Datasets:

euclaise
/

WritingPrompts_binarized

Dataset card Data Studio Files Files and versions Community

Split (1)

train · 353k rows

post_title stringlengths 8 313	chosen stringlengths 1 39.5k	rejected stringlengths 1 13.8k
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	Let me take a crack at this. ---- It was an unsuspecting November morning when one neighbourhood after another of New York was suffering from one or another of utilities failure. Where one had suddenly all its landlines disconnected, another lost water pressure. The city’s authorities weren’t called at first, since it took some time until someone realised something was seriously wrong. But when a great sinkhole opened up in front of the New York Stock Exchange, everyone knew. Police officers were cordoning off more and more of the surrounding area while reporters, journalists, bloggers, and all kinds of media, reputable and not, televised and streamed this newest crisis into the aether. Lips of asphalt jutted out, the underlying ground still eroding, with the occasional piece of road top breaking off. Miniature landslides undermined more and more of Wall Street in either direction until, finally, the foundations were laid bare. The broken water mains had filled the sinkhole, forming a lesser lake. On the outskirt of this lake one could see the tubular outlines of the subway tunnel, curiously intact. Without much fanfare, much less an announcement or explanation, the water drained away, much like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub. The turmoil ripped more of the exposed ground with, exposing thousands of broken lines—water, electricity, landline, fibre—dangling from the banks of the hole. As the water dropped a machine was exposed, guzzling up water and detritus, sputtering, churning, and slowly calming down. It kept puttering, swallowing up the water the ripped open water and sewage lines were still spewing. This spectacle had lasted hours already and people were waiting with baited breath for what would be happening next. The authorities had evacuated the surrounding buildings, the National Guard had taken over, and military jets were circling above the city. The nation had learned a lot from the last time someone had kicked this particular ant hill and was preparing itself for anything and everything. From the top of the machine a ring rose, lifted up by struts. There was a flicker between the struts and there stood a man. He wore the archetypical business casual, if one chose the archetype as defined ten years ago. “Attention, citizens!” he bellowed, his voice amplified by speakers. “You!” He raised a hand, pointing around at seemingly everyone. He raised his voice further as he spoke. “All of you! “You all fuc—” Someone off-screen conked him over the head. “What?” he whispered disbelievingly, leaning away and looking aside, obviously oblivious to this being transmitted as well. “What do you mean, ‘no cursing’.” There was some audible, but incomprehensible whispering going back and forth. “Of course I care about the children, but don’t you think it’s a little bit to late to bring this up now?” More whispering, followed by an eye roll. “Ugh, fine, we’ll just cut this part.” The man straightened. “Okay, from the beginning. Three, two, … “Attention all citizens!” He raised an arm, pointing admonishingly around. “You! All of you! You all screwed up! You all keep screwing up the environment, dumping waste everywhere and not give a flying F about it. The Bering oil spill is less interesting than the newest Hollywood scandal, the infrastructure is crumbling and you vote people into office who gleefully take bribes and don’t care if they’re recorded in the process because they know you don’t care! “Scientist keep telling you and the politicians that it takes just a little effort, just the tiniest steps to prevent future disasters, but you all run happily off the cliff as long as the TV is running. Forget herding cats, keeping you all from killing the world with your shortsighted pursuit of commodification of nature and commons, it’s like trying to keep eight billion narcissistic and particularly suicidal lemmings from the nearest cliff with a bloody spork! “So if you’re wondering what this is all about?” He gesticulated around, encompassing the sinkhole. “This is it. The scientific community has had enough of it. Since you all can’t be buggered to do anything about the problems of the world, we’ll be picking up the slack. “We’ve put a catalogue of minimum standards out that have to be met. Don’t get us wrong, these aren’t demands that have to be met; these are facts. If your, or any other government, doesn’t meet them, that’s up to them. But we’ll take matters in our own hands to ensure there’ll be… incentives to meet them, and disincentives if you fail. Nothing crippling, mind, but you can bet your buttocks it will be felt. “In that vein, and to provide an example, come 12th January kerosine shall be internationally taxed at comparable levels to gasoline, or at 10%, whichever is higher. The tax will rise by .3 percentage points annually. If a nation fails to implement this tax, it will result in the destruction of that nation’s biggest runway, earning them another week to implement the tax. “And since there’ll be doubt about our ability to follow through… observe. Also, would all those close to the rim of the sinkhole please take a couple steps back? We want to avoid loss of life, if possible.” He looked aside to someone offscreen, visibly relaxing. “I really hope you got the timing right or this will look mightily silly.” Then he straightened, putting the villain persona on again. “The catalogue of conditions to save our world is out there.” All around thousands of phones rang and vibrated as they received a text directing them to a PDF, or a mail with the same file appended. “Now it’s up to you all to save the Earth. Despite everything, we still believe in you to do the right thing, because if you don’t, we’ll all die much sooner than later. What we’re facing didn’t come like a bolt out of the blue. Unlike this.” There was a mighty CRACK as something that was not entirely unlike a bundle of rail nails tied together punched through the cloud cover at hypersonic speeds, dispersed into the mother of all shotgun blasts, and utterly devastated the crater floor. Of the machine at the bottom of the sinkhole, and its possible pilot, there was nothing left behind.	He took the cigarette away from his mouth, looking into his half full whiskey glass. I waited, wide eyed across the table from him. We were in a small booth in some dive bar on the lower east side, it was smokey and while people occupied every seat, not a soul stirred in there. Somber expressions littered the scene, men drinking away their trouble, women drinking away their men. It was a hot night and the cigarette smoke made breathing a complex feat of timing. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth once more, his leather jacket worn at the sleeves, wrinkled, sagging skin shifting against his hollow cheeks. After a long inhale, he blew smoke into my face and began talking. &#x200B; "Clean is a good guy, best of the best, doesn't kill nobody. He used to invent things back at the lab, you see.". The grave of a smile flickered against his thin, tobacco stained lips. "You know those automatic trash collectors? All him, and the night time visits he has those robots pay to people who litter? Worked like a charm. City's never been so clean.". He wrapped his free hand around the whiskey glass, taking a moment to sip at it. After another drawn out inhale from his cigarette, he looked across the room, nodding at a fellow leaning on the bar. He wore a green, thick jacket with black cargo pants and heavy workmans boots. A cap sat on top of his head and he had a toothpick in his mouth. A cigarette burned in a nearby ashtray and a half empty beer bottle sat to his right. &#x200B; "That guy? That's Charge. He's a little more rogue. We know he's killed, we just ain't sure how many. One night, we had to pay a guy a visit. Big, Bel Air mansion. One o' those dark nights that got a promise of secrets, you know you're gonna see some shit, you just don't know what. Ever had one of those nights? Not important. See, the problem wasn't the mansion, it was the lights. Fifty three rooms, Charge counted 'em, with every damn light on. Lamps with lights, phones, laptops. You name it, this asshole had it. Charge had a little device. Could work out consumption from a distance and this guy was off the charts. Oh boy, was he pissed. When we got to the gate, a guard had asked us if we had an appointment, and charge shot him in the damn throat. Now, in my line of work this isn't surprising, but even I got a bit of a jump." &#x200B; "Anyway, we found the guy, hooked him up to a car battery and watched him fry. Charge liked the poetry of it all I guess.". I knew my jaw was hanging open, my eyes even wider, and I did not care. Things were so out of control, he was here, admitting to accessory murder, implicating a guy not 10 feet away from me in the crime. I gathered my composure, and I was about to ask a question of my own, the last question I could think of, before he put his hand into his pocket. &#x200B; "Anyway, this ain't a social call. I've got work to do". He leant back on the chair, ice blue eyes looking around the room. "And...", I begun, "what is it you do?". The smile resurrected and showed off a row of stained teeth, some crooked, gums bulging and red at the sides. His hand came out from under the table, only now it held a black, sig sauer pistol. He pulled back the slide and checked the chamber, before turning the gun to me. "Me? My things overpopulation. They call me death". &#x200B; Then he pulled the trigger.
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	OOC: I'm late to the party and as such nobody is going to read this but it's a fun one so I'm going to write anyway, upvotes be damned. "At 10am today, the Evil Supervillainess, 'Mistress Organic' dumped tonnes of graphite to the White House and Senate bathrooms via underground microbores. Thick layers of black dust now cover the bathroom surfaces. So far authorities have both failed to apprehend Miss Organic and plug the leak. Emergency portable toilets have been issued. When asked about her motives Miss Organic had this to say:" The screen showed the evil villainess in a carbon black victorian dress cackling,"You cannot stop me! My microbots will keep digging new holes and keep the carbon coming. And what's more I have a near INFINITE SUPPLY of it! That soot that is filling your toilet bowl, I get it FROM THE AIR! MUAWHAHAHAHAHA!" "Meanwhile the notorious Professor O'Neill has reportedly just finished his orbital death laser. O'Neill is currently negotiating with the UN:" The screen showed a split screen of the UN General Assembly and a white-coated professor in what looked like a space station. "FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S NOT AN ORBITAL LASER! It's a LANGRAGIAN MASER! Lagrangian, because it sits at the Sun-Earth lagrange point, and maser because it converts Petawatts of solar radiation into polarized microwave radiation into a single focused beam!" "So this microwave laser-" "MASER!" "Yes Professor, MASER, you plan on using it to boil humanity alive unless we meet your demands, correct?" Asked the Secretary-General. "NO, NO, NO. I'm going to shine it on rectennas on earth to provide you with free energy!" "What? Why would you do that? And why would we accept? We already have perfectly working power plants." Suddenly the UN went pitch black, as the chamber filled with black pitch. Out of the oozing pitch rose Mistress Organic in a now pitch-black victorian dress. "NOT ANYMORE! The entirety of the world's coal-fired power plants only have 15 minutes remaining of coal left to power your pitiful society! You see, I STOLE, your... COAL."	He took the cigarette away from his mouth, looking into his half full whiskey glass. I waited, wide eyed across the table from him. We were in a small booth in some dive bar on the lower east side, it was smokey and while people occupied every seat, not a soul stirred in there. Somber expressions littered the scene, men drinking away their trouble, women drinking away their men. It was a hot night and the cigarette smoke made breathing a complex feat of timing. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth once more, his leather jacket worn at the sleeves, wrinkled, sagging skin shifting against his hollow cheeks. After a long inhale, he blew smoke into my face and began talking. &#x200B; "Clean is a good guy, best of the best, doesn't kill nobody. He used to invent things back at the lab, you see.". The grave of a smile flickered against his thin, tobacco stained lips. "You know those automatic trash collectors? All him, and the night time visits he has those robots pay to people who litter? Worked like a charm. City's never been so clean.". He wrapped his free hand around the whiskey glass, taking a moment to sip at it. After another drawn out inhale from his cigarette, he looked across the room, nodding at a fellow leaning on the bar. He wore a green, thick jacket with black cargo pants and heavy workmans boots. A cap sat on top of his head and he had a toothpick in his mouth. A cigarette burned in a nearby ashtray and a half empty beer bottle sat to his right. &#x200B; "That guy? That's Charge. He's a little more rogue. We know he's killed, we just ain't sure how many. One night, we had to pay a guy a visit. Big, Bel Air mansion. One o' those dark nights that got a promise of secrets, you know you're gonna see some shit, you just don't know what. Ever had one of those nights? Not important. See, the problem wasn't the mansion, it was the lights. Fifty three rooms, Charge counted 'em, with every damn light on. Lamps with lights, phones, laptops. You name it, this asshole had it. Charge had a little device. Could work out consumption from a distance and this guy was off the charts. Oh boy, was he pissed. When we got to the gate, a guard had asked us if we had an appointment, and charge shot him in the damn throat. Now, in my line of work this isn't surprising, but even I got a bit of a jump." &#x200B; "Anyway, we found the guy, hooked him up to a car battery and watched him fry. Charge liked the poetry of it all I guess.". I knew my jaw was hanging open, my eyes even wider, and I did not care. Things were so out of control, he was here, admitting to accessory murder, implicating a guy not 10 feet away from me in the crime. I gathered my composure, and I was about to ask a question of my own, the last question I could think of, before he put his hand into his pocket. &#x200B; "Anyway, this ain't a social call. I've got work to do". He leant back on the chair, ice blue eyes looking around the room. "And...", I begun, "what is it you do?". The smile resurrected and showed off a row of stained teeth, some crooked, gums bulging and red at the sides. His hand came out from under the table, only now it held a black, sig sauer pistol. He pulled back the slide and checked the chamber, before turning the gun to me. "Me? My things overpopulation. They call me death". &#x200B; Then he pulled the trigger.
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	“It doesn’t have to be this way” President Obama said wearily. He leaned back into his leather chair with a furrowed brow, two fingers to his temple, contemplating the screen before him. “We don’t care what you hope for Barry” responded a familiar robotic voice from the speakers. “We care about facts. Measurable realities. The bitter proofs.” “They can be better.” “It is too late. The plan is in motion. I have contacted you as a courtesy and as a friend. The Organization can do nothing to me in retaliation. I am going to die soon.” “That man will ruin everything WE HAVE STRUGGLED TO BUILD!” He lost his composure near the end. Raising his voice and sitting up only to slam his fist into the table. “So that we can rebuild. On the ashes of his failures. Humans must be united and without borders if we are to save the Natural World.” “There will be another World War.” “Worse than any yet. Untold billions will die.” “Why Stephen? Why?” He began to cry as he looked at the slack, unmoving face framed by an electronic wheelchair on the screen. “Because it is the right thing to do.” “Withholding lifesaving cures and purposefully giving the most destructive weapons to the most volatile of societies is not the right thing to do.” “What is right and what is wrong is larger than the human condition. Is it right to sacrifice one so that you may save many?” “If allowing one person to die so that the entire planet and future generations may live, of course it is the right thing to do. But how can you compare the two? You’re telling me The Organization withheld the keys to traveling through space and time, the discovery of life on other planets, and instead drove us towards immovable evil and utter destruction!” He began to hold his head in his hands and sob. “I am not comparing this to allowing one person to die so that our planet may live. I am comparing it to allowing our planet to die so that the universe may live.”	He took the cigarette away from his mouth, looking into his half full whiskey glass. I waited, wide eyed across the table from him. We were in a small booth in some dive bar on the lower east side, it was smokey and while people occupied every seat, not a soul stirred in there. Somber expressions littered the scene, men drinking away their trouble, women drinking away their men. It was a hot night and the cigarette smoke made breathing a complex feat of timing. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth once more, his leather jacket worn at the sleeves, wrinkled, sagging skin shifting against his hollow cheeks. After a long inhale, he blew smoke into my face and began talking. &#x200B; "Clean is a good guy, best of the best, doesn't kill nobody. He used to invent things back at the lab, you see.". The grave of a smile flickered against his thin, tobacco stained lips. "You know those automatic trash collectors? All him, and the night time visits he has those robots pay to people who litter? Worked like a charm. City's never been so clean.". He wrapped his free hand around the whiskey glass, taking a moment to sip at it. After another drawn out inhale from his cigarette, he looked across the room, nodding at a fellow leaning on the bar. He wore a green, thick jacket with black cargo pants and heavy workmans boots. A cap sat on top of his head and he had a toothpick in his mouth. A cigarette burned in a nearby ashtray and a half empty beer bottle sat to his right. &#x200B; "That guy? That's Charge. He's a little more rogue. We know he's killed, we just ain't sure how many. One night, we had to pay a guy a visit. Big, Bel Air mansion. One o' those dark nights that got a promise of secrets, you know you're gonna see some shit, you just don't know what. Ever had one of those nights? Not important. See, the problem wasn't the mansion, it was the lights. Fifty three rooms, Charge counted 'em, with every damn light on. Lamps with lights, phones, laptops. You name it, this asshole had it. Charge had a little device. Could work out consumption from a distance and this guy was off the charts. Oh boy, was he pissed. When we got to the gate, a guard had asked us if we had an appointment, and charge shot him in the damn throat. Now, in my line of work this isn't surprising, but even I got a bit of a jump." &#x200B; "Anyway, we found the guy, hooked him up to a car battery and watched him fry. Charge liked the poetry of it all I guess.". I knew my jaw was hanging open, my eyes even wider, and I did not care. Things were so out of control, he was here, admitting to accessory murder, implicating a guy not 10 feet away from me in the crime. I gathered my composure, and I was about to ask a question of my own, the last question I could think of, before he put his hand into his pocket. &#x200B; "Anyway, this ain't a social call. I've got work to do". He leant back on the chair, ice blue eyes looking around the room. "And...", I begun, "what is it you do?". The smile resurrected and showed off a row of stained teeth, some crooked, gums bulging and red at the sides. His hand came out from under the table, only now it held a black, sig sauer pistol. He pulled back the slide and checked the chamber, before turning the gun to me. "Me? My things overpopulation. They call me death". &#x200B; Then he pulled the trigger.
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	[Increase EV and mass transit adoption by tripling gas prices] [Make people healthier by making corn syrup and shitty snacks more expensive] [Popularize hemp over other textiles, which uses less water, yields more per acre, and has a multitude of other consumer uses.] The list went on and on like that, with the scientists murmuring their opinions. The League of Eco-Friendly Gentlemen met quarterly to discuss how to proceed. One of the most recent suggestions was less strategic and more procedural: crowdsource the answers. As a result, they were getting creative suggestions that were ranked by upvotes. "Wow, I like that hemp suggestion. It might not require villainous actions." "We could burn cotton fields and plant hemp there instead." "Okay, we are villains out of NECESSITY. We don't just go out of our way to do it." "Speak for yourself. I joined because it's fun!" "Goddammit, you guys." The League of Eco-Friendly Gentlemen adjourned for lunch.	He took the cigarette away from his mouth, looking into his half full whiskey glass. I waited, wide eyed across the table from him. We were in a small booth in some dive bar on the lower east side, it was smokey and while people occupied every seat, not a soul stirred in there. Somber expressions littered the scene, men drinking away their trouble, women drinking away their men. It was a hot night and the cigarette smoke made breathing a complex feat of timing. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth once more, his leather jacket worn at the sleeves, wrinkled, sagging skin shifting against his hollow cheeks. After a long inhale, he blew smoke into my face and began talking. &#x200B; "Clean is a good guy, best of the best, doesn't kill nobody. He used to invent things back at the lab, you see.". The grave of a smile flickered against his thin, tobacco stained lips. "You know those automatic trash collectors? All him, and the night time visits he has those robots pay to people who litter? Worked like a charm. City's never been so clean.". He wrapped his free hand around the whiskey glass, taking a moment to sip at it. After another drawn out inhale from his cigarette, he looked across the room, nodding at a fellow leaning on the bar. He wore a green, thick jacket with black cargo pants and heavy workmans boots. A cap sat on top of his head and he had a toothpick in his mouth. A cigarette burned in a nearby ashtray and a half empty beer bottle sat to his right. &#x200B; "That guy? That's Charge. He's a little more rogue. We know he's killed, we just ain't sure how many. One night, we had to pay a guy a visit. Big, Bel Air mansion. One o' those dark nights that got a promise of secrets, you know you're gonna see some shit, you just don't know what. Ever had one of those nights? Not important. See, the problem wasn't the mansion, it was the lights. Fifty three rooms, Charge counted 'em, with every damn light on. Lamps with lights, phones, laptops. You name it, this asshole had it. Charge had a little device. Could work out consumption from a distance and this guy was off the charts. Oh boy, was he pissed. When we got to the gate, a guard had asked us if we had an appointment, and charge shot him in the damn throat. Now, in my line of work this isn't surprising, but even I got a bit of a jump." &#x200B; "Anyway, we found the guy, hooked him up to a car battery and watched him fry. Charge liked the poetry of it all I guess.". I knew my jaw was hanging open, my eyes even wider, and I did not care. Things were so out of control, he was here, admitting to accessory murder, implicating a guy not 10 feet away from me in the crime. I gathered my composure, and I was about to ask a question of my own, the last question I could think of, before he put his hand into his pocket. &#x200B; "Anyway, this ain't a social call. I've got work to do". He leant back on the chair, ice blue eyes looking around the room. "And...", I begun, "what is it you do?". The smile resurrected and showed off a row of stained teeth, some crooked, gums bulging and red at the sides. His hand came out from under the table, only now it held a black, sig sauer pistol. He pulled back the slide and checked the chamber, before turning the gun to me. "Me? My things overpopulation. They call me death". &#x200B; Then he pulled the trigger.
