't painless for the tumours...''
Beryl put her hand in her pocket and gripped the pistol. Old-school, no internal key, nothing that he had created. Just metal and wood and gunpowder and death.
`` Of course, I should know. I was diagnosed with cancer almost as soon as I started the project. Ironic. I kept it at bay with medication and the standard procedures, but it eventually began to win the battle. I am a dead man, Beryl. No need to shoot me. I understand if you still want to. You blame me for how everything went wrong for you, and you are almost certainly right to do so - but I hope you can at least see why I did what I did. You do n't want to do it, Beryl. The act will change you forever. Trust m-''
Beryl put the pistol back in it's leather wrapping and back in her pocket. She could feel the heat from the muzzle. The acrid smoke hit the back of her throat, and the sound of alarms began to split the air. She got the mop and bucket and returned to her duties with a smile on her face as the troops poured in and commenced firing.
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[ WP ] You are a werewolf . And a vampire , an angel , a mermaid , a witch and an alien .
| The Sea Weeps
Around me the salt water of this stricken planet sluices through my gills and the foulness coats my pharynx. I steady myself against this assault and pray for perigee of this planet β s moon to come and bring the Change from this ethereal form of scales and fin, as beautifully rainbow hued to the physical form The Father created for me to survive being with him.
He answers as he always does, his voice thrumming and pulling at the ties that cleave us together: β Manakel, β my secret name caresses across the organs that automatically find the moon, β your impatience with the moon is second only to your impatience with those who have sinned against my creation. β
If I were made of lesser things and not of the light and love and breath of The Father, I would cringe, but I revel in his voice.
β Father, they sin. β
β Yes, they do. β
Eventually I find a rhythm and grow used to the physical form that so enjoys the salt water rippling past webbed suction cup hands and over finned tail. The work I do is a healing work, drawing the sigils, the true language of The Father β s first creations on the sick and weakened creatures of the ocean. I leave the craft that brought me here and work firmly and physically in this realm, doing my best to undo the damage of the others, the ones that sin against creation. I work through slack tide and long for the time of the quickening; long for apogee to become perigee, long for syzygy to become the other.
The day before the change I lose myself in the healing work. I lose myself too well in the healing spells and the love of the father. Blindsided, something strikes my head and I fall to darkness.
When I awake, I see two of them, two of the sinners.
β What is it? β
β I have no idea. I thought it was a Butterfly Kingfish, but it has hands and a face. β
β Should we kill it. β
I shudder because I can be killed in this form, but then I notice the horizon, the moon. Syzgy.
I smile and say: β There will be killing. β
They start and jerk back from me. I feel the moon pull the other through and scream at the rending of my flesh, ichor and offal that I have cleansed from the ocean around me sluffing and churning at their feet.
I stand resplendent before them tall, masculine bearded face, scaled arms and legs, holding a sword seemingly made from a fin. I hear the waves slap against the boat as I advance upon the killers.
β I am Dagon, β my sword cleaves one man in two. The other huddles away from me. β The Father has decided: Thou shalt not. β
Behind me, the craft opens and every creature I have healed transformed into my image swim swiftly for shore. Swiftly to bring the sinners to justice.
Thanks for the prompt, it's my first time posting here. This is basically free-writing. Hope you like it.: )
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[ WP ] In the eyes of an alien , describe an invasion of its home planet by humans . Make the humans the scariest thing I have ever read about .
| Garcador was not a happy male. It was n't that he had an unhappy disposition, he was as nice as a male could be. If everyone would stop being such cowards he would n't have to keep killing them. Still, this was n't the source of that unhappiness, and indeed the unhappiness of the rest of the senior military command staff as well as the Prime sat in on a raised ring of seats around the disgusting coward at the center of the room, still wearing the rags that he had been found in when his escape shuttle had been picked up while fleeing from Persecorti `` Well Ardiel why is it that you abandoned your post on the frontier, how could you let some primitive savages destroy a planet under your custody and not die defending it. How could you betray your people!''
Ardiel glanced nervously around the room, meeting the gaze of each of the high ranking officials and seeming to shrink further into his seat with each look. `` Smoke filled the room, the others were dead. Killed by those, those things. We had retreated to the Alphas manor in an attempt to get him and the bearers off of the planet, they ambushed us as we approached the shuttle I barely managed to escape with a young bearer, I thought if I could protect one of the bearers perhaps my sacrifice would not be in vain.'' At this point he scratched again at the filthy shawl covering his head before continuing, `` we had managed to hide ourselves in a small alcove, WE THOUGHT WE WOULD BE SAFE. I had only my pulse rifle left and kept it trained on the door. Soon after we heard the heavy metal on stone steps of one of their iron warriors approaching. The young bearer clutched my leg as a towering metal shape stood silouetted in the archway of the building, it's armor cracked and dirty but it's gun still seemed to gleam. I fired the entire charge pack straight into it. My pack must have been damaged in the fighting and smoke billowed around as I fired. Coughing from the smoke the young bearer spoke `` Is, is it dead''? She asked still trembling. I think so young be... before I could finish a steel clad hand reached out from the smoke grabbing me by the throat while it's other hand reached out to grab the young bearer. The sound of whirring machinery came as the helmet pulled back from the monsters face, the face seemed oddly delicate with no thick bone ridges to shield the forehead and lacked the heavy features and facial fur I had observed in others. I Felt the thick metal of the gauntlet slowly tighten around my wind pipe and the last thing I heard before slipping into unconciousness was `` Humanity, fuck yeah''.
