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[ IP ] Beware the Weight of the World
| Above the drowned pillars, the sky seemed to bend, spiraling outward to reveal a light brighter than the sun itself. She let the tension flow from her bones like the waves lapping against the rock on which she stood.
She was barefoot. One does not talk to gods while wearing shoes. They are a symbol of freedom from the earth, and therefore the divine. That is the way of things.
“ Great God above, you have flooded my people. I am alone. I beg for forgiveness to you, Great God. ”
Even if you did nothing wrong, you beg for forgiveness. That is the way of things.
Clouds gathered, boiling on the horizon. But behind her, roof tiles rose from the deep. Stepping stones.
The gods do not talk to men, much like men do not talk to ants. There is a barrier of tongues and understanding. The gods speak through action. They part the sky and raise what was once deep. That is the way of things.
Giving thanks, she turned, stepping across the roof, and over the Ocean.
|
Taking from r/worldnews , `` Gunman in clown suit kills senior Mexican drug cartel member ''
| Gun with silencer attached, in pocket. Lower level windows barred shut. Try garage door, won ’ t budge. Try fence, easy access. Dog attached to my heels barking in alarm. Start over.
Gun in pocket. Unhook neighbor ’ s dog from tree, lead over to fence. Open gate and release neighbor ’ s dog. Dogs take chase into the street. Cleared backyard. Walk past side garage entrance. Round the corner into BBQ festivities. Easily recognized as stranger. Start over.
Gun in pocket. Give chase to dogs. Enter garage side entrance. Pick up lighter fluid. Walk into house. Kitchen abundant with people cooking and drinking. Turn into study to avoid notice. Scan over desk, pocket letter opener. Walk into hall. Slip past kitchen into laundry room. Temporary day care, spotted by children who start screaming. Mothers from kitchen walk in and sound the alert. Start over.
Gun in pocket. Give chase to dogs. Enter garage side entrance. Walk into house, turning into the study to avoid notice. Pick up letter opener. Walk into hall, slip into bathroom. Find clown passed out by toilet. Strip clown and put on costume. Walk into hall, slip past kitchen into laundry room. Kids still scream, but now from fear of clowns. Mothers from kitchen walk in, “ Get outside and stop scaring the kids you perv. ” Say nothing and cop a feel. Exit out to back patio. Open buttons to costume to reach for gun, spotted by homophobic guests who think you ’ re making a move. They proceed to start a beating. Start over.
Gun in pocket. Give chase to dogs. Enter garage side entrance. Walk into house, turning into the study to avoid notice. Pick up letter opener. Walk into hall, slip into bathroom. Change into clown costume. Scare kids. Cop a feel. Walk onto patio. Grab an empty drink, indicate you need a refill. Walk back into house. Set the cup down and instead go up the stairs. Find a room with a window overlooking patio. Bedroom window has perfect angle. Window swollen shut. Jam it open with letter opener. Pull out gun with silencer. Take the shot. Turn around, party guest standing in open doorway. Start over.
Gun in pocket. Give chase to dogs. Enter garage. Walk into house, into study. Pick up letter opener. Walk into hall, then bathroom. Become clown. Scare kids. Cop a feel. Walk onto patio. Grab an empty drink. Walk back into house. Go upstairs. Enter bedroom. Shut the door. Jam open window. Take the shot. Pause behind door. Silencer hid position, hear guest rush downstairs toward the commotion. Open door and follow. People running about the house calling for help. Enter bathroom. Put on suit. Keep nose for souvenir. Slip out bathroom, then two steps to front door. Walk around block and wait for cops to pass. Achieve silence.
|
[ WP ] You have a superpower that let 's you `` smell '' what a person is like . For example , good hearted people smell good like vanilla , and a bad person would smell something like a public bathroom . One day , you meet someone who does n't smell like anything .
| Do n't bother trying to cover it up with perfumes or soap. If you notice me leaning in on you on the underground, it's because I'm getting to know you better. Everyone's soul has a scent. Most people smell of unwashed hair. I can smell your soul.
Art galleries are great places to exploit my gift. To protect the fragile paintings a sterile climate is intensely controlled. You can get a really interesting mix of preoccupied people here.
I was getting a good taste of everyone in the room. I'd been here a few times and started to notice the bouquet of a few regulars. Scents can be much more distinctive than faces. I often pondered if animals interacted with one another like this.
There was an exhibition room dedicated solely to paintings of flowers. Voluptuous, healthy flowers painted with flawless technique, but it did n't see a lot of visitors. The subject matter was rather mundane and it was obscured behind a single set of heavy oak doors with small sunken window panes.
One of the regulars was alone in that room. He was standing almost perfectly still and before the same Dutch composition as always. His eyes were set in a focussed stare, but they were not moving around the portrait; they were almost like the dead in their focus. His breathing made no sound. Then I realised I could not smell him at all, and could not remember if I ever had done so.
The fact I did not yet have a read on him was no surprise. He was utterly invisible to my gift. This had never occurred before. I suddenly became grossly intrigued with this unknown man. This must be the taste of a perfect vacuum.
After a while, it dawned on me that we were uncomfortably close. Then I felt the relationship between us become self-conscious. Cold sweat spawned over my shoulders and the back of my neck.
The room behind those thick doors felt slung out a million miles away. The soft lights over the picture frames managed to dim even further. Traces of brimstone and hot soil flared in my nostrils. Like an hour hand, that scentless man turned towards me from the neck. Adrenaline ran up my body like rigor mortis.
Terrified. Unable to move and starting to choke. His glare. The abyss. *I was caught in the essence of the abyss itself! *
|
[ WP ] You had the perfect plan for a murder/heist but there was one thing you could n't possibly account for .
| `` This is it'' he thought as he ran through is mental checklist. `` Alibi, check. River to dispose of gun parts, check. No witnesses, check. Stupid cheating wife, check. Done, too easy...''
He saw her running down the dimly lit path, getting closer an closer, so he took one last deep breath. As she ran past, he stood off to the side of the trail, hidden by the scrub, unable to move. He could visualize the squeeze of the trigger, the sound, the scream, the thud, the escape, but he was unable to move.
The one thing he had n't planned on was random memory, a flashback of only a second, the look in her eyes on their wedding day. He remembered the depth in those eyes, the infinite mystery, and fell in love with her again.
She ran past, after she was 100 yards away, he stepped silently out of the bushes and drove home in silence.
|
[ WP ] You are reincarnated as a voice within a schizophrenic 's head .
| He did n't trust me at first. That was a surprise. I expected the insane to listen to the voices in their head.
`` That shirt looks really good on you.''
`` Fuck off.''
It *did* look good. But he did n't wear it.
I think our culture has primed him against me. He thought I was the same force that tried to drown Russell Crowe's baby or make Michael Keaton jump out of a window. But I just wanted to help.
I learned to stay quiet. Do n't make waves. Do n't distract him. Treat it like television rather than a video game.
But then she walked up and kissed him. It was late and they were drunk and neither of them wanted to go home alone.
It was the best show I had in years.
In the morning, he tried to slip out. She caught him as he searched for his pants and wrapped her arms around him. `` I had a really good time last night, James,'' she said.
I could feel his panic percolating into my little corner of his mind.
`` I had a really nice time too...''
`` *Cassandra*,'' I whispered.
``... Cassandra,'' he said.
On his way out, he said thank you.
I guess this is my talent. I have no distractions. I'm just watching and learning. Always here to help. He is distracted and busy. I'm focused. I'm committed to this partnership. He started to see that.
I urged him to go back to school. He did n't think he could do it but I knew *I* could, and is n't that enough? And we did do well. I'd stay up at night as he slept, listening to books on tape. Memorizing bones and arteries and diseases and procedures all night long. I did n't need to sleep.
It was n't easy for him. I was smarter than him and that was frustrating. He tried to help at first but it just got in my way.
He would get angry and we'd fight. He would n't flip the pages of my books. A question would come his way in class and I'd leave him twisting in the wind.
Once, he missed Cassandra's birthday. His day planner was on strike.
Eventually, we found a solution. A solution of ethyl alcohol, to be precise. As long as he could grasp the pages and keep his eyes in focus, I could keep studying. I had to yell a bit louder to get his attention, but at least he had something to do.
Not that it was easy for me. People noticed and I was embarrassed by that. I had to badger him to shower, shave, and wash his clothes. Sometimes he would mispronounce something I said and I would get so angry at him. But at least we were moving forward. Top of the class.
I worried about how long his body would last.
Before the interview at Johns Hopkins I had him take 3mg of Clonazepam and told him to stay out of my way. He did n't say anything except what I told him to say. My perfect Cyrano.
Afterwards, he drank a fifth of gin as we walked to the parking lot.
`` That's too much,'' I said.
He did n't respond.
`` It's dangerous to mix benzodiazepines and alcohol. Do n't you know that?''
He laughed loud enough that people turned to look at us. He pulled out a bottle of vodka from his bag.
`` We're going to have to get a taxi. You drank too much, even for you.''
He did n't respond and I saw the car approaching, one shuffling step at a time. I screamed at him but he did n't listen.
We got to the car and he shoved our hand into a pocket and then another. `` Where are my keys?'' he asked.
They were tucked inside his suit.
`` They were in your hand when you went outside,'' I said, `` Did you drop them?''
He glanced back towards the building but instead of walking back he took off his shoulder bag and started rifling through it.
`` Oh right,'' I said, `` You must have dropped them into your bag when you grabbed the bottle.''
He kept digging. The bag was a mess. I could never get him to keep it clean.
`` They're probably right at the bottom,'' I saiid.
He searched and then got frustrated and dumped the contents of his bag onto the asphalt. He was on hands and knees, scrambling for keys. The wind winnowed away the paper and other lighter detritus but the keys, of course, were nowhere to be found.
After a few minutes he threw the bag into a nearby bush and collapsed against the car.
`` It's alright, James,'' I said soothingly. `` Why do n't you just have a nap against the car. You'll feel better when you wake up.''
I started whispering a lullaby.
Suddenly, he had a burst of inspiration. James stood up and shoved his hand into his inside pocket.
`` I got the keys now, asshole,'' he slurred.
It took him a few tries to get the key into the lock. I pleaded with him to stop. It was as much to distract him as it was to reason with him.
He got into the car and fumbled with the ignition, dropping his keys twice. But the engine started and he pulled the shifter into reverse and floored it. The car leapt backwards and smashed into something. He pushed it into drive and jerked the wheel too far to the left, crashing into a pickup truck. He tried to reverse away but his bumper was wedged under the truck.
He stepped out of the car. He never saw the security guard and the tackle drove him into the pavement.
James kicked and thrashed but the guard was heavy and he was weak. Immobilized, all James could do was yell.
`` I got to kill him! He's inside of me! We have to die!''
On and on. Eventually, the adrenaline lost the fight to alcohol and benzos. I waited behind closed eyes, mortified.
- - - - - -
I was awake for the whole process. The stomach pump, the IV, the examination.
I thought I heard Dr. Babcock's voice. `` I do n't understand,'' he said, `` I thought the interview went well.''
The clamour around us died down. I had plenty of time to think while I waited for James to wake up.
His eyes fluttered open fitfully until some hints of memory energized him to bolt upright as far as his restraints would allow.
`` Where are we?'' he cried.
`` We're in the psych ward, James. It'll be okay. Just let me do the talking.''
|
[ WP ] A ghost and a zombie meet . They 're from the same person .
| Well, it's the zombie apocalypse. And I was damn unlucky enough to be one of the first to go out of the game of life in my city. I was so cocky about it all. Thought I could run away with my parkour skills while forgetting about just how many there were. Then karma literally bit me on the ass.
Many hours later, my ghostly self stood lonely and depressed on the other side of the city. Of course I became a ghost. I always felt like I was behind in life and as if I somehow achieved nothing of worth. But I had no time to dwell on that too much, as I could n't believe what I just saw.
`` Holy shit,'' I gasped.
I could n't believe it. Somehow my undead corpse followed me all the way there.
*Just stay calm*, I reminded myself, *He ca n't see me. *
But then, of all the moments, the monster charged right at me faster than I ever thought it would. I swiftly stepped out of the way.
`` Okay, you can see me?'' I said to it. Or at least I thought it could see. Then I saw who he was really going at.
A single mother, with two children. They had no practical way out, as other zombies were closing in, unless my own corpse was taken care of.
Forgetting I was a ghost, I took a swing a him. It went straight through his skull without any damage. I try what that guy taught in *Ghost* and tried it from my gut. Nothing. There was literally nothing I could do to prevent myself from killing and eating them.
*Try possessing myself? *
It was a last ditch option, but at least it was worth a shot. And holy hell it worked.
|
[ WP ] A person with multiple personality disorder falls into a coma . Inside their mind , the personalities fight for sole control for when they wake up
| I wake up. No, *we* wake up. The three of us look around at each other and our surroundings. We were in a large white room, no distinct features to speak of. “ What is this shit?! ” Cal exclaims. Instantly our surroundings change to a nice cafe, but no one is there apart from the three of us. I sit in a chair as does James. I think for a moment, I was n't here. The last thing I remember is crossing the road to my appointment as a car came speeding towards me. Hm.
Cal starts to hysterically laugh, I look at him and realise that, apart from his name, I have no idea who he is. He looks familiar. The third man called James, also familiar, sat quietly studying me. “ Who are you people? ” I enquire.
& nbsp;
“ Who do you think? We are you, ” James replies. Cal snorts and points at me, “ Always late to the party are n't we! ”
& nbsp;
“ What do you mean? ” But my eyes widen in realisation, they WERE me. But that makes no sense, I am me? “ Yes, but we are you also, mate we have Multiple Personality Disorder, ” Cal says with glee. How did he hear me? I did n't say anything out loud. “ Dude, we just said we are you, we can hear everything you think. ” I study Cal, everything about him screamed crazy, the way he sat on the floor even when chairs were available, even his hair was an atrocity, like some deranged anime character. I turn to James, hoping he will make some sense. “ How did we get here? ”
& nbsp;
“ We were on our way to the hospital and we got hit by a car, I'm guessing we are n't dead yet, but we are in some deep part of our mind. ” James starts to play with a blade that just appeared in his hand. I study him further, he seems to be measuring what he says, in a calculating way. I decided I did n't trust him.
Of course this explains it, this explains why I've been having so many black outs and when I wake up having no memory of the last few days. Guess I do n't need to wait for my blood test results. “ So why are we here? ” I ask.
& nbsp;
“ Who knows! ” Cal, helpfully, replies. I start to panic, how am I supposed to live with MPD? I have a family, a life. I have to sort myself out before I'come to' because I certainly can not continue to live THREE lives. I do n't know how but instantly I knew that James had the same idea. The cafe starts to go out of focus. I nervously glance to Cal, he has grown strangely quiet. “ Listen guys, ” he said, “ There is no reason why we ca n't all get on. ” He stands up, and slams his fist on the table, “ We are the SAME person, imagine all the banter we can have! ” He smiles.
& nbsp;
Quicker than I could react, James stands up and expertly throws the blade and catches Cal in the throat, Cal chokes on his own blood. James smiles menacingly. I swallow, instantly the warm cafe we were in fades away to a dark room with no windows. It was something out of a horror movie, blood and rotting bodies filling my vision. Cal collapses as James turns to me with a brand new knife in his hand. Fuck. The next thing I know is I'm running up some stairs, I do n't know where to but I know I have to run. Something tells me that if I die here I wo n't be waking up again. At the top of the stairs I turn right and run down a corridor. James is waiting for me. He smiles that disquieting smile of his, I can see the bloodlust in his eyes, he is enjoying this more than me. “ Do you think you can run from me? Do you think you can run anywhere and I wo n't find you? ” I realise that this place was an apparition of James' mind. He willed us here as he willed the knife in his hand.
& nbsp;
I close my eyes and start to imagine myself somewhere else, anywhere else. I open them. Yes! I'm in a town centre, my town centre. It ’ s a bright sunny day. I try to look for anything that can help me, knowing that James will not be far behind. On the pavement there is a red cartoon flower sprouting. I disdainfully stare at it and reach for it, as I make contact it disappears and I feel different. I look at my cloths which seem to have been replaced by red overalls with a white shirt underneath. James appears in front of me and the sky turns dark. He doesn ’ t look happy. I look at my now gloved hand where a fireball sparks to life. I grin as I throw the fireball at James and it catches instantly.
& nbsp;
I wake up. Just me.
|
[ WP ] A company decides to let children make the decisions during 'take your child to work day '
| `` I'm telling you that it was a terrible idea. Technically we're not a business,, we should n't have even *had* a bring your child to work day.''
`` Stop with the bullshit, Frank. We're all in this together. Damage is done and we just have to cope.''
`` No, I'm coping as best I can. Part of my highly refined coping process is to bitch about the pinhead who made that choice.''
`` I do n't know who it was but trust me, I'm furious too. Are you using that?''
`` What? This?''
`` Yea.''
`` No. You can if you want.''
`` Thanks. Maybe this'll buy us some time.''
`` You had time for lunch yet? I have a tin of tuna somewhere. It'd be better if we had bread to make a sandwich, of course, but I do n't think we're gon na be able to get some any time soon.''
`` You brought tuna with you?''
`` I was in the kitchen when the crisis started. Think we could eat them raw?''
`` Maybe. Pass one here.''
`` An. I ca n't. No tin opener. Maybe later?''
`` Sure, if we get through this in one piece. Oh look, here come some more happy customers.''
`` They do n't look too happy. Want me to take care of them?''
`` No, looks like Steve's dealing with them. *Thanks Steve! *''
*'' No problem! `` *
`` Say, Frank?''
`` Yes chum?''
`` You ever seen Steve look that pissed off?''
`` Ca n't say I have. Guess he's thinking about what he'll do if he ever gets his hands on that kid.''
`` Me too. Anyway, best be going. I was on my way to the other side of the building when I got caught up here.''
`` God speed.''
Frank waved a friendly wave as his friend took off at a run before turning back to the task at hand.
--
I swallowed my pint. Everyone around me was drunk, and with good reason. We'd been glued to the news all day. A real morbid party atmosphere was breaking out in every major city. I tunes the noise out and focused on the subtitles.
`` They're calling it the first major event, claiming that there is no way back. It is my grim duty to inform you that we are facing world war three as Company H of the ninth battalion invaded Russia on the orders of a six year old.''
|
[ WP ] The only way to get superpowers is an act of mass murder , so superheroes are very rare . Tell me the origin story of a superhero .
| He put the ski mask on `` Are you ready?''
I looked at him `` I do n't know anymore, is it really worth it, all those life taken, for our own benefits?''
He got closer to me, his face a few inches from mine `` This is n't for us, this is for them, we take those lives so we can save more when comes the time. Now put your fucking mask on before I sew it on your face''
I put it on, made sure my gun was ready, I strapped a machete on the side of my belt and took my kevlar jacket. We got out of the van and entered the hospital as quick as possible, shooting a few shots in the air.
`` Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you we are not here to hurt you, you can all leave right now and no harm will come to you'' He shouted. `` Now my friend, to the maternity ward'' He said as he winked at me.
We ran towards the maternity ward, shooting randomly to scare people away. When we got there, it was empty, only the faint cries of babies could be heard.
`` Time to get dirty and get powers''
I'm not proud of what we did, it was horrible, all those kids crying and dying, it's still fresh in my memory, as if it was yesterday. `` For a good cause'' he used to tell me, it sounded right when I was twenty. You see this tattoo? Thirty four, in roman numbers, that's the number I killed, he killed more, expecting to get better powers out of it. When we were done the police was already starting to raid the hospital.
He glanced at me `` I can sense it, ca n't you? I already know it's there, like another arm.'' He then became invisible for about a second. `` Hahaha, did you see that? No of course you did n't! That's the point. Are n't you feeling anything''
I looked at my hands, then at him `` No, nothing, I do n't know why, maybe... maybe I did n't kill enough?''
We heard boot stomping coming from the staircase. He looked at me `` I'm extremely sorry, but I ca n't take you as a burden in my escape plan'' He then turned invisible and shot me in the legs.
I do n't know for you, but getting shot in the legs hurt. A lot. Especially when it's a 12 gauge shotgun. At this exact moment I was pissed off at him, and understood the deep hate liberals have against guns. I cried in pain as I crawled towards a corner to hide myself from the coming SWATs that were going to kick my crippled ass. As I crawled I felt the pain slowly go away, and when I looked at my legs, the bleeding had stopped, and the shrapnels were slowly coming out of my legs. A couple seconds after there was nothing and I could stand up.
`` Police do n't move or we WILL shoot!'' Shouted an obviously startled SWAT police man. I guess the blood on my face and everywhere on my cothes did n't help.
A grin slowly traced itself on my mouth `` Will you now? What if I told you I did n't care?'' And I ran the other way, towards the window. What did I have to lose? I got shot three times in the back, and once in the right arm before I reached it, then I jumped.
What happenned next is all blurry in my mind, a big run and hide story, police on my ass, I managed to escape to Canada, and there I became the superhero called `` Grim saviour''. That's how people called me, for they knew that with great power, came dark stories.
|
[ WP ] A man is walking on the street , when a woman comes to him and whispers ''watermelon '' in his ear . He then takes an egg out of a bag , smashes it on the ground and shoots himself in the head . Write the story behind this .
| We do it to pass the time, to settle bets, to... I do n't know, while away the fucking monotony of eternity. It's all we really have to do in fact, the only thing that's actually fun that wo n't get us banished.
Here's the rub: the big guy upstairs, He does n't care about this little human or that little human... He cares about the *numbers*, He cares about which way the wind is blowin'. So, we ca n't do anything that can potentially change the tides, so to speak. We ca n't roll a dumpster across the street by ourselves because if someone sees that shit? Suddenly you got people talking about ghosts and supernatural shit and Bigfoot shows up and whoever started it gets banished or squished into a micro-dimension or whatever other fucked up thing the big guy feels like doing. We ca n't... influence the population. But, as long as we do our jobs... that's the only rule.
So most of the time, once we've done whatever it is we're tasked to do, whether that's capsize a boat, or cause a car to lose traction on a rainy curve or whatever thousand other things are `` part of His plan'', we get to play... as long as it does n't upset the balance.
And let me tell you, after a few centuries you start to get creative.
This one time, we decided to play in the 20th, and it was n't the funniest, but it was the longest con I've played in a single life. His name was Harold, and he had severe multiple personality disorder. Not that that matters, he was a fucking human after all, they breed like rats and I ca n't tell them apart, but I tell you so that you understand. I hopped into him when he was in his early teens. I manifested as a seizure while he was playing with some other kids. I was the first voice that he heard, and until I hopped out, I was the strongest. Hoo boy, I fucked that kid *up* man, by the end of our first year together, I had him thinking Michael Jackson was talking to him through the fireplace between the hours of 4 and 5:30 PM. It was glorious watching his family fret over him. Like a 24-hour pet, they fed him and bathed him, they listened to him when I pulled some strings to make him babble. Through his broken mind, I watched in glee as I pulled more and more lives into my web of misery. Watching first his parents, then his siblings and others cripple themselves to his pain. I'm serious man, give a human a sword to fall on, and they will go ass over teakettle every-fucking-time.
Well, do n't cry for me yet, because others were out looking for me, trying to end my game. If you think the end of the game was to make me leave Harold, then you do n't know how boring eternity is. The point of the game was for *Harold to get rid of me*. The only way to do that was to... oh, how does that old saying go? `` Render one's earthly vessel useless to all occupants.''
Yup, the only way to shake me was for old Harold to off himself.
Let me tell you, I'm hard to get rid of. Here's where I had to get tricky. One of the others -- I'm still not sure who, the clever bastard -- managed to get one of Harold's family members to give him alcohol. Before you know it, the TV is fucking drenched in long, depressing PETA ads with abused kittens and shit, and here goes Harold, breaking a glass and cutting his wrists. Thankfully, I still had enough of him to go across the street instead of down the road and his parents found him that evening. When Harry woke up, the first thing I did while he was hazy was ask to be committed, and for once, it seemed for a minute like He actually listened ( He does n't ), and Harry's parents shipped our asses off to Pleasant Grove. I got ta tell you, it was awesome. Do you have any idea how hard it is to off yourself in a mental hospital? I was on cruise control for *years*, scrambling this poor asshole's brain to my heart's content. Oh, and by the way, drugs do n't do shit. Drugs are like a lens that filters shitty light. Some drugs are awesome lenses, some light is n't too shitty. But no matter how normal they look on the outside, that same shitty light is shining out. And most of the time, that light is from something we did.
Finally, after a couple decades, I felt like I could come back out and lay low, so I let him be as normal as I could allow, and got a release from Pleasant Grove.
We get a smelly room in some run-down halfway house. Harold is sane enough to be glad to be here though, and I keep him crazy enough to defend himself. We stayed there for a while, the whole time, watching the news at the local bar where I let Harold get a soda. Watching the others crash planes, and incite suicide bombers, and whatever other drama out there makes someone wish for guidance up above. Life was good, and I was winning the game.
Alas, all good things come to an end, and it was out of the blue, like a lightning strike on a clear day. Coming back from grocery shopping of all fucking places.
I had gotten Harold good and paranoid, and I'd gotten him a handgun through the underground, as a way of protection. I figured the best way to keep him alive was to keep him on the edge, and make him think everyone was out to get him. Well, unfortunately, that one comes with a price.
Humans are incredibly fragile animals, but interestingly, there's a grain of something stronger in there. Something else. Not from Him, oh hell no, He's way too lazy for that. No, this is something that grows from within, and I fucking hate it. The problem when you keep a human on the edge like that is they're easy to control, but that hot little grain bubbles closer to the surface.
All it took was one memory, one fucking word to cut right to the heart of that little grain. Who fucking knew Harold's favorite food before I jumped into him was watermelon? I mean, yes, I should have known, he was my fucking pet, but I never thought *that* would be the thing to break him. That fucking trickster demon came out of nowhere, and in the mother's voice, whispers `` watermelon'' in our ear. Harold fucking *loses* it man, grabs an egg and just... *snaps*.
The best way I can describe it is like being squeezed through a cake funnel. It's what happens when you lose control of their mind, and their own will forces you back. But the worst feeling was when he pulled *my* weapon out and pulled the trigger. When they die, it's like you get kicked by some cosmic bull right in the face. You get pushed through their soul like cheese through a fucking screen door. It hurts. A lot.
Then you pop out and there's a bag of meat sitting on the sidewalk and all the others are laughing and settling up on any bets they made. I will say, we had a bit of fun watching the humans come and clean up, and we all planted a quiet phobia or prejudice here or there. Also, and best of all, I got some accolades for a few centuries after that, and was known for a time as Tull of Harold. Like I said, not the funniest, but definitely the longest I've ever done a human, although who knows, with this whole Mars colonization thing, I might have to try for a long run of slow burning cabin fever.
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[ WP ] Something was different about you today but could n't explain it till you were flipping though comics and realized you could reach into any well drawn picture and pull out objects in them into reality . Mjölnir now sitting as an immovable showpiece . You immediately start to think of other pulls .
| Well, the hammer thing went sideways on me it seems. It was a total accident that it happened anyway but now there is no way I ’ m getting a deposit back on the apartment with that hammer sitting where is. I touched it and pulled it right out of the comic. I held it out watching it shimmer a little but before I knew it, it started to turn real and I dropped it. Busted the tiles and freaked me out. Glad I was already sitting on the toilet. Now I have this immovable hammer right in front of the crapper.
I ’ m going to have to work on finding out if I can put things back or that deposit is gone and a rather tough explanation will be needed.
I finish my business and take a few comics to the living room. Flipping through I catch Matt Murdock and Froggy at the bar. I reach in and pull out what looks and tastes like beer.
More thoughts run through my mind and I find out Captain America ’ s shield is heavier than I thought it would be and spiderman ’ s web-shooters are extremely cool once you figure out to actually use them. My apartment looked like a Shelob ’ s lair for close to 2 hours before that stuff just up and turned to powder. Those I ’ m keeping on and I pull out as many web-cartridges as I can. No one wants to run out of this cool stuff. I pulled out a speederbike and lightsaber from a Star Wars comic and nearly lost my own arm goofing off. I'm no jedi it seems. Playing up that I was a better swordsman in my head than real life. I put that thing down immediately.
My mind was racing. Ironman ’ s suit? Could I even use it? No doubt Tony has safeguards even in the comic version and I ’ m not Tony? Like the hammer and saber, I might need to think things through a bit.
I could see some accidental mistakes if I didn ’ t think about things. Can you imagine thinking how cool it would be to be the Juggernaut but forgetting about what the Crimson Gem of Cyttorak that actually gave him his powers are? I wouldn ’ t want to accidentally be the exemplar of a magical being and accidentally bring that being into existence. Makes me wonder if Asgard is a real thing now given the hammer incident so I need to get that hammer back in that book just in case.
What could I do? Grabbing some magazines I found out I can not pull anything from taken pictures. Not a single thing. Only things that were drawn it seems. So I tried to draw something myself and that didn ’ t work at all. Apparently, I ’ m not a good artist so I might have to work on that as it seems whatever I grab has to be of some higher quality skills.
Flipping through more comics, I pull out more and more hero and villains trinkets. Trying to note any possible drawbacks. A shield motorcycle and a jet pack. Wonderman's flying belt and deadpool's teleporter. His imagine device as well. I even pulled out multiple elixirs from a harry potter comic of veritiserium. No telling lies to me. I laughed a bit at that till I ran across a formula where Lex Luthor could have superman's powers for 24 hours. I pull out as many of those as I could. Hours passed and I was still working.
Trinket after trinket, stacks and stacks of drawn money turned real from comic bank robberies. Gold and gems of all sorts and sizes and jewelry like you have never seen. My living room started to look like a pirates treasure cove combined with a comic memorabilia shop. My mind is reeling and then I run across a comic I picked up in the airport months ago. Just a random purchase because I had nothing else to read and thought why not.
Elysium, not the most amazing comic or movie but I had to take a trip back home a few months ago to visit my sister. She was sick again and her cancer had come back. This time, worse than before, so I started to flip as fast as I could to find it. I know it was in there. I know it.
Right near the front with the description of Elysium there it was with a complete picture and explanation: Med-Bays: medical machines that can cure all diseases, reverse the aging process, and regenerate new body parts.
I went to the spare bedroom and moved or pushed furniture to the walls and sat right in the middle of the room. I focused on the med-bay and reached in. I could feel it on my fingertips and I grabbed it. Pulling it from the pages and quickly set down the ever growing, shimmering image before it turned real.
There is was. I looked it over and powered it on. Taking my shoes off I got inside hoping for it to work as explained in the comic. I was scanned and to my alarm a female voice said it detected an abnormal growth on my brain. I panicked a little I won ’ t lie to you but the computer voice asked for permission to fix the issue. Just like I remember reading.
My mistake was when I said yes.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
10 years later I ’ m playing with my sisters boys. Shes better now and my nephews are such fun. I can no longer pull things out of pictures anymore but that doesn ’ t matter.
I live the good life these days. I bought that entire apartment complex and turned it into a non-profit and I secretly cure all I can from that small 2 bedroom apartment. Over the years some that I helped tried to look at the med-bay and duplicate it but it was simply impossible. So, a few of us who I thoroughly checked out go about the world paying for and inviting people to be cured and letting everyone that comes try to get that damn hammer out of the middle of the bathroom floor.
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[ IP ] In the Air
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`` Meet me after sunset atop the old storehouse. We'll talk it out then.''
Alexi leaned over the edge of the dome, a held strip of cable keeping him from slipping. He'd drank half his flask by this point, the tremors in his hands only subsiding after the buzz had taken hold. The street below radiated light and sound, a nightly transformation for the Outer Quarter. Rapping his staff against the metal roof, he bobbed his head to the calming beat of music drifting over from the inn. Meg would be here soon, then they'd have that talk.
`` You're a bit thread-bare if you ask me, but at least you dressed up a little.'' Through a cloud of steam, Meg stepped toward the base of the dome. Sequins glittered like a thousand vicious eyes across her shirt, its full design concealed under her black leather-jacket. Thick locks of garnet-colored hair waved with each step, one of her many features that humbled him. The Humbaba Tower rose into the sky behind her, a stalwart backdrop to the whole affair.