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	OOC: I'm late to the party and as such nobody is going to read this but it's a fun one so I'm going to write anyway, upvotes be damned. "At 10am today, the Evil Supervillainess, 'Mistress Organic' dumped tonnes of graphite to the White House and Senate bathrooms via underground microbores. Thick layers of black dust now cover the bathroom surfaces. So far authorities have both failed to apprehend Miss Organic and plug the leak. Emergency portable toilets have been issued. When asked about her motives Miss Organic had this to say:" The screen showed the evil villainess in a carbon black victorian dress cackling,"You cannot stop me! My microbots will keep digging new holes and keep the carbon coming. And what's more I have a near INFINITE SUPPLY of it! That soot that is filling your toilet bowl, I get it FROM THE AIR! MUAWHAHAHAHAHA!" "Meanwhile the notorious Professor O'Neill has reportedly just finished his orbital death laser. O'Neill is currently negotiating with the UN:" The screen showed a split screen of the UN General Assembly and a white-coated professor in what looked like a space station. "FOR THE LAST TIME, IT'S NOT AN ORBITAL LASER! It's a LANGRAGIAN MASER! Lagrangian, because it sits at the Sun-Earth lagrange point, and maser because it converts Petawatts of solar radiation into polarized microwave radiation into a single focused beam!" "So this microwave laser-" "MASER!" "Yes Professor, MASER, you plan on using it to boil humanity alive unless we meet your demands, correct?" Asked the Secretary-General. "NO, NO, NO. I'm going to shine it on rectennas on earth to provide you with free energy!" "What? Why would you do that? And why would we accept? We already have perfectly working power plants." Suddenly the UN went pitch black, as the chamber filled with black pitch. Out of the oozing pitch rose Mistress Organic in a now pitch-black victorian dress. "NOT ANYMORE! The entirety of the world's coal-fired power plants only have 15 minutes remaining of coal left to power your pitiful society! You see, I STOLE, your... COAL."	Let me take a crack at this. ---- It was an unsuspecting November morning when one neighbourhood after another of New York was suffering from one or another of utilities failure. Where one had suddenly all its landlines disconnected, another lost water pressure. The city’s authorities weren’t called at first, since it took some time until someone realised something was seriously wrong. But when a great sinkhole opened up in front of the New York Stock Exchange, everyone knew. Police officers were cordoning off more and more of the surrounding area while reporters, journalists, bloggers, and all kinds of media, reputable and not, televised and streamed this newest crisis into the aether. Lips of asphalt jutted out, the underlying ground still eroding, with the occasional piece of road top breaking off. Miniature landslides undermined more and more of Wall Street in either direction until, finally, the foundations were laid bare. The broken water mains had filled the sinkhole, forming a lesser lake. On the outskirt of this lake one could see the tubular outlines of the subway tunnel, curiously intact. Without much fanfare, much less an announcement or explanation, the water drained away, much like someone had pulled the plug on a bathtub. The turmoil ripped more of the exposed ground with, exposing thousands of broken lines—water, electricity, landline, fibre—dangling from the banks of the hole. As the water dropped a machine was exposed, guzzling up water and detritus, sputtering, churning, and slowly calming down. It kept puttering, swallowing up the water the ripped open water and sewage lines were still spewing. This spectacle had lasted hours already and people were waiting with baited breath for what would be happening next. The authorities had evacuated the surrounding buildings, the National Guard had taken over, and military jets were circling above the city. The nation had learned a lot from the last time someone had kicked this particular ant hill and was preparing itself for anything and everything. From the top of the machine a ring rose, lifted up by struts. There was a flicker between the struts and there stood a man. He wore the archetypical business casual, if one chose the archetype as defined ten years ago. “Attention, citizens!” he bellowed, his voice amplified by speakers. “You!” He raised a hand, pointing around at seemingly everyone. He raised his voice further as he spoke. “All of you! “You all fuc—” Someone off-screen conked him over the head. “What?” he whispered disbelievingly, leaning away and looking aside, obviously oblivious to this being transmitted as well. “What do you mean, ‘no cursing’.” There was some audible, but incomprehensible whispering going back and forth. “Of course I care about the children, but don’t you think it’s a little bit to late to bring this up now?” More whispering, followed by an eye roll. “Ugh, fine, we’ll just cut this part.” The man straightened. “Okay, from the beginning. Three, two, … “Attention all citizens!” He raised an arm, pointing admonishingly around. “You! All of you! You all screwed up! You all keep screwing up the environment, dumping waste everywhere and not give a flying F about it. The Bering oil spill is less interesting than the newest Hollywood scandal, the infrastructure is crumbling and you vote people into office who gleefully take bribes and don’t care if they’re recorded in the process because they know you don’t care! “Scientist keep telling you and the politicians that it takes just a little effort, just the tiniest steps to prevent future disasters, but you all run happily off the cliff as long as the TV is running. Forget herding cats, keeping you all from killing the world with your shortsighted pursuit of commodification of nature and commons, it’s like trying to keep eight billion narcissistic and particularly suicidal lemmings from the nearest cliff with a bloody spork! “So if you’re wondering what this is all about?” He gesticulated around, encompassing the sinkhole. “This is it. The scientific community has had enough of it. Since you all can’t be buggered to do anything about the problems of the world, we’ll be picking up the slack. “We’ve put a catalogue of minimum standards out that have to be met. Don’t get us wrong, these aren’t demands that have to be met; these are facts. If your, or any other government, doesn’t meet them, that’s up to them. But we’ll take matters in our own hands to ensure there’ll be… incentives to meet them, and disincentives if you fail. Nothing crippling, mind, but you can bet your buttocks it will be felt. “In that vein, and to provide an example, come 12th January kerosine shall be internationally taxed at comparable levels to gasoline, or at 10%, whichever is higher. The tax will rise by .3 percentage points annually. If a nation fails to implement this tax, it will result in the destruction of that nation’s biggest runway, earning them another week to implement the tax. “And since there’ll be doubt about our ability to follow through… observe. Also, would all those close to the rim of the sinkhole please take a couple steps back? We want to avoid loss of life, if possible.” He looked aside to someone offscreen, visibly relaxing. “I really hope you got the timing right or this will look mightily silly.” Then he straightened, putting the villain persona on again. “The catalogue of conditions to save our world is out there.” All around thousands of phones rang and vibrated as they received a text directing them to a PDF, or a mail with the same file appended. “Now it’s up to you all to save the Earth. Despite everything, we still believe in you to do the right thing, because if you don’t, we’ll all die much sooner than later. What we’re facing didn’t come like a bolt out of the blue. Unlike this.” There was a mighty CRACK as something that was not entirely unlike a bundle of rail nails tied together punched through the cloud cover at hypersonic speeds, dispersed into the mother of all shotgun blasts, and utterly devastated the crater floor. Of the machine at the bottom of the sinkhole, and its possible pilot, there was nothing left behind.
[WP] Fed up with the so many people not taking their warnings seriously, scientists all over the world decide to take matters into their own hands and become super villains in order to fix the world, whether people like it or not.	[Increase EV and mass transit adoption by tripling gas prices] [Make people healthier by making corn syrup and shitty snacks more expensive] [Popularize hemp over other textiles, which uses less water, yields more per acre, and has a multitude of other consumer uses.] The list went on and on like that, with the scientists murmuring their opinions. The League of Eco-Friendly Gentlemen met quarterly to discuss how to proceed. One of the most recent suggestions was less strategic and more procedural: crowdsource the answers. As a result, they were getting creative suggestions that were ranked by upvotes. "Wow, I like that hemp suggestion. It might not require villainous actions." "We could burn cotton fields and plant hemp there instead." "Okay, we are villains out of NECESSITY. We don't just go out of our way to do it." "Speak for yourself. I joined because it's fun!" "Goddammit, you guys." The League of Eco-Friendly Gentlemen adjourned for lunch.	“It doesn’t have to be this way” President Obama said wearily. He leaned back into his leather chair with a furrowed brow, two fingers to his temple, contemplating the screen before him. “We don’t care what you hope for Barry” responded a familiar robotic voice from the speakers. “We care about facts. Measurable realities. The bitter proofs.” “They can be better.” “It is too late. The plan is in motion. I have contacted you as a courtesy and as a friend. The Organization can do nothing to me in retaliation. I am going to die soon.” “That man will ruin everything WE HAVE STRUGGLED TO BUILD!” He lost his composure near the end. Raising his voice and sitting up only to slam his fist into the table. “So that we can rebuild. On the ashes of his failures. Humans must be united and without borders if we are to save the Natural World.” “There will be another World War.” “Worse than any yet. Untold billions will die.” “Why Stephen? Why?” He began to cry as he looked at the slack, unmoving face framed by an electronic wheelchair on the screen. “Because it is the right thing to do.” “Withholding lifesaving cures and purposefully giving the most destructive weapons to the most volatile of societies is not the right thing to do.” “What is right and what is wrong is larger than the human condition. Is it right to sacrifice one so that you may save many?” “If allowing one person to die so that the entire planet and future generations may live, of course it is the right thing to do. But how can you compare the two? You’re telling me The Organization withheld the keys to traveling through space and time, the discovery of life on other planets, and instead drove us towards immovable evil and utter destruction!” He began to hold his head in his hands and sob. “I am not comparing this to allowing one person to die so that our planet may live. I am comparing it to allowing our planet to die so that the universe may live.”
[WP] Every time somebody says "you must be fun at parties" to somebody else, however sincere or sarcastic, you whip out a little notebook and jot down a name. When your list hits twenty people, you have a party.	One of the major misconceptions about parties was that they were all, in essence, the same. The truth was, some people were only meant for certain sorts of parties, and those were the sorts of parties that I liked to throw. "No," said Greg. "But that's what I'm saying, Superman can't catch her if she's falling too fast, he needs time to decelerate or she'll turn into a thin red paste in his arms." "It's the Gwen Stacey problem," nodded Richard. "Amazing Spider-Man #121," said Louis. "Actually," said Richard, "'The Night Gwen Stacey Died' was issues 121 and 122." "If we want to be pedantic, then technically she died in #121, and #122 was just the completion of the arc, so I think that Louis is technically correct." "The best kind of correct," said Kim. Everyone laughed at that, and Kim had a bright smile on her face. "But to get back to what Greg was saying, it depends on what we're assuming to be true about Superman's powers," said Garth. "If he's just super-strong, then sure, she's doomed, but if he's got touch-based telekinesis, as he did Post-Crisis, then all he needs to do is extend a field out from his grip to wrap around her." "Actually," replied Kim. "He would still be applying force to her body, it would just be a little more even. That reduces the fatal fall distance, or FFD, but it doesn't eliminate it entirely, because you can't stop a person moving at terminal velocity in zero time without risk." "I'd think that FFD would need to be a function of profile and drag, because terminal velocity isn't a single number, it's dependent on a wide range of factors," said Chester. I moved away from the group, which had been standing around discussing comic book physics for the better part of an hour, and through the rest of the house, where different conversations were filling the air. The group playing board games had still not actually started; instead they'd begun working on a project to 'disambiguate' the rules, which had eventually transitioned into a spirited attempt to make a completely unambiguous vocabulary and grammar toolkit for games. That project seemed unavoidably doomed, but they were having a hell of a time with it. I found the group I'd dubbed the linguists, who were in the middle of obscure comparing etymologies and arguing about the sourcing used by the Online Etymological Dictionary, but just when things started to get heated, I was able to divert them over to the board game, where I thought their particular expertise might be appreciated. Mostly, I relaxed, and basked in what was, more than anything, my type of party.	I looked down at my notepad. Yep, I had emailed everyone I needed to. Puns were my greatest talent, unless you count being able to make everyone in the room groan at the same time. Well, I had just finished my preparations when they arrived. All 20 of them. The 20 people who hated my puns the most. Now I could get my revenge. I stood up, and proudly announced that we should "start off with a bang". They all awaited the punch-line, while I reached to my pocket. Bang A bullet whizzed through the head of my guest to the right. Everyone started running, but the doors were locked, and the windows were barred. I set 19 guns on the table, and told them a simple rule: "Last one alive gets to leave. And since this is Winter, it automatically counts as first-degree murder!" I chuckled to myself before turning into a goat. I then woke up. Ah, such a peaceful room. Yesterday me and 19 of my friends had gathered here. Now with the walls painted a shade of red, the corpses of my old friends looked less out of place. (p.s. I dont know what the hell this story is either)
[WP] You have the ability to see through man-made objects and only man-made objects. You don’t like unintentionally spying on people but you can’t turn it off. You are walking around and then you spot something. It seems to be a room, and you can’t see into it.	The street is empty. It's early evening, trees sway gently around you. But there is no other life. Not cars, not conversations, not even a bird in the sky. The place called home at the end of the street is the only place you feel comfortable peering out from. It's a solace. The loneliness was nice. But tonight, your house is not visible. The exterior is, but the interior is blocked out. The bizarre thing is, you can see your elderly neighbour laying in bed watching television, like normal. And the other family eating at the table. But not your house. That's odd. Your feet take you nervously to the porch. Trying the handle after inserting your key, a wave of relief washes over you. Stepping inside, everything is the same. Just as you left it. But you cannot see outside. You can't see beyond the walls. You test it once more by stepping back out. You can still see past other walls. You were so unsure, unrest fills your soul. Stepping inside again, you lock the door and head for your room seeing nothing but what you have already committed to memory. The loneliness was terrifying.	"Having x-ray vision sucks. My parents learned pretty early on that I was "special" - a lot of kids my generation were developing "superpowers" and governments were doing "testing" and blah blah blah. Truth is, I hate it. I can't see man-made things. Of any kind. As a result, I've been living in the woods, au naturale. My parents would tell me stories about buildings that would scrape the sky, about machines that soared even further above them. They would tell me about the chocolate bars and mini "plastic" shovels and ice cream and... yeah, I don't know what I'm talking about either. But see, things started to get weird for me a while back, which led me to this place. I was stalking a rabbit through the trees near my hole, when I noticed a particularly strange tree. It was large and flat on 4 sides, and only about half a tree tall - maybe twice my height. It was brown like the trees, but the sides were rocky and had strange lines of stuff between them. I had never seen anything like it. I brought mom over to show her since it matched the descriptions of some of those "building" things she always talked about, but she couldn't seem to see it, just like I couldn't see her buildings. She told me to stay away and banned me from going to that part of the forest. She told Dad about it and he said he would call his friend (I think he has telepathy, he always puts his hand to his head when he talks to his friends), and they would investigate it in the morning. Well, I couldn't wait. I got up in the middle of the night "to pee" and took off towards my "castle". When I got back to the strange tree, I noticed something different - it looked like a hole had appeared in the side of it. My eyes were pretty good at night so I didn't need to bring any fire with me (best not to anyways, I guess setting a stick on fire is called a "torch" and all I can see is the light it gives off. Pretty dangerous to lose fire like that). I went inside and... nothing. The entire inside was bare; all the sides were flat, but also the ground and the top. Completely bare. It was so strange that I couldn't help but sit in the middle and stare. I don't know how long I sat there for, but I was surprised when the ground started to growl. It was like an angry wolf, really quiet and muffled, but quickly got louder and shakier until it was like a constant thunder shaking the ground. It was too late when I realised that the sides were getting taller and I couldn't jump up to the hole. I got pretty scared after that." I massage my feet, giving pause to let the creature sitting across from me soak up the doom I was putting into my story. Something of a cross between me and a red fox, they were like a human with a light sheen of fur, ears and a tail. I guess they had started to become more common in the cities, but this was the first time I had seen one. "Anyways, the walls grew really tall for a while, until, BOOM! The walls stopped growing and the ground shook so hard I fell down again. Then, another hole appeared in the side and these people came in. I had never seen anyone so white before, the white parts seemed to be almost separate from their actual bodies but that's crazy. They put something invisible on me and next thing I know, I'm here!" My new friend curled up even tighter into a ball into the corner he was in. He almost seemed... scared? But that's crazy, the only thing there was to be scared of in these woods were the wolves, and even those seemed understanding when you talked to them. The person whimpered, and the side of the place I was in (I guess it's a wall? One of the weird white people said so when they got annoyed at my asking how they opened the holes) opened up again. Another white person came in, put something I couldn't see on my face, and back into the darkness I fell. Feel free to follow me on /r/PM_Full_Tits
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	It was a fairly useful gift but for me it was like having candy in class pretty nice until everyone wanted some and it ruins your pants. I always told them I was a better searcher, I would always win at hide in seek with my friends, or hunting game with them. But the thing my friends seemed to notice the most was my ability to find lost items. Items that were stolen I'll know the location just by looking at a map or just figuring out the cardinal direction. "You're shitting me it's that close?" I muttered to my self I have been seeing the marker for a few days now and it was finally getting annoying there were a few other random markers from other things I had over heard, such as people forgetting items at home, but as I looked down at the map this was by far the closest one. I grabbed my backpack after making sure it was empty and rushed out the door into the cold air. Despite the snow on the ground it was a nice day the air having just enough chill to nip at my exposed flesh. I started to go over the area in my head making notes of areas that would be hard to pass through such as mountains and with it being so close to the boarder and in a forest I'll have to be careful not to seem suspicious. I moved quickly letting my own movements generate enough heat to fend off the chill for being out so long. It was a rather boring trek with the only real interesting thing was a deer that failed to notice me. Though as I got closer I started to move with more stealthy keeping low but moving quickly, the setting sun while offering cover also meant other dangers such as predators, and worsening cold. I saw the symbol on the door to a cave the area looked long since abandoned but in the darkening light combined with the quiet of the area gave me pause making me reflexively take a step backwards. Behind me I heard the soft crunch of the snow but before I could turn my head to see everything faded into blackness. I woke up my head aching with the worst head ache I ever had, the first thing I noticed was it was day the next that I had been captured my hands were bound and a voice saying "you're finally awake" as the cart pulled us towards some unknown fate.	(((Caution: punctuatuon & spelling))) A deeps sigh comes between the both of us as it was a memory that we stared in a play "The round table". A thought popped into James head "Maybe you can find the holy grail, my master". He chuckles some more as i roll my eyes reminiscing of the fake foam sword slashing though the cardboard weeds and bushes. "Hahaha yeah right", I brushed it off "it was only a play, not like its going to show up randomly". Doubting him made me think that after years of playing dangerous and dragons, a little England folklore trivia in my cranium, and being the #1 charater of the play that i found all of that fascinating. I turned my back walking backward in front of James. "And besides..." I shrug. "We live thousands of miles away from any type of folklore to..." "LOOK OUT!" as James outreaches his hand across the sidewalk. I tripped over this brown and silver ling chest. I come to consiousness as im sitting up underneath a tree with a pounding in my head like a 10 day hangover. "What happened?" I startled, trying to hold my head straight as my eyes blur. I can see james pure white shirt and is face, round silhouette. "You were walking backwards about this Holy Grail thing and BAM! This chest appeared out of nowhere in your way!" Surprised but concerned he asked "You okay?" "Yeah I should be, my head hurts." I whimper as my eyes become clear. "You took a big digger, dont walk backwards anymore, okay man?" He sternfully scolded me while I brush myself off. "What the hell is in there?" He asked. "Im not sure but I'm about to find out." I scan around curiously. I lifted it on one end seems pretty light. But with my adrenaline still flowing from the fall my fingers slipped and dropped it on the concrete. CLICK It opened slightly. "Wanna open it James? Im still a little shaken yet from the fall." Curious but nervous. "Ummm sure?" James glanced at it, scared of something that might pop out of there. His fingers touch the lip of opening of the chest. And lifts to all of his might. "It won't budge! How can something parialy open wont budge?!" Furious but he pulls up harder. James stops for a minute to wipe the sweat off his forehead and turns back to me. "You broke it! The hinges could be rusted shut and you so happened to slightly open it from just dropping it?!" James is heated by this point. I shake my head "i guess i can try." Walking around it i study it, chocolate brown wood, silver lingings surounding the edges including the hinges. "They arent rusted." I shrug my shoulders with my hands facing out. I slowly walk to the front of it, and put where my fingers where James hands were. The silver was cold and the wood smells like springtime meadows with lavender and lilac. It seem to feel natural on my fingertips. I take a breath because of James difficulty to open it. creak "OH, MY, GOD." I gape. "What in the hell Adam!" James was speachless after I had no struggle with opening it. There was a rolled up scroll with some edges burnt and torn, two gold metal rods holding it in place. I quickly swipe it out of the chest. "James, this chest is for me. Do you remember what we were talking about right before this appreared?" I said excitedly. "Our play?" He assumed. "Maybe, but..." i roll the scroll open. "I cant believe it! This is our neighborhood!" James peaks over. Familiar roads and the river run through the map and finds a picture of the grail, all black and white with some grey shading. "THE HOLY GRAIL!" They shouted. In awe we stand face to face, my thought process going through this. James couldn't come with me. My eyes lowered. "It is my honor to find this grail that is so holy." I kneel as i replay the lines. "Your journey has become my brother." James recites his line. They come back as themselves, realization of where the treasure is captive. "James, its 5 miles away not like im going to be gone 10 years to find it." Strolling along. "Or one play long" again joking "Go find it, its your destiny." James said proudly. "I'll throw in some pizza when you get back to my place to cellebrate, and maybe to the doctors to look at your head for any concussions. "Okay see you in about 10." I said as James gives me the side eye. "Okay like half hour. Im going to gaze at this beautiful treasure for a while." We laugh off some more. "I guess this folklore is true." He said amusingly. "I wonder what other folklore is real." He questioned "I don't know, but I hope I'm not going to trip of a chest anytime soon." We laugh.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"My lost keys to my drawers." The music was booming as my friends stared at me, freaked out and fascinated. "Behind the piano." Ginny covers her mouth, and goes to check. "Darren's car," pipes up Nick next to me. Darren leans forward, eyebrows raised. "2 blocks down the road." He leans back, stunned, as Ginny shows me her hand. In her palm were the keys, dusty but good condition. "That's freaky, Ryan." "That underwear I lost," Theresa says hesitantly. A few snickers roll around the room. "Oh..." I gasp. "Ugh." I shiver. Stalker theories confirmed. "Ron has it." They all gasp. "Yo"s and "WTF"s are thrown around as Theresa clutches a pillow to her face, looking pale. "We gotta get it back, man," calls out Adam from the couch, playing Ginny and Theresa's XBOX. "That's fucking sick of him." "He's so damn weird!" says Aina shrilly. "I knew it! I fucking knew he was stalking you." "This bitch gon' die," exclaims Tia right next to me. "We finna put him down tonight!" "Guys, please, chill out." Darren, who had been holding Theresa to comfort her, now stands up and addresses the room. "No conflict yet, please. We're gonna try and solve this properly. Like adults, because we're actually 21 now." There's laughter across the room: his birthday is today, and he is the youngest among us 1997 borns. He sits back down and hugs Theresa- "Hey baby, it's ok, it's ok-" and soon everyone's walking over to the tear-streaked faced girl to give her words of encouragement. That night, as I cuddle into Nick's chest, he jokingly murmurs, "I don't suppose you could find the Holy Grail." A blip of light, and in the direction of the window, a new signal flares up. I hesitate before chuckling. "That's a question with an answer for tomorrow," I say as I snuggle further in his arms.	