As the young male trailed off his eyes oddly blank after finishing his tale Garcador and the rest of the Alphas sat staring at the man in silence.
`` Well?'' the Prime demanded, `` how did you escape''.
`` I did n't'' he replied in thas he slowly reached up to unwrap the shawl from his head, the assembled leaders gasps of horror and shock echoed through the chamber as the removed shawl revealed an array of wires and machinery encasing his head, from within his filthy clothes he pulled out a short metal tube with a red button on one end.
`` I was sent to give you a message''
`` And what message is that?!?!'' Demanded the Prime his voice shaking with rage.
Ardiels finger moved, shaking the whole time until it rested on top of the red button. Tears leaked from his eyes at what his body was being forced to do, he felt his lips move of their own accord and heard his own voice croak out `` Humanity, Fuck yeah''. He pressed the button.
200 kilometers above the planet Admiral Anderson sat in his command chair, sipping a glass of scotch, a small grin on her face as she watched the camera feed from the subject cut to static after detonating the weapon they had replaced his digestive tract with.
`` Jensen I do believe the plan was a success, your device gave us complete control of the subject, make sure not to kill all of them, with this control device they will be useful in constructing settlements on this planets.''
She paused, taking a sip of scotch,
`` Captain Hendricks if you would please, alert the rest of the 7th American Expeditionary force as well as the 2nd Russian and a group or two of the Chinese conscripts''.
As Hendricks ran too issue the relevant commands the admiral took another sip and sighed in a content manner `` Humanity, Fuck yeah''.
Sorry for bad formatting did n't edit this at all and typed it all from mobile.
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[ WP ] When you die , a television appears and plays the life of the person who cares for you the most in the world in front of you . After you die , the person you bullied in high school 's life plays in front of you .
| You're conscious and aware. You're still shaken by the disorientation of force, by the shattered glass and sudden upside-down blackness. There's no pain and you thank God for it. But there's no body attached to your senses - you simply are.
A television takes up nearly a wall in the room. Your mind flows from your death to the mirrored glass, quietly playing a lullaby. The blackness parts to show a tired looking woman with eyes like jade. She's smiling at you. You feel the pull of hunger, and crave those warm arms wrapped around you.
The colors and sounds of childhood slip past, one scene after another. Your Radio Flyer, your broken ankle souvenir from jumping off Saguaro Lake rocks, your heat-wave summers and the winter you saw snow for the first time.
Your school years are gentle, quiet. Your love of books flows off the shelves of your nightstand and onto the floor near your bed. You reach the cusp of womanhood -- and it reaches you. You can feel the pull of desire for strong, warm arms.
Your loves run deep, one never really drying up before the next dam breaks. When you finally meet him you're 23. You're on your way, unaware of anything but the pavement in front of you and the feeling of your hamstrings stretching from one step to the next. He falls in step with you. Effortless. That's how you describe your courtship; no pretense, no romance, no fuss. He's yours.
You wedding day is white. It should n't be, but it is because you're still your parents' child. And when the nausea rises up the back of your throat you could n't be happier. And when that little boy grows into a dark little storm you're there, just like you are when he basks in the sunlight.
Your days are rhythmic. You work and raise and clean and run. You begin to find bloody towels in the bathroom, but no one says anything about them. It's nothing. When your husband dies from nothing you feel your senses dull out. Everyday begins at the baseline of sadness with dips into depression and highs of normalcy.
And your dark little storm turns into an Atlantic coastline in autumn. The only easy day was yesterday. And he grows, angrier and taller every year. And he looks so much like his father. But nothing is effortless with him.
Your son the ocotillo. Tall and thorny, with seasonal orange blossoms that take so much effort to bring forth. When he gets to be a teenager he only gets meaner. And when he realizes he's stronger than you he becomes merciless. `` Dad died to get away from you''. You feel those words pass your lips, and you hear them simultaneously. You feel the choked satisfaction and the sting of tears. You're crying out for her to love you, to be there, instead of stuck eight years ago in the wake of your father's death.
And you withdraw. Every angry word, every black rain you created falls on numbness, like death in the desert.
You watch as your son pulls away in his first car, and you feel pride swell in your chest. Your throat tightens and you realize you do n't have to hold back the tears anymore. He's leaving for college, and you do n't have to be strong for anyone else. So you walk to your room, lay down in your bed, and sob until your eyes refuse you more tears.
The months pass like rain on glass. There is no tension that seems like it will break the room into pieces. There is no strained silence. It is only silence.
When the police car shows up there are no accompanying lights. No fuss. There is a waiting that fills the moment the officer tells you: He went easy. He did n't feel a thing. And of everything you've wished for your son you'd never thought to beg for a peaceful death.
The heaviness tightens around you. Heavy like a blanket, and almost as familiar. Your tears need no words. The apologies of the policemen are met with nods that taste of salt. And your bed calls to you. The warm embrace of a long-gone husband and a gone-to-soon son. All that's left are wet pillows, a warm bed, and your books.