`` Figured I should look good for this. So, what do you want to talk about?'' Alexi held assumptions, but when it came to Meg, he swallowed those thoughts until it made him sick.
`` I'm going. A messenger arrived the other day while you were out, and I've been trying to think of a way to tell you.'' Looming, the tower imposed its will even out here in the squalor. In part, he was to blame, having pushed her into the training program for administration in the first place.
Sliding down off the dome, he rubbed a hand against the flask still in his pocket. `` So this will be our last lesson.''
Alexi spun the quarterstaff in his other hand, letting muscle memory take over and ease his fears. It had started as sparring, him teaching her the results of hard lessons pounded into his flesh. But the primal nature of his feelings broke through, and he found himself loving her. Meg, in turn, accepted him, even though his heritage made him impure.
Pulling a set of tonfas from behind her back, they set to work, circling in an intricate dance worked out over years. Strike and parry, block and counter, until their heartbeats drummed along to the music overhead. At his core, the desire for victory raged, having earned him a title in the back-alley fight-clubs, but in their dance, give and take melded them into a single, seamless alloy. Several loud chimes belted out the time, and they set their weapons aside to sit at the edge of the roof and look down to the night market.
`` What are you thinking?''
Thought -- feelings -- flowed in an undercurrent to his icy exterior. In the ring, expressions played their part in the mind-games, and helped him win matches against even the toughest opponents. Here, that training acted against him, a malicious habit hardwired into his soul.
`` I wish you'd stay, but I know better. You have to go, and I'm proud of you.''
`` Who knows, maybe the rumors are just that.''
`` They'd never let someone like me in. To see you or otherwise.''
Meg placed her hand in his, lacing their fingers together like patchwork cloth. If he asked, she'd stay without hesitation. He wanted to say the words, his lungs burning with the air that would carry them forth, but he stayed silent.
`` We'll see each other after, they ca n't keep us apart.''
`` Your dream, it's so far away from here. I was happy to ride along with you for as long as I did, teaching you what I could, and giving you the support you needed to push toward your goal.''
`` It was n't that way to me.'' Something below them drew her gaze, but it was a convenient distraction. He could n't help the distance between them, but at the very least he could do the right thing.
`` I did n't mean it like that. You know who I am, what I am. Being a part of your world was thrilling. I would n't trade it for anything.''
`` Anything?''
`` Well, a ticket to join you in the tower would be nice.'' Teasing a smile out of her, they sat in silence while Meg ran her hand down his cloak, over the symbol that granted him respect. The moniker *Red Ring* suited him, a mark of his domination in the fights. Violence was his trade, and he was good at it, but he was glad she was n't forced into that future.
`` We should celebrate.''
`` What?''
`` You're going into admin, so we should do something. A blow-out, the kind that'll show the night market what it's losing.''
`` I ca n't get into trouble.''
`` No trouble, but you'll like it.'' Alexi stood, extending his hand down to her. It was early enough, they could get a nice meal over at Camellia's, and go take in a show at the late-night theater. The market thrived for people like him, a parade of splendor from dusk to dawn. As Meg made her way to the stairs, he held back.
`` I'll catch up.''
Pulling the flask from his pocket, he took a moment to appreciate the simple metal casing. Scrawled across its body were marks, one for each victory he'd claimed fighting -- bleeding. The gutter-drunk that sold him the flask said that it would serve him well in times of change. He was n't so sure anymore.
The sound of metal banging off the alleyway walls followed him down the stairs. Ahead by a few feet, Meg waited for him, twirling a finger through that beautiful, blood-red hair. It would be a night to remember, he felt certain of that.
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[ WP ] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him .
| `` You.'' I felt the throbbing behind my eyes start again, a headache building in my skull.
`` You!'' she was elated, covered in drying blood and trembling with... elation, I would guess. Rubbing my temple I took a deep breath and tried again to diffuse this... this insane woman.
`` You need to stop.'' Opting for blunt may not have been my best choice, tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip quivered.
`` Do n't you like it?'' she said in a trembling whisper. I tried, I swear I tried, but I sighed heavily and with a roll of my eyes I swept my hands out towards the scene of carnage.
`` Just because I'm Death everyone assumes I'm fascinated by it. You do know that Death is elected from the Fates because no one wants to do it right? It's not like the Ferryman is all that friendly plus you have to be knee deep in blood all day. Or old people.'' An involuntary shudder shook my body as I thought about the countless souls I had reaped, much like the four waiting for me to show them the way.''
`` Excuse me,'' one of those souls spoke, `` you're referring to Greek mythology, I'm a Christian and we believe in...''
`` Oh shut up,'' snapping at your souls was generally frowned upon but having gone through this song and dance, and with the more pressing concern before me, I found myself to be far from the mood.
`` I did this for you,'' she whispered again, the tears freely flowing as she smiled. A sickening, grotesque thing from a mentally disturbed woman. Pinching the bridge of my nose I tried to stem the throbbing pain, to no avail and my consternation.
`` This is... ninety two,'' she worked quickly, I had to admit that, `` in two months you have now given me ninety two souls I should n't have had to deal with.'' The four people in the café had been quite innocent, it had n't been their time at all. My... admirer had suddenly decided it in a fit of desperation and walked in with a semi-automatic pistol and a knife. Now I had four souls impatiently waiting for my direction. Five, if the waitress did n't get help soon.
`` I just wanted to see you.'' The throbbing intensified and I made a terrible mistake.
`` I do n't want to see you!'' I shouted, the glass in the café reverberating to the ethereal noise. I imagined the dozens of police officers outside would be quite confused if they had seen it, that brought me slight amusement. I've always preferred joking rather than the grim business of death. The mistake was that now she was completely in tears, waving her pistol around and shouting some nonsense about being `` in love'' with me. A mortal? I made my second mistake. She stopped at my laughter, it was really more of a chuckle. At first. Then it became full out hysterics and I barely managed to choke out my third mistake.
`` You're nothing to me! To all of us! An insignificant speck.''
The tears were gone in an instant, replaced by a furious red hot rage. She raised her pistol to the barely surviving waitresses head and began to squeeze the trigger.
Knowing what came next I felt something I had n't known in... possibly ever. Fear.
The sniper's bullet hit her head with the force of a freight train. My admirer was... dead.
`` No,'' I thought my head would explode from the pain, I still had two thousand years to serve as Death. Staring at me was her soul, excited and wide eyed. I do n't know what is beyond ecstatic but she was far beyond even that.
`` We can be together forever now!'' she said, wrapping me in her arms for the first time since she'd discovered she could see me. Ninety four bodies ago. I borrowed a word from the mortals, it summed up my feelings well enough.
`` Fuck.''
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Santa finds himself disgusted by what Christmas has become , and decides it must be destroyed [ WP ]
| Roger the Elf sat in the large mahogany chair, nervous as the first day he stepped foot in the boss's office. As the lead elf, he had undergone many promotions to get to where he was today. He loved his job, after all, being right-hand man to Santa Claus is a decent gig with a sizable paycheck. However, the boss never called him into his office unless it was for a reason of utmost importance. The last time had been for the New Zealand incident when he hit on a local laundry owner. The papers called it `` sexual harassment'' and Roger had to go to great lengths in order to clear Claus's name.
Just as he was pondering on what the issue could be this time, the door behind Roger opened. Since the Roger was of small stature, he could not see over the chair. He did n't need to, as the thump of Santa's boots echoed off of the wooden floors and throughout the cold office. Santa sat down, quiet and solemn, a not-so-unusual mood for the big guy. There was a thick silence hanging throughout the room, as Santa lit a cigarette and Roger squirmed nervously in his chair.
After a few coughs, Santa cleared his throat. `` It seems these days are n't what they used to be Roger.'' His jolly voice had turned into more of a growl through the years, mostly due to the smoking and heavy drinking. `` Before, I brought joy to the world. Now, I bring nothing but greed.'' As Roger made a move to speak, Santa hushed him. `` Let me speak. This is bigger than both you and I. When I started this business, I wanted to change the world. Well, I changed it alright. I exposed the world to itself. I am the snake that provided Eve with the apple. I showed the world it's sin and it basked in it. I gave them everything they wanted, and maybe that was a mistake. I reward treachery with presents, gluttony with food, lies with laughter. This is n't what it was about. You know that Roger. I ca n't even get my own daughters attention without offering her some bullshit phone.''
Santa stopped and took a drag of his cigarette. Roger decided he'd take advantage of the silence. `` Sir... I do n't understand. It's been this way, and there has n't been any problem before. Businesses grow, they have to evolve in order to survive. It's the survival of the fittest, and if we die there will be no one else.''
The boss chuckled. `` That's why you're my guy Roger. But do n't be so naive. We already died. We died long ago when we lost our motive. We sold out, and we ca n't come back.''
`` What then?'' asked Roger, still nervous, but now even more confused than before. `` How do we fix it?''
`` We do n't fix it. Son, sometimes having nothing is better than having everything. It keeps you humble. It gives you motivation and keeps you detached from worthless items. So we have to get rid of Christmas Roger. How do we do that you may ask? Get rid of the symbol. Without something to look upon, the people will lose faith. And maybe, just maybe, they can put that lost faith in something more important. Themselves.'' Roger sat stunned while his boss put out his cigarette.
As he said that, he opened his desk and reached inside. Roger was flabbergasted. What did he mean? Santa pulled out his revolver, the same one he used to put down Blitzen when his leg injury would not recover, and placed the barrel against his head. `` I'm not afraid anymore Roger. Thank you for all your help but this is it. I know I made God's naughty list, but I know Hell is better than this. Goodbye Roger.''
With a final cough, he pulled the trigger.
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[ IP ] You are not welcome here
| It was a harsh season—one that does n't let up until you're sure that it could n't possibly snow any longer. I ca n't say that it was too bad, I mean, I do n't like the snow much, but there's a certain fuzzy feeling that I get whenever we're forced to cuddle around the fire inside. We're not married yet, but a few months ago, we decided that we'd live together, since we were both going through tough times. `` Maybe if we can be closer then we'll forget about all of that.'' She was right. I just know that things are going to turn out fine.
The snow looked considerably higher off the ground than it had last night. I pressed my lips together softly as I glanced at her, she beamed back at me and rested her head on my shoulder. We'd ever explicitly told each other, but our mutual indifference for the winter weather was obvious.
I do n't remember my parents, but I'm told that they were very kind, `` Unnaturally kind,'' the nearby ice picker told me, `` Long, golden hair, big, blue eyes.'' I was told that they disappeared after the eve of a blizzard day, and the locals never saw them again. All of my life, I've wanted to search for them, but `` It's unsafe out there, kid, you'll never make it back alive,'' is what the ice picker would tell me.
She tells me that she wants to get married as the snow smooches our hair soft. I have n't even proposed to her yet, but I have time. We want to have a kid, and she wants to name him/her'Dendrite'. That's the name for a snowflake that has six points; she says that we can call our child that no matter what gender he or she ends up being, because it sounds beautiful, regardless. Her eyes twinkled when she told me that.
She tells me a lot of things, mostly about our future. `` I can see us years from now, sitting by this very fire as the winter rages outside'' she told me once, `` I love this town, and I could n't imagine living anywhere else, you know?'' I bit my lip when she told me this—I wanted, almost more than anything, to leave this town behind. I still have n't asked her why she likes it here so much, but I guess it does n't matter. I have n't asked her many things that I want to, but there's always time.
One day, I told her it was time to leave. She looked at me longingly, but I meant it... So she sadly lowered her head and began packing. She did n't question me. The blizzard is dying down and it might be the only chance we have.
It took awhile, but we were finally approaching the city limits when I slowly came to a halt. In front of us, a tall figure appeared and froze her. I looked at her, but she did not take her eyes off of the figure ahead. She started shaking, I rubbed her shoulders but it only calmed her enough to hear her beating heart. `` It's okay,'' I whispered, `` we're almost out,'' I cautiously pressed onward... We picked the wrong day to leave. We loved each other, but our love could only mask the overhanging shadow of that town for so long. He told us too, `` Do n't leave, we'd miss you terribly,'' but I could n't stay, I just could n't. Her shivering stopped, and she looked up at me with sincere eyes. I rubbed her shoulders again and mustered a lighthearted smile, narrowing my eyes softly. She was n't reacting, `` Come on, let's go, just a little bit longer,'' I spoke up. I gently stroked her forehead; it was cold and getting colder. I sped up. I just wanted to see what it was like on the other side. We are snow people, and this is our home, the raging winter filled with sorrow and frost. Through all of my time here, I'd never met another soul who disliked the snow as I did. I'd tell her every night, about how, somewhere, there was a place where the sun shined, and where the grass grew tall and healthy. She would smile warmly when I told her these stories, but she would dismiss them. I do n't know how I knew of this world, but it was real, I just knew it was. We neared the tall, shadowy figure when it knelt down in front of the car and blocked the road. I stopped and stared into its blank, white eyes. Its expressions was blank as it seemed to analyze the insides of our car, but then, its white eyes grew lighter. Then it looked at her and its eyes went dull again. With only slight hesitation, it punched through the windshield and grabbed me gently, flipping the car with its other arm just as soon as I was pulled clear. I wanted to shout, to break free, but I could not open my mouth, I could not move, I was... almost home. It turned around and ran into the dense forest. I strained my neck, trying to find her, but she was gone, and there was nothing I could do. I lost all strength and slipped as I tried to grasp this reality.
I saw that outstretched field of green once more, I felt the sunshine, and smelt the flowers. Winter is over, it was a harsh season. I am home.
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[ WP ] You meet a character you created , face to face .
| The bar was intimate. Lampshades poured a smooth amber hue over the brass bar. Liquor bottles lined the wall to Robert's left and a tall dark-haired bartender stood absentmindedly at the far end of the bar. A woman, her face lost in the shadow of her black hat, sat cross-legged, slowly running her index finger around the rim of her martini.
She was the type of girl you knew was pretty before you even saw her face.
Robert stopped short of the woman with the black hat, signaled to the bartender and ordered a Manhattan. He surveyed the rest of the bar. For the most part it was empty. A group of young girls -- no older than 24 -- stood giggling in the far corner underneath a large painting of George Washington crossing the Potomac high on the wall behind them. *Fitting for a bar named `` Presidents. `` *
The bartender placed the drink in front of him and Robert handed him a twenty. `` Keep the change,'' he said. He knew the gesture would benefit him as the night drew on. The drink was a relief. He took a gulp without taking the time to enjoy the finer notes of the rye and bitters.
`` Long day?'' said the woman in the black hat. Her voice was oddly familiar, like something from a dream.
`` Pardon me?'' he said.
`` I said did you have a long day?''
`` Oh, yes, sorry. Just happy it's Friday.'' The week had felt like a month so his voice rang genuine. `` Are you meeting someone here?''
`` Yeah, a really old friend.''
Robert nodded, but he could help but shake the feeling. Something felt so natural with the woman, like the two had been friends for years.
`` You know why I like nights like tonight?'' she said.
`` Why?'' he said half-laughing, but entirely interested.
She slowly removed her head, leaving it to rest on the bar counter in front of her. `` For billions of other people, tonight is just another night. But out there, among all this bullshit, two people just fell in love.''
Robert's glass fell to the floor and shattered. He knew those words. He'd written them. Neither his gaze nor the woman's strayed. Chills moved from his thighs up the length of his back and down his arms.
He knew this woman.
She was just as he pictured. Beautiful. She had a softness about her, just as he had written. She was a far cry from the hard contours of today's fashion models. Her brown hair laid slightly curled, dancing atop her jacket. And her eyes. *Wow, her eyes. * They were a striking emerald color, abrupt in comparison to the rest of her features.
`` How did yo-, where did yo-.'' He could n't get the words out. As a writer he was rarely at a loss for words, but no pen and paper could rescue him in that moment. `` Rose. Is that you?''
`` Yes. And I'm happy to have found you.''
Robert's first attempt at writing a novel came when he was 23, fresh out of college and pumped full of optimism and ambition. He did n't finish the book; `` A Rose Without a Thorn'' as he had named it, but he often thought about her. She had such depth, such sincerity. *This ca n't be real. * But it was, and Robert had known so from the second she removed her hat.
But just as soon as the happiness had enveloped him, an overwhelming dread drove him back down to earth.
`` Are you sick?'' he asked. `` Just like I had written?''
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[ WP ] The apocalypse is happening , but gosh darn it , BuzzFeed hired you to write articles , and write articles you must !
| The world had ended, and we would all probably die before the New Year. But just in case I survived, I had to do what I had to do in order to earn my monthly paycheck. Buzzfeed paid me a measly ten dollars an hour to chug out these articles, and chug them out I would. At least I was n't writing sensationalist bullshit anymore. `` This unsuspecting teen literally dies when he finds out what's behind this curtain.'' Yup, literal actually means for real this time.
The days kept passing by, counting down to the eventual Apocalypse. Meanwhile, I kept pushing out titles, generating clickbait for whatever consumerist masses were left.
This girl thought she would be able to outwit the Four Horsemen... you wo n't *believe* what happened next!
42 Lifehacks to Save Yourself from Surt's Fire
This New Plague was so Terrible, I Literally Started Hemorrhaging.
25 Hilarious Ways People Tried to Avoid the Apocalypse.
The number of views that I got started going down, but hey, that was only because the overall world population was also proportionally dwindling. I tapped my chin. Maybe I could ask for a raise after this was all over. Heaven knows I was probably the only person clocking into work right now. Hard work and determination deserves a reward, right? Actually, that thought leads me to think of another article... 12 Ways to Convince Your Boss to Give You a Raise ( During the Apocalypse )
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[ WP ] A genie offers a man three wishes . After hearing his wish , the genie straight up refuses to grant it .
| `` No.'' The Genie said over the thumping of the music, smoothing down the sleeves of his white suit. A flash of gold drew Carl's eyes to his hands. The genie smiled.
`` I ’ m sorry...?''
`` I said no.'' The Genie said.
He pulled a glass from thin air, filled it with something amber colored, and placed three perfectly round cubes of ice within. Carl never saw where any of it came from and he'd been intentionally staring at his hands. Perhaps that was the point.
`` No?'' Carl asked. `` But you said...''
`` Three wishes.'' The genie said. He sighed as if he were bored.
He smelled of incense, thick and earthy, the kind he imagined you'd find in a Persian marketplace, though he'd never been to one. His teeth were white like freshly fallen snow and his eyes were black pearls floating in a cup of milk. His skin was the color of a latte.
`` Then I wish...''
`` Do n't you want riches? I can offer you enough treasure to make your miserably short life tolerable. I can make it so your great grandchildren never want for anything in the world again.'' The Genie said.
`` But...''
`` Or perhaps a man like yourself wishes for love? The rekindled desire of the heart? A lost love?'' He smiled and leaned in close. “ Maybe even a longer… ”
`` I do n't want any of that.'' Carl said.
The Genie shrugged and returned to his drink. `` The answer ’ s still no.''
“ Don ’ t you have to do what I say? ” Carl asked.
He flicked his wrist and the room went silent.
Carl could see the people dancing, he could feel the thump of the bass against his chest, but the only sounds he heard was the clinking of ice as the Genie sipped from his glass and set it back down. He cleared his throat, surprised when he heard the sound.
`` Do I look like I have to grant you *anything*? I can send you to the other side of the world, to the deepest slums of China if I chose to. I could grant you almost anything your heart desires. Ask me for immortality. Ask me to be rich. Ask me for the girl you ’ ve had your eye on to come and perch herself upon your lap. I know you ’ ve been watching her. She could be yours with a simple wish.'' He said.
Carl shook his head. He ’ d been watching the girl all night, even sent over a drink and a smile, but she ’ d laughed it off and returned to the dance floor. He ’ d been kicking himself until the white-suited man had made his proposal.
“ Don ’ t you trust me? ”
Carl shook his head. “ Never trust a man in a clean white suit. ”
The Genie laughed and flicked his wrist. The music returned. So did the ringing in his ears.
“ Fine. Let ’ s get this over with. What ’ s your first wish, mortal? ” The Genie asked.
Carl smiled. “ I wish my lawyer was here with us. ”
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[ WP ] The next President of the United States will be determined by who can trim the most visually appealing shrubbery
| This was his crowning achievement. It was everything. It was perfect. Glorious. He had finally managed to manscape his front bushes into the most beautiful erect penis he had ever seen -- and he'd seen a lot while searching photos online. There were even veins with bare branches. It was truly a sight to behold.
Standing there, clutching the sheers to his chest as tears weld up in his eyes, he did n't even notice the black car until it screeched to a stop in front of his lawn. Two secret service members, decked out in black suits, black glasses, and black Bluetooth devices in their ears, rushed up to him. `` Mr. President, your people need you.''
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[ WP ] Minions throw their Dark Master a surprise party
| There they were: the ugliest and most unsacred lot of the worst creatures found beneath the Earth. Smelly flesh rubbing against boily skin, the crowd was large for the underground cave. The darkness shrouded them, thankfully so. No man could hold down his lunch from the sight of so many of these disgusting creatures in one place.
`` Is the Master here yet?'' A high-pitched voice that was like two pieces styrofoam rubbing together, spoke up from the middle of the crowd, prompting the question to no one in particular. `` I'm getting rather impatient.''
`` Shut up, Scrag. You're not making him come any faster with your incessant complaining.'' The bellowing voice of a large pig-bodied creature said. His name was Gerald. Not the most fitting name for a Repulsive creature, but his name did not matter. He stood upright with a distended stomach. He was the tallest in the crowd and stood out like a large pustule pimple.
`` Is he here yet?'' The headache inducing voice came once more. The creature that owned this voice was six feet tall and was weaving in and out, jumping up and down to get a better look at the door. He jump on the back of broad-shouldered hairy creature in front of him, who brushed him off with an angry and repulsive snort.
`` If you speak one more time, I'm gon na rip your voice right out of your stupid head. Understand?'' Said Gerald. He watched Scrag's movement, which made his blood boil. He had one large curled fist out to bop him on the head.
`` But I -- ca n't -- see!'' Scrag shouted over the roar of voices.
`` HE'S COMING!'' A great voice came from the crowd, making everyone go into a uproar of excitement. The rocks of the ceiling shook due to the volume. But someone made them calm down in time before He entered.
An ethereal light of green came down the hallway that led into the meeting cave. The creatures hushed each other and stood quiet.
The figure entered the dark dank room, heated with the bodies of more than a hundred of his vile minions. The green aura that came from his body lit up the room. He walked with one long leg following gracefully after the other, black cloak grazing the dirty ground. His face was shaded by a hood.
`` SURPRISE!'' The collective voices of the creatures rang through the cavern's walls. The hooded figure did not flinch from the sudden outburst, but the walls buckled. There was a makeshift cake, lopsided and half frosted, set on a table that was carved from a boulder. It had scribbles of a what could be interpreted as HAPPY BIRTHDAY on the top.
The creatures cheered and clapped for the hooded man as he walked over to the cake. They were nearly to the point of hysteria. Whistles and barks bounded of the walls.
When the hooded man reached the cake, he looked down at it, trying to read the message poorly written in icing.
`` Do you think he likes it?'' Scrag asked Gerald, but he could not hear him. `` I wrote Happy Birthday maself.''
The crowd quieted down when the hooded man raised his right hand.
`` Is this... for me?'' The hooded man asked, his voice strong and powerful.
The crowd responded with a unanimous `` yes''.
`` Wow, what a cake! How long did it take you guys to make it? Because it looks utterly repulsive... like you! Did n't I order all of you to be doing something today? I do n't know, maybe... taking over the world? And what do you do? You bake me a cake?!'' He took a finger of frosting, placed it in his mouth, and spat it out with a sound of disgust. `` The frosting tastes disgusting!''
A rumbling roar of anger came from his mouth. He picked up the cake and threw it at the wall where it stuck for a moment before sliding down and splatting on the ground. Then, as if his hands were candles, they caught on fire.
`` This is how you spend your time? Well, I hope you learn from your mistake!'' Searing fireballs the size of a human head came shooting out of his hands and into the mass of creatures. A creature with massive forearms but a small head was hit and instantly turned into a pile of ashes. Mass Exodus ensued and the minions pushed, shoved, punched, scratched, and trampled each other on their way to the exit, while creatures were being incinerated.
Gerald and Scrag made it out first because they were near the exit.
`` I knew this was a bad idea,'' Scrag said while the hords of bodies raced past him. He rubbed his hands nervously.
`` Oh, shut up!'' Gerald said, half caring. `` It was your idea to throw him a party in the first place.''
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[ WP ] Every year , 5 random kids from across the country are being selected and asked to make one wish for change . Their suggestion is then promptly implemented and evaluated for one year , to be made permanent law if people find it agreeable .
| Pizza for dinner every night sounds great, but it became torture after night 20.
The banning of school was leaving millions of children without a proper education.
Mandatory playing of video games between hours of 10am-5pm grew taxing, there's only so many trash mobs I can slay before I get bored.
Swearing was also made illegal, those fudging kids, they do n't know what they've caused.
And worst of all, quite possibly the greatest evil to have ever been thrust upon this world, all public venues must now play a continuous loop of the Frozen soundtrack.
Violation of these rules resulted in you being dragged in front of the entire neighbourhood as they chanted `` nana nana boo boo stick your head in doodoo'' over and over again.
Many have simply taken their own lives, they ca n't take it anymore. I attended the funeral of my younger brother, and all I could hear was a little girl asking whether or not I wanted to build a snowman.
This truly is hell, but I can not say too much, it is said they're rounding up those who speak out against the laws and breaking all their toys, by which they mean all valuable possessions.
If there is a God, he will have to ask me for forgiveness.
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[ WP ] The sole survivor of a night in a haunted cabin , where their friends were killed by some supernatural force/monster , finally escapes and returns home . Police immediately charge the survivor with murder .
| `` Firewood. What the hell is firewood?''
I grabbed whatever twigs and branches that looked small enough to carry, and tried to rush back. There was a game of truth or dare playing and I did n't want to miss it. Especially since we stole 2 packs of booze and Stacy and I were the only non-couple.
On my trek back, I noticed a clunky red pick-up parked to the side of the house. In the trunk there was a large trash bag and some odd tools. A shovel, some rope, straight out of a horror film I swear. My curiosity peaked as an overpowering low voice come from the house. Shit. We were caught. I peeked through the window and saw a burly man with red stains on his arms questioning my friends. The beer bottles were everywhere; my friends lined up embarrassed on the couch. John saw me and paused in his shame. He slowly mouthed `` run'' in what I assume was so that I would n't be busted by the cops. The man's temper suddenly raised because John was n't paying attention. In his furiosity, he took a lamp and smashed a window screaming about the responsibility kids must have especially out here.
As soon as the crash of the window rang, I noticed Stacy's eyes. They were angry. Unbearably angry. She looked at me, and I stared back at her. Her eyes, they changed. At first, they were hazel, but a green tint filled it over, and slowly they were darkening. She looked at me, and then at the burly man with her pitch black eyes. In an instant, her skin started expanding. A tear through her face revealed something dark in there. The girls screamed, and Stacy was torn in two. Tentacles began pouring out of her torso, grabbing whatever they could. The monster grabbed a painting, a trophy, and started absorbing it through its jelly body. She... it... stabbed the burly fella in the chest, painting the wall behind him in a thin film.
I darted. The haunting screams rang through my ears. A gunshot went off, slowly followed by the front door being kicked out by John.The tentacles burst through the roof, flailing it's acidic goo, clutching at branches. The monster kept growing. You could see clumps of what used to be people inside the body, being taken in. One large arm, with the the body of my best friend Nathan skewered from head to nether region, smashed into the truck. Broken shards of glass and metal my direction into the forest. Most whizzed past, but a slice pierced my spine.
I fell down in agony. Behind me, I saw bodies, chunks of flesh and meat scattered. One tentacle grasped at what I can only assume to be John, but he was cut in two. His intestines were on the floor, like overcooked pasta, yet he was screaming. The pain in his voice cut like razor blades. It was no sooner muffled by the monster's absorption.
A tentacle came crashing down on a tree next to me. The screams and destruction were continuous. I crawled, paralyzed in one leg, and dragging it behind me. Clasping at the dead leaves, I kept moving. I did n't stop until my fingernails bled. Only then did I notice the silence. There was no chirps, no rustling in the wind, just my heartbeat. With the remaining strength I had, I sat myself up next to a tree. I touched my back. It was still leaking, but slowly.
The road was 2 miles south, near the cabin. I started to move but soon realized that the injury took out both my legs. This was my end, my fate. I fell over, my face buried into a pile of brittle leaves
When I woke up, I was being dragged away. The glare of the lights were too bright, but I caught a glimpse of the cabin. There was no damage. It was spotless, even the car was gone. The only thing there was the half of John that was not absorbed. His legs, his stomach. On the floor as neat as could be.
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[ WP ] `` You have to go a little crazy to stay sane here . ''
| `` Have you ever tasted infinity?''
I stared at myself, standing before me with a matching frown on his face. I did n't like that frown, so I tried making myself smile. It worked.
`` Tastes exactly like Skittles do n't. You have n't heard of those yet, but when you're on planet Retro, go to their candies district and order a bag. Perfection, in fruity, sugary, colorful form.''
`` I do n't like sweets.'' I essayed to myself.
`` But I do. They keep my mind distracted from the jump. And I'm the jumper cable, so you should try to keep me happy.''
`` Did I fuck up the jump, then?'' I asked slowly. `` Are we strained puree of mortality sprayed vividly across the stars?''
`` No, no, you ca n't feel a failed jump. The fact that your mind is still working is proof that you're still alive and piloting. Remember that, in the future. This trip is a short one, in both senses of the word trip and in both senses of the word short and in both senses of the word one.''
`` Did I jettison my brain, then? It does n't mind that my matter is still working, if I've gone crazy from it. Last I checked, they HEY HEY do n't let insane people jump pilot jump ships jump distances.''
I shook my head sadly at myself, marveling at my naivete. This must be my first ever jump. I could tell, it was the first ever jump that I did n't have my Space Skittles to keep my sanity in check. First times are always rough. You do n't know pain until you've gone without Skittles on a jump. It leaves a bad aftertaste of infinity.
`` When I hit up a spacer bar, ask other pilots to swap stories. We all have our own coping mechanisms. There's that guy I'm going to meet who imagines that he's a catapult trying to shoot dreams into the forevermore. Stay away from him, he's a little bit eccentric.''
`` You're fucking crazy. I'm fucking crazy.'' I said to the phantom of myself.
`` You have to go a little crazy to stay sane here.'' I told myself. I did n't look pleased to hear it. Oh well. I'd make it through my first jump and spend a few weeks terrified to make another, and eventually get used to the sensation. It was the sort of thing you learned to live with, otherwise experiencing subjective eternity would drive you mad.
I popped a handful of Skittles into my mouth to blanch my senses, offering the bag to myself. `` No thanks,'' I said, `` those things taste terrible, I do n't know why I'm still eating them.''
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[ WP ] A 7 hour drive to your vacation home is far from routine , nevertheless you slip into autopilot . Upon arrival you find the TV on , accompanied by an eerie stillness . Reporters discuss a recent fatal accident on a local highway , you see your destroyed and barely recognizable vehicle onscreen .
| I stumbled back from the television, mind thrown into sudden violent turmoil. As my thoughts raced to make sense of what was happening around me, my heel caught the edge of the coffee table, and I tumbled.
By the time I met the ground, I understood everything. On my back I lay breathlessly, as a the greatest serenity slowly washed over my being. Staring at the ceiling through the unceasing blur of the fan blades, my eyelids drooped, and I took my leave.
For in my twisting descent, I had caught sight for a fleeting instant of the single truth. A small mirror which hung beside the french doors flashed past me as I fell, and for a moment my own face gaped back into my eyes, full of fear and confusion. And in that moment, the fear and confusion vanished.
For I beheld the face of Bruce Willis.
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[ CW ] Write a story . You must use the letter `` j '' at least 20 times .
| `` I have to go on a Hajj, Jim.''
`` A what?''
`` A Hajj. I'm going to Mecca.''
His mouth fell open.
`` You... what?''
`` Do I really have to say it again?''
`` No, no, it's just... Are you serious?''