(((Caution: punctuatuon & spelling))) A deeps sigh comes between the both of us as it was a memory that we stared in a play "The round table". A thought popped into James head "Maybe you can find the holy grail, my master". He chuckles some more as i roll my eyes reminiscing of the fake foam sword slashing though the cardboard weeds and bushes. "Hahaha yeah right", I brushed it off "it was only a play, not like its going to show up randomly". Doubting him made me think that after years of playing dangerous and dragons, a little England folklore trivia in my cranium, and being the #1 charater of the play that i found all of that fascinating. I turned my back walking backward in front of James. "And besides..." I shrug. "We live thousands of miles away from any type of folklore to..." "LOOK OUT!" as James outreaches his hand across the sidewalk. I tripped over this brown and silver ling chest. I come to consiousness as im sitting up underneath a tree with a pounding in my head like a 10 day hangover. "What happened?" I startled, trying to hold my head straight as my eyes blur. I can see james pure white shirt and is face, round silhouette. "You were walking backwards about this Holy Grail thing and BAM! This chest appeared out of nowhere in your way!" Surprised but concerned he asked "You okay?" "Yeah I should be, my head hurts." I whimper as my eyes become clear. "You took a big digger, dont walk backwards anymore, okay man?" He sternfully scolded me while I brush myself off. "What the hell is in there?" He asked. "Im not sure but I'm about to find out." I scan around curiously. I lifted it on one end seems pretty light. But with my adrenaline still flowing from the fall my fingers slipped and dropped it on the concrete. CLICK It opened slightly. "Wanna open it James? Im still a little shaken yet from the fall." Curious but nervous. "Ummm sure?" James glanced at it, scared of something that might pop out of there. His fingers touch the lip of opening of the chest. And lifts to all of his might. "It won't budge! How can something parialy open wont budge?!" Furious but he pulls up harder. James stops for a minute to wipe the sweat off his forehead and turns back to me. "You broke it! The hinges could be rusted shut and you so happened to slightly open it from just dropping it?!" James is heated by this point. I shake my head "i guess i can try." Walking around it i study it, chocolate brown wood, silver lingings surounding the edges including the hinges. "They arent rusted." I shrug my shoulders with my hands facing out. I slowly walk to the front of it, and put where my fingers where James hands were. The silver was cold and the wood smells like springtime meadows with lavender and lilac. It seem to feel natural on my fingertips. I take a breath because of James difficulty to open it. creak "OH, MY, GOD." I gape. "What in the hell Adam!" James was speachless after I had no struggle with opening it. There was a rolled up scroll with some edges burnt and torn, two gold metal rods holding it in place. I quickly swipe it out of the chest. "James, this chest is for me. Do you remember what we were talking about right before this appreared?" I said excitedly. "Our play?" He assumed. "Maybe, but..." i roll the scroll open. "I cant believe it! This is our neighborhood!" James peaks over. Familiar roads and the river run through the map and finds a picture of the grail, all black and white with some grey shading. "THE HOLY GRAIL!" They shouted. In awe we stand face to face, my thought process going through this. James couldn't come with me. My eyes lowered. "It is my honor to find this grail that is so holy." I kneel as i replay the lines. "Your journey has become my brother." James recites his line. They come back as themselves, realization of where the treasure is captive. "James, its 5 miles away not like im going to be gone 10 years to find it." Strolling along. "Or one play long" again joking "Go find it, its your destiny." James said proudly. "I'll throw in some pizza when you get back to my place to cellebrate, and maybe to the doctors to look at your head for any concussions. "Okay see you in about 10." I said as James gives me the side eye. "Okay like half hour. Im going to gaze at this beautiful treasure for a while." We laugh off some more. "I guess this folklore is true." He said amusingly. "I wonder what other folklore is real." He questioned "I don't know, but I hope I'm not going to trip of a chest anytime soon." We laugh.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"Yeah man, the ring is right there under the book." Mike looked at me shocked. "You mean you can do this to anything?" "Yep ever played a video game where a green arrow appeared telling you where to go? It's the same. The same green arrow and everything. Kind of an annoyning GPS. Bitch even recalculates if I make the wrong turn." Mike laughed at my bad joke and started flipping through the TV. He landed on Indiana Jones. He grins maliciously "Do you want to put this to a real test?" I suddenly had a sickening feeling in my stomach he didn't mean? "Where is the Holy grail?" I look at him smiling, slapping the back of his head like it's a joke but then a very familar green arrow appears. I jump up and start running. &#x200B; Mike falls in behind me his laughter completely faded. &#x200B; We jumped into my car and peeled off. The marker was about 5 miles away. It ended at an old apartment complex and not the kind you want to live. We cautiously walk through it to the apartment. A man answer's the door drinking from an old goblet. The holy grail was right there! In front of my eyes. I look up at him and he realizes that I knew what he was holding. He slams the door quickly. Mike, being over zealous as always kicked the door open, grabs the goblet from the suprised man and we run. &#x200B; Once we're back at the house we fill the goblet up with water. Mike cuts his hand and takes a drink. We watch in amazment has the screen quickly restiches itself. We're both shocked. "Holy crap, let see how much it can heal." I can pull my gun and shoot Mike in the head. "Apparently, not that" I grab the goblet and walk out the door intending on selling in. As I open the door a sword blade glides through my neck. "Or that" The old man now dressed in a full suit of armor says. &#x200B; &#x200B;	(((Caution: punctuatuon & spelling))) A deeps sigh comes between the both of us as it was a memory that we stared in a play "The round table". A thought popped into James head "Maybe you can find the holy grail, my master". He chuckles some more as i roll my eyes reminiscing of the fake foam sword slashing though the cardboard weeds and bushes. "Hahaha yeah right", I brushed it off "it was only a play, not like its going to show up randomly". Doubting him made me think that after years of playing dangerous and dragons, a little England folklore trivia in my cranium, and being the #1 charater of the play that i found all of that fascinating. I turned my back walking backward in front of James. "And besides..." I shrug. "We live thousands of miles away from any type of folklore to..." "LOOK OUT!" as James outreaches his hand across the sidewalk. I tripped over this brown and silver ling chest. I come to consiousness as im sitting up underneath a tree with a pounding in my head like a 10 day hangover. "What happened?" I startled, trying to hold my head straight as my eyes blur. I can see james pure white shirt and is face, round silhouette. "You were walking backwards about this Holy Grail thing and BAM! This chest appeared out of nowhere in your way!" Surprised but concerned he asked "You okay?" "Yeah I should be, my head hurts." I whimper as my eyes become clear. "You took a big digger, dont walk backwards anymore, okay man?" He sternfully scolded me while I brush myself off. "What the hell is in there?" He asked. "Im not sure but I'm about to find out." I scan around curiously. I lifted it on one end seems pretty light. But with my adrenaline still flowing from the fall my fingers slipped and dropped it on the concrete. CLICK It opened slightly. "Wanna open it James? Im still a little shaken yet from the fall." Curious but nervous. "Ummm sure?" James glanced at it, scared of something that might pop out of there. His fingers touch the lip of opening of the chest. And lifts to all of his might. "It won't budge! How can something parialy open wont budge?!" Furious but he pulls up harder. James stops for a minute to wipe the sweat off his forehead and turns back to me. "You broke it! The hinges could be rusted shut and you so happened to slightly open it from just dropping it?!" James is heated by this point. I shake my head "i guess i can try." Walking around it i study it, chocolate brown wood, silver lingings surounding the edges including the hinges. "They arent rusted." I shrug my shoulders with my hands facing out. I slowly walk to the front of it, and put where my fingers where James hands were. The silver was cold and the wood smells like springtime meadows with lavender and lilac. It seem to feel natural on my fingertips. I take a breath because of James difficulty to open it. creak "OH, MY, GOD." I gape. "What in the hell Adam!" James was speachless after I had no struggle with opening it. There was a rolled up scroll with some edges burnt and torn, two gold metal rods holding it in place. I quickly swipe it out of the chest. "James, this chest is for me. Do you remember what we were talking about right before this appreared?" I said excitedly. "Our play?" He assumed. "Maybe, but..." i roll the scroll open. "I cant believe it! This is our neighborhood!" James peaks over. Familiar roads and the river run through the map and finds a picture of the grail, all black and white with some grey shading. "THE HOLY GRAIL!" They shouted. In awe we stand face to face, my thought process going through this. James couldn't come with me. My eyes lowered. "It is my honor to find this grail that is so holy." I kneel as i replay the lines. "Your journey has become my brother." James recites his line. They come back as themselves, realization of where the treasure is captive. "James, its 5 miles away not like im going to be gone 10 years to find it." Strolling along. "Or one play long" again joking "Go find it, its your destiny." James said proudly. "I'll throw in some pizza when you get back to my place to cellebrate, and maybe to the doctors to look at your head for any concussions. "Okay see you in about 10." I said as James gives me the side eye. "Okay like half hour. Im going to gaze at this beautiful treasure for a while." We laugh off some more. "I guess this folklore is true." He said amusingly. "I wonder what other folklore is real." He questioned "I don't know, but I hope I'm not going to trip of a chest anytime soon." We laugh.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"Alright, big shot," Drew began, his face smug as can be. "Finding my great grandmother's lost ring was easy-stuff. How about you go find the trail?" I shook my head and chuckled. Since I'd told him about my little 'knack' a couple of weeks ago, Drew had spent just about every moment of our free time making me find things. "You know the rules," I replied, shaking my head. "You have to phrase it right." He sighed. "Fine, PLEASE find the Holy Grail." While he managed to make it to the end of his request without laughing, I lost it at his overly sincere 'please.' "Good, but we both know I won't fi-" I stopped, starting in the distance over Drew's shoulder. "What?" He asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder. I stood starting in silence for a moment. In the distance I could see a giant green arrow pointing down with an equally large, "5 mi" above it. A few more heart beats passed before I took off in a swift jog towards the arrow, barely remembering to yell, "Come on!" over my shoulder at Drew. Whenever someone asks me to find something - and the phrasing is important - for them, these arrows appear over their locations, superimposed onto reality. No one else sees them, and I'm flooded with the urge to follow them. The further they are, the larger the arrow but the urge is not as strong. However, if the thing I'm meant to findis close -like this - the urge becomes so strong it takes all my will power to not flat-out Sprint myself into a heart attack. I continued my jog, which was inching closer to an all-out run, for four blocks before the arrow began to move. Which meant the object I was sent to find was in someone's possession. I just hoped they weren't in a car. "Quick, it's moving!" I yelled. "Are you serious?!" Drew yelled back. He was managing to keep up, which wasn't surprising given that Drew was pretty athletic. Luckily whoever had the item was on foot, because we managed to catch up. I was now in the sweet spot where I was close enough to see the item and the urge was gone. "So where is it? Drew asked, coming up beside me and scanning his eyes across the busy intersection. "You're not fucking with me, right?" "No," I mumbled as I looked for the tiny arrow that would point out exactly where the item is. "This is do weird, I don't see it anywhere but I know we're super close." Maybe it was because there were so many people milling about. This was one of the busiest streets in the downtown, with tons of tiny shops and cafes. "This doesn't even make sense," Despite not being able to see the arrows, Drew was still looking at each person that walked by. "Even if the holy Grail exist, why would it be here? Shouldn't it be in Europe or something." "I don-" I stopped, my eyes had finally landed on the arrow. It was literally right in front of me, within grabbing distance. The tiny green arrow was bouncing back and forth, pointing at the butt of an older guy in absurdly short shorts standing in front of us, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. "No way," I stammered, bringing my finger up to point. "No fuckin' way." "What?" Drew asked, following my finger. "Did you find it?" He gasped once he realized where I was pointing. "Holy shit, no way is right..."	(((Caution: punctuatuon & spelling))) A deeps sigh comes between the both of us as it was a memory that we stared in a play "The round table". A thought popped into James head "Maybe you can find the holy grail, my master". He chuckles some more as i roll my eyes reminiscing of the fake foam sword slashing though the cardboard weeds and bushes. "Hahaha yeah right", I brushed it off "it was only a play, not like its going to show up randomly". Doubting him made me think that after years of playing dangerous and dragons, a little England folklore trivia in my cranium, and being the #1 charater of the play that i found all of that fascinating. I turned my back walking backward in front of James. "And besides..." I shrug. "We live thousands of miles away from any type of folklore to..." "LOOK OUT!" as James outreaches his hand across the sidewalk. I tripped over this brown and silver ling chest. I come to consiousness as im sitting up underneath a tree with a pounding in my head like a 10 day hangover. "What happened?" I startled, trying to hold my head straight as my eyes blur. I can see james pure white shirt and is face, round silhouette. "You were walking backwards about this Holy Grail thing and BAM! This chest appeared out of nowhere in your way!" Surprised but concerned he asked "You okay?" "Yeah I should be, my head hurts." I whimper as my eyes become clear. "You took a big digger, dont walk backwards anymore, okay man?" He sternfully scolded me while I brush myself off. "What the hell is in there?" He asked. "Im not sure but I'm about to find out." I scan around curiously. I lifted it on one end seems pretty light. But with my adrenaline still flowing from the fall my fingers slipped and dropped it on the concrete. CLICK It opened slightly. "Wanna open it James? Im still a little shaken yet from the fall." Curious but nervous. "Ummm sure?" James glanced at it, scared of something that might pop out of there. His fingers touch the lip of opening of the chest. And lifts to all of his might. "It won't budge! How can something parialy open wont budge?!" Furious but he pulls up harder. James stops for a minute to wipe the sweat off his forehead and turns back to me. "You broke it! The hinges could be rusted shut and you so happened to slightly open it from just dropping it?!" James is heated by this point. I shake my head "i guess i can try." Walking around it i study it, chocolate brown wood, silver lingings surounding the edges including the hinges. "They arent rusted." I shrug my shoulders with my hands facing out. I slowly walk to the front of it, and put where my fingers where James hands were. The silver was cold and the wood smells like springtime meadows with lavender and lilac. It seem to feel natural on my fingertips. I take a breath because of James difficulty to open it. creak "OH, MY, GOD." I gape. "What in the hell Adam!" James was speachless after I had no struggle with opening it. There was a rolled up scroll with some edges burnt and torn, two gold metal rods holding it in place. I quickly swipe it out of the chest. "James, this chest is for me. Do you remember what we were talking about right before this appreared?" I said excitedly. "Our play?" He assumed. "Maybe, but..." i roll the scroll open. "I cant believe it! This is our neighborhood!" James peaks over. Familiar roads and the river run through the map and finds a picture of the grail, all black and white with some grey shading. "THE HOLY GRAIL!" They shouted. In awe we stand face to face, my thought process going through this. James couldn't come with me. My eyes lowered. "It is my honor to find this grail that is so holy." I kneel as i replay the lines. "Your journey has become my brother." James recites his line. They come back as themselves, realization of where the treasure is captive. "James, its 5 miles away not like im going to be gone 10 years to find it." Strolling along. "Or one play long" again joking "Go find it, its your destiny." James said proudly. "I'll throw in some pizza when you get back to my place to cellebrate, and maybe to the doctors to look at your head for any concussions. "Okay see you in about 10." I said as James gives me the side eye. "Okay like half hour. Im going to gaze at this beautiful treasure for a while." We laugh off some more. "I guess this folklore is true." He said amusingly. "I wonder what other folklore is real." He questioned "I don't know, but I hope I'm not going to trip of a chest anytime soon." We laugh.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"Yeah dude, OK. Find the holy grail then" he said laughing his dismissive laugh. I shook my head, and turned to look out into the sea. Living in Alaska has always been amazing, but the best part was always being near the ocean. The breeze was never warm, but it always felt fresh and I always wondered where the air had just been... had the same breeze just blown through the hair of a beautiful girl in Japan? Or a violinist in Russia... ? The ocean was a dinner plate... serving up scents from far off lands. Somehow I always felt like Monte Cristo, always surrounded by vast blue waters. I heard the branches crack under Troy's feet, and looked to see him walking up the mossy bank towards a line of evergreens about 20 feet away, and considering the direction he's headed and the fact it was starting to get dark, I'm thinking heading home isn't such a bad idea. I take a few steps and then as has happened countless times before a familiar sensation begins to take hold... though I'd expected it the other times, this time I hadn't. It was like gravity... like G forces pulling my feet into the earth... sinking them deep into the mossy ground. My head buzzes with a numbness, and a pressure I've felt a thousand times before... and suddenly every memory of everyone - every party. every condescending asshole. every person desperately seeking something, throwing their invasive questions at me like arrows; "Where's my drivers license.", "Oh yeah, Ok then tell me where my mom is. I haven't seen her in 23 years, I doubt you'll find her you jackass. You can't find shit- you're a fake. Fuck I hate you." The pressure focuses, and suddenly my body has been shot up like a cannon from the ground, and my eyes cut through the horizon and I'm flying... flying across my Island at the speed of sound, cutting through the arctic air and over the tree lines... Near Island. Ambercrombie and White Sands... I've seen the Island many times before from the air, but usually I knew I'd be here. I knew I'd be flying... or "marking" I'd call it. "Where's my wedding ring... I lost it 14 years ago fishing for reds up north" and boom, I'm gone. I knew I could find it then, but now... what was this? Then, far sooner than I anticipated, and just as suddenly as I left, I'm Falling. Falling a free fall, like a dream you can't wake up from... where you come-to, just a half second before you hit concrete and your head cracks open on the floor of your mind, before you realize it was all a dream, except this time it isn't. And I'm falling... falling... but not towards the ground, towards the sea. I'm trying to process this spiritual hijacking that's happened, as I plummet down past the slate cliffs of the island, jagged and sharp as razors, and black as onyx... many lives had been lost on these rocks.. down, down. As my free fall closes in on the surface, I see tide pools with tiny stranded creatures, waiting for the next high tide. I fall past them into the frigid blue arctic and am pulled out to sea along the ocean floor, only there's no kicking up of silt or sand, my movement doesn't agitate the ocean floor. I'm moving through the water like a ghost being pulled to a destination. "Ava! AVA! Are you OK? Ava, ... Ava!" I heard... opening my eyes, I looked up from the forest floor I was now laying on, and saw Troy's blue eyes looking at me with helpless panic as he shook my arm and hoped I would come around long enough to make it back to the car. "Ava... Oh my God. Are you Ok? You totally freaked me out... you were like walking, and then you just .. you just dropped and it was like you passed out or something. Should I get help?" he asked, though it was clear he wouldn't even know where to begin. There was no one around us... we were deep in the local state protected park and hadn't seen another hiker all day. I was looking at Troy, but still my head was spinning, and then just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. It stopped like a car crash... like a magnet slapping against a steel beam. I was looking at it... looking at... a pile of mud and silt beneath a field of seaweed being swayed by the ocean currents. I blinked, and in my minds eye I tried to focus... "noo wayy" I thought, squinting my ghostly squint as I tried to see what exactly I was looking at.. I zoomed in (a neat feature of this strange gift I've had since I was a small child), and peered into the sandy under layer, and suddenly jumped back as something jumped up towards me! It was ... it was a small halibut, laying on the ocean floor, moving to better hunting grounds. I watched it swim away, but it wasn't the fish I was interested in; it was the golden, shiny bed it had left behind... I gasped, and suddenly was snapped back into my body with the force of a violent shove. I looked at Troy, now wide eyed, unable to speak.. "Ava, are you..." Troy said looking at me, before his face went blank and turned pale white. "... i (indiscernable)" "What?" Troy asked. Slowly, I began to move, and sat up, taking a breath, looking to Troy, then off towards the vast, blue horizon... "I found it." I said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I found it."	(((Caution: punctuatuon & spelling))) A deeps sigh comes between the both of us as it was a memory that we stared in a play "The round table". A thought popped into James head "Maybe you can find the holy grail, my master". He chuckles some more as i roll my eyes reminiscing of the fake foam sword slashing though the cardboard weeds and bushes. "Hahaha yeah right", I brushed it off "it was only a play, not like its going to show up randomly". Doubting him made me think that after years of playing dangerous and dragons, a little England folklore trivia in my cranium, and being the #1 charater of the play that i found all of that fascinating. I turned my back walking backward in front of James. "And besides..." I shrug. "We live thousands of miles away from any type of folklore to..." "LOOK OUT!" as James outreaches his hand across the sidewalk. I tripped over this brown and silver ling chest. I come to consiousness as im sitting up underneath a tree with a pounding in my head like a 10 day hangover. "What happened?" I startled, trying to hold my head straight as my eyes blur. I can see james pure white shirt and is face, round silhouette. "You were walking backwards about this Holy Grail thing and BAM! This chest appeared out of nowhere in your way!" Surprised but concerned he asked "You okay?" "Yeah I should be, my head hurts." I whimper as my eyes become clear. "You took a big digger, dont walk backwards anymore, okay man?" He sternfully scolded me while I brush myself off. "What the hell is in there?" He asked. "Im not sure but I'm about to find out." I scan around curiously. I lifted it on one end seems pretty light. But with my adrenaline still flowing from the fall my fingers slipped and dropped it on the concrete. CLICK It opened slightly. "Wanna open it James? Im still a little shaken yet from the fall." Curious but nervous. "Ummm sure?" James glanced at it, scared of something that might pop out of there. His fingers touch the lip of opening of the chest. And lifts to all of his might. "It won't budge! How can something parialy open wont budge?!" Furious but he pulls up harder. James stops for a minute to wipe the sweat off his forehead and turns back to me. "You broke it! The hinges could be rusted shut and you so happened to slightly open it from just dropping it?!" James is heated by this point. I shake my head "i guess i can try." Walking around it i study it, chocolate brown wood, silver lingings surounding the edges including the hinges. "They arent rusted." I shrug my shoulders with my hands facing out. I slowly walk to the front of it, and put where my fingers where James hands were. The silver was cold and the wood smells like springtime meadows with lavender and lilac. It seem to feel natural on my fingertips. I take a breath because of James difficulty to open it. creak "OH, MY, GOD." I gape. "What in the hell Adam!" James was speachless after I had no struggle with opening it. There was a rolled up scroll with some edges burnt and torn, two gold metal rods holding it in place. I quickly swipe it out of the chest. "James, this chest is for me. Do you remember what we were talking about right before this appreared?" I said excitedly. "Our play?" He assumed. "Maybe, but..." i roll the scroll open. "I cant believe it! This is our neighborhood!" James peaks over. Familiar roads and the river run through the map and finds a picture of the grail, all black and white with some grey shading. "THE HOLY GRAIL!" They shouted. In awe we stand face to face, my thought process going through this. James couldn't come with me. My eyes lowered. "It is my honor to find this grail that is so holy." I kneel as i replay the lines. "Your journey has become my brother." James recites his line. They come back as themselves, realization of where the treasure is captive. "James, its 5 miles away not like im going to be gone 10 years to find it." Strolling along. "Or one play long" again joking "Go find it, its your destiny." James said proudly. "I'll throw in some pizza when you get back to my place to cellebrate, and maybe to the doctors to look at your head for any concussions. "Okay see you in about 10." I said as James gives me the side eye. "Okay like half hour. Im going to gaze at this beautiful treasure for a while." We laugh off some more. "I guess this folklore is true." He said amusingly. "I wonder what other folklore is real." He questioned "I don't know, but I hope I'm not going to trip of a chest anytime soon." We laugh.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	I blinked. No...it couldn't be. Blinked again. The faint shimmer was still there. Seriously, universe? "Uhh...hey dude...you're never gonna belive this..." I started slowly, my eyes fixed on the invisible point. My friend turned, his eyes growing wide as he realised why I was staring. "Bro...no way! Are you kidding??" He laughed incredulously as I shook my head. "Nope. Get in the car." We pull out of the driveway and I can feel it, the urging in my chest when I'm Seeking. It feels like anxiety, like a thrill, like the most euphoria inducing drug you can imagine. After about twenty minutes the shimmer is stronger, surrounding...a coffee shop? "Dude.. I thought the holy grail was like...treasure or something!" My friend groans, dissapointed. "Are you sure you didn't just want a danish?" I shoot him a look to shut him up and walk in....and the shimmer is surrounding a girl. She's sitting arched over a laptop and a pile of books, coffee steaming and a half eaten bluberry muffin beside her. Her short red hair is pinned neatly under a slouchy beanie cap. I look over to my friend, and his eyes are fixed on her. "Bro...." He swallows thickly, and I smile as he slides into the booth. They got married a year later, and are expecting their first kid next month. And me? I learned that the greatest treasure in the world, the thing that everyone is searching for...is love. Kinda cheesy, huh?	