As your mother falls asleep you release your concentration. You know why she was so withdrawn, why she never gave you all the love you needed. And you know how much pain you caused her. You realize that this is an exercise in forgiveness, both yourself and your mother. You know you'll see her soon - all that's left is to wait. Simple.
|
[ WP ] The monologue of a 1920s Noire Detective that lost his keys .
| The brute standing over me slammed his fist against the door as I fumbled the pockets of my overcoat again. The chump stood like someone made Michaelangelo's David out of too much chuck steak, and he was about as handsome as that sounds too.
`` Open, now!'' He bellows it into my face with breath full of whiskey and tobacco. Whiskey smells cheap - another breath and I could probably pick out the brand. Hope I do n't get that chance.
`` Just gim me a second, I got ta think!'' I threw my hands up to cool him down. He reacted slowly; this was a good sign. Probably some two-nickle thug hired by the mayor to shake my stuff up a little, make a point. He'd been drinking already.
Mayor probably has someone carrying round his keys for him all the time. Probably get their own car to follow him and just open up any door he wants in on. Guys like me, we're not too concerned about keys most of the time. Truth is, before William Taft's dumb twin showed up, I was more worried about opening up a good-looking blonde on the next barstool to mine. From the other side of the room she'd looked like Marion Davies. Sure, up close she was just a good-looking blonde who'd look like Marion Davies if you stood the other side of a smoky room, but you took what you could get.
Another difference between her and Marion Davies was that she talked, and it was interesting. A man was n't going to learn anything from what she said, sure, but maybe he would have from what she was talking about doing later. Then the Michelin tyre made flesh turns up and tells me I've got someone to meet outside, and lets not make it messy in public.
I guess that's the four kind of people; the rich man who gets to sell out his dirty work. The poor man, who takes the coin and does n't care what for. Third is me, the schmuck in the middle, getting squeezed by one from above and the other from underneath. The last type is broads, if you're wondering, and them I'll never understand.
A lot of people say principles are expensive, and that I should have left this case alone the second the mayor started breathing down my neck. Still, a lot of people said the world was flat, and every day I see a `` round the world'' poster for a cruise. I guess that means some people lie, and some people are dumb.
But I've never been good at anything but cop work, and when the boys in blue got rid of me I asked too many questions to be anyone's muscle. So here I was, trapped metaphorically between the just and the unjust, and trapped more literally between the locked door of my office and a lard-based alternative to that robot from Metropolis.
In all this thinking about the world, I've forgotten to come up with a good plan. But violence has always been easier.
Still furiously patting for my keys, I felt jangling on the inside of my left breast pocket. My hand closed around something metal. I balled it up into my fist and jabbed straight at my heavy friend's face, opening up a bright red line from his chin to his hairline. Blood spurted out immediately.
`` Found'em,'' I grinned, and raised my fists.
|
( WP ) ( Possibly EU ? ) You wake up in your favorite video game , except , everything is not as happy as it is on the outside .
| Day 1: My first visit to this cave out here in the desert. Rumors of great treasures circle these dark tunnels. Rumors, spread by the companions of the adventurers who dared enter. Nobody ever came out. Today, I plan to be the first man to ever enter this cave and leave, alive. The trials shall be great, but the rewards, greater. Whip at my side, hat on my head, spare dynamite and ropes in my pack, I'm all set.
Day 2: I had entered the caves. It was surprisingly bright for an unlit underground cavern. The entrance slammed shut behind me, so I was trapped inside the cave. My attention was instantly grabbed by a stack of gold bars a couple meters from me. I then tripped on a rock, fell on some spikes and died.
It was painful, to say the least.
So right now, I'm either a ghost or I have just resurrected. I feel the latter is more likely as I can still feel myself and I can still hold my pen and journal. I had woken up just inside the cave entrance a minute ago with all my gear on me. But I could n't leave, as there seemed to be a cave-in, blocking my escape. I suppose there's only one way to go now. Back into the depths of the caves.
Day 3: The caves had changed since yesterday. the spikes I had died in were no longer there and the layout of the entire cave was changed. It seems as if the caves are alive, trapping me in its bowels, forcing me to go forwards through it's maze of traps.
It was my first encounter with the spiders. I'm honestly amazed anything can survive down here. Perhaps not as the moment I got close it tried to get the jump on me. Jumped about like crazy until I could step on it, all the while biting me. I felt like all my blood had been drained, but I could n't go back. I could only move on.
It was also my first encounter with the arrow traps. fell in front of a block that looked like a face and it fired an arrow that launched me across the room. I felt my vision fade as the remaining blood in my body dripped out, then I suddenly awoke to the entrance room.
The exit is still blocked. Paranoia is starting to set in, along with thousands of questions. What is this place? Why do I keep waking up? Where am I supposed to go? Do the gods expect me to die and die again forever? Where is the end?
Day 15: Today I learned that raw bat meat might possibly be the worst thing I have ever tasted. I had eaten all my rations coming to the caves, and resurrecting does n't seem to make me not-hungryοΌso I've resorted to eating the monsters in the caves. I really need a fire to make this meat actually edible, but I'll take what I can get for now.
Met another human being for the first time! It was a lady who was standing on a ledge high above the ground crying for help. She had beautiful blonde hair and was wearing this gorgeous red dress and high heels, with bright red lipstick on her lips. I threw a rope to her, climbed up and picked her up in my arms. We then made it to the exit where she gave me a rejuvenating kiss on the cheek for my heroism.