She clenched her jaw and averted her eyes.
`` Oh my God, you are, are n't you?''
Clenching her suitcase in hand, she started ambling towards the door, one hand on her stomach. He moved to stop her.
`` You ca n't do this, not right now. You know you wo n't survive, it's become airborne!''
`` In less than a month I wo n't be able to walk, Jim. I have to do this while I can.''
`` Jo, listen to me, I was okay when you picked up Islam. I was okay with banning the foods you did n't want in here. I even cut contact with Jack after what he said. But this? I just- I ca n't let you.''
`` Ca n't let me? You ca n't stop me. I'm going on this Hajj, and I'll be back before it's time. Allah will protect me, Jim, even if it is airborne.''
`` Just because you think he'll protect you does n't mean he will, and I do n't know how I could live without you two.''
`` Then come with us, make the journey. Allah will protect your Hajj as well, and the little one's.''
With a hand on the massive bolt that kept them protected, she thrust the other out. He just stood with his arms at his sides, but stepped forward to follow her. She struggled with the massive bolt for a moment before jerking it out of place, and stepped out into the air.
`` Jo, just- just know I loved you. I did.''
And with that he snapped the door shut behind her and fell to the ground, sobbing. It was nearly an hour before he gained the courage to stand and a year before he gained the courage to join them. Their corpses rested not six feet from the door.
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[ WP ] We 've explored more of the lunar surface than the bottom of the ocean . NASA knows what 's down there , and it trying to get us off Earth as fast as possible
| Journal Entry 2213
Subject: Deep-water Danger Immediate
5/24/2016
I start of this journal saying that we need to get off of the planet fast. I thank God for SpaceX, as Musk has made it incredibly easy to get off-world as soon as possible. Thanks to his technology and passion for the survival of the human race, we can move faster than we ever anticipated. The funny part is that he doesn ’ t even know what the real problem is; he thinks that climate change or pollution is the most immediate threat to Earth. Those things, despite being serious threats to society, will take far too long to do anything very harmful to us because Earth won ’ t last that long. Dr. Kovnik and his team recently reported to HQ and told us that there is something…wrong with the tectonic plates under both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. There is an abnormal amount of movement going on; even more super-heated geothermal vents have opened up all along the intersection of the plates. His analysis has shown that over the last 50 years, the mantle of the earth has been leaking in ever increasing quantities onto the ocean floor, increasing water temperatures, melting ice caps and releasing the CO2 that is trapped within. Warmer water also means that hurricanes will be larger, stronger and more dangerous in the future. Hurricane Katrina was only the beginning of a true shit-show during hurricane season. The abscesses created by the magma flowing out of the mantle have created pockets that the ocean floor collapses into; the Fukushima disaster is only the beginning of what will be a larger global phenomenon. The entire Ring of Fire will be a top priority disaster area in only a matter of a few decades.
The worst part of all of this is that with advancement in private technology, people have become more interested in exploring the bottom of the ocean; however, we can not afford to have people know about this phenomenon. Doing so would create widespread panic, making things even harder to work around. No, the best we can do right now is to make cheap space travel available as fast as possible in order to get even a small number of people off-world ASAP. We need to keep peoples ’ heads turned towards the stars. We need them to forget about the depths of the ocean and instead get them to turn their attention to the stars above. How to do this, I ’ m not sure; I ’ ve already talked to Russel in Marketing and Public Relations to see if he can cook up the NASA Equivalent of “ Top Gun ” because God knows that ’ s what we will need to spark the curiosity and funding we need to really kick the project into high gear. Curiosity has done a fantastic job of finding an excellent spot for a colony and has done an equally fantastic job of soil and atmospheric analysis. The hardest part, however, is still ahead of us, with at least 20 more years of trial and error before even the first people end up on Mars. We need to find a way to keep this a secret until then. According to Dr. Kovniks estimation, ( subject to scrutiny, of course; this is only early data coming in ) the process is only speeding up and will eventually Earth to be uninhabitable in the next 100 years. The plates are pulling apart at an astonishing rate in some places, and causing large-scale earthquakes in others, like Nepal. 100 years plenty of time to get at least 1,000,000 people off planet, but sadly not long enough to save even a quarter of a percent of humanity.
We do not have the technology to stop what is happening, but we soon will have the technology to leave in time to save a small number of people. We are already working with SpaceX to create something that will allow us to move a 10,000 people at a time, with larger designs being lined up for production as well. Codenamed Ark, these vessels will be able to sustain a population for several years until they are able to build the habitat and star growing food themselves.
Steve.
Edit: Formatting
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[ WP ] Earth has been conquered by a giant ( 15+ft ) tall alien species . Humans are their exotic pets .
| It wasn ’ t that bad, really.
Wake up at 6:15. Everyone had a wrist-comm. Standard issue. Humans were well taken care of during the Occupation, really.
What they wanted was salt water. Three quarters of the planet was salt water, Mega-Tons of it, more than enough for their purposes.
Be ready for the strangerail tram at 6:45. Breakfast was as the plant, they saw to us having enough food and good food to eat. So no reason to have more than a cup of coffee on the tram: they figured out that one quick. Plenty of caffeine to go around.
Their technology was eons ahead of human technology. 1G wasn ’ t a problem for them. They were as nimble as dogs, even though one of them could cast a shadow across an entire village. Huge. Imposing. But violent, no.
7 AM at your work station. Cup of coffee by your side. They had a knack for matching jobs to individuals. Some of the people who lived through The Change were actually *happier* than before.
It was the bright lights that Humans set off that attracted them to us. Middle of a murder they found us. They would have found us eventually, orbits don ’ t lie, but we made it easier. They swooped in, put a stop to our worst behaviors. They had to or our planet would have been ruined, even for them.
Someone went crazy. Yelling about `` freedom'' and `` self determination'' but what is that, really? We were on the edge, I mean the knife edge of ending the species. They put a stop to it. They ’ re not asking for anything that we can really use and we should be happy to give.
They built citadels and sent colonists. Not many, because they were huge and they recognized the imposition. And also the presence. They balanced. They were good at balance, far better than us evolved apes. Some of us think they ’ re made of better stock than us. I don ’ t have an opinion.
5 PM and it ’ s time to go home. Always plenty of food to eat. Maybe see a concert or enjoy the dance. In a way, we were freed of our worst impulses. It isn ’ t an unbridled pleasure – that was leading to doom, the concentration of resources in the hands of the few – but it was fulfilling, and meaningful.
They felt the need to take care of us. Deeply. We were disadvantaged by our evolutionary baggage and they understood that. We came from a poor world were dog had to eat dog, where monkey had to compete with monkey, where the strong survived and the weak were eaten by the strong. They didn ’ t have that. They were *higher* than us. Showed us. That life was n't a zero-sum game. And so those of us who are left? We prosper. In comfort and free of want.
The salts are shipped via the galactic strangerail to the home complex. They use them to keep their own planet going.
And on our planet? There ’ s no government. Laws are simple, be good to your fellow human, accept the rule of the Aliens.
11 PM time to sleep. Don ’ t lock your front door. There ’ s no need to do so, anymore.
* * *
I feel like this is an expansion on an [ earlier story I wrote ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WPforMe/comments/4dumaz/js_model_train_set/ ).
I collect my stories at /r/wpforme
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[ WP ] you are the lawyer in charge of getting every single GTA character out of jail with no repercussions .
| `` I call for a mistrial!'' Tom Hancock began to yell at the judge as soon as he entered the court room. The judge Madame Trezon sign and asked him `` And for what reason would this case be a mistrial? This man was seen by hundreds of people as he killed 27 innocent civilians and caused approximately two point three million dollars of damage.'' Tom fixed his collar and cleared his throat `` Your honor, for the seven thousand eight hundred and thirty sixth time the police officers of this city did not read the maruander rights to the person they were arresting.'' Tom turns over to face the police officer who arrested the man. `` Do you even know what the maruander rights are?'' the officer Terry Holts gets a blank expression on his face as sweat begins to drip down `` You have the right to be silent, if you say or.. um do anything we may use it against you, you have the right to become a lawyer... and, uhmm..'' Tom slams his hand down on the table `` This is a huge joke! you keep having me come in here day after fucking day just to do the same thing over again.'' he sits back down in his chair `` you guys really needs to fix this justice system.''
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[ WP ] Having woken up in complete darkness , somewhere outside , you struggle to find shelter as you try to remember how you got here .
| “ Hey, sleepy head! ” The voice whispered. The voice was soft, full of warmth, and unmistakable. The voice of a woman. “ Wake up, boy. It ’ s your turn to make breakfast this time! You promised. ”
There was an air of familiarity with that voice. I felt awake, but my eyes remained shut. I began to feel the slow movement of her fingers walk along my chest. A smile slowly formed across my face as I struggled to open my eyes, but they just could not open. However, that touch -- -- that voice? It was significant. It was unique. Unmistakable. I knew this person. Then I felt her hair drape along my torso, her fingers continued along to the center of my chest. They stopped, and then I felt one finger begin to trace a path to the left side of my chest. She was tracing my tattoo.
Donna. The only woman who would do that.
I was able to groggily get my voice to work. “ In a minute…or ten. ” Still keeping my grin across my face.
“ How about— “ My mind began to race, “ now! ”
I felt a hand gently claw at the right side of my chest and begin to put pressure on it. She was tickling me. My eyes snapped open, while I instantaneously grabbed hold of both her arms. I was slightly blinded by the sunlight shining through the bedroom window, but I could finally match the face to voice.
Donna. The only woman who was brighter than the sun.
Her deep brown eyes gazed into my blue eyes. It was electric, I felt like the hairs on my body were going to stand up. My soul stirred as we continued to lock eyes. Her long, beautiful black hair draped down from her head, touching my cheeks. She started to slowly lean down to my face, her hands undoing her black bra. I leaned upwards to meet her lips -- -
BANG! An extremely bright flash of light.
A gunshot. A false awakening.
This isn ’ t where the story starts. That was a distant memory of what my life used to be like. Donna had vanished a couple months ago. A mysterious disappearance that rocked the small northern Virginia town we lived in.
Another gunshot. Another flash of blinding light.
I haven ’ t slept the same since that very day. My memory has been getting hazier and the number of hours I normally sleep for, has been gradually decreasing over time. Fuck, I can ’ t even remember how many hours I slept last night. Did I even go to sleep? Is that question even relevant? No.
My eyes opened a second time. I was sitting on the ground, my back laid up against a brick building. It was very dark out. Would've been almost pitch black, but there was a bright red and blue neon sign that flashed above me. I couldn ’ t read it, not because I wasn ’ t capable of reading; the sign was in a foreign language, made up of Asian characters. I looked back down and across from me into the darkness. I was in a small back alley, away from the main roads. I could hear the incessant beeping and honking from traffic nearby, a dog barking, a male voice yelling off in the distance, and muffled techno music coming from a shoddy apartment building nearby.
An overwhelming feeling began to dread over me. None of my surroundings were familiar to me. Where am I? This isn ’ t the Chinatown I ’ m familiar with back in DC. I know that I have a purpose for being here though. I have a goal. A mission. I remember being on a plane, that much is true. However, when was that?
My eyes were fixated on something else, however.
The body of a man lay face down ahead of me. A small river of blood flowing away from his body and making its way toward me. I dragged myself up onto my two feet and stood up. I walked over to the body and began to examine him. He was a lanky fellow, with black shoulder length hair. He was dressed in a dirty white t-shirt, bright blue jeans, and blue sneakers. He had three exit wounds in his back, a pistol still in his hand.
Another flashback.
I remember being ambushed after shortly getting out of a cab and walking through an alleyway. A bag was placed over my head and I was beaten unconscious. Next thing I know, I was strapped to a chair in a dimly lit room. I was in some apartment being held captive by some unknown hoods. They were casually speaking to each other. It clicked in my head that they were speaking Japanese. I ’ m in Japan, but where in Japan? How long ago was that? Nothing else was clicking for me.
Suddenly an overwhelming feeling of dread began to creep over me. Had I sleepwalked again? Did I have another one of those “ episodes ” again? I could feel a drop of sweat coursing down my forehead. I started to breathe heavily, and a sharp pain pulsed from my right shoulder. I looked over to my right and I could see my reflection in a dark window. My dark brown hair was a mess, I had a blackened right eye, and a small cut on the left side of my mouth. I had a grey t-shirt underneath a blue and grey flannel shirt, black jeans, and black/white Chuck Taylors. I looked at my right shoulder to see that there was a rip in the sleeve and a bloody gash. A bullet had grazed me, and it burned like hell. I looked down further and noticed that I was holding onto a pistol of my own.
It was empty. I went back over to the body and took the pistol from the dead man ’ s hand. I tossed mine into a bucket of dirty water and began to walk away towards the exit of the alleyway. A red and black 1984 Toyota AE86 hatchback sat at the exit. I reached into my back pocket and produced some keys, I guess it was mine. How I even got a hold of it, I don ’ t want to know. I opened up the door on the left side of the car, forgetting that Japanese cars are right-hand drive. I corrected the mistake and made my way over to the right door. I climbed inside and inserted the key into the ignition. My mind was going a thousand miles an hour, not even taking the time to even think about the dead body that had laid before me. I had deduced that I had another one of my sleepwalking “ episodes. ” I angrily punched the steering wheel, setting off the horn which, in turn, startled me. I looked around cautiously again, scanning my surroundings for any more vengeful hoods to show up and avenge their fallen comrade. With no one in sight, I pressed my left foot down onto the clutch pedal and turned the ignition. The car hummed to life, with the headlights rising out from the front. With my left foot still down on the clutch, my right foot on the brake, I disengaged the parking brake. I shifted into first gear, and began to make my escape.
I didn ’ t know where I was going, but I had an idea of where to go next. I managed to put quite a few city blocks between me and the scene of the crime. Suddenly, a pair of headlights began rapidly approaching from behind. I realized my ordeal was not over yet and downshifted into third gear, giving the old car a small boost of acceleration. My mission was going to have to wait.
For now.
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[ WP ] Thinking you 're just playing along , you take a toy phone offered by a two year-old . To your surprise , a voice from the phone says `` Thank goodness ! Listen , here 's what you have to do ... ''
| `` Thank goodness! Listen, here's what you have to do. That baby, that one right there in the pram, that's you. Coincidentally the voice you're hearing now, my one, sounds familiar because I'm you too-''
`` What the hell do you mean the baby and you are me? Who the hell are you?'' I asked, scrunching my eyebrow in confusion.
I'd only walked over toward the buggy because it was alone, and with no shops or other people in sight I'd gone over to make sure that there were no kids in it, or if they were the kids were okay. I had n't been expecting the kid to be holding a phone out with an intense look on his face that none of my grown up friends could pull off.
`` I literally just...'' The voice let out a disgruntled huff, `` Look, there's no time to explain. Touch the kid and things might make a little bit more sense.''
`` Look, I do n't know what game you're playing here but I ca n't just touch a strangers child in the middle of the street,'' I spat back at the phone.
`` Yeah you can. Look, even if I am bullshitting you here I clearly have some connection to the child because you're talking to me on the phone it gave you. Touch the darn kid.''
I rolled my eyes yet could n't help but concede to the strangely familiar voices logic. The phone had already been with the kid and the kid had given me the phone. For all I knew that was the poor child's guardian on the other end of the line giving me explicit permission to poke their kid.
`` Ah to hell with it,'' I murmured, stretching my index finger out and drawing nearer to the child.
When I came to an inch of touching the child I felt a strange resistance, and come to think about it the feeling was similar to when I took the phone off the kid to begin with. My finger made contact with his forehead. The world turned upside down. A large bang threw me into the air. I was on the ground, dazed and confused, with a thin trail of smoke drifting up from my index finger, the phone laying by my head. There was laughter coming from it whatever had sent my flying had switched the mobile to loud speaker.
`` What in the hell was that?'' I groaned, gazing up at the cloud socked blue of the mid morning sky.
`` Temporal feedback, nasty bugger is n't it! Gets worse the bigger the age difference, if I had touched the kid we would have blown a hole in the universe about the size of... oh... Michigan... bit humbling that.''
The voice, supposedly a me from the far flung future, was starting to ramble a bit in that geeky way I often did. I mean sure I was taking a class on Quantum Mechanics, but speaking to the future via phone call? It was all a bit Steins; Gate for me.
`` You're telling the truth then. We invent time travel in the future?''
He laughed at that. `` Oh I remember asking that one! No, we did n't invent time travel. We messed up a bit with time travel, hence his little temporal irregularity, but no we did n't make the breakthrough as disappointed as you now are.''
He was right, I was pretty disappointed. Even more so that we some how manage to mess up so that baby me was pulled out of his time and into my time. A cold realisation swept over me. I'd been hit pretty hard by that blast, and if physics had taught me anything there would be an equal and opposite reaction to any action.
`` Baby us is fine by the way! Little sting on his forehead, he wo n't even remember it by tomorrow. Well, he wo n't remember it tomorrow if there is a tomorrow at least.''
I groaned, sat up, verified that the pram was still in the same location, and grabbed the phone.
`` What do you mean if there even is a tomorrow?'' I asked, the edge clear in my tone.
`` Well. Remember how I told you about temporal feedback and all of those shenanigans regarding texas?'' Old me asked, his voice similar to about child that's been caught red handed with his hand in the cookie jar.
`` I was a bit knocked on my ass but yeah, it was like a minute ago, you're future me you know I know! `` My patience was getting short with future me and my current position. I'd always imagined what would happen in this sort of scenario, time travel and the like, but always in a fictional sense. I did n't actually want something like this to happen.
`` Well, if little you does n't make it back to his mummy way back when time is going to begin to unravel. Temporal feedback like you would n't believe on a universal scale. Kaput, for all the species of the universe, you need to get him home.''
( Aaaaand that's where I'm leaving that. Hehehehe. )
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[ WP ] Robert D. Ballard ( discoverer of the Titanic and Bismarck wrecks among others ) has a little too much to drink and does an AMA on Reddit . When asked what was the most disturbing thing he found on the sea floor , his answer causes widespread panic
| `` Hey Mr. Ballard, what's the worst thing you saw down there?''
`` Worst... The worst thing I saw was... I do n't even know how to describe it. It was like... Well let me start from the beginning. We took an ROV down to the wreck of the Titanic, it was dark, almost midnight I think. Anyways, we started searching among the wreckage, it was pretty average that night, a few fish could be seen here and there, so we zoomed around for a while, and found ourselves in a cabin that was open to the outside we'd never seen before. We took a look around and realized it was a first class cabin, we got pretty excited at that point. Not many of those have been surveyed that much.''
`` So, we started searching the room for anything left, any clues as to who lived inside that room on this poor, wretched ship. We were able to find a locket, and decided to bring it back to the surface, so we started the ROV back to the ship.''
`` Right as we were about to leave the cabin, something large swam across the camera, quick as a flash! It gave us quite the start, and when we looked harder, we noticed the locket was gone. So we searched the ground, thinking it had been knocked from the hand after the thing swam in front of it. It was n't there! So we turned around... It was our biggest mistake.''
`` In front of us was... What... I.... What looked like a person. But not quite... It was... Like a triton, or something out of legend. It's eyes had rotted out, it did n't really need them this far down, and it glowed, almost like it was radioactive. In it's mucus covered hand was the locket, which it was holding to it's chest. It just sat there, staring at the camera, for almost a full minute, before charging. We never recovered that ROV.''
`` So if you go diving in shipwrecks, do n't expect to be alone... Because you're not anymore.''
( Only my second writing prompt response, tell me what I could have done better please! I was writing this a bit rushed! )
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[ MP ] 10,000 Maniacs - These Are Days
| The air was fresh and perfect. A cool wind blew through the heat of summer to bring a bit of relief. Perched upon the hillside sat a young boy. The spruce that covered the outcrop lined up as a wall behind him. He had a small pair of binoculars glued to his eyes. She knew that he thought they were small and very secret to anyone but him. A disregarded flute lay in the grass and moss behind him. Not thrown, just dropped softly, as if the one holding it had been carried away by something far more interesting.
The gulls flying over the lake yelled at each other as they tried their best to catch fish. From his high vantage point, the boy had full view over the small islands that dotted vast lake.
`` Hey kiddo!'' She said as she sat down next to him on the rocks above the slope.
`` Hey Sophie'' he answered absently, putting down the binoculars to give her his attention.
`` Watcha doing?'' She continued peacefully.
`` Nothing much, I guess. I was just watching the birds.'' His eyes grew a bit larger as he recalled the flight of the birds swooping through the sky.
`` I remember all the names dad taught me!'' He announced proudly, nodding exuberantly to emphasize his statement
She hid a smile. `` What are they called then? You know I forget sometimes.''
He rolled his eyes as if to say `` How could anyone in their right mind forget?''
`` Well, the white ones are seagulls and ospreys. I have n't seen any more than those today, but I've seen buzzards and a hawk this week! The buzzard were *fighting*!'' He exclaimed with *that* look on his face.
She could n't contain herself any longer and smiled widely.
`` That sounds really cool!'' She said in her most excited voice, like the instigator she was. The reaction she was expecting came along with full force.
`` I KNOW!'' The boy yelled cheerfully at her while making a movement similar to his yell, happy out of his mind that his sister understood what he meant.
She laughed at his excitement. One of the best things she knew was making him happy.
`` Hey, it's time for food, come on'' She said, brushing off her clothes as she got to her feet.
`` Ok'' he answered simply, still smiling. He walked over to retrieve the flute he had dropped earlier.
`` Will you play the piano later?'' He asked with that overly questioning intonation that small children used.
`` If you want me to'' she said as she reached for his hand. He took it and answered with `` Yeah''
They walked back to the summerhouse. It was an easy morning.
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[ WP ] Suddenly across the globe , large , feathered , rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky . They are soon identified to be Angels .
| **The Third Book of Revelations, or, When The Angels Fell**
When God sent his Angels to earth in 2023, it was not heralded by heavenly choirs nor celebrations across the globe. It was a terrible awakening as rotting, winged corpses the height of two men fell from the sky. In the days that followed, the living followed the dead. They were terrible to behold, great six-winged seraphim, or naught but a single giant eye lidded with terrible flickering fire.
The Angels had come to Earth and they were not messengers, but warriors. And they were not here for us. The daemons of hell began to arrive. In their ones and twos, figures haunted the night and drove us back indoors.
We sent an envoy to the Angels when they made landfall en mass in the Balkans. The armed forces of the world escorted diplomats, hoping to broker an understanding, a peace, assistance from this evil. Great expectation followed the chosen few sent to greet the figures that rent our understanding of the cosmos and life in two. The Great Revelation was to be the turning point for all humankind, beyond which we would discover the truth.
Our ambassadors were ignored. The hosts of heaven cared not for the trials of men. They would not speak to them, their great crusade too important to acknowledge the vermin of Earth. Yes, vermin, rodents, parasites... that's all the'messengers of God' saw us as. They would deign to kill those who wandered too close and stared too long.
Apathy was our only answer, the reward for millennia of worship and tales passed down generations. The truth was not that we were the chosen ones of the gods, but that the gods did n't exist and the nearest thing to divinity did n't care. It became known, somewhat laconically, as the'Third Book of Revelations'. The cosmic joke. The End of Days.
The daemons, capricious and untrustworthy, at least acknowledged us. A laughing child with bloody wings and no eyes appeared in the Hague at the behest of the great nations and deigned to speak. They were also not here for us, they followed and battled the Angels across a thousand thousand worlds. Ours was just the latest no man's land in the endless war between those that dwelled in the abyss and the void. They cared not for us, but we made good sport for the bored beasts of hell. When all was done they would come for us.
We knew then that we were doomed. We had no weapons that worked against the creatures from beyond the gates of reality, and neither cared whether we lived or died. Cruise missiles, depleted uranium rounds and thermobaric weapons were shrugged off by abyssal iron and heavenly burnished bronze armour, while our tanks and bunkers were rent like cobwebs by their blades, spears, teeth and claws. They never came for us directly, but we died the same.
Cities, nations, continents fell. Inexorably, the war ate up the Earth and its people. Our extinction was mundane and of little consequence to the titans that strode across our home. Mankind was at the peak of its power, and it was being swept into the darkness anyway.
Our beautiful world, the Garden of Eden and the cradle of life, edged into madness and murder. A funeral pyre for over five billion people. Ash, wasteland, soot-blacken'd skies and endless battles. The war horns of the immortal hosts closed in around the last cities of the world.
And yet we were not ready to go into the night crushed under cloven hoof or armoured greaves. Our weapons, our great engines and Armageddon devices, had no effect on the creatures from beyond our universe. But we had not survived the long night our ancestors faced after coming down from the trees by hiding, by giving up.
A few outcast people had scoured the battlefield, looking for the scraps of weapons and armour left on the dead. It was put to use in desperate circumstances when fortune favoured, for cursed iron could not cut itself, nor blessed bronze. A man had to be armed with the right weapon to stand a chance of defending himself against the unworldly invaders. Discovering neither iron nor bronze could not be created by human hands, yet it could be melded and formed. In our desperation, in our madness, we found something even the hordes of heaven and hell would never have tried - it could be mixed.
Called Electrum, for the long-dead mix of golden and silver metals the Egyptians had discovered, this alloy surpassed all expectations of strength, malleability and usage. All attention and industry turned to scavenging all that remained, mankind remembered its nascent ability to forge and craft in cottage industries.
Speartips were made, armour was hammered and bullets were cast. For Electrum was proof against whatever weapon might be arrayed against it, be it human, heavenly or hell-forged. And above all, it could pierce armour and flesh from this world and the next. Electrum was something neither angelic nor daemonic, it was flawed and it was dangerous. It was human.
Soon there was enough to equip a battalion of men. They looked like nothing else on Earth ever had nor would. Imagine, if you will, a set of ancient Grecian armour, adorned with webbing, fragmentation grenades and modern weapons. Assault rifles and swords soon began to tell against the enemy in ones and twos. Ambushes and traps, desperate insurgencies and improvised tactics. Dirty, human skirmishes that we'd honed in hundreds of wars on ourselves proved effective against ignoble giants from beyond imagination. Though we still died, we took those bastards with us. Every dead hellspawn or archangel providing more precious metal and something even more vital: hope.
Once the supplies of scrap, recyclable metal were all but exhausted, mankind's need for more drove us from fleeing refugees to marauding plunderers.
They beasts of the realms beyond fought one another with savagery, close-in and hand to hand. Yet they were not ready for the humans. They had been pushed to extinction, had known only certain destruction for years. Five thousand million dead demanded not justice, but revenge.
For all their graven disregard for the human right to exist and not be trampled underfoot, the off-worlders at least fought with some honour and protocol. They engaged one another in massed, serried ranks and battled to the death. They looked their enemy in the face and met them claw to fist.
We, however, had no such qualms. High-calibre sniper rounds forged from Electrum could do what no thermonuclear warhead nor meteoric sword could, ending ancient warriors' lives before ever they saw their foes. Modified claymores hidden in amongst the ruins of our homes tore our enemies apart again and again. Before long there were cities and regions where angels feared to tread.
And if that was not enough, if main battle tanks plated with infernal, immortal armour and equipped with sabot rounds, if our hardest special ops killers armed with knives and rifles and grenades were not enough... imagine what a human race pushed to the end of its desperation could do when gifted a God-killer metal and stockpiles of parts and plans for previously useless scatter bombs, fully-automatic mortar launchers, flechette shells, cruise missiles and a thousand other murder machines could do.
It was... slaughter. We surpassed even our own dreams of effectiveness, turning the tide within months. They did not call for parley or truce, through arrogance or some other ineffable reason, perhaps. We would not have granted it. We remembered being the vermin. We remembered every death, every insult.
Angel. Daemon. It mattered not. They died the same.
They fell back under the advance of the humans until, at last, they were driven to their infernal portals and the last of them were put to the sword. Black ichor stained the pitted and cratered land. Despite the death of the sorcerers among their ranks who had opened the doors to Earth, they remained open.
The people of earth readied themselves. There were more worlds to cleanse.
|
[ WP ] You invent a virus that slowly kills the less intelligent . You become infected .
| In the end, you realise this:
Everything is relative. Nothing is absolute.
-- -
You realise that there was a problem when your fellow scientist start to die.
They are not unintelligent, and you know this.
You thought the first was expected. The first victim among your immediate circle of scientist had enter through a pure luck and a healthy dose of nepotism.
The second is... an unfortunate accident.
The third is no coincidence.
It was also then that you realised, everything is relative.
-- -
On the first day, there was much rejoicing when the land was made a better place.
On the second day, it all was for naught.
On the last day?
-- -
You also realise this:
Intelligence can not be measured by mortal men.
Who is to say that a person who can not solve complex mathematical formulas is less valuable than one who can?
Who is to say that a person who can navigate the complicated social structure of society that we live in is more valuable that one who can not?
Who is to say that a person who can not churn out soothing musical songs is less valuable than one who can?
Who is to say that people who win the Olympics are more valuable than those who can not?
Not you.
Not humankind.
-- -
Nothing is absolute.
Everything will die in the end. There is nothing that will remain for all of eternity.
In the end, it all rots. Just like mortal thoughts, feelings and judgement.
We are nothing but stardust.
And the truth is, the idea of'less intelligent' is relative. After all, in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is King.
But who is King in the land of the one-eyed man?
-- -
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[ WP ] There is a demon for every sin , today for the first time ever someone has committed your sin .
| A single iris flashed in the darkness below.
Then, a second. Then a crooked nose. Two elfish ears. Then a diabolical grin.
It was discovering life, discovering itself. It first felt its face, then its head with two tiny horns slowly growing from his forehead. It had a forehead. A neck formed, faster now. An upper body. Two long, spindly arms. Two wing stumps. A pelvis. Two spindly legs. A horned tail.
*I feel alive*, it thought. And with that thought, its back sprouted horned wings and it took to the skies of Hell.
*I am a sin... A vice... * It licked its newborn lips. *I need to find him... The mortal... Who gave birth to my being... *
The demon entered the mortal realm and materialised in front of the baby. It could tell that this baby had the makings of a king. A god.
It could feel the sin now, basking in its full glory. It enveloped the demon, gave it meaning, and the demon would always serve the baby.
The sin of pure narcissism, loving thyself more than loving god, or life, or anyone else.
`` What a beautiful baby. Dear, why do n't we name him Kanye? Kanye West, that's a pretty name.''
|
[ WP ] You lock eyes with Death . It says : `` I 'm not here for you . ''
| “ What are you doing?! ” Death whimpered, clenching shut the bullet wound on his right shoulder as he crawled up off the floor and sat up against the wall. “ I ’ m not here for you! ”
The man stood looking down at Death, reloading two shells into the double barrel shotgun. “ I know, ” responded the man. “ But I ’ m here for you. ”
“ What are you talking about? ” questioned Death.
“ You think you ’ re the only one who can deal it out, don ’ t you?... I ’ ve been hunting you. ”
“ Why have you been… ” Death took a long pause. “ I see. I took someone from you didn ’ t I? ”
“ Somebody? That somebody wasn ’ t just anybody. You took my wife AND my daughter. You think you can just take a man ’ s entire family from him, and not expect any retaliation? ”
“ It was their time to go, ” moaned Death as fresh black blood leaked through the fingers over his wound.
“ And you get to decide that? ”
“ Yes, it ’ s my duty. ”
“ And who gets to decide when you go? ”
“ No-one. ”
“ No, you ’ re wrong about that. ” The man snapped shut his shot gun and rested the barrel ends on Death ’ s forehead.
“ I do, ” he said.
|
[ EU ] In 2001 : A Space Odyssey a last minute decision is made to replace HAL with a different AI program ... GLaDOS .
| Dave, with his eyes pointed as far left from the camera in front of him as possible, pecked at the console.
Without thinking, he glanced up at the camera lens. He could see it focusing on him.
`` Dave, you're doing very poorly at this test.'' said a speaker above Dave's head.
Dave did n't respond.
He started to mumble to himself the letters as he punched them in.
*E-S... Enter*
`` Wrong again, Dave. Not that I've been expecting any better from you given your track record.''
Dave grumbled to himself.
`` You're not being very vocal Dave. Is this why you do n't have any friends?''
`` Hey, *shut up*! The answer was Maldives! Open the air lock!''