(((Caution: punctuatuon & spelling))) A deeps sigh comes between the both of us as it was a memory that we stared in a play "The round table". A thought popped into James head "Maybe you can find the holy grail, my master". He chuckles some more as i roll my eyes reminiscing of the fake foam sword slashing though the cardboard weeds and bushes. "Hahaha yeah right", I brushed it off "it was only a play, not like its going to show up randomly". Doubting him made me think that after years of playing dangerous and dragons, a little England folklore trivia in my cranium, and being the #1 charater of the play that i found all of that fascinating. I turned my back walking backward in front of James. "And besides..." I shrug. "We live thousands of miles away from any type of folklore to..." "LOOK OUT!" as James outreaches his hand across the sidewalk. I tripped over this brown and silver ling chest. I come to consiousness as im sitting up underneath a tree with a pounding in my head like a 10 day hangover. "What happened?" I startled, trying to hold my head straight as my eyes blur. I can see james pure white shirt and is face, round silhouette. "You were walking backwards about this Holy Grail thing and BAM! This chest appeared out of nowhere in your way!" Surprised but concerned he asked "You okay?" "Yeah I should be, my head hurts." I whimper as my eyes become clear. "You took a big digger, dont walk backwards anymore, okay man?" He sternfully scolded me while I brush myself off. "What the hell is in there?" He asked. "Im not sure but I'm about to find out." I scan around curiously. I lifted it on one end seems pretty light. But with my adrenaline still flowing from the fall my fingers slipped and dropped it on the concrete. CLICK It opened slightly. "Wanna open it James? Im still a little shaken yet from the fall." Curious but nervous. "Ummm sure?" James glanced at it, scared of something that might pop out of there. His fingers touch the lip of opening of the chest. And lifts to all of his might. "It won't budge! How can something parialy open wont budge?!" Furious but he pulls up harder. James stops for a minute to wipe the sweat off his forehead and turns back to me. "You broke it! The hinges could be rusted shut and you so happened to slightly open it from just dropping it?!" James is heated by this point. I shake my head "i guess i can try." Walking around it i study it, chocolate brown wood, silver lingings surounding the edges including the hinges. "They arent rusted." I shrug my shoulders with my hands facing out. I slowly walk to the front of it, and put where my fingers where James hands were. The silver was cold and the wood smells like springtime meadows with lavender and lilac. It seem to feel natural on my fingertips. I take a breath because of James difficulty to open it. creak "OH, MY, GOD." I gape. "What in the hell Adam!" James was speachless after I had no struggle with opening it. There was a rolled up scroll with some edges burnt and torn, two gold metal rods holding it in place. I quickly swipe it out of the chest. "James, this chest is for me. Do you remember what we were talking about right before this appreared?" I said excitedly. "Our play?" He assumed. "Maybe, but..." i roll the scroll open. "I cant believe it! This is our neighborhood!" James peaks over. Familiar roads and the river run through the map and finds a picture of the grail, all black and white with some grey shading. "THE HOLY GRAIL!" They shouted. In awe we stand face to face, my thought process going through this. James couldn't come with me. My eyes lowered. "It is my honor to find this grail that is so holy." I kneel as i replay the lines. "Your journey has become my brother." James recites his line. They come back as themselves, realization of where the treasure is captive. "James, its 5 miles away not like im going to be gone 10 years to find it." Strolling along. "Or one play long" again joking "Go find it, its your destiny." James said proudly. "I'll throw in some pizza when you get back to my place to cellebrate, and maybe to the doctors to look at your head for any concussions. "Okay see you in about 10." I said as James gives me the side eye. "Okay like half hour. Im going to gaze at this beautiful treasure for a while." We laugh off some more. "I guess this folklore is true." He said amusingly. "I wonder what other folklore is real." He questioned "I don't know, but I hope I'm not going to trip of a chest anytime soon." We laugh.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	Detroit is an...interesting city, you could say. The third decade of the 21st century’s began its glorious rebirth. In 2071, I was 15, and the city was ALIVE again, downtown bustled, the suburbs were reborn anew, and my home was a hub of American technology and industry. But there were still ruins on some of the outskirts. Devin and I spent most of that summer digging through the scrapyards and old run down buildings that they never got around to recycling. See, I was born with an ability. Someone would ask if I could find something, and I *could. Every time. Without fail. I could just sense it, even if I’d never seen it before. There was a feeling in my brain, like a golden burst in my neurons. If I closed my eyes and focused, I could pin the item inquired about to its geographic location, to the milliseconds on longitude-latitude map. Devin loved this game. He was fascinated with old tech. He would read and research, and if he found something he liked, we would go out and search. Dee affectionately began referring to this as “treasure hunting”. “Want to go hunt for some treasure today, Mickie,” he would ask. Sometimes 3 or 4 times a week, if we were on a roll. That was the best summer. We dug up so many gigantic old computers from the ‘10s, clunky cell phones, fax machines, even ancient Diesel engines if he was particularly inspired. Then one day he came with the absolute most interesting request. In an old fairy tale he heard about, something called The Holy Grail. If legend served, it had the power to heal any wound, cure any illness, potentially give everlasting life. Devin was convinced it existed, and the stories about it true. I was skeptical, I didn’t give in at first. “Those are just old stories,” I would laugh back at him, “we have proof that Diesel engines and Dell Computers existed, you just saw this thing in a movie.” “Fine,” he scoffed back, unrelenting, “if you look and there’s nothing, I’ll give up, but you could at least try, Mick.” I rolled my eyes. “Alright, but we’re taking a break if you’re wrong, my brain starts to hurt if I do it too much.” I closed my eyes and thought Holy Grail. It popped up. Impossible, I thought. I tried again, Jesus’s Holy Grail*. The golden surge under my eyelids sent me tumbling back onto my bed. It was real, and it was close, inside the city limits. I opened my eyes and looked up, Devin was positively BEAMING back at me, his eyes and smile almost as bright as the golden surge I just conjured. “Where?!” “The Packard Plant.” 90 minutes later, we were on the threshold of the old ruin,a crown jewel of urban decay, abandoned for over 60 years. At some point, people started wondering if the place was haunted. How could it be that the the Holy Grail, THE Holy Grail, was here: a graveyard of concrete, glass, and steel. I closed my eyes again and concentrated. The surge came back stronger than ever. “This is the right place,” Devin asked again, no question in his voice. “I’m sure of it,” I reassured him, unsure of my abilities for the first time ever. Dee sprinted off towards the front doors, or what was left of them. I tried to call after him, but he trudged on ahead, and I trudged on right after him. Crawling over falling beams, and stepping around broken glass, only cautious to not get hurt, and not even bothering about the noise we made, we wound our way through the plant. Every square inch of this place was covered in graffiti overlapping in layers and layers of spray paint, and as I stopped to look at a particularly crude art installation, I noticed my breath in the air. It was unnaturally cold for August, but the sun was still up. I realized I had grabbed my coat on the way out of the house, and then remembered I sweat through it on the walk here. Suddenly, my brain stung with a golden energy. I hadn’t even been focusing on the Grail. There was a constant feeling circling around my head now, this had never happened before. “We’re close,” I called down the hall to Dee’s back. We wound down staircases and hallways. Down and down and down, to a section no one had touched or maybe SEEN in half a century. Then we heard a sound. Both at the same time. A low hum, not steady, but rhythmic. My flesh pricked up. Dee felt it too. He looked back at me, the first time I had seen him unsettled. We crawled down a tunnel. Pitch dark, until it wasn’t. At the end of the hall, through the doorway at the end, a low light seemed to emanate. A white light, unnatural, unlike any light i’d ever seen. The golden surge in my brain was distracting at this point, to say the absolute least I could about it. We got to the door at the same time. Dee glanced one more time back at me, and we poked our heads around the corner. My breath caught, and I had to clamp a hand around Dee’s mouth to stop him from crying out. There it was. A gigantic, silvery, glittering, glowing...dragon. My best friend and I just stood in the doorway, staring. The thing was magnificent. It was asleep atop and enormous pile of treasure. The golden surge pulsed in my brain once more, and as I went to point our quarry out to Devin, the beast opened its eyes, and stared straight into ours.	(((Caution: punctuatuon & spelling))) A deeps sigh comes between the both of us as it was a memory that we stared in a play "The round table". A thought popped into James head "Maybe you can find the holy grail, my master". He chuckles some more as i roll my eyes reminiscing of the fake foam sword slashing though the cardboard weeds and bushes. "Hahaha yeah right", I brushed it off "it was only a play, not like its going to show up randomly". Doubting him made me think that after years of playing dangerous and dragons, a little England folklore trivia in my cranium, and being the #1 charater of the play that i found all of that fascinating. I turned my back walking backward in front of James. "And besides..." I shrug. "We live thousands of miles away from any type of folklore to..." "LOOK OUT!" as James outreaches his hand across the sidewalk. I tripped over this brown and silver ling chest. I come to consiousness as im sitting up underneath a tree with a pounding in my head like a 10 day hangover. "What happened?" I startled, trying to hold my head straight as my eyes blur. I can see james pure white shirt and is face, round silhouette. "You were walking backwards about this Holy Grail thing and BAM! This chest appeared out of nowhere in your way!" Surprised but concerned he asked "You okay?" "Yeah I should be, my head hurts." I whimper as my eyes become clear. "You took a big digger, dont walk backwards anymore, okay man?" He sternfully scolded me while I brush myself off. "What the hell is in there?" He asked. "Im not sure but I'm about to find out." I scan around curiously. I lifted it on one end seems pretty light. But with my adrenaline still flowing from the fall my fingers slipped and dropped it on the concrete. CLICK It opened slightly. "Wanna open it James? Im still a little shaken yet from the fall." Curious but nervous. "Ummm sure?" James glanced at it, scared of something that might pop out of there. His fingers touch the lip of opening of the chest. And lifts to all of his might. "It won't budge! How can something parialy open wont budge?!" Furious but he pulls up harder. James stops for a minute to wipe the sweat off his forehead and turns back to me. "You broke it! The hinges could be rusted shut and you so happened to slightly open it from just dropping it?!" James is heated by this point. I shake my head "i guess i can try." Walking around it i study it, chocolate brown wood, silver lingings surounding the edges including the hinges. "They arent rusted." I shrug my shoulders with my hands facing out. I slowly walk to the front of it, and put where my fingers where James hands were. The silver was cold and the wood smells like springtime meadows with lavender and lilac. It seem to feel natural on my fingertips. I take a breath because of James difficulty to open it. creak "OH, MY, GOD." I gape. "What in the hell Adam!" James was speachless after I had no struggle with opening it. There was a rolled up scroll with some edges burnt and torn, two gold metal rods holding it in place. I quickly swipe it out of the chest. "James, this chest is for me. Do you remember what we were talking about right before this appreared?" I said excitedly. "Our play?" He assumed. "Maybe, but..." i roll the scroll open. "I cant believe it! This is our neighborhood!" James peaks over. Familiar roads and the river run through the map and finds a picture of the grail, all black and white with some grey shading. "THE HOLY GRAIL!" They shouted. In awe we stand face to face, my thought process going through this. James couldn't come with me. My eyes lowered. "It is my honor to find this grail that is so holy." I kneel as i replay the lines. "Your journey has become my brother." James recites his line. They come back as themselves, realization of where the treasure is captive. "James, its 5 miles away not like im going to be gone 10 years to find it." Strolling along. "Or one play long" again joking "Go find it, its your destiny." James said proudly. "I'll throw in some pizza when you get back to my place to cellebrate, and maybe to the doctors to look at your head for any concussions. "Okay see you in about 10." I said as James gives me the side eye. "Okay like half hour. Im going to gaze at this beautiful treasure for a while." We laugh off some more. "I guess this folklore is true." He said amusingly. "I wonder what other folklore is real." He questioned "I don't know, but I hope I'm not going to trip of a chest anytime soon." We laugh.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	It was a fairly useful gift but for me it was like having candy in class pretty nice until everyone wanted some and it ruins your pants. I always told them I was a better searcher, I would always win at hide in seek with my friends, or hunting game with them. But the thing my friends seemed to notice the most was my ability to find lost items. Items that were stolen I'll know the location just by looking at a map or just figuring out the cardinal direction. "You're shitting me it's that close?" I muttered to my self I have been seeing the marker for a few days now and it was finally getting annoying there were a few other random markers from other things I had over heard, such as people forgetting items at home, but as I looked down at the map this was by far the closest one. I grabbed my backpack after making sure it was empty and rushed out the door into the cold air. Despite the snow on the ground it was a nice day the air having just enough chill to nip at my exposed flesh. I started to go over the area in my head making notes of areas that would be hard to pass through such as mountains and with it being so close to the boarder and in a forest I'll have to be careful not to seem suspicious. I moved quickly letting my own movements generate enough heat to fend off the chill for being out so long. It was a rather boring trek with the only real interesting thing was a deer that failed to notice me. Though as I got closer I started to move with more stealthy keeping low but moving quickly, the setting sun while offering cover also meant other dangers such as predators, and worsening cold. I saw the symbol on the door to a cave the area looked long since abandoned but in the darkening light combined with the quiet of the area gave me pause making me reflexively take a step backwards. Behind me I heard the soft crunch of the snow but before I could turn my head to see everything faded into blackness. I woke up my head aching with the worst head ache I ever had, the first thing I noticed was it was day the next that I had been captured my hands were bound and a voice saying "you're finally awake" as the cart pulled us towards some unknown fate.	"Hey dude, What about the holy grail?" The man in front of me suddenly started speaking to me, who is he? does he know that I have the ability to find anything? "What about it?" I thought about it for a moment and a line appeared in my vision, leading 5 miles north. "I mean, The holy grail!" I frowned at the man "Excuse me sir, I don't know you, I just want a burger cuz I'm super hungry." The man seemed to have sighed and left, seeing him leave I ordered a burger and some fries. I knew getting the holy grail was not for me, not to mention the fact that I was an ambassador in Pyongyang, North Korea and the location of the Grail was in Kim Jung Un's bedroom. After paying for my meal I left to get home, one of the positives of living in a dictatorship is that they have legalized weed among other drugs but the way the north Korean leadership kept sending me girls to trap me in north Korea is a bit annoying. &#x200B; Note: North Korea does have a fast food place, for the top elite, and as propaganda for foreign emissaries/ tourists.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"My lost keys to my drawers." The music was booming as my friends stared at me, freaked out and fascinated. "Behind the piano." Ginny covers her mouth, and goes to check. "Darren's car," pipes up Nick next to me. Darren leans forward, eyebrows raised. "2 blocks down the road." He leans back, stunned, as Ginny shows me her hand. In her palm were the keys, dusty but good condition. "That's freaky, Ryan." "That underwear I lost," Theresa says hesitantly. A few snickers roll around the room. "Oh..." I gasp. "Ugh." I shiver. Stalker theories confirmed. "Ron has it." They all gasp. "Yo"s and "WTF"s are thrown around as Theresa clutches a pillow to her face, looking pale. "We gotta get it back, man," calls out Adam from the couch, playing Ginny and Theresa's XBOX. "That's fucking sick of him." "He's so damn weird!" says Aina shrilly. "I knew it! I fucking knew he was stalking you." "This bitch gon' die," exclaims Tia right next to me. "We finna put him down tonight!" "Guys, please, chill out." Darren, who had been holding Theresa to comfort her, now stands up and addresses the room. "No conflict yet, please. We're gonna try and solve this properly. Like adults, because we're actually 21 now." There's laughter across the room: his birthday is today, and he is the youngest among us 1997 borns. He sits back down and hugs Theresa- "Hey baby, it's ok, it's ok-" and soon everyone's walking over to the tear-streaked faced girl to give her words of encouragement. That night, as I cuddle into Nick's chest, he jokingly murmurs, "I don't suppose you could find the Holy Grail." A blip of light, and in the direction of the window, a new signal flares up. I hesitate before chuckling. "That's a question with an answer for tomorrow," I say as I snuggle further in his arms.	"Hey dude, What about the holy grail?" The man in front of me suddenly started speaking to me, who is he? does he know that I have the ability to find anything? "What about it?" I thought about it for a moment and a line appeared in my vision, leading 5 miles north. "I mean, The holy grail!" I frowned at the man "Excuse me sir, I don't know you, I just want a burger cuz I'm super hungry." The man seemed to have sighed and left, seeing him leave I ordered a burger and some fries. I knew getting the holy grail was not for me, not to mention the fact that I was an ambassador in Pyongyang, North Korea and the location of the Grail was in Kim Jung Un's bedroom. After paying for my meal I left to get home, one of the positives of living in a dictatorship is that they have legalized weed among other drugs but the way the north Korean leadership kept sending me girls to trap me in north Korea is a bit annoying. &#x200B; Note: North Korea does have a fast food place, for the top elite, and as propaganda for foreign emissaries/ tourists.
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"My lost keys to my drawers." The music was booming as my friends stared at me, freaked out and fascinated. "Behind the piano." Ginny covers her mouth, and goes to check. "Darren's car," pipes up Nick next to me. Darren leans forward, eyebrows raised. "2 blocks down the road." He leans back, stunned, as Ginny shows me her hand. In her palm were the keys, dusty but good condition. "That's freaky, Ryan." "That underwear I lost," Theresa says hesitantly. A few snickers roll around the room. "Oh..." I gasp. "Ugh." I shiver. Stalker theories confirmed. "Ron has it." They all gasp. "Yo"s and "WTF"s are thrown around as Theresa clutches a pillow to her face, looking pale. "We gotta get it back, man," calls out Adam from the couch, playing Ginny and Theresa's XBOX. "That's fucking sick of him." "He's so damn weird!" says Aina shrilly. "I knew it! I fucking knew he was stalking you." "This bitch gon' die," exclaims Tia right next to me. "We finna put him down tonight!" "Guys, please, chill out." Darren, who had been holding Theresa to comfort her, now stands up and addresses the room. "No conflict yet, please. We're gonna try and solve this properly. Like adults, because we're actually 21 now." There's laughter across the room: his birthday is today, and he is the youngest among us 1997 borns. He sits back down and hugs Theresa- "Hey baby, it's ok, it's ok-" and soon everyone's walking over to the tear-streaked faced girl to give her words of encouragement. That night, as I cuddle into Nick's chest, he jokingly murmurs, "I don't suppose you could find the Holy Grail." A blip of light, and in the direction of the window, a new signal flares up. I hesitate before chuckling. "That's a question with an answer for tomorrow," I say as I snuggle further in his arms.	“Hey, you think you can find the holy grail, Marky?” Brian asked, barely holding back a laugh. “Sure, buddy, let me just fine tune my antenna here,” I joked. “But seriously, you know that shit is-“, I stopped mid sentence, staring past Brian’s shoulder. Hovering above the trees about five miles away was a large glowing triangle. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “You’re kidding,” he said, a grin beginning to form. “Are you seriously seeing something, bro?” “Yeah, but what would the fucking holy grail be doing in Kansas?” “I don’t know, but as soon as we find it, we’re gonna be rich, we’ll be put in history books, we’ll be blessed by the fucking POPE!” Brian’s excitement was almost palpable, but mine? Not so much. If the holy grail was real, what kind of things would we have to go through just to get it? Sorry, this is all I got right now but I’ll be more than willing to write more, just gotta brainstorm what to do
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"Yeah man, the ring is right there under the book." Mike looked at me shocked. "You mean you can do this to anything?" "Yep ever played a video game where a green arrow appeared telling you where to go? It's the same. The same green arrow and everything. Kind of an annoyning GPS. Bitch even recalculates if I make the wrong turn." Mike laughed at my bad joke and started flipping through the TV. He landed on Indiana Jones. He grins maliciously "Do you want to put this to a real test?" I suddenly had a sickening feeling in my stomach he didn't mean? "Where is the Holy grail?" I look at him smiling, slapping the back of his head like it's a joke but then a very familar green arrow appears. I jump up and start running. &#x200B; Mike falls in behind me his laughter completely faded. &#x200B; We jumped into my car and peeled off. The marker was about 5 miles away. It ended at an old apartment complex and not the kind you want to live. We cautiously walk through it to the apartment. A man answer's the door drinking from an old goblet. The holy grail was right there! In front of my eyes. I look up at him and he realizes that I knew what he was holding. He slams the door quickly. Mike, being over zealous as always kicked the door open, grabs the goblet from the suprised man and we run. &#x200B; Once we're back at the house we fill the goblet up with water. Mike cuts his hand and takes a drink. We watch in amazment has the screen quickly restiches itself. We're both shocked. "Holy crap, let see how much it can heal." I can pull my gun and shoot Mike in the head. "Apparently, not that" I grab the goblet and walk out the door intending on selling in. As I open the door a sword blade glides through my neck. "Or that" The old man now dressed in a full suit of armor says. &#x200B; &#x200B;	“Hey, you think you can find the holy grail, Marky?” Brian asked, barely holding back a laugh. “Sure, buddy, let me just fine tune my antenna here,” I joked. “But seriously, you know that shit is-“, I stopped mid sentence, staring past Brian’s shoulder. Hovering above the trees about five miles away was a large glowing triangle. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “You’re kidding,” he said, a grin beginning to form. “Are you seriously seeing something, bro?” “Yeah, but what would the fucking holy grail be doing in Kansas?” “I don’t know, but as soon as we find it, we’re gonna be rich, we’ll be put in history books, we’ll be blessed by the fucking POPE!” Brian’s excitement was almost palpable, but mine? Not so much. If the holy grail was real, what kind of things would we have to go through just to get it? Sorry, this is all I got right now but I’ll be more than willing to write more, just gotta brainstorm what to do
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"Alright, big shot," Drew began, his face smug as can be. "Finding my great grandmother's lost ring was easy-stuff. How about you go find the trail?" I shook my head and chuckled. Since I'd told him about my little 'knack' a couple of weeks ago, Drew had spent just about every moment of our free time making me find things. "You know the rules," I replied, shaking my head. "You have to phrase it right." He sighed. "Fine, PLEASE find the Holy Grail." While he managed to make it to the end of his request without laughing, I lost it at his overly sincere 'please.' "Good, but we both know I won't fi-" I stopped, starting in the distance over Drew's shoulder. "What?" He asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder. I stood starting in silence for a moment. In the distance I could see a giant green arrow pointing down with an equally large, "5 mi" above it. A few more heart beats passed before I took off in a swift jog towards the arrow, barely remembering to yell, "Come on!" over my shoulder at Drew. Whenever someone asks me to find something - and the phrasing is important - for them, these arrows appear over their locations, superimposed onto reality. No one else sees them, and I'm flooded with the urge to follow them. The further they are, the larger the arrow but the urge is not as strong. However, if the thing I'm meant to findis close -like this - the urge becomes so strong it takes all my will power to not flat-out Sprint myself into a heart attack. I continued my jog, which was inching closer to an all-out run, for four blocks before the arrow began to move. Which meant the object I was sent to find was in someone's possession. I just hoped they weren't in a car. "Quick, it's moving!" I yelled. "Are you serious?!" Drew yelled back. He was managing to keep up, which wasn't surprising given that Drew was pretty athletic. Luckily whoever had the item was on foot, because we managed to catch up. I was now in the sweet spot where I was close enough to see the item and the urge was gone. "So where is it? Drew asked, coming up beside me and scanning his eyes across the busy intersection. "You're not fucking with me, right?" "No," I mumbled as I looked for the tiny arrow that would point out exactly where the item is. "This is do weird, I don't see it anywhere but I know we're super close." Maybe it was because there were so many people milling about. This was one of the busiest streets in the downtown, with tons of tiny shops and cafes. "This doesn't even make sense," Despite not being able to see the arrows, Drew was still looking at each person that walked by. "Even if the holy Grail exist, why would it be here? Shouldn't it be in Europe or something." "I don-" I stopped, my eyes had finally landed on the arrow. It was literally right in front of me, within grabbing distance. The tiny green arrow was bouncing back and forth, pointing at the butt of an older guy in absurdly short shorts standing in front of us, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. "No way," I stammered, bringing my finger up to point. "No fuckin' way." "What?" Drew asked, following my finger. "Did you find it?" He gasped once he realized where I was pointing. "Holy shit, no way is right..."	“Hey, you think you can find the holy grail, Marky?” Brian asked, barely holding back a laugh. “Sure, buddy, let me just fine tune my antenna here,” I joked. “But seriously, you know that shit is-“, I stopped mid sentence, staring past Brian’s shoulder. Hovering above the trees about five miles away was a large glowing triangle. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “You’re kidding,” he said, a grin beginning to form. “Are you seriously seeing something, bro?” “Yeah, but what would the fucking holy grail be doing in Kansas?” “I don’t know, but as soon as we find it, we’re gonna be rich, we’ll be put in history books, we’ll be blessed by the fucking POPE!” Brian’s excitement was almost palpable, but mine? Not so much. If the holy grail was real, what kind of things would we have to go through just to get it? Sorry, this is all I got right now but I’ll be more than willing to write more, just gotta brainstorm what to do