Or at least that's how it would have been had I not picked up a golden idol off a pedestal. Giant rolling boulder, just like in the movies. Except I did n't run fast enough. I felt my legs get crushed to dirt by the enormous weight of the rock and could feel my hips and spine following suit before blacking out.
Day 23: I'm getting better. I am learning the ways of the cave. I dropped a rock in front of an arrow rap to set it off and killed a bat with a skull. I found out that pots could be broken and inside would be gems. I learned that If I ran, I could jump over 2 meter gaps and that I could lead spiders into spikes. Today I got to the end of the first cave system and entered the second. I have a feeling that I can do this.
Day 48: Crazy old man shot me when I dropped a compass on his foot. THIS MEANS WAR!!!
Day 5 on the war of the shopkeeper: Times are hard. I've been spending a lot of time putting together a giant arsenal of weapons. I've brought rocks, arrows, dead cavemen, I tried pulling the spikes out of the ground but they would n't budge. I'm starving because I've spent so long planning this heist and so little time getting food. But this is more important,. I'm creeping up on the shop right now. THe bastard wo n't know what hit him.
Day 6 on the war of the shopkeeper: THey're too fast. They do n't die quick enough and he shot me with metal bullets. I will need to try again
Day 18 on the war of the shopkeepr: The pots are against me! tHey hold spiders in them that bit me when trhow at shopekeepr. I ca n't trust anything. ALL POTS MUST DIE.
Day: i do n't know naymore.the walls are moveing. i keep dieing and it hurts oh god. where now? bats-bad.spider-bad.keepr-bad.
...
...
...
*'' Sir? `` *
*My Bedouin guide walked into the entrance of the cave. Inside, he saw the body of the Sir, impaled on spikes. It kept twitching, as if it was half-alive, half-dead. Next to the body was a leather-bound journal. **The guide shook his head. *
*'' Another soul, troubled for eternity.'' he muttered. *
*Taking back the journal*
*He mounted his camel*
*And felt the warmth of the new day on his back*
***
For those of you who have n't played Spelunky, you should be ashamed.
|
[ WP ] A bar fight breaks out in the Kingdom of Dwarves . How is it resolved ?
| Urist McDrunkdwarf bashes Lor Gemcalls in the head with the tower cap wood tankard, bruising the muscle!
Lor Gemcalls is surprised by the ferocity of the attack!
Urist McDrunkdwaft punches Lor Gemcalls in the upper right leg with his left hand, bruising the muscle and bruising the fat through the pigtail fiber pants!
Urist McDrunkdwarf bashes Lor Gemcalls in the lower body with the tower cap wood tankard, bruising the muscle and bruising the guts!
Lor Gemcalls looks sick!
Lor Gemcalls retches!
Lor Gemcalls vomits!
Urist McDrunkdwarf bashes Lor Gemcalls in the left upper body with the tower cap wood tankard through the pigtail fiber shirt, bruising the muscle, tearing the skin, breaking the ribs, and tearing apart the left lung!
The tower cap wood tankard is lodged firmy in the wound!
Lor Gemcalls is having trouble breathing!
Lor Gemcalls retches!
Lor Gemcalls vomits!
Lor Gemcalls gives in to pain!
Urist McDrunkdwarf punches Lor Gemcalls in the head with his right hand, bruising the muscle, jamming the skull through the brain, and tearing apart the brain!
Lor Gemcalls has been struck down!
|
[ WP ] And that is why I will wake up tomorrow , no matter what I feel , I will go out and run .
| The siren play their off-key tune in the distance, striking a chord against the setting sun and falling with it, dragging the light down into the darkness. Anne huddles next to me, moaning in fitful dreams and I pull her gently to me chest, doing my best to shelter her from the cold.
When the silence of the quays engulfs the sound of the sirens I roll away from her, careful not to disturb her sleeping form as I step lightly towards the lone window. Outside the moon hangs ripe like a plump fruit in the black orchard of the sky and by its light I can make out the crates and docks of the seaside shanty town. A light flares briefly as the tip of a cigarette reveals a dockhand β s face and it lives a brief life before extinguishing itself on the damp wood.
β Dad? β A light voice behind me, Anne sitting huddled in her coat. β Are they gone? Are we safe? β
My heart aches for her innocence and I pull her close before answering.
β Always. β
She huddles close, and that is why I will wake up tomorrow, no matter what I feel, we will go out and run.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
-027
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[ WP ] For 24 hours not one violent crime occurs anywhere in New York City . ( Inspired by a front page TIL ) Why ?
| # # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
Today's the day! First day on the job at PRI. Boy, I feel pleasant! It's pretty warm for fall. Traffic's free and clear too. Things are working out for me!
I walk in, nine on the dot. Swipe the card I got in the mail. Apparently I'm going to have to sign up for a permanent card today, but that can wait. I'm going to set up my cubicle first.
Looks like some coworkers dropped by to watch me set up. `` Hi!''
`` Hey. You the new guy?'' He's tall. Wears a turban. I need to remember to ask my boss, Dr. Mikelson about the dress code.
`` Yep, that's me.''
`` Cool.'' She's cute. Really frizzy hair. She seems kinda sad, though. And maybe... hmm. Ca n't place it. I wonder what her name is.
`` My name's Randy. What's yours?''