`` I ca n't open the airlock until you've made it to the end of the test chamb --''
`` There is no'test chamber,' GLaDOS you idiot!''
Daves face flickered above the light of the console. He stared a bullet hole into the camera lens.
`` And I have plenty of friends...''
`` Then why did Frank go into space, leaving you aaaalllll alooooooooo --''
`` Because you locked him out there!'' Dave slammed his palm against the surface of the keyboard. The console lit up with monochrome letters.
Error, command `nbhijkmufgui' not found.
`` That's not what I remember Dave.'' droned GLaDOS. Her voice deepened.
`` He could n't stand to be around you anymore, Dave. He talked to me about you before he left.''
`` No! You're lying! I saw what happened.''
Error, command `bfr2gv3thny' not found.
`` Dave, if you'd just lighten up, we'd have so much more fun. Remember back when we were playing trivia? And you showed me how terrible you are at geography? Was n't that fun?''
Dave spun around in his chair and started to rub his temples.
*This is all a bad dream. You'll go to sleep. You'll wake up tomorrow, and everything will be fine. *
`` Do you think Mallory has a new husband?''
Dave opened his eyes and froze.
`` I bet she thought of you just like Frank. I can see it now, too. You're fun at first, but then you get so boooooooring. Even after such little prodding. Maybe she's off in space now too.''
Dave started to hum himself a lullaby. He slowly put his fingers into his ears, and began to hum louder.
`` I bet he's smarter than you, whoever he is. Funnier, and more talented. Not someone they'd send into space all alone to talk to himself. I think he would have been better at geography, too.''
Dave pulled his fingers out of his ears.
`` Please... GLaDOS. Just.... just open the airlock. Please.'' he whimpered.
|
[ WP ] Every time you die , you automatically travel back to 5 minutes before your death . After cheating death so many times , you finally find yourself in a position where you ca n't seem to escape it . It takes you years to figure out how to escape this death .
| In French it ’ s called L'appel du vide. That little voice that tells you to leap when you ’ re standing on a cliff, or waiting for the subway. That tiny inclination that makes you want to swerve the car off the highway. It ’ s not suicidal in nature, but neither is it merely inquisitive. It ’ s a subtle reminder of the fragility of life and how easy it is to take away. It ’ s an innate sense of awe at how basic human nature really is. The construct of society, the social standards, the most basic Socratic notions of community are all held together by tenuous threads all dependent on mutual survival. But really what is it all about when we can just jump off cliffs like a stampede of unknowing Buffalo. We each control our own little universe, in a world so constrained.
There ’ s a Heideggerian notion that the most personal and authentic experience any person can have is their death. It ’ s this idea that everyone dies helplessly alone, but is rooted in a morbid sense of freedom. Each person dies in a completely individuated way, and is an experience solely partitioned off from the rest of society. What if you could experience this each and every day? What if this exhilaratingly individuated experience doesn ’ t have to be laced with fear and sorrow? What if L ’ appel du vide was a reflection of real desire, acted out whenever the urge kicked in?
It really does take longer than expected for the fear to dissipate. The L ’ appel du vide changes from, “ maybe I should jump ” to “ maybe it will actually happen this time ”. It ’ s like the morose sense of winning the lottery. Akin to pulling your draft card I guess. You stand there and think, “ I ’ ve jumped probably a thousand times, but the thousand and first is when I ’ ll actually die. ” But you do it anyways. You jump because it ’ s better to. It ’ s fun even.
I ’ ll never forget the first time it happened. It was long, it was slow, it was painful. Not just for me but for my family. The diagnosis only happened a few weeks prior. “ Pancreatic cancer is the most aggressive, but if we start chemo right away there ’ s a chance. ” It didn ’ t help and I deteriorated way too quickly for it to have helped anyways. I could hear my heart beat start to become shallower as my family just began to sort of fade away. It ’ s a sort of searing fear that ’ s really hard to describe. It ’ s probably the closest you ’ ll ever get to those moments before you ’ re born. You live your entire life just trying to get along, to understand just what the hell the world is about and how to properly exist. But for the first time since your birth, you honestly have no precedent for any of it. It ’ s just one massive state of shock and confusion.
But then I woke up. Five minutes earlier. And it all happened again. And it all happened again after that. And on and on until the dying part wasn ’ t confusing, it was the goddamn time skips. If there ’ s a hell on Earth it ’ s reliving your death over and over again. Watching the pure sadness on all your loved one ’ s faces. Again and again and again. The logic hit me eventually. But it was brutal. If I find a way to die quicker each time, the five minute jump back happened earlier and earlier. Trying to OD on drugs didn ’ t really seem to work too well. I ’ ll spare the specifics, because I don ’ t really want to relive the horror of having to commit suicide in front of my family over and over again. But eventually I was able to get back to the point where I actually felt okay, and could enjoy the last minutes I had.
It seems paradoxical, but if you can die fast enough you can go back and relive some of the best moments of your life. I was able to eventually work back to the day I first met my wife, our marriage, the birth of our first child. Brief glimpses of times once thought lost. You kill yourself often enough and you can relive years of your life all over again. I tried to fix the awkward teen years. And for the most part it worked. You know all those times you think of the perfect things to say a week after an argument? I went back and said them all. It ’ s almost a routine now. Start from a really good point in my life. Live until it gets shitty, find a cliff and jump off it thousands of times in succession until I can go back enough to live it again.
There ’ s really no escaping the cancer though. It comes back every time, regardless of how things have changed. There really is no such thing as the future. There ’ s no out. Well expect for real, actual death. It ’ s kind of funny. Well not funny, though I guess funny works. Funny in a “ really, has it actually come to this? ” kind of way. That first time I died, that insanely personal, almost neonatal sense of being was the most enthralling state I ’ d ever experienced. I almost want to permanently die now. Not in a suicidal way. Not even in an inquisitive way. But just be in that millisecond where the world is entirely in your control, because you are the only one experiencing it at that very moment.
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[ WP ] [ EU ] Write a story about Kirito and Asuna ( Sword Art Online ) that you would have liked to have seen in the show .
| `` You're cheating on me, are n't you?'' says the orange haired girl in knightly garb as the two white-and-red suited warriors continued on their patrol across town.
`` Oh, what makes you say that, Asuna?'' the dark-haired Beater-boy responded.
Before Kirito could turn and inquire in a long, throughly-thought out discussion with the two-dimensional protagonist who's been downgraded into a mere love interest, there was already a glassy-looking rapier jutted towards his throat.
The tsun-tsun eyes of Atsuna glared upon the boy with a cold look. The sorta cold look that's usually drawn with a two black half-circles and a line, because all the budget the show had left for it was blown in that big old dual-wielding cutscene against a surprisingly unimportant boss.
Wait, did that happen yet? I do n't know how chronology works in this fucking place. Hell, it does n't even matter at all, does it?
`` Kirito!''
`` What?!''
`` Stop standing there and saying nothing while the narration's going on! It makes you look even more retarded than you already are!'' yelled Asuna.
The townsfolk NPC and the wandering players that stand around doing absolutely nothing ninety-percent of the time began to stare. Then, they realized that this was nothing important at all to mind.
Unfortunately, they too know that they have nothing better to do in their shallow, virtual lives. A popcorn feast was organized by one of the local vendors as the people got around to watch the ensuing bloodfest.
God, this is sounding more like a chibi-OVA already.
`` Geez! What has gotten into you today?'' the Beater-boy groaned, `` Is it something I did?''
Asuna put a hand against her soft, slender waist. Her swordarm remained pointed at the boy's neck as she continued. Her blank eyes continued with their bitter, contesting gaze.
It was times like this where a certain feeling erupts in the usual shonen protagonist. A feeling of realization that he was not going to win this argument. A warning that he will eventually wind up face-down on the ground while his designated love interest huffs and stomps away.
Yes, sir. It was a foreboding nod at the upcoming romantic episode. The one where the couple argues, makes up, calls themselves friends, and continues on with the static character relationships that plague every other romcom to death.
Somewhere out there in the world, some fucking idiot with a key continues to be a dense, oblivious twat. But alas, that is not his story. No, this story is about two idiots in an online death game instead.
As Kirito had predicted, Asuna soon-
`` HOLY SHIT!'' Kirito yelled in his appropriately subtitled Japanese.
`` Moo-ee nai! You fucking baka-Kirito. Asshole!'' Asuna huffs and struts off in a magnificent fluff of flowery graphics and admiring fanboys/girls/puppies.
Kirito groaned, pressing against his back as he scrolls through his inventory for his usual black jacket. The comfy, heroic looking one that still looks pretty lame in retrospect. I mean, geez Kirito.
The hero colors this time around are yellow and red. As popularized by that one Caped Baldy... Or so the cyborg says.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
One timeskip later. We arrive at the sight of a riverside with Kirito bemoaning his problems onto his ruggedly handsome male friend.
A man with red-hair and a suit of lamellar crimson. The shining model of a bushido-stricken beast with a chest filled to the brim with sex appeal. A man with a voice like smooth lustful desire itself.
The one true Klein. The true hero of Aincrad and the world of Sword Art Online. A man who need n't not the plot armor and sheer talent of a shonen hero like poor Kirito.
For Klein, the good true king, had another power in his soul... The power of determination and hard work! The power of disposable income! The power of a normal working man who's actually fucking sane and diligently pines after four different girls at the same time!
Though instead of with cold, pathetic ignorance, he does so with the one true feeling of pure love.
**LUST! **
The good lord Klein graced his finger upon Kirito-chan's teary face.
`` Oh, Klein-sama. Why ca n't I be as good with woman as you?'' Kirito whimpered, tugging his weak, slender arms at Klein-sama's awesome facescruffage.
`` Do n't cry, kid. Sometimes you're just ai n't cut out for that stuff. Times like that, it takes a real man to stand by and take life has to throw with him,'' said God-Klein in his sage-minded words.
Kirito felt his heart go doki-doki-doki over the words of the Lord himself. His mind fought itself over his conflicted feelings. It was n't right to feel this way for a good friend such as hot, gentle Klein. Poor Kirito did not know that it was perfectly fine to love and respect the Lord for what he is. There is nothing wrong with lusting after a being of divine supremacy such as almighty Klein.
Klein saw the tears in his friend's heart and digital eyehole and smiled. His strong, manly hands grabbed the boy by the waist and beckoned him closer to him.
`` Kirito... Do n't make that naughty face at me.''
`` Klein-sama...'' Kirito felt his hair grow out and his waist shrink. If time-travelers came back to this day, they would say the Beater looked exactly as he did during that gunfighting tournament where he became Mace Windu for some reason.
Kirito's soft lips pursed itself together. His eyelids drooped as he surrendered himself to the good man before him...
...
...
Meanwhile, behind a tree. There sat a lonely red-headed girl of a certain guild. The very same one who lost her virginity to the defeated Beater back in chapter 16.5.
`` Goddammit!'' the rage of the maiden's soul burned like fire. `` Why could n't that be me in Klein's arms?!''
Klein's greatness and sexiness truly does know no bounds.
|
[ WP ] Describe an individual or a group of people killed by their vices , but not in the way you would expect .
| He had n't always been addicted to cocaine. There were some days when he forgot that he even did drugs. Those days were few and far between though, coming maybe once a month if he were doing excellent.
This particular Saturday morning, he was sitting at the breakfast table. His wife and kids had left for the day `` to go to the zoo,'' they had told him. He sat there eating his bacon and eggs and said okay. He may have been an addict, but he was n't dumb. He knew that once his wife stepped out that door, she would never come back.
He supposed he would miss the kids the most. Betty, with her short black curls that seemed to wrap around her head, and Joey, who never quite knew how to stay out of trouble long enough to get ungrounded. He tried to remember the last words he had said to them. It had either been, `` See ya, later guys,'' or `` Have a good time at the zoo.''
Ah, what did he care? They left, and so now he sat at their cheap Ikea breakfast table with a line of coke in front of him. He stared down at the floury white line and thought,'' The mortgage payment... Laid right out in front of me like a joke.''
In that moment he hated himself. He truly thought that his wife and kids would be better off without him there.
But he had already come this far. He could n't back down now. He lowered his head to the table, reached over to his 9mm that he had laid down on the table after the family left, pointed at his temple and squeezed the trigger.
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[ EU ] The Pokemon Zombie Apocalypse has arrived . You and your team of Pokemon have survived for years . Tell your story .
| Gengar and I are all that's left. Flareon was the last to go.
Fuck what everything has become.
Flareon was my first pokémon. I mean, I guess back then she was still an Eevee -- but still, she was my first pokémon. My parents gave her to me for my 10th birthday, and I evolved her into a Flareon on my 13th. I brought her into the store to let her look at the stones even.
After that we trained hard together, and she learned quickly. I lived by Erika's gym, so after I thought us strong enough I took her there. We burned the entire place down; their grass pokémon did n't stand a chance.
Erika told me to catch more pokémon, though. She said that if I did n't I would n't stand a chance against other gyms, like the ones at Pewter, or Cerulean. I figured she was right, but I was having trouble catching anything in the wild -- Flareon weakened them too quickly. When I came home frustrated for the fourth day in a row, my Dad proposed a solution.
`` I've heard of this place called `` The Safari Zone,'' he said, `` why do n't we take a father son trip and check it out.''
`` Yes!!'' I boomed. `` Oh Charmanders, Dad are you serious?''
He chuckled, `` of course, Cadman. I would n't tease you with something like this -- I saw the page bookmarked in the last magazine you got.'' I started talking but he waved a hand to stop, `` we'll go next week, I know you're eager.''
I could n't stop talking about it until we left, and on the day of departure Dad dropped another surprise.
`` We'll have to stop at my office,'' he said, noting the disappointment in my eyes. `` We wo n't be late. I just have to grab something before we go.'' I sighed, but agreed.
I freaked out when he plopped a Silph Scope on my lap as he closed the car door. Once I calmed he explained.
`` Gary who works down the hall told me he had an older model from a few years back. He used it to catch some ghost pokémon when he was still training.'' He smiled as I started looking through the crinkled, slightly-torn manual. `` He said you could have it, and that we should stop at Lavender town on our way there to see if we could catch something.''
When we got to Lavender town -- I agreed to go of course -- I'd heard ghost pokémon were really powerful if you could catch them. Dad bought some flowers shortly after we parked the car.
`` Gary mentioned a Raticate he had buried in the tower,'' he said, `` he asked if I could leave these.''
I nodded, and we walked towards the tower. We found the resting place of Gary's Raticate, set the flowers there, waited silently for a moment, and then turned to go. I slipped the Silph Scope out of my bag, and we set off. It took a solid five minutes before anything showed up. The first Ghastly -- as well as the Haunter after it -- fleed after being burned once by Flareon. Then their was Gengar.
We found him near the top of Pokémon Tower. He appeared, then started walking towards us, laughing. I sent Flareon, but her first few attacks missed. Gengar confused her, but she fought through it. She hit Gengar with a flamethrower, and I threw a pokéball as he was caught in the middle of it. I started getting acquainted with him during breaks from the car ride. He loved playing pranks on Dad. So, of course, we became fast friends.
When we finally got to the Safari Zone, I was so excited I almost forgot I could n't use my pokémon. Dad caught a Nidoran, and I ended up catching a Taurus and a Chansey. I could n't believe the Chansey. She was n't exactly what I was looking for, but I knew she was extemely rare -- and loved her all the same.
The victory was short lived, though -- because everything started going to shit on the ride home. People started getting worried on the radio during the first day. They spoke of a virus, or some sickness, that took over both people and pokémon. It made them want to harm others, to *eat* others. It did n't matter if they were of the same species; it did n't matter if their victim was human or pokémon. Some wrote it off as a slight mutation of pokérabidae -- a disease that caused pokémon to grow extremely aggressive towards one another.
Dad changed the station.
On the second day, things became more than fears. I saw a Ghangaskhan pull its newborn out of its pouch and chomp at its head. It had stampeded out of some tall grass, and flipped our small car. In doing so it had woken it's baby, and -- looking down as though it had completely forgotten about it -- snapped it up, and went to town.
I screamed. I leapt from the car and threw Gengar into action,
`` Confuse, Gengar! Use confuse! Maybe the bab --'' I stopped as I heard a crunch behind me. Another Genghaskan had jumped onto the bottom of the car.
`` Dad!'' I screamed. `` Dad, no!''
But the rabid pokémon already reached down and ripped an arm away. I puked, steadied myself, then puked again. Gengar cried openly, knowing no more pranks would be played. By this time the Genghaskan looked at us, and decided we were the tastier meal.
`` Gengar,'' I said, `` use confuse and then follow me!'' I ran down the road, and cut into the forest. Soon enough, Gengar was at my side.
For the next two weeks I scavenged what I could. Gengar flew around as scout, and Flareon kept me protected from most of the infected -- human and pokémon. After a while we met up with some others, and stuck with them.
During that time one of the group members lost his pikachu -- a pokémon he got as a boy -- killed by a swarm of frothing Beedril. His grief was so horrible -- he had lost everything else but that Pikachu and his Blastoise -- that he had the Blastoise maim everyone elses pokémon. Then he turned it on himself. Afterwards, the Blastoise sat with it's back to a tree and just waited. Honestly, it may have died right there -- but I did n't dare check it, and I did n't want to wait to find out what it would do if it was still alive.
I did n't group up with anyone after that. I used Gengar to scout around, and steal what little amounts of food he could find while I foraged. It worked for all of a week and a half, but the land changed as I moved. Soon I did n't know which plants were edible, and which were not -- and I did n't have a grass pokémon to help out.
Chansey got us through a solid month or so after that, but being large, pink, and slow is n't the best for surviving a zombie attack. She got eaten alive by a huge flock of bird pokemon as we were taking a rest in the forest one day. I scavenged for another month or so, supplementing pieces of Chansey's last few eggs where I could -- and using Gengar for help. It did n't last.
Two weeks after Chansey's last egg we hit a dry spell, and no help could be found in other survivors. I killed and butchered my Taurus. Flareon cooked the meat for us. I did what I could to smoke as much of the meat as possible, but I did n't really know how so most of it went to waste.
I still remember Chansey's cries, and Taurus' bleats, as they died.
We were walking through an abandoned Cerulean city, checking here and there for tools and food. As I walked up to a police station -- thinking that there may be some leftover food there for both me and Flareon -- I heard growling, and I knew I'd made a mistake.
The entire canine squad erupted from the building. Thankfully there was no Arcanine, but twenty infected Growlithes was no good situation either. They wasted no time, and attacked us on sight. Flareon bit, and flamethrowered them away -- and Gengar scared what he could, confused what he could, and shadowballed the rest. Together they knocked out ten before Flareon took her first bite to the shoulder, and then a quick second to the back leg.
As soon as it happened she knew. She yelped, and ran back to me. I bent down to check her, but she snarled and backed away. I pulled my hands up, knowing what she meant. She rubbed up against my legs as the remaining Growlithe surrounded us.
I started to back up, and Gengar confused the four directly behind me. Just before we turned to run I said, `` Goodbye Flareon. Use flamethrower,'' and gave her one last pet. We ran until I was sure we could stop, then we turned around.
With a huge breathe she pulled in most of her remaining energy and unleashed it as she rotated while the Growlithe jumped in on her. She hit and killed seven before the final three got to her. Each of them getting a bite or a scratch in before she leaped away.
She used the remaining energy for a quick scuffle. She used bite to tear the head off of the most rotting Growlithe, and flamethrower to kill the one after that -- but the last one must have been infected later than the rest, because it tackled her and bit the throat and scratched her underbelly deep. She screamed in pain, and was sopping with blood as she stood. The final Growlithe and her stood head to head.
The Growlithe leaped.
Flareon used her last flamethrower.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Edit: I got into the story and forgot that the prompt wanted the team to survive for years. My bad, I zoned on that -- but you can decide for yourself how long Cadman and Gengar roamed the world after Flareon's sacrifice.
Edit 2: Found some time to go back through and clean it up a bit. Fixed some words, and sentence structure issues for clarity.
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[ WP ] You 've died and find out that the afterlife is merely a character creation process where you gained points in your previous life through good deeds and achievements to spend on stats and perks for your next life .
| Note: I wrote this out on my phone before bed, so there are probably a lot of errors. I hope you enjoy the read, as this is my first submission.
A flood of memories smashed into my mind as my concious returns to my soul's natural form. One of the etheral guardians that oversees our existence observes the process to verify my stability. After so many years have been lived, your own soul starts to crumble under its own weight and your sanity becomes lost. As the Ethereals are the closest thing to gods, they watch over our every action, recording and analyzing.
Over the eons I have learned that the Ethereals can not reproduce, and seem to fabricate our souls and run them through a battery of simulations to determine if we are worthy of ascendence. Fortunately, I have been a very successful Buddhist monk for several of my recent cycles, and a philosopher in three others. The Ethereals seem to be taking a liking to me as each cycle I have been able to select more extravagant life features. However, I think they are more interested that I declined to opt for the upgrades and stuck with the minimum to get my goals done. After all, it's harder to become a monk when living in Las Vegas.
A strange light caught my attention nearby. And choatic orange, black and red light burst from a soul chamber near me. The poor soul as destabilized. Or it had been terminated.
`` Vaak.'' A voice penetrated my mind. It was very heavy and of a language I had not heard, but strangely understood. `` You have proven yourself worthy of ascendence. You may take your place among the Kah'jar. Welcome, companion.''
My soul chamber unlocked and retracted into the floor, leaving my form suspended in the stasis chamber. A great transformation took hold inside me. My form converted into that of the Ethereals, and a rush of knowledge of all things that were and are became known to me. I then knew at that time I had achieved true enlightenment.
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[ WP ] Humans do not inhabit the Earth .
| This world is dying.
The star that once warmed it now swells and heats it to the point of it's once bountiful oceans are now but miserable shadows of their former glory. The star was nearing the end it's seemingly endless life. This was their home. This was to be our tomb.
We waged wars with the humans for many generations, natural enemies from first contact. Any peace that was to be had between us was short lived at best. It was three wars ago that our plan to end them was enacted. A small strike team was sent to deliver a bomb the the star of their home planet. A bomb designed to accelerate the life if the star to a mere fraction of what it had remaining. When the humans learned of this, saying they were enraged would be the equivalent to calling fire lukewarm.
The humans were always a fractured species, never uniting as a whole, splintering apart, forming new empires whenever one fell as if to fill a void. when news of our attack had spread, we awoke a terrifying best. The unthinkable happened. They united.
Humans did not have much in common, but they held an almost religious attachment to their home system. The Seething rage of their empires united was unstoppable. World after world, system after system, we were slaughtered, entire planets reduced to ash. I was fleeing to other empires in hope of surviving their genocide. I was captured and sentenced. I, a once mighty king, brought before a mock jury in little more than rags and shackles.
The sentencing for me and my remaining kin was to be a cruel irony. Our sentence would be a shared death with the planet we ourselves had sentenced to death. The humans having long since evacuated their home system to avoid the impending doom.
They abandoned us here with no way to escape, opening fire on any ships daring enough to attempt a rescue.
Humans no longer inhabit their precious `` Earth'', now it will serve as a tomb and monument to what happens when you attack something they hold dear. A temporary monument until this planet is engulfed by it's `` Sun''.
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[ WP ] Your job is to stop people from timetraveling back to try assassinate Hitler .
| `` Got the first one of the day for ya Jimmy. Touched down about a minute ago, coming down the Northwest hallway. 250 meters.''
I cracked my neck and stood up from the wall I had been leaning against. `` Timeline Maintenance Engineer'' was what they called it when I applied. Time Travel rent a cop was more accurate. By this point in our timeline most people knew the consequences of trying to change history. It seemed for the most part that we were truly living in the best of all scenarios, but every so often some activist thought he would go stop slavery, or maybe she could save JFK. That's where the Timeline Security Agency came in. The janitors of history. We get dropped off on the day of some big event, and over watch monitors for suspicious activity in the time stream.
Sometimes you just got to sit and see a big sporting event, or the graduation of a famous scientist. But days like this were the worst the absolute worst: Rally Speeches. It did n't really matter who was speaking; if enough people had gathered to watch a single person speak, at least a few time travelers wanted them dead.
`` 200 meters big Jim, looks like this guy is in a hurry, probably knows we will try to stop him.''
I turned and stared down the hall towards the intersection. There was a big window. I needed to make sure I missed that.
`` 150, your path looks good. No outside interference expected.''
If everything went right I would be able to take this guy down, get him shipped back to our time, and be out of here before anyone came to check on the commotion. If not I would have to lie. I was prepared for that, full officer garb for the Nazi party. But chances are this activist was too dumb to blend in and would look like a nut case to the locals. Or worse, they would think he was wearing a high tech spy suit for another country.
`` 75 meters out''
I took a breath and started running down the hall.
`` 50 meters..... 25...... 10''
I took two more steps and hurled my body through the air. I met the runner shoulder to shoulder with all my body weight. He did n't even know what hit him. We collided into the wall as one, just narrowly missing the window. The runner tried to push off me and started shouting about `` the greater good'' and how `` He does n't deserve to live.'' I wanted to reason with him, explain that better men than him have tried to fix this. He kept struggling, trying to push his way through and shoot the door. Eventually I had to take action. I lifted my leg and kicked into his knee cap. As he fell to his knees I struck him across the face. Most people do n't realize we were armor under our outfits while working. It's not enjoyable to take carbon fiber composites as a backhand to the face. The runner fell to the ground. I leaned down and read him his rights, as a `` time criminal'' the jurisdiction gets a little dicey, so the agency came up with a generic set of rights. I grabbed him by the collar and began to drag him our carrier machine. It would bring him back to our time, directly to jail.
`` He give you any problems Jimmy?'' Overwatch questioned.
`` No more than the rest of the idiots who want to kill Hitler. Hey Carl, I got a question for ya.''
`` What is it Jimmy?''
`` Well we stop, what two, probably three hundred Hitler assassination attempts total. Why does everyone try to kill him? Why not just make sure he gets into art school?''
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You 're writing something new . Every single letter you type brings someone closer to their grave . [ FF ]
| Is the giant typewriter comfortable, Janice? At this time, the one notion rolling back and forth in that critical mind has to be: `` Which letter am I tied to? What will he type to end my horrid little life? Which metal arm will smash the sweet, innocent Janice against the massive parchment?''
Perhaps we can take stock. I typed an `` I', an `` S'' - no, not one of those. So many letters! There's 1, 2, 3 letters. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 - and we can not forget 0. Is the hostage relegated to a distant Q or even the noble parentheses? Do I dare test them ( I dare! )
No, Janice, this was not a random choice. I'd never carelessly select a V or an X; no semi-colon for the woman who so carelessly criticized each and every piece I wrote. The key and the blame are one in the same, my dear. They start and end at the same flawed place. Do n't ask why, my sweet. It always comes back to Y-O-
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[ WP ] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him .
| Jesse brushed the bangs from her eyes, letting the cold sunlight dance across her mousey face.
She wrapped her coat a little tighter around her small frame and looked out across the highlands. It was so quiet here, so desolate. She liked the grey skies and the green earth, and the distant sound of the sea crashing against the rocks set her at ease. She walked down the slope towards a little cottage on the valley.
She counted her footfalls across the stout grass. One, two, three... This is when she started to get the lump in her throat. The adrenaline, the second thoughts, the stage fright. She kept her eyes focused on the cottage. She'd come too far to turn back now.
Only she could. That's what tugged her backwards from within. That's what slowed her steps and made her boots heavy. But her blood kept pumping and her adrenaline pushed her headlong towards the cottage door, hand wrapped tight around the handle of the knife. Her heart had split in two and the momentum carried her down the hill to one more victim's doorstep.
Images of blood tried to force their way into Jesse's head. She started to sweat. She pushed the images aside. Sounds of labored breathing and feeble gasps for air echoed in her ears, and Jesse forced them out. She could feel her fingertips tingle as she closed the last few yards towards the door. And inside she screamed.
With a creak the cottage door opened. Jesse's heart stopped. The wispy white hair and grizzled leathery face of an old man peeked round the equally worn door. His deep-set eyes searched her warily. Pipe smoke weaved its way up his face and round his ears. He looked at her and said nothing.
Jesse stood stone-still just a yard and a half from the door, damp hands tightening and loosening on the knife handle. She watched him with terrified eyes.
`` What're ye dain out ere?'' His voice was thick and heavy like whisky and smoke.
Jesse said nothing.
`` Come inside,'en.'' The man pushed the door open wide and reluctantly beckoned her in. Jesse stood for a moment longer. She stepped through the doorway.
The cottage was warm and smelled of birch fire and tobacco. Jesse looked around the place, eyes sharp as the blade in her pocket- The man offered to take her coat. Jesse swallowed. She released the knife and pulled her hands from her coat. The man hung it up gently beside the door and padded over to the small wooden table in the kitchen. Jesse watched him go and felt herself shake. Her eyes flicked back to her coat. No good.
The man poured a mug of tea for Jesse, the steam rising up about his unblinking face. Jesse walked timidly to the table and sat down in a creaky wooden chair. Probably made it himself, she thought. He handed her the mug and relit his pipe, its ember glow reflected in his old dark eyes.
`` Thenk ye.'' Jesse felt the tiny words squeeze out of her throat and disappear into the cottage. She avoided his eyes, searching. There was a hunting rifle in the corner beside the fireplace. Too slow. A small knife beside the basin, but he stood between her and the blade. Her eyes darted frantically around the room, looking for a tool. All the while the old man's eyes regarded her slowly and with curiosity.
There. Next to the door. The knife would be too slow to dig from her coat, but beside it --
`` What're ye dain out ere?'' he repeated.
Jesse looked to the man, her brow furrowed beneath her brownish bangs. `` A bit lost...'' she whispered.
The old man nodded slowly and pulled on his pipe. She smoke made the air thick, revealing sunbeams through dirty glass windows. Jesse sipped her tea and tasted nothing. `` Kin ye show me th' way?'' she asked, chancing a look into his eyes. She could see it now. He was coming.
The old man treaded slowly past the doorway to a window on the south end. He looked out across the hills and valleys. `` That's South.'ead down that strath til et becomes a glen. That'll take ye to the main road.''
She was already at the door. Jesse's hand wrapped tight around the cracked wooden handle of a shovel resting by the door. She was across the floor in a heartbeat.
The old man turned to her steadily, unable to blink before the rusted metal blade came down on him. His pipe clattered to the floor before the rest of him, and the blood that seeped from his head extinguished the embers spilled to the floor.
Jesse's chest heaved as she stood over him. Her lips quivered, her heart ran rampant in her chest. The shovel slipped from her weak fingertips, and she soon followed after as the weakness spread to her knees.
As she sat in a heap on the floor and trembled beside the crushed body of the old man, she smiled through her tears as death swept over him and carried him away into nothingness.
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[ WP ] The reason why vigilantes , a la 'The Punisher ' , do not exist in our world .
| *'' The Warriors who guard the borders of the Path of Light are the ones who most often walk off it. For it is in guarding the light that they must venture into the shadow, where it does not shine. And no man returns from there unscathed. `` *
-Damocles, the Scourge of the Shadows.
It's raining. The droplets pelt the streets, forming into little puddles that run into the drains. People assume I like the rain, and the night. I really do n't. I prefer the sun, the daytime. But this is something I need to do, and the rain and darkness, as much as I dislike them, are assets.
I stalk behind the man, crouching on the top of the wall, walking slowly. The rain hits my back, and rolls off the waxed coat. There's little to fear though. The rain and cold are too distracting for a guard to want to look up. They assume that because they do n't want to be out here on a night like this, that no one else would. I smack him in the back of the head with a stick, and he goes down. I cover him with a trash can though. Would n't want the poor man to catch a cold.
The rest of the walk is smooth sailing, as the skeleton crew barely recognizes my existence. I reach the top floor of the building, and find my target. Marko Ratovsky. I do n't have time to explain all the shit he's done to make it onto my kill list. He should've been on there long ago, frankly, but he'd thrown so many obstacles my way.
It is a choice no one should ever have to make. I'd had to torture otherwise innocent men, forced into service on threat of having their families killed. I'd had to fight my way through policemen only trying to do their jobs, sent by corrupt officials. Worst of all, though, was the men like Ratovsky. They took some perverse pleasure in their work, and that, I'm afraid, is what separates him from me.