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"Yeah dude, OK. Find the holy grail then" he said laughing his dismissive laugh. I shook my head, and turned to look out into the sea. Living in Alaska has always been amazing, but the best part was always being near the ocean. The breeze was never warm, but it always felt fresh and I always wondered where the air had just been... had the same breeze just blown through the hair of a beautiful girl in Japan? Or a violinist in Russia... ? The ocean was a dinner plate... serving up scents from far off lands. Somehow I always felt like Monte Cristo, always surrounded by vast blue waters. I heard the branches crack under Troy's feet, and looked to see him walking up the mossy bank towards a line of evergreens about 20 feet away, and considering the direction he's headed and the fact it was starting to get dark, I'm thinking heading home isn't such a bad idea. I take a few steps and then as has happened countless times before a familiar sensation begins to take hold... though I'd expected it the other times, this time I hadn't. It was like gravity... like G forces pulling my feet into the earth... sinking them deep into the mossy ground. My head buzzes with a numbness, and a pressure I've felt a thousand times before... and suddenly every memory of everyone - every party. every condescending asshole. every person desperately seeking something, throwing their invasive questions at me like arrows; "Where's my drivers license.", "Oh yeah, Ok then tell me where my mom is. I haven't seen her in 23 years, I doubt you'll find her you jackass. You can't find shit- you're a fake. Fuck I hate you." The pressure focuses, and suddenly my body has been shot up like a cannon from the ground, and my eyes cut through the horizon and I'm flying... flying across my Island at the speed of sound, cutting through the arctic air and over the tree lines... Near Island. Ambercrombie and White Sands... I've seen the Island many times before from the air, but usually I knew I'd be here. I knew I'd be flying... or "marking" I'd call it. "Where's my wedding ring... I lost it 14 years ago fishing for reds up north" and boom, I'm gone. I knew I could find it then, but now... what was this? Then, far sooner than I anticipated, and just as suddenly as I left, I'm Falling. Falling a free fall, like a dream you can't wake up from... where you come-to, just a half second before you hit concrete and your head cracks open on the floor of your mind, before you realize it was all a dream, except this time it isn't. And I'm falling... falling... but not towards the ground, towards the sea. I'm trying to process this spiritual hijacking that's happened, as I plummet down past the slate cliffs of the island, jagged and sharp as razors, and black as onyx... many lives had been lost on these rocks.. down, down. As my free fall closes in on the surface, I see tide pools with tiny stranded creatures, waiting for the next high tide. I fall past them into the frigid blue arctic and am pulled out to sea along the ocean floor, only there's no kicking up of silt or sand, my movement doesn't agitate the ocean floor. I'm moving through the water like a ghost being pulled to a destination. "Ava! AVA! Are you OK? Ava, ... Ava!" I heard... opening my eyes, I looked up from the forest floor I was now laying on, and saw Troy's blue eyes looking at me with helpless panic as he shook my arm and hoped I would come around long enough to make it back to the car. "Ava... Oh my God. Are you Ok? You totally freaked me out... you were like walking, and then you just .. you just dropped and it was like you passed out or something. Should I get help?" he asked, though it was clear he wouldn't even know where to begin. There was no one around us... we were deep in the local state protected park and hadn't seen another hiker all day. I was looking at Troy, but still my head was spinning, and then just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. It stopped like a car crash... like a magnet slapping against a steel beam. I was looking at it... looking at... a pile of mud and silt beneath a field of seaweed being swayed by the ocean currents. I blinked, and in my minds eye I tried to focus... "noo wayy" I thought, squinting my ghostly squint as I tried to see what exactly I was looking at.. I zoomed in (a neat feature of this strange gift I've had since I was a small child), and peered into the sandy under layer, and suddenly jumped back as something jumped up towards me! It was ... it was a small halibut, laying on the ocean floor, moving to better hunting grounds. I watched it swim away, but it wasn't the fish I was interested in; it was the golden, shiny bed it had left behind... I gasped, and suddenly was snapped back into my body with the force of a violent shove. I looked at Troy, now wide eyed, unable to speak.. "Ava, are you..." Troy said looking at me, before his face went blank and turned pale white. "... i (indiscernable)" "What?" Troy asked. Slowly, I began to move, and sat up, taking a breath, looking to Troy, then off towards the vast, blue horizon... "I found it." I said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I found it."	“Hey, you think you can find the holy grail, Marky?” Brian asked, barely holding back a laugh. “Sure, buddy, let me just fine tune my antenna here,” I joked. “But seriously, you know that shit is-“, I stopped mid sentence, staring past Brian’s shoulder. Hovering above the trees about five miles away was a large glowing triangle. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “You’re kidding,” he said, a grin beginning to form. “Are you seriously seeing something, bro?” “Yeah, but what would the fucking holy grail be doing in Kansas?” “I don’t know, but as soon as we find it, we’re gonna be rich, we’ll be put in history books, we’ll be blessed by the fucking POPE!” Brian’s excitement was almost palpable, but mine? Not so much. If the holy grail was real, what kind of things would we have to go through just to get it? Sorry, this is all I got right now but I’ll be more than willing to write more, just gotta brainstorm what to do
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	I blinked. No...it couldn't be. Blinked again. The faint shimmer was still there. Seriously, universe? "Uhh...hey dude...you're never gonna belive this..." I started slowly, my eyes fixed on the invisible point. My friend turned, his eyes growing wide as he realised why I was staring. "Bro...no way! Are you kidding??" He laughed incredulously as I shook my head. "Nope. Get in the car." We pull out of the driveway and I can feel it, the urging in my chest when I'm Seeking. It feels like anxiety, like a thrill, like the most euphoria inducing drug you can imagine. After about twenty minutes the shimmer is stronger, surrounding...a coffee shop? "Dude.. I thought the holy grail was like...treasure or something!" My friend groans, dissapointed. "Are you sure you didn't just want a danish?" I shoot him a look to shut him up and walk in....and the shimmer is surrounding a girl. She's sitting arched over a laptop and a pile of books, coffee steaming and a half eaten bluberry muffin beside her. Her short red hair is pinned neatly under a slouchy beanie cap. I look over to my friend, and his eyes are fixed on her. "Bro...." He swallows thickly, and I smile as he slides into the booth. They got married a year later, and are expecting their first kid next month. And me? I learned that the greatest treasure in the world, the thing that everyone is searching for...is love. Kinda cheesy, huh?	“Hey, you think you can find the holy grail, Marky?” Brian asked, barely holding back a laugh. “Sure, buddy, let me just fine tune my antenna here,” I joked. “But seriously, you know that shit is-“, I stopped mid sentence, staring past Brian’s shoulder. Hovering above the trees about five miles away was a large glowing triangle. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “You’re kidding,” he said, a grin beginning to form. “Are you seriously seeing something, bro?” “Yeah, but what would the fucking holy grail be doing in Kansas?” “I don’t know, but as soon as we find it, we’re gonna be rich, we’ll be put in history books, we’ll be blessed by the fucking POPE!” Brian’s excitement was almost palpable, but mine? Not so much. If the holy grail was real, what kind of things would we have to go through just to get it? Sorry, this is all I got right now but I’ll be more than willing to write more, just gotta brainstorm what to do
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	Detroit is an...interesting city, you could say. The third decade of the 21st century’s began its glorious rebirth. In 2071, I was 15, and the city was ALIVE again, downtown bustled, the suburbs were reborn anew, and my home was a hub of American technology and industry. But there were still ruins on some of the outskirts. Devin and I spent most of that summer digging through the scrapyards and old run down buildings that they never got around to recycling. See, I was born with an ability. Someone would ask if I could find something, and I *could. Every time. Without fail. I could just sense it, even if I’d never seen it before. There was a feeling in my brain, like a golden burst in my neurons. If I closed my eyes and focused, I could pin the item inquired about to its geographic location, to the milliseconds on longitude-latitude map. Devin loved this game. He was fascinated with old tech. He would read and research, and if he found something he liked, we would go out and search. Dee affectionately began referring to this as “treasure hunting”. “Want to go hunt for some treasure today, Mickie,” he would ask. Sometimes 3 or 4 times a week, if we were on a roll. That was the best summer. We dug up so many gigantic old computers from the ‘10s, clunky cell phones, fax machines, even ancient Diesel engines if he was particularly inspired. Then one day he came with the absolute most interesting request. In an old fairy tale he heard about, something called The Holy Grail. If legend served, it had the power to heal any wound, cure any illness, potentially give everlasting life. Devin was convinced it existed, and the stories about it true. I was skeptical, I didn’t give in at first. “Those are just old stories,” I would laugh back at him, “we have proof that Diesel engines and Dell Computers existed, you just saw this thing in a movie.” “Fine,” he scoffed back, unrelenting, “if you look and there’s nothing, I’ll give up, but you could at least try, Mick.” I rolled my eyes. “Alright, but we’re taking a break if you’re wrong, my brain starts to hurt if I do it too much.” I closed my eyes and thought Holy Grail. It popped up. Impossible, I thought. I tried again, Jesus’s Holy Grail*. The golden surge under my eyelids sent me tumbling back onto my bed. It was real, and it was close, inside the city limits. I opened my eyes and looked up, Devin was positively BEAMING back at me, his eyes and smile almost as bright as the golden surge I just conjured. “Where?!” “The Packard Plant.” 90 minutes later, we were on the threshold of the old ruin,a crown jewel of urban decay, abandoned for over 60 years. At some point, people started wondering if the place was haunted. How could it be that the the Holy Grail, THE Holy Grail, was here: a graveyard of concrete, glass, and steel. I closed my eyes again and concentrated. The surge came back stronger than ever. “This is the right place,” Devin asked again, no question in his voice. “I’m sure of it,” I reassured him, unsure of my abilities for the first time ever. Dee sprinted off towards the front doors, or what was left of them. I tried to call after him, but he trudged on ahead, and I trudged on right after him. Crawling over falling beams, and stepping around broken glass, only cautious to not get hurt, and not even bothering about the noise we made, we wound our way through the plant. Every square inch of this place was covered in graffiti overlapping in layers and layers of spray paint, and as I stopped to look at a particularly crude art installation, I noticed my breath in the air. It was unnaturally cold for August, but the sun was still up. I realized I had grabbed my coat on the way out of the house, and then remembered I sweat through it on the walk here. Suddenly, my brain stung with a golden energy. I hadn’t even been focusing on the Grail. There was a constant feeling circling around my head now, this had never happened before. “We’re close,” I called down the hall to Dee’s back. We wound down staircases and hallways. Down and down and down, to a section no one had touched or maybe SEEN in half a century. Then we heard a sound. Both at the same time. A low hum, not steady, but rhythmic. My flesh pricked up. Dee felt it too. He looked back at me, the first time I had seen him unsettled. We crawled down a tunnel. Pitch dark, until it wasn’t. At the end of the hall, through the doorway at the end, a low light seemed to emanate. A white light, unnatural, unlike any light i’d ever seen. The golden surge in my brain was distracting at this point, to say the absolute least I could about it. We got to the door at the same time. Dee glanced one more time back at me, and we poked our heads around the corner. My breath caught, and I had to clamp a hand around Dee’s mouth to stop him from crying out. There it was. A gigantic, silvery, glittering, glowing...dragon. My best friend and I just stood in the doorway, staring. The thing was magnificent. It was asleep atop and enormous pile of treasure. The golden surge pulsed in my brain once more, and as I went to point our quarry out to Devin, the beast opened its eyes, and stared straight into ours.	“Hey, you think you can find the holy grail, Marky?” Brian asked, barely holding back a laugh. “Sure, buddy, let me just fine tune my antenna here,” I joked. “But seriously, you know that shit is-“, I stopped mid sentence, staring past Brian’s shoulder. Hovering above the trees about five miles away was a large glowing triangle. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “You’re kidding,” he said, a grin beginning to form. “Are you seriously seeing something, bro?” “Yeah, but what would the fucking holy grail be doing in Kansas?” “I don’t know, but as soon as we find it, we’re gonna be rich, we’ll be put in history books, we’ll be blessed by the fucking POPE!” Brian’s excitement was almost palpable, but mine? Not so much. If the holy grail was real, what kind of things would we have to go through just to get it? Sorry, this is all I got right now but I’ll be more than willing to write more, just gotta brainstorm what to do
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	We sat down at the only open table in the crowded bar. The table was tucked away in the back corner situated somewhat awkwardly near the bar. Finding the table hadn't been difficult. I'd always been able to find whatever it was I was looking for. My new friend sat down across from me and flagged down one of the beleaguered waitstaff to order a drink. "I honestly have no idea how you do it H. I've been to this bar thirty times and I don't think I've ever seen this table." He tapped his knuckles against the bar in an absentminded non-rhythm. "I'm not really sure, it's the damnedest thing. A floating arrow appears in my head and gives me all the information I need on where to find well, just about anything." I scooted my chair back as the waitress stepped up to our table and placed a full mug of stout in front of my friend, and a delicious appletini for me. My friend looked at my drink and asked sardonically, "Could you possibly be any more of a woman?" I flipped him off enthusiastically with one hand, and took a sip with the other. "Listen, I AM a woman. Besides, it's not my fault YOU don't have any taste." He chuckled and took a drink of his beer. "So. How far does this go? Where is the eagle diamond?" I paused for a moment, "In about five hundred different locations. The nearest piece is three hundred miles southwest of here." His face lit up in surprise, "Well, I guess they won't be finding it any time soon then. How about the holy grail?" I was about to laugh, potentially spitting up some of my appletini, when a marker popped into my skull. It resounded there like the hammer of Gods. I spit my drink directly into his face. "What the hell!?" he exclaimed. "The holy grail is about five miles southwest of here." I said, my voice flat. My friend sat up in his seat, wiping his face with a napkin. "You're kidding right? There's no way the holy grail is in Wisconsin." I recovered slowly from my shock and said, "It's right there, the cup in which flowed the blood of Christ. It's underground, about two hundred feet." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. "I don't have anything smaller, but I'm feeling generous." He placed it on the table. I stood and nodded my head, "Let's go then. We're on a quest to find the holy grail." He frowned and said, "I swear, if you say Ni...." We laughed as we walked through the door, and out into the frigid night. We drove down the highway at speeds that were frankly a bit excessive. Being that we were two mature, reasonable adults, we were blasting the theme song to Indiana Jones. We sang along despite the complete lack of lyrics. We took an exit shortly after entering the freeway and drove down roads which were not particularly well maintained. The roads here were broken and riddled with potholes. Driving down the night-black road we eventually arrived at an unassuming warehouse in less than stellar repair. We parked the car behind a shrubbery, and walked up to the building. Small sheets of ice cracked under my shoes as I walked. We walked up to the entrance and I reached into my coat pocket. Something which came with knowing where everything you wanted was, was that inevitably you learned how to acquire it as well. I pulled out a lock pick and tumbler. Working efficiently, and cursing a mere half dozen times, I heard a click and the door swung open. The warehouse stood empty save for a single hanging light which hung over a hatch in the floor. We carefully walked up to the hatch and my friend muscled the door open. This revealed a set of rickety looking wooden stairs leading down into a black abyss. We looked each other dead in the eye and nodded. I pulled out my cellphone and turned on the flashlight, the light seemed to melt into the darkness. As if the darkness had been ravenous for photons and were loath to let them go. We stepped our way down the stairs, attempting to, and failing to, keep silent as possible. We reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a figure clad in shadow, sitting at the side of an ancient looking door. Cautious at first, we slowly walked towards the figure after we realized the noise coming down the stairs would've woken them anyway. The figure turned out to be an extremely dead man. I say extremely dead because I think a simple dead doesn't quite hit the linguistic mark. It was ancient as the mummies of Egypt were ancient, and a massive hole gaped from where his chest had been. ________________________________________________ /r/SirLemoncakes I've got to finish this in a bit. Have to drive home from work.	“Hey, you think you can find the holy grail, Marky?” Brian asked, barely holding back a laugh. “Sure, buddy, let me just fine tune my antenna here,” I joked. “But seriously, you know that shit is-“, I stopped mid sentence, staring past Brian’s shoulder. Hovering above the trees about five miles away was a large glowing triangle. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. “You’re kidding,” he said, a grin beginning to form. “Are you seriously seeing something, bro?” “Yeah, but what would the fucking holy grail be doing in Kansas?” “I don’t know, but as soon as we find it, we’re gonna be rich, we’ll be put in history books, we’ll be blessed by the fucking POPE!” Brian’s excitement was almost palpable, but mine? Not so much. If the holy grail was real, what kind of things would we have to go through just to get it? Sorry, this is all I got right now but I’ll be more than willing to write more, just gotta brainstorm what to do
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	"Yeah dude, OK. Find the holy grail then" he said laughing his dismissive laugh. I shook my head, and turned to look out into the sea. Living in Alaska has always been amazing, but the best part was always being near the ocean. The breeze was never warm, but it always felt fresh and I always wondered where the air had just been... had the same breeze just blown through the hair of a beautiful girl in Japan? Or a violinist in Russia... ? The ocean was a dinner plate... serving up scents from far off lands. Somehow I always felt like Monte Cristo, always surrounded by vast blue waters. I heard the branches crack under Troy's feet, and looked to see him walking up the mossy bank towards a line of evergreens about 20 feet away, and considering the direction he's headed and the fact it was starting to get dark, I'm thinking heading home isn't such a bad idea. I take a few steps and then as has happened countless times before a familiar sensation begins to take hold... though I'd expected it the other times, this time I hadn't. It was like gravity... like G forces pulling my feet into the earth... sinking them deep into the mossy ground. My head buzzes with a numbness, and a pressure I've felt a thousand times before... and suddenly every memory of everyone - every party. every condescending asshole. every person desperately seeking something, throwing their invasive questions at me like arrows; "Where's my drivers license.", "Oh yeah, Ok then tell me where my mom is. I haven't seen her in 23 years, I doubt you'll find her you jackass. You can't find shit- you're a fake. Fuck I hate you." The pressure focuses, and suddenly my body has been shot up like a cannon from the ground, and my eyes cut through the horizon and I'm flying... flying across my Island at the speed of sound, cutting through the arctic air and over the tree lines... Near Island. Ambercrombie and White Sands... I've seen the Island many times before from the air, but usually I knew I'd be here. I knew I'd be flying... or "marking" I'd call it. "Where's my wedding ring... I lost it 14 years ago fishing for reds up north" and boom, I'm gone. I knew I could find it then, but now... what was this? Then, far sooner than I anticipated, and just as suddenly as I left, I'm Falling. Falling a free fall, like a dream you can't wake up from... where you come-to, just a half second before you hit concrete and your head cracks open on the floor of your mind, before you realize it was all a dream, except this time it isn't. And I'm falling... falling... but not towards the ground, towards the sea. I'm trying to process this spiritual hijacking that's happened, as I plummet down past the slate cliffs of the island, jagged and sharp as razors, and black as onyx... many lives had been lost on these rocks.. down, down. As my free fall closes in on the surface, I see tide pools with tiny stranded creatures, waiting for the next high tide. I fall past them into the frigid blue arctic and am pulled out to sea along the ocean floor, only there's no kicking up of silt or sand, my movement doesn't agitate the ocean floor. I'm moving through the water like a ghost being pulled to a destination. "Ava! AVA! Are you OK? Ava, ... Ava!" I heard... opening my eyes, I looked up from the forest floor I was now laying on, and saw Troy's blue eyes looking at me with helpless panic as he shook my arm and hoped I would come around long enough to make it back to the car. "Ava... Oh my God. Are you Ok? You totally freaked me out... you were like walking, and then you just .. you just dropped and it was like you passed out or something. Should I get help?" he asked, though it was clear he wouldn't even know where to begin. There was no one around us... we were deep in the local state protected park and hadn't seen another hiker all day. I was looking at Troy, but still my head was spinning, and then just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. It stopped like a car crash... like a magnet slapping against a steel beam. I was looking at it... looking at... a pile of mud and silt beneath a field of seaweed being swayed by the ocean currents. I blinked, and in my minds eye I tried to focus... "noo wayy" I thought, squinting my ghostly squint as I tried to see what exactly I was looking at.. I zoomed in (a neat feature of this strange gift I've had since I was a small child), and peered into the sandy under layer, and suddenly jumped back as something jumped up towards me! It was ... it was a small halibut, laying on the ocean floor, moving to better hunting grounds. I watched it swim away, but it wasn't the fish I was interested in; it was the golden, shiny bed it had left behind... I gasped, and suddenly was snapped back into my body with the force of a violent shove. I looked at Troy, now wide eyed, unable to speak.. "Ava, are you..." Troy said looking at me, before his face went blank and turned pale white. "... i (indiscernable)" "What?" Troy asked. Slowly, I began to move, and sat up, taking a breath, looking to Troy, then off towards the vast, blue horizon... "I found it." I said, reaching out to hold his hand. "I found it."	"Alright, big shot," Drew began, his face smug as can be. "Finding my great grandmother's lost ring was easy-stuff. How about you go find the trail?" I shook my head and chuckled. Since I'd told him about my little 'knack' a couple of weeks ago, Drew had spent just about every moment of our free time making me find things. "You know the rules," I replied, shaking my head. "You have to phrase it right." He sighed. "Fine, PLEASE find the Holy Grail." While he managed to make it to the end of his request without laughing, I lost it at his overly sincere 'please.' "Good, but we both know I won't fi-" I stopped, starting in the distance over Drew's shoulder. "What?" He asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder. I stood starting in silence for a moment. In the distance I could see a giant green arrow pointing down with an equally large, "5 mi" above it. A few more heart beats passed before I took off in a swift jog towards the arrow, barely remembering to yell, "Come on!" over my shoulder at Drew. Whenever someone asks me to find something - and the phrasing is important - for them, these arrows appear over their locations, superimposed onto reality. No one else sees them, and I'm flooded with the urge to follow them. The further they are, the larger the arrow but the urge is not as strong. However, if the thing I'm meant to findis close -like this - the urge becomes so strong it takes all my will power to not flat-out Sprint myself into a heart attack. I continued my jog, which was inching closer to an all-out run, for four blocks before the arrow began to move. Which meant the object I was sent to find was in someone's possession. I just hoped they weren't in a car. "Quick, it's moving!" I yelled. "Are you serious?!" Drew yelled back. He was managing to keep up, which wasn't surprising given that Drew was pretty athletic. Luckily whoever had the item was on foot, because we managed to catch up. I was now in the sweet spot where I was close enough to see the item and the urge was gone. "So where is it? Drew asked, coming up beside me and scanning his eyes across the busy intersection. "You're not fucking with me, right?" "No," I mumbled as I looked for the tiny arrow that would point out exactly where the item is. "This is do weird, I don't see it anywhere but I know we're super close." Maybe it was because there were so many people milling about. This was one of the busiest streets in the downtown, with tons of tiny shops and cafes. "This doesn't even make sense," Despite not being able to see the arrows, Drew was still looking at each person that walked by. "Even if the holy Grail exist, why would it be here? Shouldn't it be in Europe or something." "I don-" I stopped, my eyes had finally landed on the arrow. It was literally right in front of me, within grabbing distance. The tiny green arrow was bouncing back and forth, pointing at the butt of an older guy in absurdly short shorts standing in front of us, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. "No way," I stammered, bringing my finger up to point. "No fuckin' way." "What?" Drew asked, following my finger. "Did you find it?" He gasped once he realized where I was pointing. "Holy shit, no way is right..."