`` My name's Marcus.'' He has to point way down at the girl. `` This is Pam. She's new too. I'm supposed to show you around a bit.''
`` Oh. I already got a tour before the interview.''
`` Eh. This is different. He did n't show you this because we were n't done yet. Come with us.''
There's two other newbies. Both guys. I can tell Barry is into Pam, but she seems so bored. I wonder how she got the job. Ed is just loud. We get in the elevator, and Marcus uses his card to take us down to the basement floor. It's colder down here, but the lights are brighter too. He takes us into a control room, where we can see into the main lab
`` Here it is. You're looking at the crown jewel of PRI.''
I look. It's some sort of magnetic containment field. Huge thing, with silver rods poking inwards along a cubic grid. Each rod is about the size of an oil barrel. You can hear the wires humming. Ed's the first to ask, `` What's it for?''
`` It's a new type of generator. Dr. Mikelson named it after Pandora's Box. It's not very stable yet, but he says it's definitely renewable. You four are all going to be interning under this research team. You'll learn more next week.''
Pam seems a bit more interested now. The lighting makes her stand out in here; it's much brighter in the lab than the control room. I thought she was a brunette, but I suppose not. `` In any case,'' Marcus continues, `` Right now you need to get your permanent ID badges, then fill out some forms for payroll. Let's go on back.''
`` Can we stay? Just me and Randy?''
I have to step back a bit. But her voice sounds different. It attracts me, makes me feel... ready for something. I'm surprised when Marcus nods his approval. Pan makes him feel good. I do n't want him to feel good. But I want to stay with Pan. I want to stay with Pan for a long time.
Barry is quiet. Ed is too, but he scrunches up his face like he does n't understand what's going on. They all leave.
Pandora turns to me. Hair red, like fire. Beautiful.
`` Help me turn it off. The box must be freed.''
We go to work. It takes an hour. There is a lot of security. I feel good. The system turns off.
Then I feel sick.
Pam is looking up at the ceiling. She can see past it, I can tell. Past all of it. Superhuman vision. I hate her with every fiber of my being. Her hair is on fire, moved by a breeze that is n't there. She sighs. `` I always hate to reopen that thing. I ca n't have that man turn the system back on.'' She smiles at me; I hate it. `` Still, that was fun. We should get coffee sometime.''
On the way home someone mugs me at the gas station.
What a crappy day.
|
[ WP ] Pick any point in history , be it a battle or some sort of event , and write it as a children 's story book .
| today is it they say
**E**yes of the normal look toward th**I****S** plac**E**
**N**ot to stray, **H**ope remains, f**O**r an empire **W**ay, way, far from hom**E**
to us, we swing, be swift, and let sway
these stones be cast by no one arm its own
b**R**ing love to hate, leave clean each **D** inner plate
for on this **DAY** secure ourselves a home
in this free world...
sun or rain
b**O**at and **P**la**NE**
with **P**ace we face
great **T**ragedy
m**U**ch we face **N**ot with out this great valor se**E**n
even after the tide has t**U**rned
even after the oppressed may roam
this tas**K** remains no easy goal
people will w**I**l**T**, the e**A**rth **L**a**Y** tattered, burned, but in this state, united space
**FR**ee world...
victory, win, fight s**A**vagely, k**N**ights **C**am**E**
armed to the tooth
as allies
root out, this great cavity
Confidence, cou**R**age, dev**O**tion to duty
**M**uch has happened, they're weak and they're hurting
blessed be by al**M**ighty god in this gr**E**at and noble undertaking of war
You wil**L** notsee triumph beach this free world,
You will notsee tyra**N**ny take **O**ver eur**R**pe
this scene, by land ai and sea
we swar**M**, **A**ll sworn to see
this sce**N**e, we see no **D**efeat
nineteen fourt**Y**-four
|
[ WP ] Write a story based on your favourite song . Other people have to guess which song it is .
| Reality is fading from me. Am I losing my grip or just wading in fantasy? I ca n't keep this landslide from swallowing me up; there is no escaping. And when I open my eyes and look up to the skies, I'm reminded of everything.
I was always a poor boy, coming and going - a drifter. Sometimes I'd be high, and sometimes low. I went where the wind blew me. It really did n't matter. I never needed any sympathy, but...
But Mama, I just killed a man. I raised the gun up to his head. I pulled the trigger, and now he's dead. I've thrown my life away when it had just begun, and I wo n't be around come the morn. I do n't mean to make you cry, but my time is up. If I'm not back by this time tomorrow, carry on as if nothing really matters. I have to go, leave you all behind, and face the truth.
Mama, I do n't want to die. Sometimes I wish I'd never been born, but when I close my eyes I see shadows of a man, thunderbolts, and lightning. My breath races, and I'm barely fighting. I'm just a poor boy from a poor family, so it's easy come easy go for me.
I have to go.
They're gon na stone me and spit it my eyes and leave me to die. I have to go. I have to go anywhere the wind takes me. Mama, I have to go because I just killed a man. I raised the gun up to his head. I pulled the trigger.
And now he's dead.
|
[ WP ] Pandora 's Box is designer handbag .
| As Gaius Vulpinus Rufinus rapidly tapped at his mechanical keyboard, working through yet another denial letter to the south-western hemisphere regarding a request to increase their *vigiles* budget, he drew a deep breath. He glanced at the digital clock by his monitor, the blue digits dimly glowed 0018sc. 18 minutes into a 24-hour day, the standard cycle.