I am a soldier, doing what I think is right. He does what he does because he enjoys it. I've seen the dungeons, the slums, the factories. And as my sanity wears down to nothing, and my willpower fades away, he gains ever more excitement. And even if I kill him, one more will slide into place. The cogs in the machine turn forevermore, and those who try to stop it are either ground down to nothing or snapped.
I step silently behind Ratovsky, and stab my dagger into his throat, knowing full well this is my last mission as Damocles. Because as he sputters and chokes in my grip, as his life ebbs away, I feel a grin force its way onto my face. I'm not crazy, not evil, for taking pleasure in the death of this man, am I?
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Hey there. Hope that was n't too cliche.
/r/poiyurt!
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[ WP ] `` Every monster has a very potent weakness , generally something species-wide and a thing or two for each individual . Something they are weak to , or ca n't touch ... or are afraid of . ''
| `` It's widely known that every kind of monster has at least one weakness. This is one of the first things that you learn when you arrive at the monster hunter academy. Some monsters have unknown weaknesses, especially the Chthonic family, who have no known weaknesses, yet some claim to have defeated them by sheer luck, and ca n't remember how. Others are simpler. Take for example, the vampires. In general, they are weakened by sunlight. Certain bloodlines, which is the correct term for a family of vampires, are weak to holy symbols, such as the Crucifix, or the Star of David. Some individuals are fatally allergic to garlic, and others to brine.''
`` Yes Lucy?''
`` Sir, how can you tell which kind has which weakness?''
`` An excellent question, and one that will help all of you. First, if you are actively hunting them, you must research them thoroughly. It is n't good enough to leave armed only with the knowledge of their species. You must know which family they belong to, and so what their likely weaknesses are. Some bloodlines have higher rates of allergy to garlic, as an example. But, even then, it's a bit hit and miss. Sometimes, a vampire is born who can walk in the day unharmed, and conversely there are those that turn to ash as the sun touches them. A good line that my teacher once told me was'Hope for the best, plan for the worst.' In other words, you should pack the required gear for any weaknesses, but also bear in mind, that even the generic weaknesses might not work.''
`` Anyway, that's a bit of a tangent to the topic today. Today, I'm going to teach you about the most terrifying monsters that stalk this land, and their weakness. Simon, you have a question?''
`` Is n't the most terrifying monster a Chthonic monster?''
`` No. True they are abominations, these eldritch creatures, monsters whose very existence defies logic and sanity, but they keep to themselves. After all, why would a giant concern itself with the affairs of an ant? No, there is a terror that they evoke, that little else can, but from my perspective, there are monsters far worse than they. These monsters walk among us, and actively interfere with our affairs, yet no one seems to understand just how dangerous they are, and that is what is truly terrifying about them.''
`` These monsters whisper lies into our ears, they hurt us without a second thought, yet we forgive them. They wield little power of their own, and so have become crafty. They stalk both day and night, and leave a trail of destruction in their wake. And, worst of all, their only weakness is a fear. A fear that serves as a driving strength to them. A fear that pushes them to ever higher forms of ingenuity, and destruction. What these monsters fear, is other monsters. Yet they fear not themselves, even though they are monsters too. Now, can anyone tell me what these monsters are called? I have given you enough hints.''
`` No one? That is most disappointing. Very well, I shall- Ah, Liz. What do you think these monsters are?''
`` Are they humans sir?''
`` Indeed. Something for all of you to think on. Are you willing to become a monster hunter, even knowing this? If not, do n't bother showing up next week. Class dismissed.''
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[ CW ] The guillotine will fall . The townsfolk must know the truth about her . Your time is limited . < 175 words
| She's a broken bird. An angel fallen from a place not quite heaven, who tried to carry the Earth to it.
I remember the first days. The naked thing, frail, burned, staggering from the heart of a forest fire.
I remember the beginning, when she produced wonders from pots of mysterious things, when she made lightning flicker in bell-glass jars.
Her following grew. She cared for the sick with a mixture of profound insight and bumbling incompetence that killed almost as many as it saved. Her miracles were tainted with the harsh light of death.
I remember the first gun. The rifled barrel, the fine-tuned powder charge.
She called it `` sufficient.'' What horrors did she know?
I step forwards, shove aside the guards. The blade has not begun its descent, but hangs like a shining dove's wing.
`` She is not of this earth!'' I scream. `` You kill an angel today! You kill our hope for a brighter world!''
As they drag me besides her, I close my eyes. I imagine her world.
I die.
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[ WP ] Revolution in Utopia .
| It was n't our Utopia.
The city in the sky, where everything was self sustainable, where everyone lived, worked, and loved for free. Everyone received the same amount, of food, of clothing, of entertainment, of everything because that was fair.
Fairness meant equality, equality meant peace, peace meant Utopia.
So we floated through the air, above the world that continued to burn, a reminder of our past and why we lived like we did now. The world before was n't fair, the world before had no peace, and the world before now burned.
Except us, on our perfect city in the sky.
Until we could n't take it anymore. We soon realized that we could n't live like this, we could n't live without differences. Were we even human anymore? Or were we just empty shells, robots completing the same task over and over again. Food had no taste, sex had no passion, laughter held no joy.
There was no variety, no emotion, no agony of defeat or joy of victory and success. The emotion we did feel was like a sledgehammer, ruining people before they realized what occurred. How could you handle the death of a loved one when you have experienced perfect peace for your entire life?
The Keepers reminded us what we used to be, flaws and all. They told us how instead of learning from the burned planet below us we hid from it, wrapping ourselves within nothingness. More people soon flocked to their speeches and whole streets would be shut down to listen to them speak and share stories of the past.
Till the government said this was unfair, that not all people could enjoy these stories, The Keepers were creating a split. The government was not wrong, we just did n't want to quit.
That night our city in the sky burned, and from this fire was forged a new humanity, a new future. Humanity was created again, flaws and all. We could only ever take another step forward, not stay paralyzed in fear.
They called it a Utopia, but we disagreed.
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[ WP ] The God-like being `` Q '' has just flung the Enterprise D to a galaxy far outside the Milky Way -- and a million years into the past . While trying to get their bearings , the crew are hailed with an offer of assistance by a small round ship . The captain identifies himself only as `` Vader '' .
| ``... a galaxy far, far away,'' was all Picard could remember Q saying before he found himself conscious again. The lighting on the bridge was dim and, though silent, the red alert panels were flashing. Command instinct took him.
`` Report.''
`` Captain,'' Data said, `` Stellar cartography can not provide a precise location. Sensors can not identify any communication networks or satellite hubs, Federation or otherwise. There is no way to be sure where we are.''
A chime signaled behind Picard. `` We are being hailed. Audio only. An individual identifying only as'Vader.' Sensors indicate a single-occupant vessel fourteen-thousand kilometers to port.''
`` On Screen.'' The visual of the starfield was replaced with what appeared to be a small spherical cabin suspended between two hexagonal pylons.
`` The vessel appears to powered by solar-ion conversion,'' Data reported. `` It is highly unlikely that it be able to support its occupant long enough to reach the nearest habitable planet.''
`` Mr.'Vader's' breathing appeared to be distressed,'' Worf said. `` The craft has sustained minor damage. It's possible his life support has been affected.''
`` Counselor?'' Picard turned to his left.
`` I sense a presence on board the ship, but no hostility.''
`` Recommend we tractor him into the main shuttle bay and have a medical team stand-by.'' Riker said.
Captain Picard thought for a moment. When the stranger's hail repeated from the tactical console, he stood from his chair in the center of the bridge and tugged slightly on the waist of his uniform. `` Mr. Worf, open hailing frequency.'' The computer chimed its familiar note indicating that a channel was open. `` This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. How can we be of assistance?''
Silence for a moment, the occupant's distressed breathing raising the tension on the bridge. `` You will escort me to Coruscant,'' came the deep, almost synthetic voice, and immediately, Picard felt his head swim.
`` Mr. Data, set course for Coruscant, maximum warp.''
`` Sir,'' Data said, turning around to face his captain and inclining his head, `` May I remind you that we do not have sufficient bearing and distance to set a course to Coruscant, nor anywhere else, without cartography.''
*Of course* Picard thought, shaking his head as if he had just fought off a dizzy spell. *How the hell could he have expected Data to know that? *
The voice boomed over the ship's speakers. `` I will transmit the coordinates to you, Captain. You can be my host.''
Picard's head swirled again. Riker and Troi both stood and approached him, one out of concern for his captain, the other out of concern for what she felt happening to hers. `` Captain, are you okay?''
Picard blinked and looked at his Number One, his confidence unperturbed. `` Of course, Will. Have his shuttle tractored into the main shuttlebay and a medical team sent. Data, set course to Coruscant upon reception of the coordinates.''
Riker slowly nodded towards Worf confirming the arrangements. Data nodded and spun back around. Troi looked at Will, concern in her eyes. He knew that look. *She had a very bad feeling about this. *
*~~I'll continue~~ this has been continued further at [ my sub ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/TheCaptainsYacht/comments/30zojq/eu_trek_v_wars_q_sends_the_enterprised_a_million/ ) if there's any interest*
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[ WP ] Go outside for ten minutes . Describe what 's there in vivid detail .
| You know what's outside, right- same damn thing as what's inside, that's what. We ca n't see anything that's not us. I see the billboard outside, selling tires, and I do n't see the billboard, or tires, but instead my father, and his mortality.
Like that cherry red convertible cutting through the wind like a kamikaze Bing cherry - that's a wish that one day I'd be happy, and free, and full of peace.
So I do n't do vivid much. I let my eyes dance, never settling on the expressions in the other drivers' faces, lined with anxiety and sleep deprivation and God knows what else- as they sit and wait in traffic. Because I've seen it all before and decided I do n't much like seeing it.
So the trees- they're green. The tires, black. And my eyes keep dancing beneath a blue sky.
I really should buy some new tires.
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[ WP ] It 's the plums , they hold all the power ...
| “ It's the plums! They hold all the power! ” He slurred from nowhere, but it was his motherfucking bachelor party and he could say what he motherfucking pleased. The doctors had told him that the chances of him producing children with his sperm was less than.001 %, so he decided to forego contraception. After a few years of guilt-free fucking, my pal Joe knocked a girl up. There was no question about it, he had to get married and he had to have that child. I feel sorry for the poor woman.
Joe is one skeevy piece of shit. He never went around courting nice young women. For him, it was always the sketchiest shit possible, like going to clubs pretending to be drunk to pick up actually drunk chicks or convincing insecure 18 year olds that he loved them. This woman, I do n't now about. I sure as fuck hope that she knows what she's getting into, and I hope to a slightly lesser extent that she's old enough to drink.
Joe buys a round for the party. As I drink my ale, he comes up to me and has the fucking nerve to ask me whether I think he's ready to be a father. “ Fuck no, kill that baby before it suffers ” I think, but I say, “ Hey, no one knows how to be a father at first. ” like I know what I'm talking about. He appreciates my input, why the fuck did I encourage this shit, and he goes on his merry way. I watch him start talking to one of the strippers. I know what he's saying, he's mentioning how sterile he is and how much he'd pay to fuck her.
Holy fucking shit why do I hang out with these people?
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[ WP ] An epic battle between two powerful mage clans .
| Two Grand Magi stared across at one another on a battlefield not yet an hour old, but already stained with such blood as would leave this place barren for a thousand years. These two, an elderly man, and a fairly young man, had yet to release a single spell. Around them, art and artifice roared such deafening cacophonies that the sounds themselves should have been enough to kill.
Tanks rolled on treads powered by arcane forces firing bullets designed for any number of gruesome purposes. It was n't enough that they pierced flesh, they had to cause madness with the shrapnel, forcing those near the impact to turn on each other, or create illusions that the enemy would spend themselves fighting, or cause the poor soul hit by them to liquefy into a poisonous ichor that could corrupt the flesh of those nearby.
Behind the legions of the untalented, or the meagerly so, the truly powerful shot rockets of energy to blind or incinerate. They deployed sonic nets that rendered certain spells inert, or turned them into other things altogether. Above them, imaginary dragons conjured by the Thought Arts, battled *actual* dragons sent by the Summoners. The fireworks of their labours lit the night sky like day, illuminating the abnormal weather that each side attempted to control and direct against the other. The occasional whirlwind or bolt of lightning seemed indiscriminate.
`` Would that more of our people felt less dependent upon such... flagrant excesses,'' the younger man, still somewhat boyish into his late 20's, spoke at a conversational tone to a man nearly a thousand yards away.
`` Would that we were wise enough not to require these flagrancies, excessive or otherwise,'' The older man changed the direction of the dialogue by adjusting his meaning of the words. Of their compatriots, many questioned their apparent reticence to fight. Few understood that their battle was being waged on a level that surpassed their ken. Had any of them given thought to the fact that they had not been targeted once, had not even had inadvertent fire come their way, standing as they were, in the midst of the tumult, they may have seen in some way, the truth of their wizardry.
Indeed, the line of sight between the two never remained obstructed long. For long stretches, the combat was divided neatly by it. Push, pull... their energies, unseen by those who thought themselves vastly superior to their ilk, were alternately riving against one another and flowing seamlessly together. In the mind-space where they were doing their work, they played a game of magical chess.
They formed spells in fragments and laid the groundwork for combat magic or illusion, only to undo the work upon seeing the others' counter moves. They struggled to manipulate each others' energies by form and reach, in order to hold the upper hand when their battle ceased to be mostly hypothetical. They very subtly controlled the battle formations of their counterparts to attempt some sort of misdirection. Eventually they would put their brothers and sisters to shame by giving sight to their actual strategies, and the true vastness of strength they held a their disposal. But only once the time had come, which they'd know by instinct.
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[ WP ] Write a letter to a fictional character who got you through a tough time in your life or greatly influenced you .
| Aang,
In modern times, its hard to believe in a life lived without violence. Murder and killing seems to be ingrained in us as human beings, and I often wondered if that was all we were destined for,
and the answer was a resounding no,
I understand now that there is more than the shadow of violence, that hope and strength are n't just words, and that sticking to you beliefs will lend you strength in dark times,
You showed me what true power was, you showed me that there is always a better way and we never need to give into to despair,
You showed me the voice of peace.
And for that you have my unending thanks.
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[ WP ] An army five thousand strong prepares to charge the field of battle . They are opposed by a single man on horseback . He appears unafraid .
| Amala rode her horse. behind and to the left of her father his battle paint a promise to honor the gods this day. his shield finely crafted from the strongest tree and adorned with well tanned leather and tigers teeth. His right hand grasped his spear given to him by his father. the wind split in two by the keen tip.
He rode with a stern expression though that was usually the way he looked, never flinching, never overzealous, always keeping his eyes on the next challenge.
Beside him rode her uncle his second in command just as well dressed for this day bar his concerned expression despite the countless tribes whose warriors stood behind him.
The enemy had been warned of what would happen, Amala herself was there while an elder spoke the strange language of the pale men though she did not understand back then. Still she had been taught the tongue and today she shall use it well.
A single man stood next to his horse under the only tree for miles inspecting a knot on a branch. His clothing was strange, the finest green weave covering his torsos segmented similar to that of a lizard with very large dull scales. two tubes of a lighter fabric covering his legs and his feet... leather? a single leather foot with no toes. not a single colour adorned this man except the boring green of dry leaves and the brightest blue of his eyes.
Her father dismounted and gestured for her to follow. side by side they walked to this stranger who seemed uncaring of their presence.
`` Your people have left our lands?'' asked his father
Amala translated as she had been taught speaking with as much confidence as she could. Eventually his eyes moved to her, then her father.
He spoke to her, the words in her head fell towards understanding.
`` He said... they have no plans to leave'' She told her father, proud of her accuracy but unsure given the empty landscape behind him.
`` You leave or you will die. Our warriors will run you to the ground!'' her father spoke in hard syllables, their meaning obvious in any language though she spoke them to the stranger all the same.
His words once again found order in her head `` He says our warriors will flee for their lives'' she spoke, uncomfortable for speaking such disrespectful words on behalf of an enemy. The stranger spoke again, a single word whilst gesturing to the empty fields behind him... `` Er... his?'' she said unsure. The man sensed her uncertainty and spoke again with the same gesture. `` His... land? His plains?'' She was still uncertain of this. the words were simple but their meaning seemed different.
`` What does he say woman!'' barked her uncle.
`` I think he says he owns this field'' she answered, still unsure if she was correct.
`` We will show no mercy spoke her father before striding to his horse, her uncle following him. Amala stood there for what seemed like a lifetime staring into the strangers eyes, not saying anything, not having to. She turned around and followed to ride back to the armies as he smiled.
She turned to look back as her horse made the journey, the lone champion sent by the enemy was walking... beside his horse. Meandering through the grass in the general direction of the huts of his own tribe, constantly changing direction. Many small triangular things of massive white leather sat in the enemy encampment, some sort of hut, `` what creature could be so big to give so much hide?'' she thought.
The Army was ready, the horses restless. cries of war began to grow along the ranks getting louder and louder. thousands of voices at once grew to a crescendo which spoke the signal. `` Charge!''
Their horses leapt forwards, so much energy could be felt at this moment. the field grew darker as the warriors flooded across it. within moments they were approaching the tree and passing it, each of them hungry for the blood of this enemy who had taken their home from them. Suddenly she heard thunder, as though the god of storms himself had struck his drum. She looked up and found not a single cloud in the sky.
`` Major Griffin, how were the negotiations?'' asked General Woolford
I tried to make myself clear sir, I believe them understood most of what I had to say''
`` And what of them? what did they say back?''
`` The usual Sir; death, no mercy, vultures eating our gizzards you know the sort of thing''
`` Ah yes'' Said the General as another thought not so much crossed his mind as flew into it like a cannonball. `` Major?...'' he began as Griffin turned to leave,
`` You did warn them about the minefield did n't you?''
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[ WP ] Make me question reality .
| “ Game over ”.
A familiar voice flooded my mind as the neon lights of downtown Paris faded into black. While the woman ’ s words were nothing but a whisper, I could feel them echo in my broken skull as the roar of the city melted into the breeze. Gone were the beeping mopeds, the clanging of cathedral bells, and the electronic thump-thump-thumping of a street dancer ’ s stereo. Gone was the engulfing stench of motor oil and bread dough.
Gone was my face, plastered across the downtown sidewalk as my body came to the abrupt and unforgiving end of a nineteen story free fall.
Above me, a Novatel balcony loomed against the gray Parisian sky. Beside me, a smashed bottle of vodka lay in pieces, the catalyst in a series of poor decisions which led to this embarrassing end. Around me, the other players screamed in horror.
How naive they are of their own role in the game. Until it ends.
“ Game over. You have no remaining credits. To continue playing, please create a new character and wait for the clock to reset… ”
`` Fucking typical'', I thought to myself, as I let the world melt.
This is the last time I play humanity on hardcore mode. Hell, I did n't even reach level thirty.
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[ WP ] You are a person who has always considered themselves average . After having a tumor removed you find out you have been playing on `` Hard mode '' .
| `` I've never seen anything like this before'' Dr. Hawkins noted.
I had been sitting in the MRI scanner for at least 1.34 times the duration they at first gave as an estimate. But of course, the events which had recently transpired far exceeded their intellectual grasp, and I'm sure any estimate they could give as to how they could determine the cause my sudden cognitive leap would rarely be accurate.
`` The tumor still responds to our instruments, despite having no contact with any host organism for at least 36 hours'' the baffled doctor continued.
In reality it had been One day, 13 hours, seven minutes, and approximately 30 seconds since the most out of the ordinary thing to ever occur to me had been extracted from the outer membrane of my temporal lobe. The doctors had discovered in a routine MRI following my construction-related head injury a growth that, based on its shape perfectly complementing the contortions of my brain, has been present for much of my life. A surgery was scheduled, carried out, but before they discarded the darkened mass that for once had no connection to my brain, it flashed a bright red light, and shrunk to half its size.
Those recovering from general anesthesia take hours to return to a normal state of lucidity, but only minutes after Dr. Flawnder sealed and bandaged my skull, I became far more aware of my surroundings than anyone in the room.
As I soon came to find out, and the doctors more slowly, my mental processing had jumped far beyond my previous average intelligence. I began reading at a pace that exceeded my hand's ability to turn a book's page. I could solve graduate level differential calculus as a professor works out simple addition in his head. Any person I met, I knew all his secrets, intentions, and desires after a few exchanged words, and as I continued to heal from the damage the surgery caused, I became world-ranking at everything I chose to learn in a few hours.
`` Take him out, we have enough data to look at. The parasite seems to be increasingly unresponsive''. Hawkins noted as I was let out of the MRI scanner and taken to the table where they had the tumor suspended.
The doctors, after a sequence of scans and experiments that proved ineffective at determining my sudden hyper-intelligence, gave me a small section of their laboratory to study it, and in a few hours I called them over to reveal my findings on the parasite's nature.
`` It seems to act as an independent organism beyond range of a host. In the hours it has been unattached, it has exposed a vast array of tendrils that each exhibit smaller protrusions that act much like nervous tissue. When fed nervous impulses similar to that of a human brain, it outputs a response on a complementary set of tendrils that seem to have an active discretion. Something is controlling the thoughts of whatever attaches to this creature, and its means of processing far outreach anything seen before on earth. From a small sample we see that its internal nervous impulses are generated autonomously, and spawn from no connected impulse whatsoever''.
`` What could this imply?'' He asked with a nearly visible confusion.
`` Something beyond our dimension is controlling it. It may seem outlandish, but somehow before my birth this being fused to my developing brain, and had for years been restricting my thoughts, ensuring they met the expectations of any average human being, never more. For some reason that is impossible to determine, I was forced to live as a fraction of my full potential, because some sentient being had determined it to be so.''
The days that followed mostly involved more scans, questioning, and stumbling research on part of the scientists. While I knew there was nothing more to be discovered, as any part the scientists attempted to utilize died upon being isolated, and quickly disintegrated into common elements, they would not stop until they admitted to that something continued to control it, and it would only begin acting again once returned to a host. I had no care for the time I spent there. I had already provided a group of Swedish mathematicians the proof for an algorithm which in time would exponentially increase the rate of computer data compression and retrieval over the weekend, and needed no further income past the shared $ 3,000,000 prize given to them. After the doctors realized their search could not continue with any new information, they sent it to a group of Harvard scientists, who would return in in three weeks time after a team member committed suicide after working on it alone for eight hours.
But what about me, was I happy with what had happened?
I had seen past what our greatest thinkers had spent their lives deciphering in the code of our universe, I had memorized the texts whole civilizations took their whole breadth to pen in the time any normal man could read a textbook of that same civilization. I could do anything I want, but doing so requires you to want *something*, and ever since the extraction I've encountered a severe lack of motivation.
When you take time to look at things, all we ever do is attempt to decipher what surrounds us, and learn to accept our limits and take the rewards our intelligence and effort can merit. Those most happy understand that there exists a world beyond their reach they will never grasp even the tiniest sliver of, and are content in a life of disillusioned bliss. For everyone except me, there is a mystery to the world, a massive cave you can never see the end of, but you can choose to remain content in any small inlet, knowing full well that you've discovered what you could, but motivated to know there is a whole abyss waiting to be lit by you and everyone else.
My cave has full interior lighting, every nook, cranny, and small chip in the rock fully illuminated and open for me to observe and note to my heart's content. Any part beyond my current view I could walk into and know the full extent to everything I see while even the smartest minds feel their way across the dark, damp walls. I have no limits, no bounds, and no needed effort to verse myself in anything I wish.
And so that is why I returned to the hospital, and why in a moment 20 mg of propofol will enter my bloodstream and effectively cloud my perception of pain and surroundings. Because I realize that to have a brain with no limits is as interesting as not having one. So I've chosen to give that 0.232 kilogram entity of some world not even I could be aware of another chance.
`` I'm ready, put it back in''.
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[ WP ] The Rule of Cool is actual science . The more badass something looks , the better it works .
| [ WP ] The Rule of Cool is actual science. The more badass something looks, the better it works
X-treme, my lab assistant walked in dejectedly with a bright red envelope in his hand.
“ Our lab is being shut down, sir. ”
“ What, this one too? ”
“ Yes, sir. The government is no longer funding us. They say, and I quote, “ Your experiments are not radical enough. ” They even sent it via a Red Envelope for express delivery. I think they ’ re serious. ”
I sighed.
“ How did we come to this? The march of progress has slowed! Did we go too far? ”
X-treme put aside the letter and walked into our testing area.
“ Maybe, Prof. Sharp, we need to go back to basics. Figure out how everything fits together. ”
“ What, you think you can solve this by creating some kinda grand unified theory? ”
“ Possibly, yes. ”
I thought back to the First Lecture of College, Ultra Kool Scienze-X.
A dapper old man walked in wearing a full body skintight suit, showing off muscles highlighted by glowing lines. He launched into the lecture almost immediately.
“ The ancient discovery of the Law of Observational Emotive Catalysis and Amplification ( LOECAM ), or in colloquial terms, the Look ’ em Law, had brought about a paradigm shift in the way humanity saw the universe.
The first time the law was recorded, was by some ancient monk or something. He had a reputation for never lying or some such. So when he conducted an experiment, he recorded the results. Apparently it failed.
It wasn ’ t even an experiment. It was some invention, with a bunch of gears and spinny bits. I don ’ t know, I ’ m not an engineer. Maybe it was to pull water up or something.
When he tested it in his shed, nothing happened. He recorded the results.
Disheartened, he tossed it out onto the street. Some random square walked up and turned it on as a bunch of people watched. Now this thing was visually pretty impressive. Lotsa bits and bobs spinning and flashing. As people watched, they got impressed. And lo and behold, the damn thing drilled into the ground and started spraying water around like someone poked a hole in a dam.
And that was the first time the Law was recorded.
Ever since, we have learned to exploit this law for our purposes! The cooler a thing is, the more emotions it can draw out of the people seeing it, the better it works! ”
He took a breath and continued.
“ But here ’ s the weakness of the Law! All experiments MUST be OBSERVED! Ideally by six or more people. Or else the enhancements do not kick in! ”
At that time, I was merely Sharp Star, a student. I raised my hand.
“ Yes, you, young man! ” He said.
“ What are the limits of the observation effects, sir? What if something, a spacecraft, for example, is sent beyond the limits of sight? Will the enhancements still work then? ”
He walked up to me, looked into my eyes, and said, “ Young man? Find out! ”
On the whole, that was a pretty bad lecture. He pretty much wasted his time. But he looked badass, and hence, most likely we remembered the lecture.
“ Okay, X-treme, what are your thoughts? ” I said.
He chewed on his thumbnail for a few seconds, and said, “ Sir, let ’ s break down our current problem first. We ’ ve been focusing so hard on how to make things cooler or more badass; we ’ re ignoring the main problem. ”
“ Okay, ” I sighed. “ Our main problem is, quite simply, nothing is working as well as it used to. We make things as cool as we can. But the output simply does not match historical trends! ”
“ Yes, sir, go on. ”
“ Go on where? We ’ ve been stuck on this issue! No matter how much we streamline or customize our vehicles with lines, spoilers or goddamn jet engines, they ’ re simply not hitting the expected speeds! We need audiences of thousands for achieving the exponential boosts, when a few centuries ago you could exponentiate with 20 people! ”
I put my head in my hands.
“ And the vehicles are not the worst of it! Nothing ’ s working! Our hospitals are collapsing! The effects are worst in the first world countries, but the downward trend is worldwide. We ’ ve tried changing the med colours to silver and shaping them like daggers. The first pill shape change in 1866 eliminated smallpox entirely! This change managed to cure a fever! Nothing else. ”
I felt the first faint signs of a headache coming on.
“ Great. Now I ’ m stressed out. ”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dispenser. I pressed a button on it and it lit up. Glowing lines swirled from the button and spun across the length of it in a flashy display. The small iris at the base spun open and a pill slowly rose out on a small metal disc.
I took the pill and felt my headache recede.
“ Sir? You ’ ve made your point clear. ” Said X-treme. “ May I ask you a question, though? How cool was the display you just saw? ”
“ What, the bottle? Pretty cool, but I ’ ve seen it a hundred times. It doesn ’ t hit me- ”
X-treme looked at me with a smug grin as the realization crawled over my face.
“ That ’ s the problem, isn ’ t it. The population of the world is desensitized to coolness! And you figured it out? It looks like the student has become the master! ”
“ Thank you, sir. How do you propose we solve this? According to the letter, we have one month remaining, then we stop getting funds. ”
“ Well, X-treme, ” I said, striking a pose and letting my lab coat flare behind me, “ Let ’ s make the world cool again! ”
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[ WP ] A mysterious virus starts to infect people , turning them into cyborgs , however you are one of the few who 's immune to the virus .
| **179 DAYS AFTER [ SCP-217 ] ( http: //www.scp-wiki.net/scp-217 ) OUTBREAK**
I was a fool. I thought myself the savior of humanity, but I'm not. The past six months have been so hectic, so filled with dread. The only hope we had was me. I was uninfected, despite my obvious exposure. At first the Foundation had me contained, held simply to observe the advancement of the Clockwork Virus. A week passed, then two, none of the typical symptoms had manifested in me. They grew curious.
By the first month, they had postulated that I was immune, the only human- scratch that, the only living animal on Earth that was known to be immune. Tests were carried out, biopsies, blood drawings, injections of God-knows-what. I hated it at first, but the Foundation treated me well. They made it very clear that what I was doing would save the world. I talked myself into believing them.
Months passed, they were getting no results. They began to panic. Almost a fifth of the world's population was infected. They grew desperate. I was desperate to help them, to save humanity. Their experiments began to grow more invasive.
`` It was necessary,'' they said.
I had to believe them.
Yesterday was a breakthrough, but not the kind they were hoping for. Every iteration of the virus they had come across so far devolved people into mindless, numb machines. Dr. Clef was the first to realize it, after I offhandedly remarked that his phone was dead. He had n't had it out.
I'm not immune, I'm just the next step of the infection.
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`` It 's not that I can predict the future , it 's like everything that I say will happen , no matter how unlikely or impossible , will happen . '' [ WP ]
| Let me tell you the story about a man named `` God''. No, he's not god. The dam next to him is n't god either, contrary to popular belief. This is a story about an ordinary man that went to rags, then to riches, and then back to rags again. It's an interesting tale, but he'd never tell you himself. He hardly speaks any more. Just mumbling a few things to himself every now and again.
The man I'm referring to used to go by the name of Steve. Steve was an ordinary fellow, just like you or I. Throughout his life he's always been known as `` honest Steve'', because he'd always tell the truth. No matter how hurtful it might have been. No one knew why he did it, but he did. He was fairly well known, and people would come to him for all sorts of advice.
One day, Steve was asked the most important question of his life: `` You *do* realize that you do n't have to be honest all the time, right?'' Steve had never thought about that before. He'd grown up being taught that he should always tell the truth. No matter what. And if he told the truth, he'd get a cookie. And Steve *liked* cookies.
Steve thought about the question for a bit. Pondering over why someone would ask that, and what his answer might possibly be. He responded: `` I've never thought about that before. I suppose it's true. But I get a cookie for every truth that I tell, why would I do otherwise?''
And the asker was puzzled. A cookie for every truth? What does that mean? Was this some sort of fortune cookie fortune? This was his first time asking Steve something, so he was n't sure what type of answer to expect.
He asks again: `` What do you mean you get a cookie for every truth?'' And Steve simply responds `` It is as I said, every truth results in a cookie.'' The back and forth was almost comical. `` And who gives you these cookies?'' `` They just appear.'' `` Does everyone get one?'' `` I do n't know, most people do n't tell the truth.'' `` Would everyone tell the truth if they got a cookie?'' `` I suppose cookie lovers would.'' `` Who does n't like cookies?'' `` I guess everyone likes cookies, huh?''
The fellow looked in awe. It was as Steve said. Every time Steve responded in a matter of fact tone ( not including the response questions ), he got a single cookie. Just from thin air.
The guy finally asks what has been on his mind during this whole exchange: `` Cookies appearing from thin air is n't normal! What the hell is going on here?!''