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	I blinked. No...it couldn't be. Blinked again. The faint shimmer was still there. Seriously, universe? "Uhh...hey dude...you're never gonna belive this..." I started slowly, my eyes fixed on the invisible point. My friend turned, his eyes growing wide as he realised why I was staring. "Bro...no way! Are you kidding??" He laughed incredulously as I shook my head. "Nope. Get in the car." We pull out of the driveway and I can feel it, the urging in my chest when I'm Seeking. It feels like anxiety, like a thrill, like the most euphoria inducing drug you can imagine. After about twenty minutes the shimmer is stronger, surrounding...a coffee shop? "Dude.. I thought the holy grail was like...treasure or something!" My friend groans, dissapointed. "Are you sure you didn't just want a danish?" I shoot him a look to shut him up and walk in....and the shimmer is surrounding a girl. She's sitting arched over a laptop and a pile of books, coffee steaming and a half eaten bluberry muffin beside her. Her short red hair is pinned neatly under a slouchy beanie cap. I look over to my friend, and his eyes are fixed on her. "Bro...." He swallows thickly, and I smile as he slides into the booth. They got married a year later, and are expecting their first kid next month. And me? I learned that the greatest treasure in the world, the thing that everyone is searching for...is love. Kinda cheesy, huh?	Imagine that the world sits within a grey, cubical grid, and every object has coordinates in this grid. Now, reach out and touch the nearest point within the grid. Three lines intersect to create that point. Take these lines—extend them as far as the eye can see. Do you see them? Try and color the lines red. You now have a sense of direction—up and down, left and right, back and forth. Now, consider this. You can think of any object in the grid, and those lines will appear at the object’s coordinates. They will give you a sense of direction, and the intersection of those lines will locate the object. They called Eric a “world walker,” and this was his ability. He stood on the rocky outcropping, wind whipping at his fur cloak. Songbirds chattered in the cool spring air, promising warmer nights and longer days. Eric traveled though the bitter winter, and now the red lines were so close. The vertical line rose directly above him. His iron knife clattered against the rocks as it dug into the earth, down towards the intersection. With great effort, he removed the huge, green emerald from the soil. Eric smiled; the sultan would pay a fortune for an emerald such as this. He scrambled down the bluff, walking through the tall pine forest towards his camp. Ahmed sat by the tent, stoking a small fire. “Eric, what have you brought me today?” “The largest emerald in the world, my friend.” Smiling, Eric removed the epic mineral from within the folds of his cloak. Ahmed stood mesmerized. As if under a spell, he walked slowly towards the gem, and ran his nut-brown hands over it’s rough surface. “Amazing. You truly can find anything.” Ahmed said. “Anything at all. Getting to it—well—that’s another story.” Eric said. Ahmed frowned, a mischievous grin forming, “Can you find me true love?” “My dear friend, even if I could, you know it would only lead to the world’s largest pile of coins.” “Your words hurt me, Eric. Find me the best retort?” Ahmed asked. They both laughed. They had come a long way together for this, and it was good to relax, if only for a moment. Eric nodded towards the dying fire “Do we have enough wood for tonight?” Ahmed shook his head. Eric sighed, “Come on then, you’re carrying it back.” Eric concentrated. He felt through the treads of reality, focusing on one thing, the nearest pile of dead logs. The red lines appeared in his mind with a scorching pain. Eric gasped; he fell back, landing hard on the ground. The lines pointed to a spot just beyond a large juniper bush, and like clockwork, Ahmed and Eric collected enough wood for the evening. They sat by the fire, gnawing on salted beef, sipping warm mead. “What next?” Ahmed asked. “What do you mean?” Ahmed took a large bit of salted beef, chewing with his mouth open. “Well, we sell the emerald—then what? What else could you find?” “I’m not sure I follow. More gems?” Eric said. “No, too boring. What about Excalibur?” Eric grinned, closing his eyes. He swam through the fabric of reality, searching the grid. He closed his eyes; grey lines flashed and singed in his vision, but no red lines appeared. “No, I’m sorry, Excalibur doesn’t exist.” Eric said, openly disappointed. Ahmed was full of great ideas. “Try this one—The Holy Grail.” Ahmed said. Eric laughed, almost choking on his mead “Why not?” He closed his eyes, thinking of the “holy grail,” whatever that might be. To his shock, the grey lines solidified, twisting and swirling in the grid. The lines turned blue; they burned in his vision. Eric screamed. His eyes glowed with a blue light; Ahmed stood up and stumbled backwards. Eric howled—as if possessed—writhing on the ground. “Ahmed. Help me” he gasped. Ahmed rushed to his side, “What’s wrong? What did you see?” The seizing abated. Eric looked up at his friend, “It’s real, and it’s close but—” “But what? Tell me, Eric.” Ahmed said impatiently. “I’ve never seen blue lines before.” Ahmed grasped Eric by the shoulders. “My friend, if this exists, it is worth more than all other treasures. We must find it.” Eric stood up, feeling stronger. Three, solid blue lines lay to the northwest of camp. He blinked, shook his head, and looked into the brown eyes of Ahmed. He had never seen such ferocity from his friend. Eric took a deep breath, “We can find it before dusk.” Ahmed was already moving, grabbing his bags “Then what are we waiting for? *** r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	Detroit is an...interesting city, you could say. The third decade of the 21st century’s began its glorious rebirth. In 2071, I was 15, and the city was ALIVE again, downtown bustled, the suburbs were reborn anew, and my home was a hub of American technology and industry. But there were still ruins on some of the outskirts. Devin and I spent most of that summer digging through the scrapyards and old run down buildings that they never got around to recycling. See, I was born with an ability. Someone would ask if I could find something, and I *could. Every time. Without fail. I could just sense it, even if I’d never seen it before. There was a feeling in my brain, like a golden burst in my neurons. If I closed my eyes and focused, I could pin the item inquired about to its geographic location, to the milliseconds on longitude-latitude map. Devin loved this game. He was fascinated with old tech. He would read and research, and if he found something he liked, we would go out and search. Dee affectionately began referring to this as “treasure hunting”. “Want to go hunt for some treasure today, Mickie,” he would ask. Sometimes 3 or 4 times a week, if we were on a roll. That was the best summer. We dug up so many gigantic old computers from the ‘10s, clunky cell phones, fax machines, even ancient Diesel engines if he was particularly inspired. Then one day he came with the absolute most interesting request. In an old fairy tale he heard about, something called The Holy Grail. If legend served, it had the power to heal any wound, cure any illness, potentially give everlasting life. Devin was convinced it existed, and the stories about it true. I was skeptical, I didn’t give in at first. “Those are just old stories,” I would laugh back at him, “we have proof that Diesel engines and Dell Computers existed, you just saw this thing in a movie.” “Fine,” he scoffed back, unrelenting, “if you look and there’s nothing, I’ll give up, but you could at least try, Mick.” I rolled my eyes. “Alright, but we’re taking a break if you’re wrong, my brain starts to hurt if I do it too much.” I closed my eyes and thought Holy Grail. It popped up. Impossible, I thought. I tried again, Jesus’s Holy Grail*. The golden surge under my eyelids sent me tumbling back onto my bed. It was real, and it was close, inside the city limits. I opened my eyes and looked up, Devin was positively BEAMING back at me, his eyes and smile almost as bright as the golden surge I just conjured. “Where?!” “The Packard Plant.” 90 minutes later, we were on the threshold of the old ruin,a crown jewel of urban decay, abandoned for over 60 years. At some point, people started wondering if the place was haunted. How could it be that the the Holy Grail, THE Holy Grail, was here: a graveyard of concrete, glass, and steel. I closed my eyes again and concentrated. The surge came back stronger than ever. “This is the right place,” Devin asked again, no question in his voice. “I’m sure of it,” I reassured him, unsure of my abilities for the first time ever. Dee sprinted off towards the front doors, or what was left of them. I tried to call after him, but he trudged on ahead, and I trudged on right after him. Crawling over falling beams, and stepping around broken glass, only cautious to not get hurt, and not even bothering about the noise we made, we wound our way through the plant. Every square inch of this place was covered in graffiti overlapping in layers and layers of spray paint, and as I stopped to look at a particularly crude art installation, I noticed my breath in the air. It was unnaturally cold for August, but the sun was still up. I realized I had grabbed my coat on the way out of the house, and then remembered I sweat through it on the walk here. Suddenly, my brain stung with a golden energy. I hadn’t even been focusing on the Grail. There was a constant feeling circling around my head now, this had never happened before. “We’re close,” I called down the hall to Dee’s back. We wound down staircases and hallways. Down and down and down, to a section no one had touched or maybe SEEN in half a century. Then we heard a sound. Both at the same time. A low hum, not steady, but rhythmic. My flesh pricked up. Dee felt it too. He looked back at me, the first time I had seen him unsettled. We crawled down a tunnel. Pitch dark, until it wasn’t. At the end of the hall, through the doorway at the end, a low light seemed to emanate. A white light, unnatural, unlike any light i’d ever seen. The golden surge in my brain was distracting at this point, to say the absolute least I could about it. We got to the door at the same time. Dee glanced one more time back at me, and we poked our heads around the corner. My breath caught, and I had to clamp a hand around Dee’s mouth to stop him from crying out. There it was. A gigantic, silvery, glittering, glowing...dragon. My best friend and I just stood in the doorway, staring. The thing was magnificent. It was asleep atop and enormous pile of treasure. The golden surge pulsed in my brain once more, and as I went to point our quarry out to Devin, the beast opened its eyes, and stared straight into ours.	Imagine that the world sits within a grey, cubical grid, and every object has coordinates in this grid. Now, reach out and touch the nearest point within the grid. Three lines intersect to create that point. Take these lines—extend them as far as the eye can see. Do you see them? Try and color the lines red. You now have a sense of direction—up and down, left and right, back and forth. Now, consider this. You can think of any object in the grid, and those lines will appear at the object’s coordinates. They will give you a sense of direction, and the intersection of those lines will locate the object. They called Eric a “world walker,” and this was his ability. He stood on the rocky outcropping, wind whipping at his fur cloak. Songbirds chattered in the cool spring air, promising warmer nights and longer days. Eric traveled though the bitter winter, and now the red lines were so close. The vertical line rose directly above him. His iron knife clattered against the rocks as it dug into the earth, down towards the intersection. With great effort, he removed the huge, green emerald from the soil. Eric smiled; the sultan would pay a fortune for an emerald such as this. He scrambled down the bluff, walking through the tall pine forest towards his camp. Ahmed sat by the tent, stoking a small fire. “Eric, what have you brought me today?” “The largest emerald in the world, my friend.” Smiling, Eric removed the epic mineral from within the folds of his cloak. Ahmed stood mesmerized. As if under a spell, he walked slowly towards the gem, and ran his nut-brown hands over it’s rough surface. “Amazing. You truly can find anything.” Ahmed said. “Anything at all. Getting to it—well—that’s another story.” Eric said. Ahmed frowned, a mischievous grin forming, “Can you find me true love?” “My dear friend, even if I could, you know it would only lead to the world’s largest pile of coins.” “Your words hurt me, Eric. Find me the best retort?” Ahmed asked. They both laughed. They had come a long way together for this, and it was good to relax, if only for a moment. Eric nodded towards the dying fire “Do we have enough wood for tonight?” Ahmed shook his head. Eric sighed, “Come on then, you’re carrying it back.” Eric concentrated. He felt through the treads of reality, focusing on one thing, the nearest pile of dead logs. The red lines appeared in his mind with a scorching pain. Eric gasped; he fell back, landing hard on the ground. The lines pointed to a spot just beyond a large juniper bush, and like clockwork, Ahmed and Eric collected enough wood for the evening. They sat by the fire, gnawing on salted beef, sipping warm mead. “What next?” Ahmed asked. “What do you mean?” Ahmed took a large bit of salted beef, chewing with his mouth open. “Well, we sell the emerald—then what? What else could you find?” “I’m not sure I follow. More gems?” Eric said. “No, too boring. What about Excalibur?” Eric grinned, closing his eyes. He swam through the fabric of reality, searching the grid. He closed his eyes; grey lines flashed and singed in his vision, but no red lines appeared. “No, I’m sorry, Excalibur doesn’t exist.” Eric said, openly disappointed. Ahmed was full of great ideas. “Try this one—The Holy Grail.” Ahmed said. Eric laughed, almost choking on his mead “Why not?” He closed his eyes, thinking of the “holy grail,” whatever that might be. To his shock, the grey lines solidified, twisting and swirling in the grid. The lines turned blue; they burned in his vision. Eric screamed. His eyes glowed with a blue light; Ahmed stood up and stumbled backwards. Eric howled—as if possessed—writhing on the ground. “Ahmed. Help me” he gasped. Ahmed rushed to his side, “What’s wrong? What did you see?” The seizing abated. Eric looked up at his friend, “It’s real, and it’s close but—” “But what? Tell me, Eric.” Ahmed said impatiently. “I’ve never seen blue lines before.” Ahmed grasped Eric by the shoulders. “My friend, if this exists, it is worth more than all other treasures. We must find it.” Eric stood up, feeling stronger. Three, solid blue lines lay to the northwest of camp. He blinked, shook his head, and looked into the brown eyes of Ahmed. He had never seen such ferocity from his friend. Eric took a deep breath, “We can find it before dusk.” Ahmed was already moving, grabbing his bags “Then what are we waiting for? *** r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	We sat down at the only open table in the crowded bar. The table was tucked away in the back corner situated somewhat awkwardly near the bar. Finding the table hadn't been difficult. I'd always been able to find whatever it was I was looking for. My new friend sat down across from me and flagged down one of the beleaguered waitstaff to order a drink. "I honestly have no idea how you do it H. I've been to this bar thirty times and I don't think I've ever seen this table." He tapped his knuckles against the bar in an absentminded non-rhythm. "I'm not really sure, it's the damnedest thing. A floating arrow appears in my head and gives me all the information I need on where to find well, just about anything." I scooted my chair back as the waitress stepped up to our table and placed a full mug of stout in front of my friend, and a delicious appletini for me. My friend looked at my drink and asked sardonically, "Could you possibly be any more of a woman?" I flipped him off enthusiastically with one hand, and took a sip with the other. "Listen, I AM a woman. Besides, it's not my fault YOU don't have any taste." He chuckled and took a drink of his beer. "So. How far does this go? Where is the eagle diamond?" I paused for a moment, "In about five hundred different locations. The nearest piece is three hundred miles southwest of here." His face lit up in surprise, "Well, I guess they won't be finding it any time soon then. How about the holy grail?" I was about to laugh, potentially spitting up some of my appletini, when a marker popped into my skull. It resounded there like the hammer of Gods. I spit my drink directly into his face. "What the hell!?" he exclaimed. "The holy grail is about five miles southwest of here." I said, my voice flat. My friend sat up in his seat, wiping his face with a napkin. "You're kidding right? There's no way the holy grail is in Wisconsin." I recovered slowly from my shock and said, "It's right there, the cup in which flowed the blood of Christ. It's underground, about two hundred feet." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. "I don't have anything smaller, but I'm feeling generous." He placed it on the table. I stood and nodded my head, "Let's go then. We're on a quest to find the holy grail." He frowned and said, "I swear, if you say Ni...." We laughed as we walked through the door, and out into the frigid night. We drove down the highway at speeds that were frankly a bit excessive. Being that we were two mature, reasonable adults, we were blasting the theme song to Indiana Jones. We sang along despite the complete lack of lyrics. We took an exit shortly after entering the freeway and drove down roads which were not particularly well maintained. The roads here were broken and riddled with potholes. Driving down the night-black road we eventually arrived at an unassuming warehouse in less than stellar repair. We parked the car behind a shrubbery, and walked up to the building. Small sheets of ice cracked under my shoes as I walked. We walked up to the entrance and I reached into my coat pocket. Something which came with knowing where everything you wanted was, was that inevitably you learned how to acquire it as well. I pulled out a lock pick and tumbler. Working efficiently, and cursing a mere half dozen times, I heard a click and the door swung open. The warehouse stood empty save for a single hanging light which hung over a hatch in the floor. We carefully walked up to the hatch and my friend muscled the door open. This revealed a set of rickety looking wooden stairs leading down into a black abyss. We looked each other dead in the eye and nodded. I pulled out my cellphone and turned on the flashlight, the light seemed to melt into the darkness. As if the darkness had been ravenous for photons and were loath to let them go. We stepped our way down the stairs, attempting to, and failing to, keep silent as possible. We reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a figure clad in shadow, sitting at the side of an ancient looking door. Cautious at first, we slowly walked towards the figure after we realized the noise coming down the stairs would've woken them anyway. The figure turned out to be an extremely dead man. I say extremely dead because I think a simple dead doesn't quite hit the linguistic mark. It was ancient as the mummies of Egypt were ancient, and a massive hole gaped from where his chest had been. ________________________________________________ /r/SirLemoncakes I've got to finish this in a bit. Have to drive home from work.	Imagine that the world sits within a grey, cubical grid, and every object has coordinates in this grid. Now, reach out and touch the nearest point within the grid. Three lines intersect to create that point. Take these lines—extend them as far as the eye can see. Do you see them? Try and color the lines red. You now have a sense of direction—up and down, left and right, back and forth. Now, consider this. You can think of any object in the grid, and those lines will appear at the object’s coordinates. They will give you a sense of direction, and the intersection of those lines will locate the object. They called Eric a “world walker,” and this was his ability. He stood on the rocky outcropping, wind whipping at his fur cloak. Songbirds chattered in the cool spring air, promising warmer nights and longer days. Eric traveled though the bitter winter, and now the red lines were so close. The vertical line rose directly above him. His iron knife clattered against the rocks as it dug into the earth, down towards the intersection. With great effort, he removed the huge, green emerald from the soil. Eric smiled; the sultan would pay a fortune for an emerald such as this. He scrambled down the bluff, walking through the tall pine forest towards his camp. Ahmed sat by the tent, stoking a small fire. “Eric, what have you brought me today?” “The largest emerald in the world, my friend.” Smiling, Eric removed the epic mineral from within the folds of his cloak. Ahmed stood mesmerized. As if under a spell, he walked slowly towards the gem, and ran his nut-brown hands over it’s rough surface. “Amazing. You truly can find anything.” Ahmed said. “Anything at all. Getting to it—well—that’s another story.” Eric said. Ahmed frowned, a mischievous grin forming, “Can you find me true love?” “My dear friend, even if I could, you know it would only lead to the world’s largest pile of coins.” “Your words hurt me, Eric. Find me the best retort?” Ahmed asked. They both laughed. They had come a long way together for this, and it was good to relax, if only for a moment. Eric nodded towards the dying fire “Do we have enough wood for tonight?” Ahmed shook his head. Eric sighed, “Come on then, you’re carrying it back.” Eric concentrated. He felt through the treads of reality, focusing on one thing, the nearest pile of dead logs. The red lines appeared in his mind with a scorching pain. Eric gasped; he fell back, landing hard on the ground. The lines pointed to a spot just beyond a large juniper bush, and like clockwork, Ahmed and Eric collected enough wood for the evening. They sat by the fire, gnawing on salted beef, sipping warm mead. “What next?” Ahmed asked. “What do you mean?” Ahmed took a large bit of salted beef, chewing with his mouth open. “Well, we sell the emerald—then what? What else could you find?” “I’m not sure I follow. More gems?” Eric said. “No, too boring. What about Excalibur?” Eric grinned, closing his eyes. He swam through the fabric of reality, searching the grid. He closed his eyes; grey lines flashed and singed in his vision, but no red lines appeared. “No, I’m sorry, Excalibur doesn’t exist.” Eric said, openly disappointed. Ahmed was full of great ideas. “Try this one—The Holy Grail.” Ahmed said. Eric laughed, almost choking on his mead “Why not?” He closed his eyes, thinking of the “holy grail,” whatever that might be. To his shock, the grey lines solidified, twisting and swirling in the grid. The lines turned blue; they burned in his vision. Eric screamed. His eyes glowed with a blue light; Ahmed stood up and stumbled backwards. Eric howled—as if possessed—writhing on the ground. “Ahmed. Help me” he gasped. Ahmed rushed to his side, “What’s wrong? What did you see?” The seizing abated. Eric looked up at his friend, “It’s real, and it’s close but—” “But what? Tell me, Eric.” Ahmed said impatiently. “I’ve never seen blue lines before.” Ahmed grasped Eric by the shoulders. “My friend, if this exists, it is worth more than all other treasures. We must find it.” Eric stood up, feeling stronger. Three, solid blue lines lay to the northwest of camp. He blinked, shook his head, and looked into the brown eyes of Ahmed. He had never seen such ferocity from his friend. Eric took a deep breath, “We can find it before dusk.” Ahmed was already moving, grabbing his bags “Then what are we waiting for? *** r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	Detroit is an...interesting city, you could say. The third decade of the 21st century’s began its glorious rebirth. In 2071, I was 15, and the city was ALIVE again, downtown bustled, the suburbs were reborn anew, and my home was a hub of American technology and industry. But there were still ruins on some of the outskirts. Devin and I spent most of that summer digging through the scrapyards and old run down buildings that they never got around to recycling. See, I was born with an ability. Someone would ask if I could find something, and I *could. Every time. Without fail. I could just sense it, even if I’d never seen it before. There was a feeling in my brain, like a golden burst in my neurons. If I closed my eyes and focused, I could pin the item inquired about to its geographic location, to the milliseconds on longitude-latitude map. Devin loved this game. He was fascinated with old tech. He would read and research, and if he found something he liked, we would go out and search. Dee affectionately began referring to this as “treasure hunting”. “Want to go hunt for some treasure today, Mickie,” he would ask. Sometimes 3 or 4 times a week, if we were on a roll. That was the best summer. We dug up so many gigantic old computers from the ‘10s, clunky cell phones, fax machines, even ancient Diesel engines if he was particularly inspired. Then one day he came with the absolute most interesting request. In an old fairy tale he heard about, something called The Holy Grail. If legend served, it had the power to heal any wound, cure any illness, potentially give everlasting life. Devin was convinced it existed, and the stories about it true. I was skeptical, I didn’t give in at first. “Those are just old stories,” I would laugh back at him, “we have proof that Diesel engines and Dell Computers existed, you just saw this thing in a movie.” “Fine,” he scoffed back, unrelenting, “if you look and there’s nothing, I’ll give up, but you could at least try, Mick.” I rolled my eyes. “Alright, but we’re taking a break if you’re wrong, my brain starts to hurt if I do it too much.” I closed my eyes and thought Holy Grail. It popped up. Impossible, I thought. I tried again, Jesus’s Holy Grail*. The golden surge under my eyelids sent me tumbling back onto my bed. It was real, and it was close, inside the city limits. I opened my eyes and looked up, Devin was positively BEAMING back at me, his eyes and smile almost as bright as the golden surge I just conjured. “Where?!” “The Packard Plant.” 90 minutes later, we were on the threshold of the old ruin,a crown jewel of urban decay, abandoned for over 60 years. At some point, people started wondering if the place was haunted. How could it be that the the Holy Grail, THE Holy Grail, was here: a graveyard of concrete, glass, and steel. I closed my eyes again and concentrated. The surge came back stronger than ever. “This is the right place,” Devin asked again, no question in his voice. “I’m sure of it,” I reassured him, unsure of my abilities for the first time ever. Dee sprinted off towards the front doors, or what was left of them. I tried to call after him, but he trudged on ahead, and I trudged on right after him. Crawling over falling beams, and stepping around broken glass, only cautious to not get hurt, and not even bothering about the noise we made, we wound our way through the plant. Every square inch of this place was covered in graffiti overlapping in layers and layers of spray paint, and as I stopped to look at a particularly crude art installation, I noticed my breath in the air. It was unnaturally cold for August, but the sun was still up. I realized I had grabbed my coat on the way out of the house, and then remembered I sweat through it on the walk here. Suddenly, my brain stung with a golden energy. I hadn’t even been focusing on the Grail. There was a constant feeling circling around my head now, this had never happened before. “We’re close,” I called down the hall to Dee’s back. We wound down staircases and hallways. Down and down and down, to a section no one had touched or maybe SEEN in half a century. Then we heard a sound. Both at the same time. A low hum, not steady, but rhythmic. My flesh pricked up. Dee felt it too. He looked back at me, the first time I had seen him unsettled. We crawled down a tunnel. Pitch dark, until it wasn’t. At the end of the hall, through the doorway at the end, a low light seemed to emanate. A white light, unnatural, unlike any light i’d ever seen. The golden surge in my brain was distracting at this point, to say the absolute least I could about it. We got to the door at the same time. Dee glanced one more time back at me, and we poked our heads around the corner. My breath caught, and I had to clamp a hand around Dee’s mouth to stop him from crying out. There it was. A gigantic, silvery, glittering, glowing...dragon. My best friend and I just stood in the doorway, staring. The thing was magnificent. It was asleep atop and enormous pile of treasure. The golden surge pulsed in my brain once more, and as I went to point our quarry out to Devin, the beast opened its eyes, and stared straight into ours.	I blinked. No...it couldn't be. Blinked again. The faint shimmer was still there. Seriously, universe? "Uhh...hey dude...you're never gonna belive this..." I started slowly, my eyes fixed on the invisible point. My friend turned, his eyes growing wide as he realised why I was staring. "Bro...no way! Are you kidding??" He laughed incredulously as I shook my head. "Nope. Get in the car." We pull out of the driveway and I can feel it, the urging in my chest when I'm Seeking. It feels like anxiety, like a thrill, like the most euphoria inducing drug you can imagine. After about twenty minutes the shimmer is stronger, surrounding...a coffee shop? "Dude.. I thought the holy grail was like...treasure or something!" My friend groans, dissapointed. "Are you sure you didn't just want a danish?" I shoot him a look to shut him up and walk in....and the shimmer is surrounding a girl. She's sitting arched over a laptop and a pile of books, coffee steaming and a half eaten bluberry muffin beside her. Her short red hair is pinned neatly under a slouchy beanie cap. I look over to my friend, and his eyes are fixed on her. "Bro...." He swallows thickly, and I smile as he slides into the booth. They got married a year later, and are expecting their first kid next month. And me? I learned that the greatest treasure in the world, the thing that everyone is searching for...is love. Kinda cheesy, huh?