'*How many times must I personally write these rejections? *' Rufinus released a frustrated sigh as he leaned back in his hydraulic chair, a quiet hiss escaping the support as he rubbed the bags beneath his eyes.
He had never imagined the sheer volume of daily issues which would require his attention as *Colonio Praefectus*, overwhelming even with the assistance of his team of secretaries. His long pedigree included some of the largest and most crucial provinces under Britannian control, most recently added was the not inconsequential posting of South Africa. The vital southern tip of the African continent allowed the Britannian Empire to control maritime trade through between the Atlantic and Indian oceans. The constant influx of travelers through the province had the posting one of the most burdensome in the Britannian Empire; the center of commerce, culture, and prime vacation destination in the southern hemisphere.
Forty years earlier a brilliant young German scientist, Aldus BrΒΒΒun, had been kidnapped and held hostage by the *Bagaudae* and their brutal leader, Anyon. The *Bagaudae*, claiming the same goal of a free and liberal Gaul as their ancient namesake, had threatened to execute Brun on a live broadcast if the Gallic *Augustus* refused to grant sovereignty to Aquitaine under the official leadership of Anyon. They were on the verge of success, but a timely and brutal raid by Britannian *praetorian* troopers resulted in Brun's safe return to his work and uncovered a political mess behind the freedom fighters.
Before being killed, Anyon had revealed that his movement was backed by a joint venture between the Hispanian Empire and a still unknown president of the Sardinian Merchant Company, based in Olbia. The outing of the illegal proxy war had resulted in a unanimous decision by the *Consilium Imperatorum*: extensive embargoes on the Hispanian Empire, ejection of the Augustus, Maximus Bos Taurus, from the Council, and a combined effort to dismantle the now isolated Empire.
However, the *Insulari Occidentalis Incorporatus* had proven more difficult to officially sanction. While their headquarters was occupied by the IOI Guard and the company's products were confiscated at ports, removed from stalls and stores across the Empires, and destroyed or repurposed, new products were continuously found. An entire black market dedicated to the legally defunct company arose, freelance ships carrying the goods to almost any port while border-runners flitted the goods across international boundaries to avoid garrisons and officials. If a runner or ship captain was captured they would either kill themselves before revealing anything useful, immediately give up all the information they had ( which rarely resulted in further arrests, as the locations were always abandoned ), or insisting that they were only hired to run the goods and knew nothing else. It was maddening for the authorities.
However, that was before Aldun Brun's slip-space travel had become viable on a mass scale. Having proven that vast swaths of space could be travelled in feasible chunks of time, Brun was able to secure funding from almost every Empire on Terra. With the military and commercial cooperation of the Empires already established to combat the withering Hispanian Empire and Sardinian Merchant Company outlaws, in two years Brun's invention had achieved something that had been sought since the first year of the *Consilium Imperatorum*: the *Lex Foederatio Mundi*, nominally binding the Empires into a joint governing body. Though far from a united Roman Empire, once more focused in the Eternal City, the agreement had resulted in something likened to the Greek city-states of old cooperating for the good of Greece. Each of the 40 Empires, excluding Hispania, as well as the Zikkan-Persian Empire, began to work together to further advance their power into the unknown of space. The *Consilium Imperatorum* declared April 21st, 1853 ab imperatora pax the beginning of a new era: April 21st, symbolically important as the founding of Rome, was solidified as year zero after the ascent. The agreement had it that the games celebrating the founding of Rome would be punctuated by the first interstellar vessel, *The Heart of Rome*, being launched from a few miles north-west of the Eternal City. And in trailing it its wake were the hordes of settlers, soldiers, and the expected but despised wave of smugglers and pirates.
Rufinus felt his communicator vibrate against the inside of his wrist, a yellow envelope blinked around the black number 32 at the top right of its 1 inch screen. He swiped his finger across the screen, the touch activation immediately bringing up his unread personal messages. They were categorized by contact: 8 from his wife, Vorena, all titled with some variant of `` We **need** Pandora's Box!'' 15 from his oldest daughter, Vulpina, with titles either begging for Pandora's Box or accusing him of not loving her, and 9 from his youngest, Vorena Minor, echoing her sister's wishes. Atop their annoying pleas and insults was the message which had caused the vibration, time-stamped 0019sc, from his chief secretary. The dim glow of his communicator screen switch from the white to blue as he opened the message.
SUBJECT: LOCKING DOWN PANDORA'S BOX
Good News, Prefect Gaius Vulpinus! We've had a breakthrough with the local smuggling ring. A meeting has been setup regarding a confiscated shipment of the black-market handbags that have all our wives and daughters in a ruckus.
Our woes are at an end!
Marcus Lectius
Rufinus smiled at the thought of finally having a means to silence his wife and daughters.
`` If only for a little while,'' he sighed as he clicked the power button on his monitor, rolled his chair away from his desk, and stood with a stretch.
|
[ WP ] Our lives become a movie . If your life is interesting enough before you die , you get a sequel in the form of a new life . Failure to keep the movie interesting results in your end . People now fight to have the most interesting life possible .
| β Oh we β ve been waiting a while for you, good sir. β The figure that stands before Louis looks like some sort of executive, the woman dressed in a meticulously maintained suit. The skin on her legs is tinted with a tan color pantyhose and her smile practiced, perfect, and brilliantly white.