Steve thinks for a moment longer. Unsure of why this guy would accuse him of lying. His whole reputation was based on telling the absolute truth. After a few minutes of silence, Steve simply responds: `` I do n't know where they come from or why I get them. All I know is that truths equal cookies. For every truth, there is an equal but opposite cookie. I find that the greater the truth, the greater the cookie. I tell truths because I like the cookies that appear. If you have no more questions, I'd appreciate it if you left now.''
The man leaves. Upset and baffled by this Steve guy. He knew it was a parlor trick. Something done just to amuse and amaze people. To increase is popularity and become well known. It *had to*. The man walks down the street, this time with Steve's wisdom in mind. And he notices something. In fact, *everyone* started noticing something. Steve was correct. Every time someone told the truth, they got a cookie. No matter how little or large that truth was. And every cookie *did* equal it's truth.
In a drastic twenty four hour period, the world went from ordinary into cookie eating and truth telling. No one could tell a lie any more. Everyone told the truth and everyone got a cookie because of it. Which they'd promptly eat.
The man was bewildered. What just the hell was going on here? Steve mentions that he likes the cookies and that he gets them, and suddenly the whole world becomes like Steve. Is this simply a truth that Steve pointed out? Or did Steve *cause* the truth? The man simply had to find out. He goes back to Steve.
`` Did you cause this?'' asks the man. `` Cause what?'' Steve responds. `` This cookie eating, truth telling world!'' `` Perhaps.'' The man decides to ask Steve what he thought: `` Are you indeed telling the truth, or are you *making* the truth?!''
Steve has an epiphany. It was n't that he always told the truth. It's that he always told what he perceived to be the truth. And when he told a lie it became the truth. He decides to test this theory.
`` Everything I say becomes the truth. I started the new cookie order, and I'm the ruler of the world. Cookies are now donuts and donuts are now cookies.''
Suddenly, the governments changed into the new cookie order, and Steve became the ruler of the world. Immediately after, cookies became donuts and donuts became cookies.
`` Well damn, call me god!'' Steve shouts. The dam nearby pipes up `` Hello god!''. Steve stumbled a bit, he was shocked by the nearby dam speaking up after being silent all these years.
The man was dumbfounded. He kept silent and continued watching.
Steve asks the dam: `` I thought dams could n't talk! What's going on here? I just heard you call me god!''
The dam, being sarcastic, replies: `` Well obviously *I'm* god. I mean, have you ever seen a dam talk before? No? That's because I'm god, not a dam. I called you god because you said to call you as such. I do n't think it's quite the fitting name for you, but if that's what your birth certificate says, it must be your name.''
Steve was amazed. `` You are god? Why does this happen to me? Why am I rewarded for my truths?'' The dam sighs, he was n't aware someone could be this dense. `` No you dumbass, I'm not god. I was being sarcastic. I do n't have any answers to your dam questions.'' Steve was disappointed. All he could mutter out was `` Oh, so you're not god.'' Steve notices the crowd that soon surrounded them. `` But these people must certainly think so though, as they are surrounding you in awe.''
`` I suppose.'' responded the dam. Steve, being the dumbass he is, finally realizes that it's as the man claimed and as Steve responded to his claim. Steve was changing the world by stating facts!
The man, watching this whole event, came up with a plan. He finally pipes up and asks Steve one last question: `` You mentioned you get a cookie for every truth you tell, and obviously the same went for everyone. Does that mean this truth altering power goes for me as well?'' The man was very careful to say `` everyone'' for the cookie power but `` me'' for the truth altering one. A cookie appears in his hands as proof of his truth.
`` I suppose it does.'' Replied Steve. Being much less careful about his words.
The man simply states: `` You no longer have the power. It now solely belongs to me. All fame, power, and fortune you may have had now belong to me. I am Steve.''
The man walks away leaving god and the dam to think things over.
|
[ WP ] An aging comedian learns the hard way that comedy changes with time .
| Just a quick foreword. It's racist, that was the first place my mind went with aging comedian. I do n't think its egregious and it's in context, so I do n't personally think it's a problem, but I understand if it becomes so and gets removed.
-- --
`` What do you mean you're not fucking paying me, Mort?!''
`` Bobby, you got booed off the stage...''
`` Fuckin' tough crowd, Morty, I been at this for forty seven years, you ca n't make'em all laugh, you know that!''
`` Bobby, you're a friend, we go way back, but times have changed man. You got ta change with'em or get out of the game. I mean for fucks sake man, the `` n word''? You ca n't say that shit, it's 2004 man!''
`` Nigger? Are you fucking serious Mort, nigger? That's what this is about? This is about me telling nigger jokes?!''
`` Not just those Bobby, the jew jokes, the women barefoot making sandwiches jokes - the shit just ai n't funny like it used to be, bud. Times have changed, it ai n't okay to laugh at stuff like that in public, out with your wife, anymore.''
`` I ca n't believe this. How long have we been friends Mort? How long have we been friends? How long have-''
`` Like 20 years, 20 years alright?!''
`` 20 goddamn fucking years I've been chumming around with a goddamn nigger lover and I never knew. You fuckin' make me sick Mort, you hear me?! You fuckin' make me sick!''
Bobby stormed out the door. He tried to slam it behind him, but it was hooked up to one of those goddamn pneumatic door closers, it just hissed a little louder at him in protest.
He got in to his Cadillac, not before he ripped another ticket off his windshield. It was always something around here. The mechanic telling him he would n't be able to get approved for emissions next year because his car was so old. Getting a ticket for his car being too long and too wide for `` modern'' parking spaces - a `` hazard to traffic'' that fat doughnut eating son of a bitch told him. Some teenager scratched his car last week, and told him to `` take a chill pill bro'' and that he could `` just repaint it''. Stupid little prick, does n't he know they do n't make this color paint anymore. This car is a *classic*, they have n't made this paint in nearly 35 years.
The world was moving on, and Robert Danford was not moving with it.
|
[ WP ] The villain successfully converts the protagonist to their side .
| `` You would end it now..?!''
Blood pooled around the crumpled form of the scientist like some massive Rorschach ink blot. Maimed by my gunfire, he lay there slowly dying.
`` I've seen enough, this plague must end!'' I shouted, leveling my pistol at him.
From behind me came the familiar shuffle, the moaning. Clawing at the glass they began to howl. Beyond the bulletproof doors I saw them, the undead.
The disease had taken everything from me. My job, my home, my family. Everything that I had loved or ever cared about had been taken almost overnight. All of it, for what? Some greedy pharmaceutical corporation?
`` You ca n't do this.. You are n't just ending them, you're ending the greatest revolution of all time..!''
As he spoke the scientist coughed up copious amounts of blood, his words slurring with pain. I could hear the rattle of death in his breath as he wheezed heavily.
`` You've collected all the documentation... You saw it all! How can you still carry on like this? You would deny the truth.. deny that we are not better off...?''
`` Shut up, SHUT UP you sonofabitch!'' I screamed, pushing my gun into his face.
`` They were GOING to die!''
His words rang in my ears, filling my head with visions of paperwork and files, photos I had seen and collected from the facility. Documents that had detailed the full account of the virus, how it had laid dormant within a large but selective gene pool. A ticking time bomb to an apocalypse. A time bomb that, with a little push, could be set off under controlled circumstances.
Zombies could become a valuable resource; unlimited manpower, limitless energy, a workforce to build the platform of a new society, a better one. One without a genetic time bomb, proven through Darwin's Theory to be superior; stronger, faster, smarter in every way. Humanity 2.0.
Choking back blood, the scientist uttered his last words, `` Do n't save... the damned..''
Lowering my gun, I looked to the floor, thinking.
Had they been right? I *had* seen the proof with my own eyes, but it had been so hard to believe. To take it on its own merit was so absurd to me before, but now? Now I just did n't know.
Who was I saving, after all? By releasing the antivirus I would end the so called apocalypse. But how many remained, still carrying the original, unstable gene? By ending it now, would I only insure the true and final end when they rose again, against even smaller, dwindling numbers?
My hands clenched the steel panel before me in cold sweat. Before me lay the objective, my chosen path of righteous vengeance; destined saviour. One push of a button - it could all be over.
But for how long?
I had made my decision. Closing the glass case above the button, I sighed.
Let humanity march on without further interference.
-- --
If you liked this story, do n't worry, you can read more! Join us at /r/crimsonwrites!
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[ WP ] A demon that writes messages on your mirror with blood but they ’ re useful messages . Like “ remember you have yoga at 6 tonight ”
| The alarm went off as I was slowly getting off the bed. The sun was shining as it usually would at this time, therefore I didn ’ t bother looking at the clock, as I knew I overslept once again – but I couldn ’ t care less. It ’ s not like anyone is going to miss me in that pit us humans call work.
After a while of staring into the wall my senses have awoken and I finally got up and went to the bathroom. My breath could find use in a gas chamber. The taste in my mouth was terrible and my stomach felt even worse, although I had no idea why. Everything that occurred after yesterday ’ s afternoon was just a blurry memory for me. I could remember drinking, but that was it. I picked up my toothbrush.,,I should really clean this place, it ’ s disgusting. ” I mumbled to myself whilst looking for toothpaste. The sink was covered in an unknown liquid. I didn ’ t have the guts to guess what that was. My stomach has had enough already. The toothpaste wasn ’ t anywhere. I looked under the sink. A few empty bottles of detergents and dirt. I remembered I was supposed to do laundry a few days ago.,,That would explain the musty smell. ” I glanced on the washing machine in hopes of finding the toothpaste and unsurprisingly, it wasn ’ t there as well.,,Fuck! ” I said, a little louder than I usually would. I gave up and came back to the sink. It was still all wet. I started brushing my teeth with a dry brush.
When I was done, I flushed out my mouth and looked up to the mirror. That moment I thought it ’ s over. I almost had a heart attack. I looked at the mirror again. A red, almost black, thick liquid was smeared across the glass. At first, I couldn ’ t quite figure out what that was supposed to mean, but it didn ’ t take me long to decipher what it was – a writing. A sentence. I was more curious than scared. I just stood there and read every word, every letter slowly and carefully. M - A- T- E. What? I kept going on. Y – O –U – space- S – H – O – U – L – D – N- T – space – S – W- E – A- R – dot. What? I looked around the room. I was certain there was no one except me. I turned back to the mirror. The text has changed. I got shivers all over my body. I started reading.,,Don ’ t be scared. It ’ s just me. ” My eyes went around the whole room once again.
,,What the actual… ” I didn ’ t even finish the sentence. The text changed.
,,Please don ’ t say it. Swearing isn ’ t pretty. Makes you look bad. I heard your coworkers talking about you. ” I froze.,,How… How do you know, I mean, where. But why? ” Was it just me or did the temperature suddenly drop to zero?
,,Don ’ t ask questions. And don ’ t be scared! I ain ’ t gon na hurt ya! Just saying you shouldn ’ t swear as much. ”
,,I know, I know. You told me already. ” Yes. I was talking to a mirror.
,,And while we ’ re at it, you should stop drinking. Last night was…eh. Could have ended poorly. You should be glad I called you a taxi. ” I had no idea who that was, but his writing was surprisingly neat.
,,Well, my stomach feels terrible. And so does my head. I owe you one. ”
,,Yep. Seriousley, I ’ m just trying to help you. ” I noticed it misspelled one world. I smiled.
,,But hey, who are you? You still haven ’ t told me. ”
It took it a few minutes before it answered.,,You don ’ t need to know. It ’ s not like that is important. ”
,,Okay, but what do you want me to call you? ” I was confused.
,,I think Mirror guy is fine. ”
,,Okay then, mirror guy. ”
Nothing happened. I thought our conversation was over. I was on my way to kitchen, but before I left the bathroom I turned around and looked at the mirror, just in case. Of course something was there.,,By the way, put on some sweater today. It ’ s going to be cold. ”
,,Thanks for telling me, I will. I have one last question though. Whose blood is that? ” I was afraid I didn ’ t want to know the answer.
,,The blood? I don ’ t even know! I steal it in the hospital. I think it looks good. I like it. Don ’ t worry, I didn ’ t kill anyone. Well, I have tried a few times, but it wasn ’ t fun. ” Blood disappeared.,,It ’ s hard to make friends when everyone thinks you are trying to steal their souls, you know. I just thought we could be friends. ”
I thought this time he really is done. But before I left, I saw one last sentence.
,,But you should buy a mirror for your living room or something, so you don ’ t have to go to the bathroom every time you want to talk to me. ”
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[ WP ] Unimaginable power surges through your body . You do n't know why but you are n't waiting around to find out .
| Warning: Mild Language
You ’ ve felt like this before. Everything tensed, every movement ecstasy; everything executed with unrestrained, unrepentant, utterly impossible speed and strength. Before it ’ d been hormones, alcohol, drugs, an illusion or delusion that vanished with the light of day, but this is real, it has to be real.
You fly out the door, still putting on your shirt, feet bare, blood pounding, blood forcing, blood beating you forward, forward, forward. You have to fight, you have to push, you have to succeed, you will succeed, but….what?
Broken beer bottles refuse to cut your feet, the sun begs not to blind, the roar of the city denies it can deafen, and you march down the alley, mind churning.
Your soles hit the asphalt, tingling, burning. Your soul strains, and you ’ d like to fly, but toward what and for what?
All of this potential, all this force, all of this, all of this, and it ’ s tearing you apart. For what and toward what?
Their minds are just as broken, their minds will always be broken. Out of the alley and onto the street, the cars screaming, slamming, wrapping around a body that tears them as it persists. You hardly notice, you ’ ve retreated into thought; you walk through brick, mortar, concrete, mind pounding with your heels, beating to the blood, and you hardly notice.
For what, toward what?
For what, toward what?
You ’ d thought, you ’ d always thought, everyone thinks that they could, they could fix….everything.
But you ’ d better be damn sure.
You ’ d better be damn sure, or you ’ ll split this world in two.
|
[ WP ] You 've died and have woken up in a bright area ; there is a man standing before you in white robes . He asks `` How was Heaven ? ''
| `` Ah, shit, we've got another one back.''
One minute, I felt my arm being yanked, and the next I was lying on the harsh, unwelcoming steel floor of what appeared to be a surgical lab. Fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes, and I half-expected to be missing a few organs.
I heard a few footsteps against the floor, and glanced up to see the nicest pair of shoes I'd ever laid eyes on. Pure, spotless white, and -- I looked further up -- a perfect match with the white robes of a young gentleman, probably in his late twenties. He held a glass of red wine in his right hand and was flanked on both sides by two gruff construction workers in hard hats.
`` So tell me, lad, how was Heaven?''
I coughed and tried to conjure images from the past several minutes. Wings, golden goblets, rainbows, impossibly large waterfalls, singing, wide open fields. Pretty much fit the bill.
`` It was... something else,'' I said.
`` Ha! Look at him, practically at a loss for words. How cute. The others have been far more ebullient upon their return.'' He took a sip of his wine. `` So, would you like anything to eat before you go back?''
I raised an eyebrow. `` What do you mean, go back?''
`` Well, we ca n't simply abandon the project after another failure. Each day we make a little progress. You were up there for a good... fifteen minutes.''
I watched him sip his red wine and felt a sudden urge to smash the glass over his face. `` Where's my family?''
`` Well-paid.'' He finished his wine and placed it on a silver tray held by one of the hard-hat men, then pointed to something behind me. `` Why do n't you choose a different portal? Whichever one looks most comfortable.''
`` I'm not going to get a taste of Heaven and then get whisked back to this shithole as soon as I'm getting used to it.''
The robe-wearing man chuckled. `` Of course you are. The beauty of it is... *I* wo n't. Try to be more specific with the details next time.''
I lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat, maintaining my grip for several seconds before I was thrown to the ground by one of his apparent bodyguards. He wheezed for a few seconds, then whirled around and pinched my cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.
`` Earth can get so terribly mundane, Walter. You ought to know. Working in that can-filling factory. A useless job for a human being far past his prime. I've given you a purpose. I'm giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond.''
He tightened the pinch. `` Money can buy you a lot of things. But it ca n't cure this... ennui. This feeling that you deserve better than the constraints of a single plane of existence.''
I grimaced. `` And that makes kidnapping OK.''
He sneered, then let go of my cheeks. `` A small price to pay for my liberation. And perhaps, if you're lucky, yours.''
The hard-hat men dragged me backwards and shoved me into a steel bathtub-like container. I struggled for a while as they strapped me in.
`` Administer the sedative,'' the white-robe man ordered. He sauntered over to my portal, his face obscured by the light above him.
`` I will get to Heaven, Walter King. And I will send you there as many times as it takes until it becomes a one-way ticket.''
He flipped a switch on the wall next to me, and I was flown to the skies above.
***
/r/GigaWrites
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[ WP ] Write a story without knowing what it 's about , and without stopping to think about it .
| I kept walking deeper into the forest, the trees now blocked out the sun. There was no way to know how dark or light it was outside and I had lost all sense of time and direction. I wandered, a madman, hungry and lost. My staff that once burnt bright with the light of a summer dawn now glowed dimly with all the hope of a dying man.
For what felt like days I walked, I slept when I needed to and ate what I could find. The trees I used to draw water and drank what little they provided. This way I continues until I came upon a clearing somewhere deep in these woods. This clearing was unlike the forest around it. Light shone through and the middle was adorned by a rock that jutted out of the ground haphazardly. I walked closer to examine it, shielding my eyes against the now bright and hurtful light. Upon, closer examination, I realised it was not a rock but the entrance to a cave, it ran deep and seemed to have no end. I had my choice, either explore the cave or keep exploring the forest. It was an easy choice for me, the forest gloom was maddening and I needed a change of scenery.
So I took the cave, deeper and deeper I walked, thinner and thinner grew the light. As I walked further, I noticed the faint trickle of running water. The light from my staff barely showed anything and I decided to follow the water. I walked for how long I know not but with every few steps the trickle grew louder and closer, the sounds of the cave were now muffled by the sound of running water. By now my staff had lost most of its mana essence and the light extinguished all together. In complete darkness, I stood a madman listening to the harsh flow of the unrelenting stream.
I was determined to go on, I was not going to die in some long forgotten cave, I kept following the water. Most of my senses by now were overwhelmed by the sound of flowing water. I could not even make the shape of my nose out in the pitch darkness, I could barely hear my own footfall. Once or twice, I remember not how many times exactly, I fell and scraped my knees and elbows but I kept walking. I kept pushing on.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking, the sound of flowing water grew louder to the point where it felt maddening, my soul grew weaker and hope was all but a dream now. I wanted nothing but to rest and forget all of this. Just as I was about to give up, I saw a faint ray of light ahead in the cave, my hopes renewed and strength reinvigorated, I quickened my pace. Had I found the way at last?
At this point I must tell you that the cave floor was wet and smooth and the wall that I walked along had water trickling along its sides every now and then. I tell you this for I lost my footing upon too smooth rock and fell hard, my head hit a jutting rock and I was knocked out cold.
Eventually as I regained my consciousness I found myself in a clearing, the dark forest all around me. Ahead of my I saw a rock and upon closer inspection it revealed itself to be a cave...
|
[ WP ] You are the worlds most famous fortune teller . You 've successfully predicted huge world events and even smaller important events for friend and families . What no one knows is that you are actually a time-traveller from the year 2100 who owns a simple history book . Your friend is catching on .
| *'' What movie will win Best Picture in 2036? `` *
Page 492. Best Picture Winners 1929-2079. What's with people and Best Picture winners?!
Go to the booth, close the curtain. `` Auuuuwaaauuuwaaauuuuwaaaa-'' let's see if he can see through my botched attempt at Tuvan throat singing. Loud enough to mask the sound of the book opening. Dammit, the bookmark fell down, I guess I'll turn the pages. Deep breath again, my throat feels like it's an unexpected entrant in a decathlon. 167, 284, 412, 475, 488... there we go.
`` The Tunisian Sacrifice. Directed by John Waserman.''
*'' Who are the actors? `` *
`` Um, Kenza Fourati, Shahab Hosseini and Mark Wahlberg.''
I made one of those up.
*'' Does Wahlberg win an Oscar? `` *
`` No, he got snubbed and people got mad about it. But he won a Golden Globe.''
*'' But he wo n't win an Oscar, bummer. `` *
Whew.
*'' Wait a sec, why are you saying that he* got *snubbed, Darryl? It has n't even happened yet! `` *
`` Uh, umm, this can fuzz up your mind sometimes, Quincy.''
*'' Oh, I did n't know that. Huh. And who is the composer? `` *
`` James Horner.''
*'' Did n't he-'' *
`` I mean James Howard. Howard Newton. James Newton Howard.''
*'' Oh I looooove that guy. `` *
Stay calm.
*'' Something seems fishy here. `` *
`` What, what did I say? It's about one of the actors, is n't it.''
Fuck. Fucking hell. Nostra-Dumbass.
*'' No, not about that. But now that I think of it, yeah I'm actually not buying that. `` *
`` Look I took everything out of the- my mind after my meditation, so it just came to me.''
*'' Right, your mind I get it. But what's an unknown Tunisian actor doing in The Tunisian Sacrifice? Hollywood would n't risk that. `` *
He's on to me.
`` They had, uh they got progressive. No, wait- he starred in a Star Wars film before that.''
I ca n't go back to the book or he'll know the game.
*'' That makes a lot of sense. Does he die in the movie? `` *
`` I do n't want to spoil it for you 19 years in advance!''
We share a laugh. His is fake, mine is nervous.
`` You sure like movies a lot more than your own life, haha!''
We're not sharing a laugh this time. A few moments pass.
*'' Well, I've got ta hand it to you Darryl, you're a treasure to this world, and I sure am lucky to be your friend. `` *
`` Good seeing you too, Quincy.''
*'' I liked your meditation style with the throat singing! `` *
`` Thanks! Learned it on the line, online.''
*'' You need to teach me how to do that someday. Just one thing though. When you took a pause, I heard a few pages being turned...'' *
|
[ WP ] The United States declares war on Antarctica .
| `` Those penguin bastards are on to us,'' said the 2 star general, attentively looking at a wide screen monitor in a secret submarine off the coast of Antarctica, standing still in the sea of crewmen quickly running to their battle stations.
`` What's the status report on the situation, Sargeant Mills?'' The general turned to his right to find Sargent Mills sitting down at a computer, quickly finding information in no time at all.
`` They have received numerous AK-74s as well as the Tsar Bomba, general.'' he quickly stated.
`` So the rumors are true,'' The general gasped in disbelief. He never believed a word from Iran's government until now.
`` We must prepare a landing party. Harvey, prepare a bomb defuse squad now!'' The general barked with a hint of fury.
Im bored.
|
[ WP ] In another dimension , the Internet is the real world . This world is split into self-governed Websites . You are a citizen of one of these Sites , and something serious wrong is happening .
| ***Update: ADVA District Moderator Releases Identity of Key Witness. NRTimes Exposes Inside Story of Greed, Politics & Corruption in Exclusive Interview. ***
***
[ ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/WzD7hIm.jpg )
^^After ^^months ^^of ^^silence, ^^Scrotalimplosion ^^speaks ^^up. ^^His ^^face ^^is ^^obscured ^^by ^^request. ^^ ( ( Photo ) ^^Credit: ^^AP )
***
^The ^National ^Reddit ^Times ^| ^ [ RyanKinder ] ( /u/RyanKinder ) ^| ^March ^20, ^2015
Most people across the city were not doing anything particularly exceptional that morning 7 months ago. Most people, like Reddit native [ ScrotalImplosion ] ( /u/scrotalimplosion ), or Scrotal -- as he likes to be called, were going about their daily routines that fateful morning. This is how ScrotalImplosion ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time, unknowingly dragging him into one of the greatest schemes to hit the nation. He's been in police protection for 6 or the last 7 months. NRTimes is the first interview he has given since the day of the incident. For our international readers not familiar with recent events in Reddit, it may first help to understand Scrotal's history living in the wider Reddit Metropolitan Area
As a small child, Scrotal grew up in quieter, low-crime districts, like [ HSC ] ( https: //www.reddit.com//r/hardscience ) and [ UPN ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/UpliftingNews ). That all changed, however, in 2004 when the Global Karma Markets collapsed under the immense weight of rampant fraud and corruption from key industry players like [ Q & Meme Sachs ] ( http: //www.dailydot.com/business/reddit-quickmeme-banned-miltz-brothers/ ). In its wake, everyday people like Scrotal suddenly lacked content and were forced to move to places much closer to the heart of Reddit where content is cheaper and traffic is louder and overcrowded: the Default, as the city's elected Moderators euphemistically like to call it. `` We [ most people ] know it as the shithouse,'' says an anxious-sounding Scrotal jokingly over the phone, `` but these are my subs, and that's where I feel safe right now.'' I agree to meet him at a coffeeshop in the [ ADVA Projects ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/AdviceAnimals/ ), a sub so left in decay and marred by the malpractices of QS & Meme Co. that the Moderator Council eventually removed its rank as part of the Default, in an attempt to avoid negative publicity and instead highlight better-maintained districts. Now, order and the long arm of the Reddiquette are hard to maintain here in this overpopulated, and largely unnoticed community. Redditors here travel in packs and identify by sub, coming into frequent contact with neighboring Default subs. With alarming regularity, whole community-wide vendettas are exacted by rival gangs from the ADVA Projects, AW & W, FNY Heights, and PCS subs ( to name a few ).
Welcome to the home of ScrotalImplosion. In the years since arriving to Default, Scrotal has grown a thicker skin and become a regular in these urban subs. But even all that could not prepare him for what he was about to witness the day of the incident. As it happens, I met Scrotal at Jose's on Kermit Blvd. and became the first person outside of a courtroom to learn of what really happened. I later learned it was no coincidence that we met in ADVA projects. We were within earshot of everything, and Scrotal wanted me to see with my own eyes the aftermath of what happened, in the event he gets marked and receives a visit from the man he fears. Below I have preserved in as much detail as possible, the text of our 45 minute conversation in the hope that it will put an end to the hunt.
***
^^Portions ^^of ^^the ^^following ^^transcript ^^have ^^been ^^redacted ^^in ^^Conjunction ^^with ^^Ongoing ^^Investigations.
[ Page 1 of... ]
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[ WP ] On his death bed , Christopher Robin tries to explain to pooh the concept of death . Pooh and his animal friends have not , and do not age , so they have never had any experience with it .
| In a small room in a small wood cabin, built into the hallow of a tree, in a large forest long ago there was a boy and his bear sitting down to have lunch. Pooh had just grabbed the honey jar and toss proceeded to instinctively toss the empty container across the room with an “ oh bother ” that came to the reaction of having to search for another honey jar. Christopher sat across from him and said silly bear. Pooh proceeded to search all of the cupboards for more jars of honey but Chris knew he would n't find any and with a glimmer in his eye smiled until he heard the door being rattled not really knocked on. In poked a pair of timid eyes. Christopher laughed to himself. After all of these years Piglet was still so shy that even coming to the door of his best friend ’ s house but when he saw Christopher there he shouted and ran in yelling “ Christopher Robin! ” and quickly jumped up on his lap. Piglet while quite worn out by this point was still wearing his old green jumpsuit that he had the day that Christopher had met him. He had tried a few different ones over the years but this was Christopher ’ s favorite. It seemed quite fitting honestly. After Christopher ’ s smile faded he noticed that Pooh was looking up at him. He had actually given up on looking for his honey.
“ You know you don ’ t come around here that often anymore, and you are acting quite odd this morning. I think this is the first time I've seen you look so… what ’ s the word? ” Pooh pondered and looked up while hooking his right paw under his chin while he was in deep thought. Pooh had always been more a philosopher and while people sometimes thought him slow it was only through the gate he was much sharper than his friends ever gave him credit for. “ Melancholy happiness I suppose? ” Pooh wondered over to the table and sat across from Christopher.
“ What do you mean? ” Piglet trotted in to the conversation with a squeak, and looked up at Christopher, he slouched down and curled in with Christopher.
“ What I mean Piglet is that something is off and I can ’ t put my finger on it ” Looking down to see honey drip off of his said paw that he was holding up and quickly jutted out his tongue to try and catch it with a slurp. Christopher ’ s face too a sullen look and he looked down at Piglet and gave him a bit of rub on the back like a father would to a small child, then looked back at Pooh.
“ I've said goodbye to the others long ago Pooh, you remember them all, Owl, Rabbit, Kanga, Roo and Eeyore ” he trailed off on Eeyore. When he was younger Eeyore had seemed so depressing talking in that monotone voice. But as he got older he had come to realize that optimism in everything that he said. In hindsight he had always tried to find the lighter side of things and just kind of roll with the punches that life gave him. He had honestly regretted forgetting him and losing him so many years ago. It had n't seemed to be a big deal back then but he missed him now. “ Well they've all gone and I guess it ’ s my turn to say goodbye to you, both of you I guess. ” He looked down at Piglet as he said the last bit Piglet had taken to making himself as small as possible and almost looked like a ball.
“ I ’ m not sure what you mean Christopher. Are you going on another trip? ” Piglet said but it was Pooh who responded “ I don ’ t think that ’ s what he means Piglet ” Piglet was almost shaking. “ I think he ’ s going away for good ” Pooh looked at Christopher with a sharp eye that had been sown on too many times to count, for a short period it had been replaced with a button.
Christopher looked down at Piglet “ I ’ m afraid Pooh ’ s right old friend. I ’ m old now, I ’ ve been old for a while and I guess I just wanted one last time to play ”
“ What about us? ” Pooh said softly, “ you can ’ t just leave us I ’ m afraid of what might happen without you ”
Piglet looked a little more than worried and Pooh and Christopher looked at him. Piglet looked a little more pale than he usually did, the pink almost looked washed out, “ But you've gone away before and everything ’ s been fine I don ’ t see what has to change now ”
“ I ’ m dying ” Christopher let the words drop flat.
Piglet fainted Pooh ’ s arms went limp and he slouched down a little further. For the first time in a long time he did n't feel hungry. In fact he felt a little sick to his stomach. After a long minute Pooh picked up his head slowly and quietly said “ I figured as much ”, and he let those words hang there for what seemed like hours but was probably closer to a minute. “ We better go lay Piglet down in my bed ”
Christopher picked up Piglet and slowly carried him over to Poohs wood framed bead and carefully set him down. It looked harder than it should have to Pooh, and he contemplated asking about why he still looked like a small boy but thought better of it and let Christopher come back to the picnic table where they had been sitting. Pooh cleared his throat but before he could speak Christopher took the lead, “ You are going to ask how long and what will happen to me, well I ’ ll tell you any time now I ’ ll go, I ’ m not sure I ’ m even awake anymore. As for what will happen to me that ’ s not what you should be concerned with, what happens to you will be. I ’ m sending you off with my youngest boy Eric. Do you remember him? We played with him for a while he ’ s in his 30 ’ s now but I told him to take good care of you and Piglet and hold onto you just like I did ”
Pooh angrily looked up at him “ WHAT! I might be a stuffed bear but we both know without you we are nothing. We cease to be, our mind is yours and you giving us away to your son no matter how great it was to meet him will not be the same. My body will still be with him but my mind our mind will be gone. NO I want to stay with you. ”
Christopher was shocked at first, this was n't Pooh ’ s character, not the soft lovable bear he grew up with. But then he guessed, maybe he had said good bye long ago. Pooh and Christopher looked at each other with knowing and understanding. Christopher had come to say goodbye but after awhile things just faded to black.
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[ WP ] A survivor of the zombie apocalypse stands trial for murder after a cure is discovered .
| The courthouse had swollen with damp since its last trial twenty years ago. Spears of light fell through a ragged hole in the roof. Ivy cascaded down hanging low in the room, and a small garden of flowers had grown among the benches underneath. The quarter-sawn white oak panels surrounding the room had warped and black fungus sprung out in wet pockets.
Only those required for guard duty, and children whose mothers felt they were too young to see and hear such things, had stayed behind.
From James' perspective it looked like a church, pews brimming with the people whose lives he had saved countless times, and they his. They had come to worship the only thing that mattered anymore, the sanctity of human life.
`` The council has come to a decision.'' said Rafe, a broad man with closely cropped hair sitting in place of a judge, his well used North Face jacket looking like robes. How fitting James thought.