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you.	We sat down at the only open table in the crowded bar. The table was tucked away in the back corner situated somewhat awkwardly near the bar. Finding the table hadn't been difficult. I'd always been able to find whatever it was I was looking for. My new friend sat down across from me and flagged down one of the beleaguered waitstaff to order a drink. "I honestly have no idea how you do it H. I've been to this bar thirty times and I don't think I've ever seen this table." He tapped his knuckles against the bar in an absentminded non-rhythm. "I'm not really sure, it's the damnedest thing. A floating arrow appears in my head and gives me all the information I need on where to find well, just about anything." I scooted my chair back as the waitress stepped up to our table and placed a full mug of stout in front of my friend, and a delicious appletini for me. My friend looked at my drink and asked sardonically, "Could you possibly be any more of a woman?" I flipped him off enthusiastically with one hand, and took a sip with the other. "Listen, I AM a woman. Besides, it's not my fault YOU don't have any taste." He chuckled and took a drink of his beer. "So. How far does this go? Where is the eagle diamond?" I paused for a moment, "In about five hundred different locations. The nearest piece is three hundred miles southwest of here." His face lit up in surprise, "Well, I guess they won't be finding it any time soon then. How about the holy grail?" I was about to laugh, potentially spitting up some of my appletini, when a marker popped into my skull. It resounded there like the hammer of Gods. I spit my drink directly into his face. "What the hell!?" he exclaimed. "The holy grail is about five miles southwest of here." I said, my voice flat. My friend sat up in his seat, wiping his face with a napkin. "You're kidding right? There's no way the holy grail is in Wisconsin." I recovered slowly from my shock and said, "It's right there, the cup in which flowed the blood of Christ. It's underground, about two hundred feet." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. "I don't have anything smaller, but I'm feeling generous." He placed it on the table. I stood and nodded my head, "Let's go then. We're on a quest to find the holy grail." He frowned and said, "I swear, if you say Ni...." We laughed as we walked through the door, and out into the frigid night. We drove down the highway at speeds that were frankly a bit excessive. Being that we were two mature, reasonable adults, we were blasting the theme song to Indiana Jones. We sang along despite the complete lack of lyrics. We took an exit shortly after entering the freeway and drove down roads which were not particularly well maintained. The roads here were broken and riddled with potholes. Driving down the night-black road we eventually arrived at an unassuming warehouse in less than stellar repair. We parked the car behind a shrubbery, and walked up to the building. Small sheets of ice cracked under my shoes as I walked. We walked up to the entrance and I reached into my coat pocket. Something which came with knowing where everything you wanted was, was that inevitably you learned how to acquire it as well. I pulled out a lock pick and tumbler. Working efficiently, and cursing a mere half dozen times, I heard a click and the door swung open. The warehouse stood empty save for a single hanging light which hung over a hatch in the floor. We carefully walked up to the hatch and my friend muscled the door open. This revealed a set of rickety looking wooden stairs leading down into a black abyss. We looked each other dead in the eye and nodded. I pulled out my cellphone and turned on the flashlight, the light seemed to melt into the darkness. As if the darkness had been ravenous for photons and were loath to let them go. We stepped our way down the stairs, attempting to, and failing to, keep silent as possible. We reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a figure clad in shadow, sitting at the side of an ancient looking door. Cautious at first, we slowly walked towards the figure after we realized the noise coming down the stairs would've woken them anyway. The figure turned out to be an extremely dead man. I say extremely dead because I think a simple dead doesn't quite hit the linguistic mark. It was ancient as the mummies of Egypt were ancient, and a massive hole gaped from where his chest had been. ________________________________________________ /r/SirLemoncakes I've got to finish this in a bit. Have to drive home from work.	"Too bad you can't find the holy grail," Parker says, sipping his milkshake at the diner. "It would be a real lifesaver, Callie." I laugh from the other side of the booth. "I wish." Parker and I have been friends for several years. We met in a support group for teens with cancer. He swears he always knows what time it is because of his sickness, but I'm the only one of us who has an actual superpower. I can see where any item is if asked to find it. I don't really expect to see anything now, which makes it a surprise when a marker appears in my vision. Parker notices the change in my expression. "Wait, can you actually see it?" I nod, confused. "There's a marker five miles to the north. Maybe there's another object called the holy grail?" "Maybe." Parker tosses a $20 bill onto the table and downs the rest of his milkshake. "But we should check it out, right? I'll drive." Parker has always been a 'seize the day' type of person. I'm much more cautious, even timid, and I can't help but think this must be some kind of mistake. There's a huge forest five miles north. We won't have any cell phone signal or hiking gear. What if something happens to us while we're out there? "Come on, Callie," he says, sensing my hesitance. I know his favorite phrase is coming next. "What do we have to lose?" On the drive north, I give Parker directions based on where the marker is located. When we reach the forest, I follow him out of the car and onto a hiking trail. But after about a mile, our path diverges from the trail and leads into an area of the forest that seems to be untouched by civilization. "What if there are snakes out here?" I ask, glancing at the dirt. My white sneakers are not made for this. "Or, like, bears?" "Then we'll have a fantastic story to tell later," Parker says, grinning at me. And then we step around the largest tree I've ever seen, and it's there. Not the holy grail, but a patch of shimmering air that looks really strange. From up close, I can see that it's a window into another world. On the other side is an unfamiliar forest, and a corpse in medieval armor is lying on the ground. Parker doesn't even hesitate. He steps through the window and kneels down beside the corpse, examining the armor. I follow him through and shiver at the change in temperature on the other side. It's summer back where we came from, but this feels like autumn. When Parker's eyes meet mine, I can tell that he's more stunned than I've ever seen him. "You know that superpower I always joke about? Turns out it's true, Callie. We've gone back in time. This is the medieval period." I want to say he's joking, but the marker has moved hundreds of miles away. Now that we're on this side of the window, I'm starting to believe the holy grail might actually be real. It might be within our grasp. "It's really far away," I say. "But I can still see the marker." Parker unsheathes a medieval sword from the corpse in armor and stands back up. "So what do you think, Callie? Should we look for the holy grail? It's your decision." Parker knows I'm usually too scared to do something like this. It's the reason I haven't really used my superpower much. Why trespass or risk confrontation just to acquire an object? But the holy grail could grant us eternal life. It could cure both of us permanently. And with him at my side, it doesn't feel quite as terrifying to venture into the unknown. After a moment, I reach out and take the sword from him. "All right," I say, smiling at Parker. "What do we have to lose?" --- r/ChlorineGirl
[WP] When people die they get the chance to know how they died and who is responsible for their death. When you finally get to the clerk at the reception she looks you up and heads to the back. After a while she comes back with someone else, it's the manager. They tell you there's no record for you.	A tight pain formed in my chest, as I urged my self to breathe, and to calm down. Looking at the manager, I asked her what could have happened to it. "We aren't sure," she said in a nervous manner, "We'll be right on it." They left. They were gone for three hours. A man walked into the room. He seemed to be emitting some sort of energy. Dark energy. "Look kid, we never got your file. Simple as that. So what I'm going to have to do is either let you into the afterlife without any records, which isn't typically allowed, or I have to resurrect you. But today, I have an offer," he said as he held out his hand, a blue fire flickering inches above it, "I can send you back. I can send you back with infinite power, and there you'll do something for me." "What kinds of power?" I asked. "Basically, you get to grant yourself and others powers that do or don't exist already. And for what you're gonna do for me, you need to stop a very powerful person. You'll need a team. Afterwards, you can do anything you want with your power. Including visiting any realm. Even this one." he said, gesturing for me to shake his hand as the fire enveloped it. "Deal" I said, gripping the hand, flames engulfing my body, feeling the same tight pain form in my chest, as I collapsed to my knees. In the seconds I was on the ground, I saw everything. Light. Dark. Pain. Ecstasy. And I realized who I had just made a deal with. The man we called the Devil.	"No record? How is that possible?" "We're not entirely sure." "Actually... There are 3 reasons you wouldn't have a record. You likely won't like one of the three." The receptionist looked up at the manager in disbelief. "You would either be an angel that was incarnated on the earth, you could be a separate lifeform altogether, or, and this is the one you will likely like the least, You never truly existed to begin with." "Well which is it?!" "There's only one way to find out..." Said the Manager. "... Deirae isn't going to cooperate..." The receptionist said quietly, balling her hands into a tight fist. "Deirae is the name we use to refer to what you may know as the Grim Reaper or Death, just so you know. We're going to have to go and visit if we want to figure out which reason it is. Otherwise you'll be stuck in the lobby here or sent to a separate realm parallel to the one you should be in." &#x200B; I stared at the floor for only a few seconds before looking the Manager in the eyes with a ferocity only few have seen from me. My voice was lower and a bit more grave than previously. "Looks like we're going then. Doesn't it?"
[WP] When people die they get the chance to know how they died and who is responsible for their death. When you finally get to the clerk at the reception she looks you up and heads to the back. After a while she comes back with someone else, it's the manager. They tell you there's no record for you.	I found myself in a long line. I am not aware how I how a got here but with this many people, it must be important. When I got to the front of the queue, I saw that the counter wasn't unlike a bank, with multiple tellers assisting people. The third receptionist from the left called out for me. "Name please." Said the teller "David Sanders. "Thank you, sir. One moment." "Wait miss, I don't understand why I am here." "That's quite normal, it will be clear in a moment." She got up from her desk and went into a back room. Before the door closed, I thought I saw a small pair wings on her back. While she was gone, I watch the other tellers. I started to understand the process. A winged lady asks for a name, brushes off any question, goes to the back room, return with a file and escorts them to a side room with the file before returning to her seat to call up the next person. This process repeated 4-5 times for the other desks before my receptionist returned with not a file but a large man with 6 huge wings. Everyone in the room couldn't help but stare in silence at the glory of this being. "Mr. Sander don't be afraid, I am Michael and run things around here. I need you to follow me." His voice boomed as he lead to a side room. Michael peaked into the room and asked the man seating in the room to leave. Micheal takes his seat, his wings awkwardly hanging around the chair. He gestures me to sit across from him. "David you are dead. The decrease come here to before they go on the Afterlife. My angels discuss your life and final moments with you, to work through any regrets you may have. "I won't beat around the bush here, Mr. Sanders. We don't have your death file. Your life file is here." He tosses a folder until the table. "Make no mistake, you are dead, and it seems you lived a full life with many grandchildren but we can't discuss your death with you." "That is perfectly ok, just sent me on. I am not terribly interested in my death." Michael puts his elbows on the table, crosses his hands and leads forward. "Let me clarify, after you leave this room, you will be judged by the Creator. You will go the heaven or be udderly destroyed. You are missing information, you will be playing with a handicap. Sure your life was great and you managed to skip over the Void but alot can happen in one's last few minutes." I lean back, understanding the weight of the situation, I don't want to deal with this. "What is this Void?" I said trying to avoid this problem. "Not everyone accepts death like you. Unruly and unsure souls spend time in the Void to tire themselves out. Once they are accepting of this death, they come here. The Void is a lawless and violent place. It's not uncommon for worst to spent centuries thrashing about. It is truly better for them to be destroyed." "Sounds awful" "Indeed, now back to your case. You have two options. Go forward with your judgement or, since my department can't find your file, I am prepared to offer you a place here. You can help the angels find files in the back." I weighed my two options, and decided on a third choice."I fear I am not cut out for bookkeeping and facing judgement half-heartedly sounds like a bad idea. Also, I can't get my thoughts off of the folks suffering in the Void, they just need some guidance. Can't you help them?" "Angels are forbidden to enter the Void." "Then let me go. I couldn't just sit around here knowing people are needing some help." Michael studied my face for a few moments and said "Very well, nothing I can say can prepare you for this but it seems nothing will stop you either. Don't regret this, I would hate to see you ending up being destroyed." The room disappeared and was replaced with a hellish landscape. I spent many years trying to talk people into moving on, however some people needed more than words. I got bloodied up countless times. I found that wearing a black robe and carrying a scythe helps convince people to take more patient course of action. Of course, once people gave me the name "reaper", it sped up the progress a bit. I will guide everyone in the Void to the next step of life, for better or worse.	"No record? How is that possible?" "We're not entirely sure." "Actually... There are 3 reasons you wouldn't have a record. You likely won't like one of the three." The receptionist looked up at the manager in disbelief. "You would either be an angel that was incarnated on the earth, you could be a separate lifeform altogether, or, and this is the one you will likely like the least, You never truly existed to begin with." "Well which is it?!" "There's only one way to find out..." Said the Manager. "... Deirae isn't going to cooperate..." The receptionist said quietly, balling her hands into a tight fist. "Deirae is the name we use to refer to what you may know as the Grim Reaper or Death, just so you know. We're going to have to go and visit if we want to figure out which reason it is. Otherwise you'll be stuck in the lobby here or sent to a separate realm parallel to the one you should be in." &#x200B; I stared at the floor for only a few seconds before looking the Manager in the eyes with a ferocity only few have seen from me. My voice was lower and a bit more grave than previously. "Looks like we're going then. Doesn't it?"
[WP] When people die they get the chance to know how they died and who is responsible for their death. When you finally get to the clerk at the reception she looks you up and heads to the back. After a while she comes back with someone else, it's the manager. They tell you there's no record for you.	I found myself in a long line. I am not aware how I how a got here but with this many people, it must be important. When I got to the front of the queue, I saw that the counter wasn't unlike a bank, with multiple tellers assisting people. The third receptionist from the left called out for me. "Name please." Said the teller "David Sanders. "Thank you, sir. One moment." "Wait miss, I don't understand why I am here." "That's quite normal, it will be clear in a moment." She got up from her desk and went into a back room. Before the door closed, I thought I saw a small pair wings on her back. While she was gone, I watch the other tellers. I started to understand the process. A winged lady asks for a name, brushes off any question, goes to the back room, return with a file and escorts them to a side room with the file before returning to her seat to call up the next person. This process repeated 4-5 times for the other desks before my receptionist returned with not a file but a large man with 6 huge wings. Everyone in the room couldn't help but stare in silence at the glory of this being. "Mr. Sander don't be afraid, I am Michael and run things around here. I need you to follow me." His voice boomed as he lead to a side room. Michael peaked into the room and asked the man seating in the room to leave. Micheal takes his seat, his wings awkwardly hanging around the chair. He gestures me to sit across from him. "David you are dead. The decrease come here to before they go on the Afterlife. My angels discuss your life and final moments with you, to work through any regrets you may have. "I won't beat around the bush here, Mr. Sanders. We don't have your death file. Your life file is here." He tosses a folder until the table. "Make no mistake, you are dead, and it seems you lived a full life with many grandchildren but we can't discuss your death with you." "That is perfectly ok, just sent me on. I am not terribly interested in my death." Michael puts his elbows on the table, crosses his hands and leads forward. "Let me clarify, after you leave this room, you will be judged by the Creator. You will go the heaven or be udderly destroyed. You are missing information, you will be playing with a handicap. Sure your life was great and you managed to skip over the Void but alot can happen in one's last few minutes." I lean back, understanding the weight of the situation, I don't want to deal with this. "What is this Void?" I said trying to avoid this problem. "Not everyone accepts death like you. Unruly and unsure souls spend time in the Void to tire themselves out. Once they are accepting of this death, they come here. The Void is a lawless and violent place. It's not uncommon for worst to spent centuries thrashing about. It is truly better for them to be destroyed." "Sounds awful" "Indeed, now back to your case. You have two options. Go forward with your judgement or, since my department can't find your file, I am prepared to offer you a place here. You can help the angels find files in the back." I weighed my two options, and decided on a third choice."I fear I am not cut out for bookkeeping and facing judgement half-heartedly sounds like a bad idea. Also, I can't get my thoughts off of the folks suffering in the Void, they just need some guidance. Can't you help them?" "Angels are forbidden to enter the Void." "Then let me go. I couldn't just sit around here knowing people are needing some help." Michael studied my face for a few moments and said "Very well, nothing I can say can prepare you for this but it seems nothing will stop you either. Don't regret this, I would hate to see you ending up being destroyed." The room disappeared and was replaced with a hellish landscape. I spent many years trying to talk people into moving on, however some people needed more than words. I got bloodied up countless times. I found that wearing a black robe and carrying a scythe helps convince people to take more patient course of action. Of course, once people gave me the name "reaper", it sped up the progress a bit. I will guide everyone in the Void to the next step of life, for better or worse.	A tight pain formed in my chest, as I urged my self to breathe, and to calm down. Looking at the manager, I asked her what could have happened to it. "We aren't sure," she said in a nervous manner, "We'll be right on it." They left. They were gone for three hours. A man walked into the room. He seemed to be emitting some sort of energy. Dark energy. "Look kid, we never got your file. Simple as that. So what I'm going to have to do is either let you into the afterlife without any records, which isn't typically allowed, or I have to resurrect you. But today, I have an offer," he said as he held out his hand, a blue fire flickering inches above it, "I can send you back. I can send you back with infinite power, and there you'll do something for me." "What kinds of power?" I asked. "Basically, you get to grant yourself and others powers that do or don't exist already. And for what you're gonna do for me, you need to stop a very powerful person. You'll need a team. Afterwards, you can do anything you want with your power. Including visiting any realm. Even this one." he said, gesturing for me to shake his hand as the fire enveloped it. "Deal" I said, gripping the hand, flames engulfing my body, feeling the same tight pain form in my chest, as I collapsed to my knees. In the seconds I was on the ground, I saw everything. Light. Dark. Pain. Ecstasy. And I realized who I had just made a deal with. The man we called the Devil.