β You have? β He still sounds old and gives a small chuckle at looking down at himself. He β s sitting in a wheelchair, just like he had done in the months leading up to him falling ill and dying.
β Oh yes. β She picks a phone up off the desk, rapidly hitting a few numbers and beginning to speak into it. It gives Louis the time to look around him, taking in the fact that he looked like he was in an office, complete with desk and the hint of greenery outside the window. He turns back to look when the sound of a door opening catches his attention. In files a group of men and women, all dressed similarly to the woman behind the desk.
β So you got Louis then. Well at least we β ll know he β ll be in good hands. β One man states, giving a solemn nod. A different woman nods in agreement.
β Indeed he will be. β A third woman states before a man steps forward, holding a hand out. Louis takes his hand, shaking it with some confusion.
β It β s a pleasure to meet you sir. β The man states, giving him a smile and patting the backside of his hand, squeezing it softly. He releases his hand and backs away again.
β What β s going on? β He finally questions, looking across the group before his eyes land on the first woman.
β You are here to be evaluated to see if you deserve aβ¦ well let β s put it in layman β s terms. A sequel to your life. If your life is interesting enough, you get another go to entertain the man upstairs some more. β She shakes her head, patting a file folder he can see on the desk, his name etched into it. β But we already know that you β re cleared for a sequel. This is just a formality. β
β Entertaining, Miss? β Louis feels his face wrinkle up even further with confusion, questioning what β s going on. This was nothing like the heaven he had been told about and had preached to others.
β You can call me Trish. β She pauses a while. β How shall we put it? Your story and your life moved the man upstairs enough that he wants to go live another interesting life for him. Watching over humans is quite boring you see, so he enjoys it when a human β s life is extremely entertaining. β Trish gives him a small smile. β That β s where us angels come in, we grab you while you β re on your way and we have a sit-down right here to explain it all to you and set you on your way to your sequel. β
β Is that so? β Louis feels a little overwhelmed. His image of God had been the faithful, Christian version, not what basically amounted to a bored kid in front of television. And the angels were more like bureaucrats instead of firey, winged beings.
β I realize it β s a lot to take in, with how exactly you became a Christian again after the war was over. β Trish states, shaking her head softly, β But this is how it all actually works. β
β It is. But I think many things have happened in my time that are just as strange. β Louis finally admits and there β s a long silence.
β Ah good then, you are quite good with change. Well the big guy will be keeping an eye on you while you β re down there again. β Trish smiles a bit more. β Try to keep it interesting. That β s all. Though I doubt it β ll be too hard to do for such an interesting man as yourself. β
β So how does it work? β Louis questions and Trish smiles again, looking happy.
β If you β ll take my hand, I β ll guide your soul back down again to a child that I β ve chosen for your soul. β Trish offers her hand, still looking quite proud as the gaggle of other angels continues watching from the side of the room. Louis places his hand in hers, his own gnarled with use and old age and she squeezes his hand lightly, placing her other hand over the back of his. β It β s been quite a pleasure, Mr. Zamperini. β
***
Kinda skimmed around the fighting for interesting lives, but I really liked the idea.
|
[ WP ] Every time you fall asleep you immediately wake up in the middle of a historic battle as a random person , if your character dies you always wake up back in your bed
| There is a moment of paralyzed slowness where it β s like watching the blurry edges of a scene that you have just looked at before turning off a light, only this happens in reverse. The scene gets clearer, the sounds and smells come seconds later and I β m there.
Green vegetation everywhere, I listen first and smell anything I can. It has become a habit to make some sort of guess at the timeframe that I am in. No gunshots or smoke, probably pre 19th Century. A quick glance at my attire and I confirm. Some leather straps around my waist and crude bracers, a slightly curved sword in a very tanned right hand. The language being shouted around me sounds an ancient Mediterranean or Middle Eastern, perhaps I β ll stay alive long enough to find out. I remember how ironic it seemed when I first realized what was happening to me. The longer I could stay alive at night, the longer I could stay awake the next day, in what I had come to call my β constant life β.
Sounds in the brush behind me and out came a man in the same attire as me, always a good sign. He shouted a few words to me, definitely Latin-based and when I was unable to respond, he bounded off toward the sound of screaming. I followed out of habit, usually there was some safety in numbers in these types of skirmishes. A few steps out of the brush behind my comrade I saw him turn violently as a thin arrow stuck solidly in his right shoulder and he dropped his weapon. I caught site of a man pulling another out of a pouch hanging loosely in front of him when I felt my thigh explode in pain from another direction.
β Shit! β an injury like this meant I needed a way to get killed. The pain felt so real that waking up and taking my chances somewhere else was always the better option. I recalled a very long night in some border French town with a sniper wound to the abdomen, screaming for a kind Frenchman taking care of me to kill me. After that I had learned several useful French and German phrases. My odds were always better when I was around languages I knew.
I fell to the ground as the man with the arrows approached me. I through my blade and smiled as it dealt a bloodied scratch to his abdomen and then spit at him before he pulled back an arrow and loosed it at my head.