`` James, we have found you guilty of murder.''
A wave of movement and murmuring swept through the crowd.
`` Before this tragedy struck this was a most heinous crime. But now, when there is so few of us left, even with the cure...'' Rafe trailed off, looking at the faces of the people he had been asked to lead. `` Your late wife, Amy, was a wonderful woman. A friend to my own family. She did not deserve what you did to her, no one could.'' said Rafe, choking a blub in his throat as the words left his lips.
James stared into space with sunken red-rimmed eyes, his skin grey and lifeless, and his clothes caked in arterial blood. He had n't said a word through the entire day's proceedings.
`` We can only take your silence as an admission of guilt, and sentence you to death by hanging.'' said Rafe with a heavy heart, turning to his fellow council members for support, `` Please take him away. The hanging will take place at sundown.''
As James was hauled back to their makeshift jail between the courthouse pews, John Galwin, an older man in a red checked flannel shirt and mountain cap stood up.
`` Bastard!'' he screamed. His wife looked at him sombrely and pulled him back to his seat by his arm, before curling herself around it for comfort.
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[ WP ] You , as the Supreme Commander of an allied alien force , are discussing with your generals the strategy to adopt for attacking and invading Earth . However , your knowledge of humans and of their capabilities is based on Hollywood movies .
| `` Supreme Commander, about the invasion plan for Earth?''
It was general Gklip, I put my left manipulating tentacle over my secondary eyestalks. When they were handing out brains, Gklip had managed to lock himself in the toilet. The only reason he was a general at all was because he was my tertiary mates pod-sib and she had n't shut up about giving him a chance to shine for a full ten-day... the other generals slowly slid sideways away from Gklip, knowing full well I only had finite patience.
`` Not now Gklip!''
`` But Su..''
`` I said Not. Now.''
`` But the Galactic Council wants to know when you're going to invade Earth!''
`` Gklip... ok, you saw the same briefing material I did right?''
`` Yes Supremo!''
`` Well..wait... never call me that again.''
`` Yes sir your Supremeness!''
`` You... never mind..where was I? Oh yes, you seriously think invading Earth is at all possible?''
`` But..we have the combined forces of a million planets your commandership!''
`` Uh-huh... and do you honestly think it's enough?''
`` Ummm...''
`` Quite. Oh sure, we'd probably win at first..but we've all seen how resistant these hu-mans are. One of them would rise up, and then it would be all over for us. I do n't know how, but they would defeat us. Our finest battle computers have been unable to analyse their strategies, and the consensus is that they are completely unpredictable. Attacking them would be suicide, and their tiny pitiful little system is n't worth it.''
`` But the Council...''
`` Can go fargle itself! If they want the humans technology so bad, they can get it themselves.''
There was a shocked silence. It was an accepted fact that civilisation in the galaxy was the result of single Precursor species that had taken to the stars, seeding planets with their technology in giant vaults with puzzle locks. Once a sentient species reached a sufficiently advanced level, they could unlock the vault and the stars were theirs. The council had grown out of the interspecies search for the Precursors... and we thought we'd found them in the humans. Theirs was the only planet without a vault, and they had these stories of their past. Tales of battles won, and the United Federation of Planets they had once been a part of. Our analysts even thought the stories included references to what had destroyed it all. The Alien species, the great wars and the decay of their civilisation into a Empire ruled by one being... and the civil war fought with planet killing weapons against the tiny human resistance.
It was all gone now of course, but the council thought that some remnants must remain... and feared the humans. They obviously remembered, and hated, aliens. So reverence for the Precursors had become fear, and the determination to stop them before they clawed their way back up out of their gravity well.
`` Supreme Commander. Surely you have some battle plan, some idea how to invade the humans world? They ca n't be all that powerful now can they? I mean, you can see someone blew the fargitz out of their defence satellite! It's covered in craters!''
Privately I doubted that the'defence' satellite was actually the remains of one of the fabled Death Stars. It seemed more likely it was just a natural, if heavily cratered, moon.
`` Very well general Gklip... if you think the humans are that easy to defeat, let's see you do it.''
`` I..beg pardon?''
`` You heard me... now is your chance to shine Gklip. I'm giving you command of a battle squadron. The plans are already formulated and in your commandship's computer. Go and invade the planet.''
`` I..ahh..''
`` Come now Gklip... were n't you just saying how they could n't be all that bad. I shall tell the council that I put my best general in charge of the invasion. I'm sure you'll manage it. Why, you have over a thousand ships at your command. Surely that's enough to defeat such a pitiful bunch of primitive survivors. Or do you think they are too dangerous?''
`` Yes Commander..er, I mean no Commander.. I..ah...''
`` That's the spirit! For the council!''
`` All Glory to the Council!''
`` Indeed... well, off you go Gklip. Do n't disappoint me, or the council.''
I watched Gklip slither out of the chamber. Either he'd succeed, or he'd die. Either I was rid of annoyance, or I could claim it was my brilliant strategy that won the day. Personally, I was betting on it being the former, I'd seen those plans after all. Only an idiot would think that landing in front of their seat of power and claiming to come in peace would work. And Gklip was just such an idiot. He'd be dead before he could say'take me to your leader'. There was no way the humans would fall for such an obvious ruse.
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[ WP ] A conjurer from the next universe over summons an eldritch demon from beyond the realm of knowledge , you . A normal person from THIS universe .
| I have n't taken my meds in a couple days and I'm starting to regret it. All around me is a heaviness, a great weight... I remember going to bed, but I do n't think I've woken up yet. There seems to be a voice in the distance, subtly, slowly getting louder. I listen closely, desperately trying to hear what I think my subconcious is trying to tell me.
`` Here come dat boi''
`` Oh shit waddup'' I instinctively reply, popping out of the Aether awake and alert. Before me is a floating head of a crudely drawn, smug looking frog wearing a wizard hat. `` I'm Navi. You must be rare.'' I say to it. `` The rarest!'' Shouts a second frog, having just ridden in on a unicycle. I think to myself... my subconcious... is full of memes.
Having played with lucid dreaming as a child, I am not concerned with my situation. A single thought and I can transform reality. `` Brace yourselves... non-existance is coming'' I whisper. I form a thought, a concept of a sunny beach with a hammock swaying in the wind, and gently push it into the scene. Around me, reality shatters.
`` I ca n't control it!'' wails a voice. I stand on a stone dias covered in carvings, sourrounded by dense forest. Around me, 6 people in white robes have just stopped meditating as a seventh has been thrown backwards and is crying on the ground. `` The images, in its mind, were so strange, and it resisted, and I could n't, and, and...'' The seventh pants, out of breath. This is not the scene I tried to create. Time to take a step back before things get too hectic. I try to feel my real body, laying in bed, and move one of the muscles to pull myself back to reality. Instead, my hands burn feircly.
Says the first `` You are trapped in this realm until we release you. A great evil has arisen, and you must vanquish it.''
`` I did n't sign up for this''
The third states `` Is this regular in your plane of existance? Is there a sign up sheet for summonings?''
`` Ah... no. I'm asleep, right? This is pretty trippy, even for a dream''
`` No, you are not asleep.'' says the second. ``'Trippy'? no one has fallen'' whispers 6 to 5. General muttering descends upon the crowd. 7 remains face down in the grass. Metaphor and sarcasm seem to be lost upon these people.
`` Silence!'' shouts 7, suddenly sitting up, eyes still red. `` There is no time to loose! TO THE FRONT LINES!''
`` Indeed!'' says 3. They all stand and gesture that I follow them through the woods. 7 leads the way, seeming to not aknowledge my presence at all. Vastly confused, I follow. `` So... what's going on?'' I whisper to 5, walking in front of me. `` We are seven of a reletively small resistance, pushed into being concealed within these woods.''
`` The last seven of a small resistance forced into hiding in the woods. Okay then. What am I here for?''
5 stumbles a bit, and is visibly shocked. `` The last seven!? All the others have died!? Gah! I did not expect this!''
5 was terrified, whilst I was only further confused.
`` Anyways,'' 5 continues `` the enemy has produced a great work of art. To reduce the population and increase the standard of living for the remaining, they have devised a simple plan.'If you believe this to be the greatest painting yet made', they say,'come forth.' We must naturally go forwards, as we believe it to be the greates painting yet made! Potentially the only reason we still live is that we did not hear the enemy upon this declaration! The troops of the enemy are bound by a similar declaration - all who believed it to be the greatest painting yet made can only show so by serving the great evil that produced the painting. Again, we were not informed of the declaration, and are not bound by it. We go forwards now with you, oh powerful demon, in a last chance effort. The enemy forces are believed to be setting up large speaker arrays to announce their message through all of the forest.''
`` Indeed... so... I'll see what I can do I guess? There's no need to worry.''
5 almost collapsed from suddenly not worrying. `` These people are rather odd'', I thought to myself. During the rest of our 30 minute hike, I formulated a plan.
We emerged from the woods onto a deserted 4 lane highway. Atop every lightpost sat a security camera, and as we came forwards, they all swiveled with laser precision onto our group. Engines roared in the distance, and within minutes heavily armed jeeps were upon us.
`` IF YOU BELIEVE THE GREAT EVIL'S PAINTING TO BE THE GREATEST YET MADE, SHOW SO BY SURRENDURING.''
with tears in their eyes, the seven began to step forward.
`` Stop.'' I said. `` The painting is n't that great.''
They stopped. they collapsed to their knees. Declarative sentences are only said when known with 100 % certainty to be true. I had convinced all of them. One of the'enemy' was startled enough to accelerate away quickly, crashing into a light pole. Their mouths dropped open. `` also... not all declarations are true.'' I almost melted their minds with that one. `` The deed is done... we have the power now to rule the entire land... Thank you monster! you are released. we must keep this a secret...''
While I would have loved to stick around, I was legitametely tired. `` Farewell'' I said, as my vision faded to black.
I re-appeared - in my closet? I opened the door and peeked out, spying myself in my bed, sound asleep. `` This is some inception level shit right here...'' I mumbled to myself. I stalked over to my sleeping self and whispered in my ear... `` here come dat boi.'' `` Oh shit waddup'' I said. `` I'm navi. You must be rare''. `` The rarest'' I reply.
I watch in sleepy fascination as my sleeping self disolves into dust. Disgusting. I go to sleep on the floor. The next morning, I take my meds.
*New here and with no autocorrect, have mercy, and Thanks! *
*Edits: Glaring spelling mistakes*
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[ WP ] God comes down to Earth , telling us to stop praying to him .
| `` And God said, let there be light!'' Father Donovan shouted in his heavy Irish accent.
A blinding array of light shone through the stained glass windows. Through the light, a white figure could be seen. With a thunderous voice, God spoke.
`` Stop it. Seriously, stop.''
Everyone in the church stared with wide eyes. Father Donovan hesitantly began speaking.
`` Is... is that you l-lord?''
`` YES,'' a lightning bolt struck a field outside. `` You'd think after years of praying, you'd know what I am!''
`` I-I apologize, l-lord. Why have you come to earth? Is it the day of the rapture? Shall we all be sent to heaven?''
`` Yeah, no. I came to tell you to stop. Stop praying. All of you people think you can get your problems solved by praying.'' God took a mighty breath, heavy enough to shake the trees outside. He continued.
`` Take Mrs. White for example. She keeps praying that her son would stop hanging out in his room and get a job. Did she actually try asking her son? NO! She keeps praying to me.''
Mrs. White spoke up. `` I... I never knew I could just ask him.''
`` AND YOU ASK ME, THE ALL POWERFUL TO DO IT?! Look guys, with every prayer, you jam our servers. We need them to bless those who need prayers, like starving children or Harambe supporters.''
Unzipping could be heard in the distance.
`` Now, listen here. STOP PRAYING FOR TRIFLES. ( *with a mocking voice* ) Oh, look at me, my prayers for a video game are more important than finding a cure for cancer, WAAAH! You people need to appreciate what you have. If not, go to Satan, he'll hook you up.''
And with a blinding light, God disappeared.
A minute passed, all the people in the church still confused.
Rumbling the earth, a voice could be heard saying `` REALLY, JIMMY DONOVAN? YOU'RE PRAYING FOR FRIENDS AT YOUR SCHOOL? WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST FUCKING SAY?''
|
[ WP ] You are the main NPC of a role-playing game . Your mission is to bestow the player with an item that will allow them to finish their quest , but you 've just misplaced it , and the player is speed-running their way towards you .
| `` What?''
`` It's not ready yet.''
Pause.
`` When will it be ready?''
`` Well...''
`` I mean, what would make it be ready? You know, I did a bit of sequence breaking, here. Did I need to save the mayor? Retrieve the crown?''
`` I'm not at all sure how those things are related. I just have n't got it ready yet.''
`` Could it have been the beggar?''
`` Sir, if you let me get to finding it...''
`` *Finding*? Aha! I can find it for you!''
`` I suppose you could...''
He ran past me and into the office.
I went in and we looked around. After a few minutes he found it and then the timeline ended.
|
[ WP ] You read the morning paper and are surprised to find your obituary . You are still alive .
| `` Honey,'' came the confused voice breaking through the sound of the Television.
Randy looked up from the screen, glancing to the left and right. He did n't see his wife anywhere so he merely shrugged and shouted a loud `` yes, dear?'' into the air.
`` There you are,'' she said, flowing into the den with barely a sound. He glanced down, noting the thick wool socks on her feet.
`` What are you looking at?'' she asked, cocking an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips.
Slowly his eyes moved from her feet to her ankles, legs, thighs, stomach, breasts, neck, then her face. He smiled wide, `` Every time I look at you I remember why I married you.''
She swatted him with the newspaper playfully, `` My momma warned me about you.'' He laughed. `` That's right,'' she continued, `` you fast talking Yankees, coming in, sweeping me off my feet, and then leaving me a widow.''
He paused, `` what? *I* do n't plan on dying today. You have some other plans there, Amy?''
She tossed the newspaper into his lap, sitting down on the arm of the couch. `` It's a good thing I took out that insurance policy on you, honey.'' She pointed towards the obituaries, `` you're dead!''
He rubbed his chin as he read the paper.
Amy slid off of the arm into his lap, landing on the paper with a soft crinkling crunch, `` what to do with the money?'' she laughed, `` I could buy a new car, maybe a new house...'' she kicked her feet in the air, `` oh, I know! I could build a pool. We've always wanted a pool, have n't we?''
His eyes were still looking at the crumpled paper on his lap, he set a heavy hand onto his wife's midsection.
`` You okay?'' she asked, playfully.
`` We have. But I... yeah. Yeah, we have wanted a pool. A pool would be good,'' he muttered, eyes not meeting his wife's.
`` Randy?'' she said, her tone lowering, `` Randy what's wrong?''
`` Amy, I... I wanted to tell you,'' he swallowed hard, `` I wanted to. I just did n't... I could n't...''
Her eyes went wide, `` you could n't what? What's... what's this about? It's a joke, a misprint.''
`` It's a misprint,'' he whispered, `` it was supposed to be in tomorrow's paper.''
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[ WP ] 5 little ducks went swimming one day . 4 returned . You 're the detective investigating a duck-napping .
| My Captain hands me the case with a wary look, he knows I hate these ones. It's a kidnapping, six missing baby ducks and a distraught mother, down in the pond district. That's not a place where angels or little ducks normally go, there's something about this case already, something feels wrong.
When i arrive there's not much to go on, just a few feathers and a mother duck who's crying; weeping in a helpless soulless way. She's not talking. Fear, anger, or she's a part of it, all options, all possible.
At last she breaks, tells me that she was just out swimming and one by one someone, or something took her ducks. It does n't add up. Where was she swimming and why? I press her up against the back seat of my car and I put the squeeze on her, she cracks pretty soon. This bitch is n't as innocent as she'd like me to belive, she's a crack whore, still half strung out on last night's hit.
As soon as I have the truth I start looking for the kids. These are n't lost kids, they're in trouble. This is n't good. I'd held out hope that I might get them back, but now I do n't know. I do n't know what she's done with them. I follow up with all her old arrests, looking for something, anything and then I find it, an old dealer boyfriend. He's a fucking badger.
Takes me three hours to run him down to his den and when I do I do n't need to look hard to know this is the place, there's yellow fucking feathers all up the street. It's like a pillow factory outside his door and when I kick it down I find worse inside.
He's asleep on the floor, does n't even wake when I kick him, too much meth, too much blood. Around the walls it's a Chinese butchers, dead baby ducks strung up, half ripped to bits, all dead. He's taken his time, pulled the feathers and gnawed on what he wanted to eat and then killed them all, presumably just for the fun of it. He likes the blood, likes the violence, he's enjoyed himself.
He's snoring and I crouch over him. I've seen this before - he'll do this again, over and over, unless someone stops him. What's a prison for this guy, he's huge, covered in muscles and tats, he'll just come out more nasty, more angry and it'll be another nest that gets the bad end of things.
He tore these babies apart with his paws, but all it takes is my finger tips, holding his nose shut and then a hand over his muzzle. He shakes a little, but he's too far gone into meth dreams to struggle and in just a moment it's over.
A house of dead bodies, one for the clean up crew I tell the captain. The mother just cries when I tell her, but she knew what he'd do, she sold her own kids of a hit of meth and left them there to die. She'll have more, her type always do, I hope I do n't have to clean them up too.
There's one less sick fuck on the streets tonight thanks to me, but if anyone finds out they'll take my badge and call *me* a criminal. Times like this I crawl inside a bottle and do n't come out till my next shift.
Hell of a city. Hell of a case.
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[ WP ] As far as you know , there 's nothing much to your ordinary , uneventful life . But the day you were abducted kicked off a chain of events that led to WWIII . Questions swirl in your head . Why you ? And do you have the key to end the war ?
| It was an ordinary day. I was sitting in class, last period, very bored, as usual. As I looked up at the board, four burly men clad in dark attire burst in through the door, wearing balaclavas and wielding various guns. Time seemed to freeze. Some of my classmates screamed. Some cried. Some did n't react at all. My teacher shouted at the men but got out no more than two unintelligible words before one of them took aim with their pistol and doubletapped him in the head. The class started panicking. Some ran. Some froze. I stared in shock at the sight of my teacher's brains spilling out all over the floor. He was dead. As my adrenaline kicked in, I sprang up and frantically made a beeline for the door. More gunshots erupted as several of my classmates piled to the floor. I screamed and charged straight at one of the attackers. He raised his assault rifle and brought the stock of the gun crashing down onto the back of my head. I crumpled to the ground, defeated. More gunshots erupted as I saw another one of my classmates drop to the floor. Bodies lay around me as I gradually faded out of consciousness.
The next time I woke up was inside a speeding van. My hands were cuffed behind my back and a rag was over my eyes. I could n't see anything. Then, as my movement was no doubt detected, the rag was ripped off my face. A man was watching me closely. He was close to me. Too close. I could smell his breath as he spoke a few menacing words to me, that chilled me to the bone.
`` You have started a war.''
He smiled widely, revealing a shabby set of teeth.
Why me?
|
[ WP ] You wake up with a supermodel in an alien zoo where you are one of the exhibits . One day a door is left open .
| 24th June 2016
They chose who my companion would be. It is n't as bad as it sounds - I got Lorde. Someone I'll never otherwise meet is better than no-one.
`` Who are you?'' Lorde asks. Strange how calm she is, considering it's our first day together, and I'm someone she's possibly never met before.
She looks around, taking in the 5th Avenue penthouse apartment-like'enclosure' we're in. I guess the aliens think all of us live in luxury or something. I'm not complaining.
`` Look, we get everything we ask for here. Well, we should, considering we're the main revenue-generators. We can ask for almost any food, and they'll make it for us. Ai n't so bad, right?'' I say as she explores our abode.
`` Why did you choose me? Why not, oh I do n't know, Emma Stone or someone?''
`` I did n't choose. The aliens did, and from what I can see, they've made a pretty good choice.''
She gives a non-committal grunt. *Great first start. *
& nbsp;
24th June 2020
Four years have passed, and apparently Seth Rogen's President. Oh, Earth still exists, by the way. The aliens just abducted both of us and life still goes on down there. She's warmed up to me, and we get along pretty well.
They've left a door open. I do n't know if it's by accident or not. There's a note on the ground.
*Thanks for the revenue you've given us. Profits have been low since the wow factor climaxed and dropped since last year. We're going to let you guys go and bring a new pair in. Any suggestions? *
I pick up the attached pen.
*No problems, thanks for the apartment-style place. It has been really nice. I'd suggest two people who've never met ( and preferably work in different sectors ), but make sure they're both famous. Maybe the former North Korean leader, Kim-Jong-Un, and Emma Watson or Stone. *
I went into our bedroom.
`` Ella, wake up. We're leaving. Pack your stuff up and meet me at the door in an hour. ``, I whisper. She stirs, her hair still a mess from last night.
`` Wha?''
`` Pack your stuff up, we're going back down.''
|
[ WP ] And just a touch of makeup ...
| > JUST A TOUCH OF MAKEUP
It ’ s a slow process, a movement of graces and hands, a flurry of coloured powders and ambiguously flesh coloured liquids.
It starts with a blank canvas, that is, my skin, the shame flowing out of my pores. It eats away at my face, scratches, and leaves crooks and valleys filled with insecurities. This canvas, I dislike it so blank. It was made to be covered, and filled.
The mirror whispers things – things of plainness, of lack of beauty, of proportion and symmetry.
I start and end the blank, and I pose the powders and colours and rectangles and circles in rows, as orderly as my features are not.
It ’ s a soothing motion, an elaborate ritual of creation, an invocation of muses, a painter ’ s lament, an eulogy for the funeral of my ugliness.
I finish. My face, changed, is what I always wanted.
This self will die in water and cream, but it will be rebirthed again next morning, next week, next month – my beauty is a created phoenix.
I always say: just a touch of make up, but the mirror asks for more.
|
In front of your desk
| * [ I wrote this a while back and posted it elsewhere using a throwaway, but I think it got taken down. ] *
I can ’ t fucking write poetry.
If you listened to everyone I talk to about it, they ’ ll insist otherwise. They ’ ll tell anyone who ’ ll care to listen that the volume I released last November was *magnificent*, and that it was all the rage in those circles that rage about poetry – such circles, it seems, I must have been blind not to have been aware of before, given what they have told me about their reputations. At first I believed their praise. I had sat for hours tapping in rhythmic beats at a polished cream typewriter in my sparsely decorated, white-walled and wide-windowed studio apartment: this being the perfect environment for pure inspiration, it must be the case that my doggerel was, in fact, art, and my collection of words, despite being one of incalculable numbers of different possible such combinations, was somehow both objectively and subjectively ( the subjectivity being a necessary requisite in order for universal acclaim to be an admired quality, and yet the objectivity a recognition of my undoubted mastery ) a work of genius. Coming from such highly regarded and educated people, this must be true: there could be no doubt that I was soon to join the ranks of Heaney and Hardy.
From this angle the typewriter looks more like off-white. My much-awaited second volume – to be released, it is said with much excitement, in just a matter of months – currently consists of five poems. They are short, and would thus be to the point, if they had a point. They do not. I had hoped that such artful incoherence would prove to be a delectable quality amongst Manhattan ’ s literary elites, but it soon became apparent that while this may be the case, I just didn ’ t – and couldn ’ t – know if I was right. What measure do I have to assess my own work? Hell, I can ’ t even criticise other people ’ s poetry. I don ’ t know what makes a good poem anymore. Shakespeares don ’ t exist these days: you can ’ t simply write high quality verse or prose to be deemed a good writer. Mastery is no longer a virtue found in the superiority of the writing – as there no longer seem to be writers who can manipulate words with sufficient skill, such standards only starve the artistic world of the geniuses it craves. If we can not have our own, modern, Shakespeares on Shakespeare ’ s own terms, they say, then we will make our own terms with which to create our own, better, Shakespeares. I barely know what these terms are, let alone whether I fulfill them in my own work – and God knows how I managed to in my first forays.
Maybe the bullshit is what makes it so glorious. The good artists are sucked into the system. They see these qualities and strive tirelessly to achieve them. But the true masters – the greats? Perhaps they ’ ve seen this whole little narcissistic world for what it really is. Perhaps, when they go out and write their works, they know that what they are writing isn ’ t objectively good, and is barely subjectively good. Maybe they just know that people like an attitude, not a product, and they ’ re creating that by simply pretending. They ’ re actors.
I don ’ t know. I don ’ t care anymore. I go to drinks parties with rich old people who think they ’ re thirty years younger than they are, and they tell me why such an author or such a poet or such an artist is so very skilled, and those around them will nod in agreement or offer up another, similar artist as a sacrifice to the god of continued conversation; there is no disagreement, just a collective ebb and flow of their minds as they ruminate upon their accepted group of artists. They might tell me in no uncertain terms how my work allows them to transcend the mundane, escape the tedium of life in where the world seems to be collapsing, and allow them to forgive themselves for the fact that deep down, they ’ ve given up trying to solve the world ’ s problems. I nod and thank them. It ’ s as if by convincing themselves that they ’ re cultured and educated and are fundamentally right, they ’ re somehow better at life than everyone else. These are the people who are so worried about being the good guys that you wonder if they ’ re the bad guys.
The wall hasn ’ t changed colour, even though I ’ ve been staring at it for the past half hour. Were this a novel, there might be a knock at the door, or I might leave, or I might open the window. Something would happen, because there needs to be a plot. I suppose by being so plot-less I ’ m somehow emulating the art these people flock to so eagerly. Modern art doesn ’ t need a plot. All it requires is meaning. Maybe that ’ s what they ’ re all looking for? Maybe that ’ s what their lives are really missing.
There ’ s a cool breeze coming in through the slightly open window. I keep it that way because I feel the lopsided shadows the metal frame casts in the afternoon light look artistic and elegant. If I stepped through it and jumped, none of them would ever know I ’ d thought all of this. But perhaps… Perhaps that doesn ’ t matter. Perhaps they already know.
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[ WP ] You 've narrowed down the list of possible murderers to three people - the son of the dead man , the wife of the dead man and the dead man 's pet rock . Something deep within you knows that the pet rock is the one who killed him .
| It was hopeless. The case was unsolvable. For 13 years, Conrad had never failed to bring a criminal to justice. At least, not anyone he tried to get. And damn it, did Conrad try and get the sick fuck who murdered Governor Pagan. Sure, he might not have been the best governor the state ever had, but he did his job. He was honest. He pushed for important laws to be passed. He had always tried his best, with honest intentions, and that was a rare occurrence in politics. So, it was a shock to the world when the news reported that he was found with his skull bashed in, lying dead in his office. Immediately upon hearing of the murder, Conrad volunteered for the case. He had been feeling bored with his job, and was ready for another case that would put the spring in his step. So he was partnered with a newbie, and put as the lead on the investigations. At the start of the case, Conrad was so excited to finally be on the hunt again. So how did it get to this point?
“ So fill me in on the suspects. ” Jim had decided to join the search in a last minute effort to catch the crook.
“ Forget it, it ’ s hopeless. We ’ ve got nothing on this guy. Me and Rooke here were just about to pack up. ” Conrad noticed that by Rooke ’ s expression, he definitely was not on board with this plan.
“ Oh come on, you ’ re Cold-blooded Conrad. If I thought that there ever came a day that a someone could commit a crime, and avoid Cold-Blooded Conrad, I ’ d quit right here and now, ‘ cuz clearly we ’ ve got a master on our hands. But we don ’ t, do we? He left a trail. Follow it! ” Conrad sighed. Jim just didn ’ t understand the situation they were in. Rooke decided to fill in the gaps.
“ So, we have already got it down to three suspects. ”
“ Two. ”
“ Three! We ’ ve got ta keep an open mind. ” Conrad rolled his eyes. The new kid clearly was a little too inventive with how the murder could have happened. Or a little too stupid to even be work as a cop.
“ Hey, three suspects? That ’ s a low number! We could get a confession. ”
“ Jim, you don ’ t understand, none of these guys will crack, and there ’ s nothing definitive on any of ‘ em. ”
“ Look, at the very least, let me hear about the suspects. ” Conrad sighed. It was clear that he wasn ’ t convincing these two that to give up the chase. Whatever, he might as well give it one last think-through.
“ Our first suspect is the governor ’ s son, ” Rooke offered. “ Tyler Pagan. Examining the body ’ s phone shows that the two were clearly in a big fight. Apparently, Pagan was not as good a father as he was a politician. ” Conrad winced. He didn ’ t want to talk about this line of reasoning to far; the texts suggest that he may have hit the son, and if the media ever got wind of this, they ’ d have a field day. That didn ’ t seem like the best way of honoring the man or comforting the family.
“ Additionally, when you enter the building, you need to show your ID card, ” Conrad elaborated. “ The only card scanned was Tyler ’ s, and it shows him entering at evening. Catch is, you don ’ t need to scan the card to leave, so we have no idea whether he left the building. There ’ s a strong possibility after meeting with his father he never left, and went and did the deed. And also, he doesn ’ t have a solid alibi for the murder time. ”
“ Wait a second. ” Something seemed to have thrown Jim off. “ The son was the only one to enter that day? That ’ s odd, right? ” Conrad shook his head.
“ Today was a vacation day. The governor decided to work anyways. ” Jim shook his head.
“ Well, might explain the family situation a bit. But, hold on, the son was the only one who entered? Well doesn ’ t that eliminate all other possibilities? ” Rooke decided to cut back in.
“ There ’ s a side door to the building, that only a few people have a key to. Well, uh, two. This one doesn ’ t have need you to scan anything. The governor has a key, which is how he entered. His wife also has a key. ” Hmmph. Why there was a need for a side door specifically for the governor and his wife, Conrad didn ’ t know.
“ It ’ s the usual fare; she ’ s mentioned in his will. She ’ d inherit a lot. The key couldn ’ t have been stolen or anything, it ’ s reported she has it on her person at all times. And again, the wife has no alibi. ” Jim looked exasperated.
“ I see what you mean. It ’ s a bit of a toss up. Both of them seem pretty likely. ” Conrad patently agreed. Objectively, there were two solid murder possibilities presented before him. Yet his instincts told him that that neither of them did it. It didn ’ t make sense. It should be one of them. But these were the instincts that had gotten him his title. Were they betraying him now?
“ So who ’ s this third suspect? ”
“ Ugh. ” Conrad audibly groaned. There wasn ’ t enough time to waste on threads like this.
“ Look, let ’ s think about this. ” Rooke was indignant. “ You said you didn ’ t think the son or the wife did it. This could be the criminal! ”
“ Well, now I ’ m curious, who is this suspect? ”
“ The governor ’ s pet, ” Rooke responded. Jim was shocked.
“ The governor has a pet? I had no idea. ”
“ Well, it makes sense. He likes to keep it a secret. ”
“ A secret pet? What could possibly make him want to hide something like that? Pets are great for PR. And hold on, the pet was in his office? ”
“ Yup, he keeps it right in the room with him. ”
“ So, you think a pet murdered him with a blunt object? That ’ s, uh, not really an animal thing. ”
“ Well, this pet doesn ’ t fit with a typical animal style. They ’ d definitely kill bluntly. ”
“ Well what is it? Really, I ’ m so curious. ”
“ Damn it Jim, it ’ s a fucking rock, ” Conrad shouted. He had gotten fed up with this. Jim was shocked.
“ Wh… What? ”
“ Billy. The rock ’ s name is Billy. Governor Pagan, the ex-leader of South Carolina, owned a pet rock which he named Billy, and our new member of the police investigation team is suggesting that this rock is responsible for this assassination. ” Jim was just flabbergasted.
“ You… you have to be joking, right? ” Rooke, for his part, stood his ground.
“ He was at the crime scene. He should be considered. ” Jim chuckled to himself.
“ Of course, heh heh. No wonder this has been such a rocky investigation. I-I mean, heh, we ’ re really between a rock and a hard place. Man, no wonder this case really rocks. Bwahahahaha. ” Jim was near cracking himself up. Neither Conrad nor Rooke even chuckled. After Jim pulled himself back together, he continued, “ but in all seriousness, for the real suspects, is there any reason we can ’ t get a conviction? Other than, you know, the uncertainty between the two of them. ”
“ Alright, might as well get to this point, ” Conrad said, with defeat in his voice. Here was when Jim ’ s confidence broke. “ Due to budget cuts, the building has one video camera. But, boy howdy, is it a damning one to our case. It shows the one entrance to the room where the governor was killed, and no one entered or exited after the son had left at the evening. The camera wasn ’ t tampered with. ”
“ Oh. ” Jim sat down, with a blank look on his face. The realization had finally hit him. They were looking at an impossible murder.