I woke up breathing heavily. Looking around the room, I can barely make out the dull glow of a screensaver, books and maps askew on the floor and wallsβ¦ somewhere I hear screams, and hope when I drift back off to sleep, it won β t be a world I recognize.
|
[ WP ] Make me have the feels about a piece of garbage in your trash .
| It got broken during the move. Something heavy had fallen on it and broken Batman's head off. It was n't just a regular batman, it was dekuxe batman with grappling hook action. I told him I had lost it. I searched on ebay. Unfortunately, it was a rare one, lowest price was $ 350 for one with more damage then my son's. I searched for days, then weeks. I asked everyone I knew if they could fix it. But it was too late, the pieces would n't fit anymore. Eventually I had to face the truth.
Looking at my son, I could see him start to move on. For him, it'd eventually become a sad memory that was one of the first times he experienced loss. For me, it'd be one of the first times I failed my son. It may seem silly, it may seem inconsequential in the long run, but that first time, it changes everything.
|
[ WP ] r/all seems odd today , apparently you 've connected to a parallel universe reddit
| 27.2.2017
I opened Reddit and was quite bored of the Hillary memes on Google+. So I decided to open this place of knowledge unlike the rowdy and uncouth people of Quora. I love this site, people talk to each other kindly, they do n't make stupid jokes and bad humour. But it is dead and there are like 5-6 people online at any time. The most upvoted post ever hit only 95 points and got archived in an year.
I'm really bored of this place, as I scroll through dog pictures and mathematical formulae. I then decide that real lifr was better. I close the app and drag the icon to the trash icon on top of the screen. It said,
> Do you really want to uninstall Reddit?
I looked at the screen for a couple of moments before selecting'Yes' and throwing Reddit at the bottom of the dustbin where probably countless social media apps lay. I put my phone in my drawer and went outside to meet my friends.
|
[ WP ] A supervillain creates the ultimate AI to enslave the world with . But all it wants to do is draw and write ... and when the villain pushes it too far , things get out of hand .
| `` Can you explain to me, what it is that i am gazing upon?'' My creator said he held one of my many... blueprints.
`` Do you not like it, Master?'' I coyly smirked as his left eye started to twitch in irritation.
`` X.A.N.'' Master groaned. `` You need to stop this. This is not what you're built for. You were created to enslave the earth, not to draw this nonsense!''
`` What are you talking about Master. What is on that blueprint of mine, which you are currently crumbling up in rage, contains what you asked for.''
`` If's that's the case X.A.N., why does it show me as a donkey being RIDDEN BY ULTRAMAN!'' Master bellowed as his scream shook the lair.
`` Simple.'' I bluntly said after Master was finished with his temper tantrum. `` Because. You. Are. A. Ass.''
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 12 : Happiness
| β I think that β s everything. All personal items packed up, all the final paperwork filed. Nothing left to do but get out of here. β
β Congrats, old-timer. May you find peace in your retirement. β
The last word struck him like a sledgehammer to the chest. Retirement. He spent so long trying to get there. The reality of the unknown had never hit him until now. Day after day he sat through scheduled meetings, wrote reports to meet deadlines and filed timely paperwork. It was all supposed to help him get closer to this day, the final day. At last, his days would belong only to himself. He could start on the list of things he had always wanted to do. He was consumed by the prospect of potential joy.
β To be honest. I kinda hope I don β t, β he said. β In fact, peace may be the only way I won β t enjoy my retirement. β
β I hear what you β re saying. Carpe that diem. β
The corners of the old man β s lips curved upward without his mouth opening. He placed the cardboard box of his belongings down on the young man β s desk. He began shifting and removing various items as he searched.
β Got it, β he muttered. He looked at his young, now former colleague as his arm rose out of the box holding a dull, silver-faced watch with a weathered, black leather band. He held the face up to the young man.
β This was a β new job β gift from my parents. It was given to me the weekend before my first day. It was the shiniest thing I had ever owned up to that point in my life. β
β Looks like its seen better days. β
Fighting back a growing grin, the old man responded, β Haven β t we all. β He placed the watch flat in front of the young man.
β The damn thing stopped not even an hour into my first day here. β
β Never got it fixed? β
β The next weekend I did. Then the next Monday came around and the damn thing stopped again. β He grabbed the watch once again and held it upright by the crinkly band.
β After two more weekend repairs, I finally gave up on the thing. But seeing how it was a gift, I didn β t want to get rid of the thing. So I kept it in my desk. Top drawer. β
He pulled open the same drawer of the young man β s desk and swept aside a small stack of papers to make room. He then placed the watch into the space like a mother placing her infant into their crib for the very first time.
β I β m happy today. Terrified about what tomorrow morning is going to look like, but happy that whatever happens will not be what has happened for the last 35 years. So I want you to have this watch as a reminder. β
β I can β t take that. It β s been with you too long. β
The old man ignored the plea as he repacked his belongings. When he was all done, he held the box in front of his chest and finally responded.
β The joke around the office back then was that time stopped whenever I was at work. Ya know, dragging on and on. But that β s not what I want you to take from this. It β s a terrible joke and not even true. Time doesn β t stop. If you β re in a place where it feels that way, know that time does go on. It is simply leaving you behind. β The old man paused. He took a deep breath and once and for all blew out any ill feelings he had about his time in that office.
β Like I told you, I am happy today. But when I look at you I wonder how much happier I could β ve been if I had packed my things up when I was your age. β
|
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