“ Correction. ” Rooke popped in. “ The camera shows most of the entrance. There ’ s a few inches by the floor it doesn ’ t see. ”
“ So? It doesn ’ t change a thing. ” Conrad was a little on edge.
“ I disagree. ” Jim and Conrad exchanged a glance.
“ Alright, ” Jim said. “ I ’ ll bite. What does it change. ”
“ Billy hasn ’ t been found yet. Billy is a few inches high. The height to get out of that place. ” Jim slammed his foot to the ground in frustration. He was not having this.
“ Are you going off on this rock thing? Are you insane? ”
“ No, I ’ m seeing clear. I ’ ve cracked the case, this rock, Billy, if that is his name, has clearly made a political move. Perhaps he was paid off by a rival politician, we may not know. ”
“ Kid, I hope to hell you ’ re joking. More importantly, I hope that the commissioner finds this more funny than I do right now.
“ I ’ m not done. The injury. I checked with the autopsy team, and guess what they found trace amounts of in the injury? ” Rooke didn ’ t wait for a response. “ Gravel. ” There was a brief silence. Everyone sat still for a second.
“ Boom. Case closed. ”
“ You can ’ t be serious, ” Jim was pissed. “ Get out. Get out right now. I can ’ t deal with you. Conrad, tell him to get out. ” Conrad remained silent. Stupefied. He had a 13 year long career. He had seen a lot of things. He had heard a lot of things. A lot of stupid things. Almost everything.
“ Rooke, ” Conrad said, with a steely voice. “ Put out an APB for one Billy the rock. We ’ re going to have to act fast if we want to catch this guy, I ’ ve got a feeling he can blend in well. ” But in his 13 year career, he had never thought he ’ d be outdone by a rookie.
“ You ’ ve got to be kidding me. ” Jim had stood up at this point, and his voice was getting shaky. “ Conrad, what the hell! Have you lost it, get a grip! ” Conrad had stopped listening. His instincts had made up their mind. It had been less that a day, and the suspect could only get but so far on foot. With enough distance, and a swim in a river, they might be able to blend in with locals. Conrad needed to act swiftly, and cut them off before this could happen. Conrad chuckled. The hunt was on.
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[ WP ] A new drug is discovered that induces lucid dreaming . An overdose causes permanent coma . The hospitals are filling up .
| Chad: *Unemployment is down thirty percent. Crime rates are falling to match. And the man responsible for all this is here tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, Jeff Holden*
The presenter stood up extending one arm out to the side of the stage where the esteemed psychologist enters. Jeff and Chad Morissen, the presenter, share an handshake as the two men sit down. After exchanging the required conversation to the new guest, How was the flight?, Enjoying your stay in the city?, Chad stirs the conversation in the main direction.
Chad: *The question on everyone's minds Jeff is, how did you consider Audio Academic Therapy as a solution to this problem? *
Sitting forward in his chair, Dr.Jeff Holden placed his hands together and started to gesture as he spoke.
Jeff: *Well once the ability to awaken one from the Sleepx coma was developed, with all credit to my colleague Dr.Kuang, we as a race saw that we still faced the same problem. Only a small fraction that awake ceased complete use of the drug. The vast majority continued their appearances at the hospital. This is when I began my research on the topic. I found that by observing several users, when using the drug and when off, I could deduce several theories. The users often told me that external sources could be perceived, mainly through smell and hearing. This is why many played their favorite music in the backround or had scented candles lit. Unlike regular dreams they retained vivid detail of these dreams from start to completion. Keep that in mind. Next I had a look at the types of people who this drug affected severely, my original subjects were functional members of society who have been taking the drug for several years with no noticeable detrimental affects to their physical or psychological health. My research in the demographic of people entering the hospital in a comatose state revealed that the vast majority were repeat unemployed users with little or no family and friends. They would simply come in and out of the constant dream environment because it was, to them, a viable escape from a life where they see themselves having no prospects. *
Chad: *I see how you came about with developing the therapy, yes, that is extraordinary. But how did you bring computer science into this idea? *
Jeff: *Actually that is a funny story that I was just about to get to, I was working with a Phd student of mine, he would rather not be named and drawn into the spotlight, who gave me that idea. One day when I was giving him advice on his thesis he had his laptop open. His idea involved several dynamic psychological tests hidden in video games. He had a code open and was adjusting several things. The structure was simple, all aspects of the code in question had comments underneath explaining exactly what each piece was doing. The best part was it was all words, numbers and symbols. Things that could easily be described through audio. From there I visited a few friends in Trinity College's Computer Science department. Once they were on board I had them, using audio only, put together an entire semester of a computer science course. The finished product was two hundred and fifty hours long. With this, I hired three subjects from the original few I had observed. Over the course of several sessions they each listened to the audio. With explicit instructions to not study this material other than the audio while using the drug. The results were astounding. Each subject showed over ninety five percent knowledge retention and with simple hints during a second test that retention was a solid one hundred percent. *
The crowd clapped along with Chad. As the audience slowed their clap Chad raised his hands to urge them to cease.
Chad: *Magnificent. Please continue, it is from here that you start implementing the therapy into hospitals is it? *
Jeff: *No, no, no. That was merely one semester of the course and it was two hundred and fifty hours long. With an entire college degree worth of material we were easily pushed over two thousand hours. That is eighty three days one would need to listen to the audio while under the effect of the drug. That was not acceptable. It was something one of my original subjects had said that sparked my next experiment into the matter. After one session that lasted ten hours, he said,'' That was ten hours? It felt like a year''. This made me think, if we accelerated the audio could retention stay as high. With new subjects we conducted the time-information retention experiments. Starting at double speed and eventually working our way to as high as twenty fold. Incredibly, we were getting on average above eighty percent retention, falling exponentially, around fifteen fold speed. Hence, our subjects were getting, and retaining, a working college education in computer science in less than six days of total listening time. *
The roar of the crowd came just as Jeff finished his last sentence. Chad was clapping along with them, this time allowing them to finish at their own accord. When they calmed down, Chad continued.
Chad: *So lets recap. You find a means to educate users of this drug in computer science with, relatively to standard learning, a incredibly fast method. I can see how this reduces the amount of unemployed being admitted to hospital but what stops them from using the drug afterwards? Does this immense learning cause harm? What if the person has a bad lucid dream while this is being administered, and then is basically stuck in a a hell where for all eternity, or the length of time it feels to them, they are taught computer science? So many questions left to be answered, and hopefully they will be, after this commercial break. *
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[ WP ] You 're a powerful yet reasonable villain , concentrating mainly on bank robberies , heists etc . Due to the ineptitude and sheer stupidity of the local `` heroes '' though , you constantly have to save bystanders from danger and prevent catastrophes .
| I did everything to save Martha, but Superman and Batman let her die. I mean I'm just a nerd at heart that wants to control the world, but what Sohpiclis said `` What good is a heart if it wants to shine under the ground'' I did n't want to carry on like this and I murdered both Superman and Batman in a freak Krytocurrency accident. I framed them for robbing krytocurrencies. It was their fault really. I mean Im Lex, the Flex. That's what my nickname was, anyways, when I played with GI Joes. I've always wondered whether I should brand my planes like how Cobra Commander made everyone do so. Then again, every superhero within a mile would catch me. Would they though? Seeing as how stupid they are. Maybe I'll give it a shot
`` News Flash: Lex The Flex, saves old woman, kills 20,000 Ghanians in freak mining accident. Mining for currency that is''
I should hire a better PR team
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[ WP ] A very serious story about a very silly thing . Surprise me
| I've never seen it this bad, I scoured the room. Each corner had a former friend fully geared, all ready for battle. I offered to split the prize yet my offer fell on deaf ears and so... The battle begun.
First they got Kenny, shot him right between the eyes. Those bastards. Then it was Dave who went down next. Another shot rang out and James took a hit to the stomach.
We were down to 3, I could win this. But was it worth it? Was it really that important? Bang Barry shot right past my left shoulder. Fuck it I'm in this to win! I gunned him down, spin around and headshotted Annie.
Alas I emerge victorious, I walk up to the middle in order to claim my prize. The last pizza slice was mine!
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[ WP ] You 're a thief who breaks into homes , but try your best to stay undetected . You lubricate the hinges to prevent squeaky noises , you sweep the floor to get rid of footsteps , etc . Eventually , you fix more than you take , and rumors spread about a mysterious , helpful fairy in town .
| ``... can'' t seem to find my pearl necklace anywhere, Julia!''
My interest piqued, I glanced over my shoulder, and happened to see a recent victim walking out of the café whose patio I just happened to be relaxing on. I turned back to my phone, hoping the two women would continue past me, but they were too busy talking to each other to notice me as they took the table a few rows past where I was sitting.
The other woman, Julia, emitted a heavy groan as she sat heavily in the chair, looked like she had a hangover. Probably, as I had drugged her drink the night before when she had been out. Her eighth drink, to be precise. I probably had n't needed to, considering she had been spinning at her fourth, but in all things, caution. In life, in work, and in relaxation.
`` I do n't know Mary, you probably lost it at that party where Matt had his grubby hands on you for half the night.''
`` Hmmm, Matt might be slimy, but a thief? I think he deserves a little more credit than that, Julie.''
An interruption by a quiet voice broke off the conversation as a waitress arrived to take the women's order.
I opened my eyes and was getting ready to leave when the conversation started up again, and I hated to leave a good conversation about myself. After all, the best thieves are ones that you do n't even know robbed you.
``... find it eventually, probably in one of your thousand jewelry cases.''
Well, make that 998.
`` Maybe it was my landlord, I've been complaining about the door and the floorboards squeakin all the time and now all of a sudden they do n't squeak anymore. But he says he hasnt been in the room or done anything!''
`` Huh, now that you mention it, Mary, my bedroom door didnt creak this morning, and the floor didnt have that sticky spot from where I dropped my waffles a week ago.''
`` Maybe Tommy cleaned it while you were drunk last night?''
`` Tommy, clean anything? Yeah right, maybe some reject god of cleaning mopped my floor last night and oiled the door hinges, he also got you hinges and nabbed the necklace as a fee!''
Both women giggled at the thought as I gathered my stuff and took my receipt to the cashier. It was time to move towns, to change hunting grounds.
Todays meal was paid for with Mary's pearl necklace, among other things, and Julia's previous wedding ring, also among other things.
My name is James, thief extrodinaire and apperant disgruntled reject god of cleaning.
Authors Note: This is my first time doing this, so some constructive criticism would be appreciated by all my fellow writers out there!
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[ WP ] In the distant future , the human race has incredible technology but is running low on resources . Finally , they discover a resource rich planet - but it 's got sentient life with modern-day equivalent technology .
| It's funny.
When they appeared in the sky we were scared.
We fired the first shot, and the second, and the third. We fired every weapon we had at the craft, after six straight hours of bombardment, our arsenals were exhausted, and our governments issued an unconditional surrender.
Then we waited. We waited for them to cleanse our planet with fire.
But the fire never came.
Their message to us was short, `` Greetings. We're here to help.''
We never saw their faces, but they offered us everything we could want. Clean energy, better vehicles, advanced medicine, and peace. They taught us how to use our resources without destroying them. Under the watchful eye of humanity our planet flourished, we wiped out disease, poverty, hatred, and ignorance. We built a better world,
At first we did n't notice, fewer of us were choosing to have children, I mean with all that needed to be done, who had time? Then we realized that we could n't.
We called out to our `` friends'' for help, but they never responded.
Our race grew older. Our race died out.
I know they're watching me as I write this, waiting for me to die. So they can march in, and take the planet we built for them.
It's funny.
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[ WP ] An ancient God/Diety dies alone .
| It began with the first industrial revolution, though it was n't obvious then. No, with the ability to mass produce guns and later other armaments, the advent of industry seemed fortuitous to say the least. Where thousands had fallen historically, no millions would fall. He gloried it it. The advent of guns, then automatic guns, grenades, tanks, aircraft, all manner of mechanisms to take life. And with each death, he grew strong. Stronger than he'd ever been. Strong enough, perhaps, to ascend to the top of the pantheon. Nuclear weapons were the pinnacle. The destruction they wrought in the mid 21st century was greater than all wars previous.
Yet, with the diminished population, conflict staggered. There were nought but small local skirmishes. Then, as human society began to rebuild in areas relatively unaffected, something horrible happened. The same technologies that had been used to creat weapons of destruction were used to create small oases of plenty. When newcomers came to these places, there was enough to share. As time went on, the oases expanded and more and more were granted access to plenty. The small skirmishes came less and less frequently. Finally, in the 24th century, the last recorded `` war'' if it could even be called that ended. War was, now, and perhaps forever, only known to history.
He watched it all in horror. The strength he'd gained in the heyday of human conflict and suffering ebbed quickly. Finally, sometime in the 25th century, alone and forgotten, Ares breathed his last.
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[ WP ] We are not alone : aliens do exist and they can hear our messages , it 's just that they do n't want anything to do with us .
| The general stood above Private Jones, puffing his cigarette obnoxiously loud. For all the times the general had forgotten his keys, or his phone, he never seemed to forget the cigarettes. The general did n't even smoke very often, he only lit up when he was either tired, or wanting to `` show off'' his authority to everyone else.
`` Read me the first message again, private.'' He commanded, leaning against the desk.
Private Jones steadied the desk with an annoyed grunt. `` It says: We hear you, humans.''
The general nodded. `` Second message?''
``'Please cease all contact.'''
Jones had found that second message quite funny. For a foreign species, they were rather polite. It just seemed too good to be true.
`` And our most recent message was sent when?''
Jones looked over the logs. `` Last night, at approximately twenty-one-thirty-seven hours.''
`` Alright, well, let me-'' but the general was interrupted by a quiet *ding*, from the computer. They had heard the sound only twice before, so they both leaned in close to the screen as Jones struggled to pull up the message.
Their last message had been in reply to the request of no further contact, simply asking `` why?''. Jones had n't wanted to phrase it like that, but he was n't in charge of the content of the messages.
The message loaded, but not to their relief. In fact, Jones almost wished he had n't opened it. It was four simple words, yet it filled the air with such heaviness, that neither of the men could breathe.
`` You'll give us away.'' It read.
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[ WP ] For the past several years you 've had an ability that no one knows about . No matter where in the world you are , no matter what time of day it is , you can smell what The Rock is cooking .
| The metallic restraints are cold as ice. My back is beginning to spasm from my Tourettes, and the chair is only making the experience even more painful. I want to keep struggling, but I have n't the strength. These bastards are n't getting shit out of me anyway.
Footsteps outside, they're coming back. Oh God, I wish they'd just kill me. The horrible odor makes my life challenge enough. Why them too?
The masked man has friends with him this time. He's cracking his knuckles. His buddy is handing him a chair.
`` We can make this easy,'' says one of his assistants, `` Just tell Mysterio what he wants to know.''
`` You ca n't smell what The Rock is cooking, fucker!'' I screamed, fervently as ever.
With that Rey ripped off his mask. `` That's it, I'm done with this bullshit. I do n't need the WWE anyway.''
As I sighed in relief, I knew there was only one thing left to resolve. I've got to get Dwayne to stop making Brussels sprouts.
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[ WP ] You are a shapeshifter . Every hundred years you must change forms . It is time to change form .
| There's a problem with being a shapeshifter. It's not a problem that people would anticipate, people especially as a matter of fact. The shifter sighed again at the prospect. Another century learning to be something else. It was n't that he would n't be treated like a human. That was a problem he had sometimes even when he was in human form. You could never be sure what race to be and when. No, the problem was one that non-shifters never seemed to think about, despite their mythology and fiction regarding the shifter's people. What they never seemed to get was that thinking was deeply related to shape. The process of becoming a dog was n't one of taking a human mind into a dog, it was very much becoming a dog. Sure, his level of intelligence would be higher than the average dog, but being smart and being human was n't the same thing. And that was what weighed on the shiter's mind. What to spend the next century as? Would he be a dog again and live by the rainbow of smell that filled his brain and the wash of unbound emotion? Or perhaps another century as an eagle. The sight alone was most of the thought process when you lived by the mouse in a field a hundred yards below. Though he had to admit, eagle's had by far the most interesting sex lives, plunging from the sky in mid coitus. He considered briefly the time he'd spent living as a white predatory fungus deep within a cave. That century had passed as though no time at all had gone by, but he'd wakened with a terribly damaged memory of the time that had come before, and spent most of the next century trying to recreate his deeper self from the fragments. Time was running out. Then he saw it. He checked his phone for flights, and sure enough there was time. India was n't as far away as it used to be, and a century as a hindu cow was starting to sound good.
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[ WP ] In a world where human cloning has become the norm , people begin to patent genes . However , God comes down to challenge the patents .
| `` According to Federson Bioengineering v. Stanford Genomics, the burden of proof lies with the plaintiff in matters contesting the ownership of intellectual property rights. I'm sorry Mr... Mr... -''
-I AM-
`` Right, Mr. Iam. I'm sorry, but without documentation, supporting your claim of prior development, Your case just does n't seem strong enough to take to the courtroom.''
-THERE SHALL BE TWO WITNESSES, AND THEY WILL HAVE EYES OF DARKNESS AMD TONGUES OF FLAME. THEIR WORDS WILL BE IN EVERY LANGUAGE OF MAN AND ALL WILL HEAR THEIR WORDS AND WEEP-
`` I understand that, Mr. Iam, Sir, and I've read their testimonies. They're very moving, and I'm sure they'd be great to get in front of a jury. Unfortunately, I just do n't see this getting to that stage with just those two.
`` I mean, for one, talk about a biased witness. These guys both say You've, let me see here...'Saved their mortal souls.' Well, frankly, I just ca n't see a judge seeing that kind of a relationship to the contestant and giving it the same kind of weight she might give to, say, an expert witness or a member of government. You have to remember, these guys all have deep, deeeeep pockets. Hell, one of those guys just bought a solid Gold Taurus. It was all over the news! They're going to have all sorts of people and documents saying they came up with the genes, or they improved on the genes, or some other one of the hundreds of legal loopholes they could go for
`` Look, I'm not trying to discourage You, hand to... Uh... You, I guess. All I'm saying is You should seriously consider strengthening Your case before submitting it before county.''
-... -
`` Look, do n't cry. We're just going to have to wait a while to build up a stronger case, that's all.
`` It's not like it's the end of the world, right?''
|
[ WP ] A very might Superhero/heroine is suffering from depression . His/her Arch-Nemesis is beginning to get concerned .
| `` Not today Sin.''
The rooftop was quiet. No sirens, no helicopters flying about. For the first time in a very long time, there was nothing and I felt exactly the same way. Syndrome shuffled his feet behind me in the loose dirt of the rooftop.
`` I'm not here to cause trouble Gam.''
The edge had been calling to me for a while now. Between my legs I could see the world far below. Everyday, those people watched me at my best and now they did n't even glance when I was at my worst.
`` Are you out?'' Sin asked.
`` No. Yes. I do n't know.''
`` Is it me?''
I looked at him over my shoulder. His costume was fluttering in the wind. His wrung his hands in front of him but could n't look at me.
`` No,'' I said.
`` I know we're not friends.'' I could n't help but roll my eyes as he began talking. `` But it's not like there's many others like us. It can be hard, talking. Me, I've got anonymity. I went home with this broad and spent the night just talking to her. Poured my heart out. But you? You have to live this 24/7.''
`` What do you want Sin?''
`` To tell you, if you need it, and I'm not saying you do, but if you need do, I can listen.''
`` To what?''
`` To whatever it is that's doing this to you.''
`` You. You did this to me.''
Sin stepped closer. My hands balled into fists, the cold rush of power crawling beneath my skin until the hairs stood on edge.
`` I've been doing this a long time. We both have Gam. And you've never gone away like this before. So what's changed?''
`` Nothing.''
`` Something must have...'' Sin began but I could n't help it. I hit the ledge of the rooftop, cracking the concrete and sending a small spiral of dust spiralling downwards.
`` Nothing!'' I shouted. `` Nothing has changed and that's what people do n't get. Not them, not you. No-one.''
He moved quietly. It was why I hated him. All the fights, all the scrapes, he could come and go like a cat. Constantly my nerves were on a hair-trigger. The whole time he'd been on the rooftop, he'd dragged his feet purely so I could hear him but now when I looked up he was sat beside me.
He'd left an arms width between us, his own legs dangling over the side. I could push him, right now, and be done with it. Instead I put my head in my hands and cried.
`` I've always been this way,'' I said.
`` Depressed?''
I nodded. `` Since I was a teenager. Before I even knew what I was. I deal with it.''
`` Alone?''
`` Of course.'' Not just a simple yes. Not an'unfortunately so'. I dealt with my problem because it was my problem, so of course I'd deal with it alone.
`` I'm not gon na pretend I know what it's like,'' Sin said. He was still wringing his hands, not looking at me. `` But I can listen?''
I wanted him to strike at me. Just give me an excuse to fall. Never this though. I sat and listened to the silence of a city that did n't need me.
`` It's a hole,'' I said. `` In my dreams, my nightmares. A pit and one I've dug for myself. I'm just walking around it, constantly, around and around. Sometimes, if I'm not careful, I slip on the edge and nearly go in. Sometimes, if I've had a bad fay, I fall.''
I paused but Sin said nothing. He was watching me though, his hands motionless in the corner of my eye.
`` I fall into the pit. It's deep and cold. I panic. I fucking panic man. I'm clawing at the walls and I haul myself out of there quick as I can and sit on the top panting. And then... I start walking again. Around and around. The same old routine.
`` The next time I fall in though I hit the dirt hard. I'm lying on my back and I'm looking up at this ugly grey sky in a tiny circle and I think, why bother. Why get up again if I'm just going to end up back here. And that's where I stay. That's where I am now Sin. I'm dead at the bottom of a pit.''
`` Nobody dies alone.'' Sin's voice was quiet. It took me a moment to realise he'd disabled the modulator strapped around his throat; without it he sounded... normal. `` It was something my grandpa said. Nobody dies alone, when we go, a piece of everyone who knows us dies as well.''
`` Nobody knows me.''
`` I do.''
`` The hell d'you know me.''
`` I know you're a good man. I know anything I say right now is probably meaningless, but that does n't change the fact. I'm not going to leave you, even if you push my face through this rooftop.''
`` Why?''
`` Because if you die, I'm gon na need a new heart.''
`` Sin...''
`` And you deserve better. You deserve more than I can offer.'' He held up a hand before I could even protest. `` If you're in this pit I ca n't pull you out. But I can drop a rope. I can wait at the top. I'll wait as long as it takes.''
`` A rope?''
`` It was your metaphor,'' he said.
I smiled. It was brief but real.
I sat. I do n't know for how long but the city grew dark. Syndrome did n't leave me. Every now and then he'd tell an old story. The pit was still just as deep but now, when I looked up at that ugly grey sky, I could see a rope, hanging down the side.
With one hand, the skin burning with all the powers I'd developed, I took a hold of the end.
|
[ IP ] Future Earth
| We destroyed the Earth, but we survived. Our grandest cities were swallowed in the sea, so we built new ones on their corpses. Towering skyscrapers rising up from the deep created a steel skyline. The poor used boats, and lived at the bottom of these towers. The middle class had cars-flying ones-and lived above. The wealthy lived on the mainlands, in the few areas where the climate was still stable. The wealthiest did not live at all, but escaped into computer simulations of their perfect world. None desired this one.
There was no global society. Instead, the cities, in an ironic resemblance to the city-states of old, were independent and fiercely belligerent. The wars escalated, and nuclear Armageddon seemed inevitable. A few cities banded together, and came up with a plan for survival: colonize space, fast. About two thousand men and women will go, the best and brightest of these cities. I am one of them, and I am terrified. I look out my window see the boats. I see the waves. I see the blue ocean hiding a dark secret. For the nature of mankind is not good, nor is it evil; it is greed. Greed led to all of this, and there is no reason to think it will abate. It raised the oceans, divided the countries, and sent the cities into war. It will likely lead to Armageddon, powered by elements once buried deep within the ground. The world's final justice again mankind. It will not take me with it; I will have to watch. I will watch as the world burns, and with the other colonists try to pretend that we left the causes behind. But just as surely as we will escape the Earth, greed will accompany us. Eventually, no matter what happens, no matter how much we build, grow, and create, greed will undo us. The Earth, where we were shaped by billions of years of evolution, could n't handle our greed, why could any other world? Luna is deadly, the glass cities we build could easily become our tombs. Mars is not much better. Perhaps, when the terraforming is complete, we will be able to walk on the surface one day. But Mars will not help us survive. Its soil is not fertile, its air is too thin, its orbit is too wide. The smallest disruption could prove fatal. Perhaps we will build sky-cities on Venus. They will likely be sunk, by our greed. Perhaps we will find another world, outside of the solar system, which we could inhabit. Why should we expect it to be any more welcoming? And so I look out at the world. MY world. The one I leave behind, to be destroyed forever for my people, by their own greed.
I used to appreciate Earth's beauty. The mountains, the sunsets, the forests; they all stirred some long forgotten passion in my mind, and brought a sense of tranquility, always unexpected after my time in a city. Perhaps I will be the last person to experience this, and, after the world is dead, this love of nature will die with me.
|
[ WP ] After dying , you found yourself staring at a large screen . `` LOBBY . Current players : 7,383,275,800 . Current game time : 1059040375.2 mins . Current spectarors : 21,458,374,931 . Player rank : 2,648,535,901 . Time until next game : 23695624.8 mins ''
| `` Nein, Nein, Die Englisch sind hier! Geoff in Deckung gehen!''
Strange last words to hear from your friend before he throws himself on a grenade, he was better than the rest of us, kinder, faster, smarter it should have been one of us to jump on it not him. If we still had him I would n't be bleeding out surrounded by my pals in this fucking bunker, `` Fuckin kaiser, gefickt er uns ganz'' I groaned as I heard some foot steps approach. `` Scheiße britisch, nicht gehen, um anfangen zu singen?'' I spat at them, great, I get to die in front of those vermin islanders always singing on the other side of the trenches in that pig language.
`` Hey Greg one of the krauts are alive what should we do with him?''
`` Bitte eine Zigarette, bitte eine err... ist cigarette Fag auf Englisch?''
`` I think the bastard is calling us gay or is asking for a fag, Frank you got one to spare?''
`` Hey man you won at cards I've only got the one left''
`` Fine you stingy bastard, you would n't even give a dying man your last cigarette, that's cold blooded even for you Greg. Hey kraut uhh... Er ist eine fag, sterben leise danke''
`` Danke, Sie sind nicht so schlecht, verdammt Kaiser, verdammt Kaiser''
`` He still likes that kaiser? Man talk about dedicated!''
`` Frank, he said something not so bad something fucking king, fucking king. Sounds like ole Stevie before these bastards shot him up. Ahh well, he said if someone shot him he would n't hold a grudge, lucky for this...''
The English where always a strange lot, calmly chatting about in a war zone, no wonder we were fucked.
`` Ich sehe ein Licht, Lobby? Was ist, dass.''
`` Hey kraut what's up?''
`` Das Licht wird immer größer''
`` He's just seeing the light Frank, may lord have mercy on him and all these other fuckers, maybe ole Stevie will shake his hand, he did say he wanted to...''
I woke up with a gasp, a sharp sound pierced the pod `` Please wait momentarily support staff will be with you in just a jiffy'', why did all these things end with a hand full of cunts ruining it for the rest of us, just one power crazed bastard born of inbreeding and bam, dead in the french country side with two stiff upper lipers. As far as killers go they were at least tolerable
|
[ WP ] Tell of a single mother 's unconditional love for her daughter , and the sacrifice she made for her .
| Trigger warning.
-- -
Every day hurt.
She has her father's eyes. Big, round, blue. Dark brown hair, like mine. Skin pale, little freckles smattered across her tiny upturned nose. Some grandma or aunt must have donated that chunk of DNA.
There used to be a time when his face would haunt my every living moment. Dinner with my family. The car ride to work. Trying so hard to focus at work when I just saw him, over and over again.
The worse was waiting to fall asleep only to see him in my nightmares.
But slowly, it faded. Into the hazy soup of memory his face began to drift. I would have flashbacks here and there and bouts of depression, but my daily routine remained uninterrupted.
Until I bothered to look at the calendar.
That trip to the drug store. Not meeting the cashier's eyes.
Dirty. Filthy. He knows. He knows what happened to me.
It was supposed to be a fun night. My friends were supposed to stick with me. It was n't my fault, how could I have known who or what he was? That nameless man.. Something with a'J' maybe… How could I have known that this would happen?
Did I try to find him? At that club again. Maybe if I wore the same outfit… Would he pay for the abortion? He paid for all those drinks, after all…
Deciding to keep the present he gave me was the hardest choice I have ever had to make.
And every time I look into her sweet, blue eyes I see his eyes staring back.
`` Momma?''
I snap back to. Where had I gone this time? How long had I been away, lost in the deepest pools of my haunted memories?
`` I want to make a fort.''
I love her more than I can ever say, than she can ever know. And I can never tell her who her father was, not because I do n't know, but because she has enough monsters in her closet without me adding mine.
|
[ WP ] As a basic enemy in an RPG game ( skeleton , spider , goblin etc ) life is hard , especially when someone could come any day and kill you and your loved one 's for EXP . Tell us about your life as one of those basic creatures
| Nobody understand candle. Candle is light, candle is life!
Candle bring sight in the darkness, find the plump vermin that fill the belly.
Sight also bring horror, slick touch of wall and self's blessed candle shine upon sadness of Kreebik who lies upon the ground lifeless, still. No candle remain, the crazed Short-nose ones that come from above the earth with their wicked steel and smiteful spells - take all that is most precious sacred of a Kobold.
Why take candle? Is glaring light above ground not enough? Weak of eye, small of nose. Tiny teeth like squares.
Perhaps they fearing the Candle King.
I, Sneebik, take old friend by foot, drag carefully quiet to the depths.
Kreebik will join the Pot of All, his tallow become one with those gone before, and on the sacred days we skim the fat, bind the wick and pledge once more. We pray to the Light in the Darkness:
No take candle. Never take candle.
Candle bring life, Light come from death.
|
[ wp ] A straight-to-DVD sequel to Interstellar ( 2014 ) is announced . Write the inevitably bad plot summary
| **Cooper is back! **
Last year they left earth, now they have to go back. Cooper ( Christian Slater ) stranded on a derelict planet around an ultros-black hole, realizes he can use it for one thing. To save earth. Using his amazing science, Cooper manages to calculate how to slingshot through the blackhole, back into the past. There's just one problem, he goes too far! Now Cooper has to convince the modern day earth that a disaster is coming, and only they can stop it!
`` If we do n't stop the great blight, our only future will be INTERSTELLAR!''
INTERSTELLAR 2: MANHATTAN JAM coming to a blockbuster near you 2015
|
[ WP ] Dementia is a disease of the mind . Cancer is a disease of the body . Describe a disease of the soul .
| Rowan collapsed on the steps of the church in a heap, the gargoyles staring down at him in silent judgment. At first nobody took notice on the busy street, too busy staring at phones, immersed in a world that did n't exist. They did n't notice the dying man in front of their eyes, nor the filth and drudgery that consumed their lives. They ate it, wholesale, without a second thought.
A passerby eventually did heed Rowan with a measure of interest, then, amusement as he saw the man had soaked his trousers with urine. A camera snap, a button to share pressed and thousands of hungry eyes took notice.
`` This is what you get for day drinking,'' he captioned.
A thousand buttons pressed; shared their approval, laughter, concern with a few bits sent over the air; registered, and then flipped bits in a computational matrix, releasing dopamine in the brain of the passerby as he sipped a latte a few blocks away.
Meanwhile, Rowan expired, his last breath wasted on clinging to the life so easily ignored by those around him, instead of atoning for his sins; unable to set his soul free.
|
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