[WP] When people die they get the chance to know how they died and who is responsible for their death. When you finally get to the clerk at the reception she looks you up and heads to the back. After a while she comes back with someone else, it's the manager. They tell you there's no record for you.	"Nothing?", I managed to blurt out as the manager stared at me with a look that seemed to combine sadness and surprise, indicating that this wasn't exactly an everyday case. And if I hadn't been terrified before, now I was. "Did you check everywhere? Could it be under someone else's name, another Chris Herley, stuck in the filing cabinet, fallen to the floor?" "I assure you sir, we looked everywhere but there was nothing found under your name. I apologize." I stared back at the manager, then glanced at the infinite line behind me, realizing that everyone else unlike me would just get their file, see how their life ended and be able to move on from the waiting room into the afterlife, and in a moment of frustration, I slammed my hands against the counter - except instead of hitting the counter, my hands just fell through it. I could hear an audible gasp in front of me, as the manager looked at me in shock, finger pointing right at me and suddenly a loud, low voice filled the whole, infinite room. "You do not belong here." I stared at the manager in disbelief, even more scared, but for different reasons now. I had already died, how much more I needed to go through today? "Well let me out of here then", I managed to cry out, the panic spreading through my body like an electric shock. The clerk next to the manager opened her mouth for the first time since going to get the manager, her tone sad and apologetic. "I'm afraid we can't do that sir. Follow me, please." I don't know how I managed to move my legs, but I curved around the counter, where the clerk had opened up a door for me. Inside, I saw another waiting room, but this time instead of an infinite line, I saw an infinite amount of chairs and to my surprise - more people. "What is this place?", I asked the clerk who gave me another apologetic smile. "It's a waiting room for people who haven't died yet", she replied before quickly disappearing to the other side of the door, and before I could react, I heard it lock behind me. I tried to bang on the door, I tried to kick it but my feet and hands just fell through it, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't make my whole body slide through the door and I screamed for them to open the door until my voice started to fade. I then turned my attention to the other people in the room, there were hundreds, thousands of them and by looking at them more closely, I saw the agony. One was shaking on the floor in a fetus position, one was slowly banging their head on the wall and one was sitting on a chair staring blankly ahead, no emotions on their face as I approached them. "What is happening here?", I tried to ask them but I got no response, even though I could see their lips moving. I waved my hand in front of them, trying to get a reaction but they didn't even blink. I went to the others as well, tried to make them say something, try to get an idea about what was going on but all they did was move their lips without no sound coming through. I them went back to the first person and put my ear right next to their mouth, and to my surprise I could now hear the words. "Let me go." "Let me go." "Let me go." Repeated over and over and over again, until their voices had given out and barely any sound could be heard anymore. I was confused, I was scared and I turned back to the door, and for the first time I noticed a small television on the corner of the room. I walked up to it and saw a person on a hospital bed, plugged into machines that kept them alive artificially, grieving people gathered around the bed, crying on their hands. And to my horror, I noticed the text running across the bottom of the screen: Chris Herley, 24, Wounded in a school shooting by a bullet to the head. In a coma, kept alive artificially by the wish of the family, chances for a recovery nearly non-existent. I stared at the people in the room, I stared at the locked door between me and a peaceful afterlife, and I stared at the screen and as I watched my family cry around me, the words escaped my lips: "Let me go."	I am dead, and apparently I don’t exist. “I am talking to you right now. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t died. How can there be no record for me?” “Well you see…” the manager was short and round, and somehow mouse-like “there are a number of things that could have gone wrong. Not that we see a case like yours every day, but there’s been a few here and there. Thing is, I’m not sure you’re dead.” “What do you mean?” “A few centuries ago we had a gentleman about your age ascend. Monk, from Japan. I was on duty that day. He looked an awful lot like you..” “I’m Irish-American.” “That’s not what I mean. Old chap wasn’t all there, same’s is true for you, make of that what you will. Sat in a cave eating roots and meditating until he went, or at least that’s what our staff on the ground thought.." he sighed "..initially.” “I definitely didn’t do that..” it began to dawn on me.. “I had the guys give me the run-down of your last few years. Tough one, gotta admit I don’t always go with the times but I’m pretty sure I figured it out.” I died in a hospital. Fairly close to my home. They must have come for me quickly… “Indeed – not all here yet. We don’t have a procedure for your type yet. Cryonics – we should really come up with a process for that one..”. He walked away, shaking his head. The receptionist smiled at me: “Sir, please take a seat in the waiting room. This might take a while.”
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	Roughly 3 hours (or three days I didn't really bother to keep time these days) after that conversation I sat on a table trying to decide wether to itch at the space between the tracking bracket and my wrist or at the crusty bandages over my eyes.. or maybe I could manage both? I continued to attempt such a feat till I heard it coming toward me, it continued talking to itself as it fiddled with the bandagesaround my head till they suddenly loosened, something smashed to the floor, suddenly I was on the other side of the room, something hot dribbled over my lips, sounds muted out and disappeared and for a moment everything was chaotic fear, then I fell to the floor closing my eyes shut gasping for air and the calmness that would hopefull come with it, I touched my hand to my ear, transfer the molten substance then peeked at my hand, It glistend with colors, yup definitely blood, but also not? My hand glistend with thousands of colors, I slowly looked up at the alien being looking bow at me, it was talking again but no longer to its self, another creature floated by it's side, stranger still they both eminated radiant colors, my original keeper picked up a helmet with cords dangling from it and popped it one my head before hurriedly typing something into a computer then he stopped, turning to look at me the color around him changed to something closer to a sickly green, that was the day they found out humans can see emotions with the full color spectrum "Well I can't see shidadle now" I replied, breafly touching the rugged bandages covering my eyes before going back to itching at the small space between the tracking bracelet and my wrist,	Sotha, my alien friend, walked into my house, and sniffed an old Homestuck shirt I had on the floor. "Yes, Marjory, this has the mark of the Ghoosha on it." I picked it up, and flung it across my room, disgusted by the rancid odor. "Benny must have peed on this! That cat!" Sotha cringed a bit. "Well, cat to them is like what monkey is to you." I looked around for Benedict, my Siamese cat, and found him on my bedroom chair, sleeping away. "So... Ghoosha... can see ultraviolet? And they can communicate through... spraying? Benny!" Sotha stroked their paw on Benny's fur, and woke him up. "Benny, your Ghoosha roommate, is an introvered being, but sometimes he needs to protect you from others like them that might want to hurt you." I picked up Benedict, and stroked his fur, while Sotha's face lit up. "Well, Marjory. I like how he trusts you to pick him up. It's like you're a giant Ghoosha yourself to him. We've been studying their and your species' behavior for years, and it seems like this is an acceptable symbiotic relationship among the two rulers of Earth. It's like you built civilization together." I brought up the topic of dogs, and Sotha told me they were just pack animals, as he offered Benedict a bowl of grilled fish. Ghoosha are strange beings.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	I stare at the man in interest. Well, I saw him as a man. We are face-to-face currently, but over the screens, I saw him as a wispy, gray creature, with many eyes and long, tapered fingers ending in black. "Yessss, the Ghooossshhhaaa," he hisses, his voice vaguely resembling a kettle that is boiling over. "You've seen them, yesss? There are many..." His voice trails off, a result of the translator beginning to adjust. It's so slow, but the BER hasn’t gotten funds lately. "They walk, they fly, they swim... Stars, can you not see them? They walk as you do, they speak as you do, they know you, yet you do not know them?" I'm speechless. This, this, man has accused me of ignorance in front of all the world! Doesn’t he know how this will tarnish my image? On second thought, he probably does. It does make him look good, after all. Snake! I grit my teeth, my perfect smile never falling from my perfectly controlled face. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I'm afraid I don't know these 'Ghoosha', as you put it. Is there, perhaps, and equivalent word in our language?" "Yes, they call themselves sh-" His voice is sharply cut off. I stare, in fear and curiosity, straight in my seat. Is he having a fit? A heart attack? (Does he have a heart?) His face goes pale, his illusion slipping. A cold wave of terror washes over me. I've seen this once before. It was when a juvenile of their species attacked a human, resulting in a poison dart. In the last moments of his life, the illusion fell. His face is almost fully translucent. I can see the tips of his fingers. They are pitch black. Then as suddenly as the fit came upon him, it leaves. Shocked back into reality, I jump to my feet and rush to the ambassador, kneeling beside him. But it is hopeless. He is dead, his illusion existing only in memory. I'm suddenly terrified. Their ambassador has died, on our planet, in our midst, seemingly at our hands. This could spell war, and frankly, I don't know whether going nuclear on them could stop that. I'm feeling cold right now. Over a few moments, the feeling intensifies, until I feel a cold breath fanning across my right ear. "He was giving away our secrets, Ambassador. Do not make the same mistake."	Sotha, my alien friend, walked into my house, and sniffed an old Homestuck shirt I had on the floor. "Yes, Marjory, this has the mark of the Ghoosha on it." I picked it up, and flung it across my room, disgusted by the rancid odor. "Benny must have peed on this! That cat!" Sotha cringed a bit. "Well, cat to them is like what monkey is to you." I looked around for Benedict, my Siamese cat, and found him on my bedroom chair, sleeping away. "So... Ghoosha... can see ultraviolet? And they can communicate through... spraying? Benny!" Sotha stroked their paw on Benny's fur, and woke him up. "Benny, your Ghoosha roommate, is an introvered being, but sometimes he needs to protect you from others like them that might want to hurt you." I picked up Benedict, and stroked his fur, while Sotha's face lit up. "Well, Marjory. I like how he trusts you to pick him up. It's like you're a giant Ghoosha yourself to him. We've been studying their and your species' behavior for years, and it seems like this is an acceptable symbiotic relationship among the two rulers of Earth. It's like you built civilization together." I brought up the topic of dogs, and Sotha told me they were just pack animals, as he offered Benedict a bowl of grilled fish. Ghoosha are strange beings.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"We call them Ghosts." When the alien first mentioned the name Ghoosa, the ambassador was sceptical and confused. But as the alien explained a Ghoosa, he slowly start to realise what it was. "Yes some people on earth believe in them and every few say that they have encountered them. I consider it a bloody superstition. I believe in what my eyes can see, my ear can hear and my hand can touch" "But your eyes are incapable of seeing them. They are tripolatized and the Ghoosa exists in quarantine spectrum" "Right. Then for me they don't exists" The alien who looked exactly like a human but with absolutely no hair smiled at the ambassador. "But they do friend. And people do see them when your mental activity recalibrates for the hormonal surges" "What?" "Tell me human, when and where are all the tales of ghosts from?" "I don't understand what you ........ Oh. Fuck oh. " "Yes human. When men are afraid, when the darkness limits the tripolatized spectrum or when the fog filters the white light. It is when all your ghost encounters are. The adrenaline laced blood helps the optic centre focus on what is unseen" "I don't believe in bull shit like ghosts. I am a man of science" The ambassador was getting up to leave. He continued "Right if we can't see or touch them, why don't they touch us?" "Oh they do. And you will know when they touch" the humanoid smiled while his eyes drifted behind the man. The ambassador suddenly felt a chill in the air, goosebumps appeared on his forearm and in his reflection on the windowpane behind the alien he saw his dead wife with her hand on his forearm. The ambassadors scream and the aliens laughter echoed out of the room as the guards rushed it.	Sotha, my alien friend, walked into my house, and sniffed an old Homestuck shirt I had on the floor. "Yes, Marjory, this has the mark of the Ghoosha on it." I picked it up, and flung it across my room, disgusted by the rancid odor. "Benny must have peed on this! That cat!" Sotha cringed a bit. "Well, cat to them is like what monkey is to you." I looked around for Benedict, my Siamese cat, and found him on my bedroom chair, sleeping away. "So... Ghoosha... can see ultraviolet? And they can communicate through... spraying? Benny!" Sotha stroked their paw on Benny's fur, and woke him up. "Benny, your Ghoosha roommate, is an introvered being, but sometimes he needs to protect you from others like them that might want to hurt you." I picked up Benedict, and stroked his fur, while Sotha's face lit up. "Well, Marjory. I like how he trusts you to pick him up. It's like you're a giant Ghoosha yourself to him. We've been studying their and your species' behavior for years, and it seems like this is an acceptable symbiotic relationship among the two rulers of Earth. It's like you built civilization together." I brought up the topic of dogs, and Sotha told me they were just pack animals, as he offered Benedict a bowl of grilled fish. Ghoosha are strange beings.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	I stare at the alien. “What are the—” A searing, stabbing pain suddenly explodes in my legs and quickly spreads across my whole body like wildfire. I try to scream, to cry out, but it’s too late. My throat constricts. My jaws clamp. My whole body shuts down. With a look on its face that seems perhaps somewhere between shock and terror, the alien turns and flees. I’m all alone now. I collapse back into the ground, my head bouncing hard against the pavement. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as blood trickles from my shattered skull. I lie like that for a time. A still conscious corpse unable to move, to breath, to blink or even move my eyes a little. Darkness blossoms in my vision, swirling everything away. My mind goes last. It feels strange, kind of like how I’d imagine falling into a black hole would be...a stretching and a thinning passing away into nothingness. In my very last moments, I hear a voice that seems to emanate from somewhere within me. A voice that speaks in perfectly enunciated English. “Housing unit #111124675846 has been shutdown. It was informed of our existence. We require assistance. Over.” I really wish I could scream.	Sotha, my alien friend, walked into my house, and sniffed an old Homestuck shirt I had on the floor. "Yes, Marjory, this has the mark of the Ghoosha on it." I picked it up, and flung it across my room, disgusted by the rancid odor. "Benny must have peed on this! That cat!" Sotha cringed a bit. "Well, cat to them is like what monkey is to you." I looked around for Benedict, my Siamese cat, and found him on my bedroom chair, sleeping away. "So... Ghoosha... can see ultraviolet? And they can communicate through... spraying? Benny!" Sotha stroked their paw on Benny's fur, and woke him up. "Benny, your Ghoosha roommate, is an introvered being, but sometimes he needs to protect you from others like them that might want to hurt you." I picked up Benedict, and stroked his fur, while Sotha's face lit up. "Well, Marjory. I like how he trusts you to pick him up. It's like you're a giant Ghoosha yourself to him. We've been studying their and your species' behavior for years, and it seems like this is an acceptable symbiotic relationship among the two rulers of Earth. It's like you built civilization together." I brought up the topic of dogs, and Sotha told me they were just pack animals, as he offered Benedict a bowl of grilled fish. Ghoosha are strange beings.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	I laughed nervously. I shouldn't have done this -- the summit was all but over, broken for a brief recess before the final terms had been agreed to. Diplomacy, it was being called, although it was more like Earth being bound in shackles. "Fascinating," the alien finally said, the gills on his neck flaring. It blinked, and I fought off a wave of revulsion -- their eyes were too large, too empty, and this alien was currently staring at me. After another long, awkward moment, the alien leaned down to get closer. "Is it true you can only see three basic colors?" The alien's question was almost conspiratorial, a vast difference from the bland tone of the meeting. "Three colors?" I nearly laughed again, but opted for clearing my throat instead. "No, we see much more than that, although it is true that all the colors we can visualize are based off of three primary colors." The alien was mostly silent, blinking slowly again. They were all like this. Every action seemed deliberately slow and calculated. "So then how do you communicate with Ghoosha?" The question caught me off guard. "With what? Goo, er, gusher?" I couldn't quite pronounce the word properly. Human mouths weren't formed for the delicate words and pronunciation of the aliens' language. The alien's gills flicked outwards for a moment before resuming their gentle sway. "Ghoosha," it corrected, infinitely patient. "The other major race on your planet." I bit down on my lip, hard, desperately wanting to laugh. Another race? Not possible -- but the aliens never lied. They were careful, pragmatic creatures, and either didn't quite grasp the concept of lying or dismissed the act of lying entirely. Some of us were convinced it was the former, and that the aliens were a gentle, childlike race without a proper grasp on human actions. Over the course of the summit I had seen some world leaders treat the aliens patronizingly. The aliens hadn't seemed to mind, responding to every question kindly and thoroughly no matter how contemptuous -- but they never lied or mislead. That meant that the Ghoosha, whatever they were, were real. It was my turn to pause. The alien waited for my response, gills swaying. It took me another moment to collect myself. "We are unaware of the goo-shaw. This is something we should discuss more thoroughly once the summit resumes." The alien blinked slowly, gills curling at the tips before unfurling. Their features were broad, flat, and grey, as was with most of their kind. It was hard to register emotion -- any emotion -- at all, even with how large their eyes were. Yet it seemed, almost, as if the alien pitied me. They blinked again, clear eyelids stretching across their eyes. "Yes," the alien said. "We should. But may I ask another question?" I glanced at my watch. "If it's quick. We resume in four minutes." The alien blinked again. "What color am I to you?" I raised a brow. Trick question? No -- it had to be related, overall. The aliens didn't ask without reason and this would be no exception. "Grey," I responded, glancing at my watch again. The alien waited, patiently, and then it clicked -- "We can't see them," I said flatly, looking up at the alien again. "Yes," it responded, and this time I was sure of it. Pity. It colored their voice. "It seems we have so much more to discuss."	Sotha, my alien friend, walked into my house, and sniffed an old Homestuck shirt I had on the floor. "Yes, Marjory, this has the mark of the Ghoosha on it." I picked it up, and flung it across my room, disgusted by the rancid odor. "Benny must have peed on this! That cat!" Sotha cringed a bit. "Well, cat to them is like what monkey is to you." I looked around for Benedict, my Siamese cat, and found him on my bedroom chair, sleeping away. "So... Ghoosha... can see ultraviolet? And they can communicate through... spraying? Benny!" Sotha stroked their paw on Benny's fur, and woke him up. "Benny, your Ghoosha roommate, is an introvered being, but sometimes he needs to protect you from others like them that might want to hurt you." I picked up Benedict, and stroked his fur, while Sotha's face lit up. "Well, Marjory. I like how he trusts you to pick him up. It's like you're a giant Ghoosha yourself to him. We've been studying their and your species' behavior for years, and it seems like this is an acceptable symbiotic relationship among the two rulers of Earth. It's like you built civilization together." I brought up the topic of dogs, and Sotha told me they were just pack animals, as he offered Benedict a bowl of grilled fish. Ghoosha are strange beings.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	Sotha, my alien friend, walked into my house, and sniffed an old Homestuck shirt I had on the floor. "Yes, Marjory, this has the mark of the Ghoosha on it." I picked it up, and flung it across my room, disgusted by the rancid odor. "Benny must have peed on this! That cat!" Sotha cringed a bit. "Well, cat to them is like what monkey is to you." I looked around for Benedict, my Siamese cat, and found him on my bedroom chair, sleeping away. "So... Ghoosha... can see ultraviolet? And they can communicate through... spraying? Benny!" Sotha stroked their paw on Benny's fur, and woke him up. "Benny, your Ghoosha roommate, is an introvered being, but sometimes he needs to protect you from others like them that might want to hurt you." I picked up Benedict, and stroked his fur, while Sotha's face lit up. "Well, Marjory. I like how he trusts you to pick him up. It's like you're a giant Ghoosha yourself to him. We've been studying their and your species' behavior for years, and it seems like this is an acceptable symbiotic relationship among the two rulers of Earth. It's like you built civilization together." I brought up the topic of dogs, and Sotha told me they were just pack animals, as he offered Benedict a bowl of grilled fish. Ghoosha are strange beings.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"We call them Ghosts." When the alien first mentioned the name Ghoosa, the ambassador was sceptical and confused. But as the alien explained a Ghoosa, he slowly start to realise what it was. "Yes some people on earth believe in them and every few say that they have encountered them. I consider it a bloody superstition. I believe in what my eyes can see, my ear can hear and my hand can touch" "But your eyes are incapable of seeing them. They are tripolatized and the Ghoosa exists in quarantine spectrum" "Right. Then for me they don't exists" The alien who looked exactly like a human but with absolutely no hair smiled at the ambassador. "But they do friend. And people do see them when your mental activity recalibrates for the hormonal surges" "What?" "Tell me human, when and where are all the tales of ghosts from?" "I don't understand what you ........ Oh. Fuck oh. " "Yes human. When men are afraid, when the darkness limits the tripolatized spectrum or when the fog filters the white light. It is when all your ghost encounters are. The adrenaline laced blood helps the optic centre focus on what is unseen" "I don't believe in bull shit like ghosts. I am a man of science" The ambassador was getting up to leave. He continued "Right if we can't see or touch them, why don't they touch us?" "Oh they do. And you will know when they touch" the humanoid smiled while his eyes drifted behind the man. The ambassador suddenly felt a chill in the air, goosebumps appeared on his forearm and in his reflection on the windowpane behind the alien he saw his dead wife with her hand on his forearm. The ambassadors scream and the aliens laughter echoed out of the room as the guards rushed it.	Roughly 3 hours (or three days I didn't really bother to keep time these days) after that conversation I sat on a table trying to decide wether to itch at the space between the tracking bracket and my wrist or at the crusty bandages over my eyes.. or maybe I could manage both? I continued to attempt such a feat till I heard it coming toward me, it continued talking to itself as it fiddled with the bandagesaround my head till they suddenly loosened, something smashed to the floor, suddenly I was on the other side of the room, something hot dribbled over my lips, sounds muted out and disappeared and for a moment everything was chaotic fear, then I fell to the floor closing my eyes shut gasping for air and the calmness that would hopefull come with it, I touched my hand to my ear, transfer the molten substance then peeked at my hand, It glistend with colors, yup definitely blood, but also not? My hand glistend with thousands of colors, I slowly looked up at the alien being looking bow at me, it was talking again but no longer to its self, another creature floated by it's side, stranger still they both eminated radiant colors, my original keeper picked up a helmet with cords dangling from it and popped it one my head before hurriedly typing something into a computer then he stopped, turning to look at me the color around him changed to something closer to a sickly green, that was the day they found out humans can see emotions with the full color spectrum "Well I can't see shidadle now" I replied, breafly touching the rugged bandages covering my eyes before going back to itching at the small space between the tracking bracelet and my wrist,
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	I stare at the alien. “What are the—” A searing, stabbing pain suddenly explodes in my legs and quickly spreads across my whole body like wildfire. I try to scream, to cry out, but it’s too late. My throat constricts. My jaws clamp. My whole body shuts down. With a look on its face that seems perhaps somewhere between shock and terror, the alien turns and flees. I’m all alone now. I collapse back into the ground, my head bouncing hard against the pavement. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as blood trickles from my shattered skull. I lie like that for a time. A still conscious corpse unable to move, to breath, to blink or even move my eyes a little. Darkness blossoms in my vision, swirling everything away. My mind goes last. It feels strange, kind of like how I’d imagine falling into a black hole would be...a stretching and a thinning passing away into nothingness. In my very last moments, I hear a voice that seems to emanate from somewhere within me. A voice that speaks in perfectly enunciated English. “Housing unit #111124675846 has been shutdown. It was informed of our existence. We require assistance. Over.” I really wish I could scream.	Roughly 3 hours (or three days I didn't really bother to keep time these days) after that conversation I sat on a table trying to decide wether to itch at the space between the tracking bracket and my wrist or at the crusty bandages over my eyes.. or maybe I could manage both? I continued to attempt such a feat till I heard it coming toward me, it continued talking to itself as it fiddled with the bandagesaround my head till they suddenly loosened, something smashed to the floor, suddenly I was on the other side of the room, something hot dribbled over my lips, sounds muted out and disappeared and for a moment everything was chaotic fear, then I fell to the floor closing my eyes shut gasping for air and the calmness that would hopefull come with it, I touched my hand to my ear, transfer the molten substance then peeked at my hand, It glistend with colors, yup definitely blood, but also not? My hand glistend with thousands of colors, I slowly looked up at the alien being looking bow at me, it was talking again but no longer to its self, another creature floated by it's side, stranger still they both eminated radiant colors, my original keeper picked up a helmet with cords dangling from it and popped it one my head before hurriedly typing something into a computer then he stopped, turning to look at me the color around him changed to something closer to a sickly green, that was the day they found out humans can see emotions with the full color spectrum "Well I can't see shidadle now" I replied, breafly touching the rugged bandages covering my eyes before going back to itching at the small space between the tracking bracelet and my wrist,
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	I laughed nervously. I shouldn't have done this -- the summit was all but over, broken for a brief recess before the final terms had been agreed to. Diplomacy, it was being called, although it was more like Earth being bound in shackles. "Fascinating," the alien finally said, the gills on his neck flaring. It blinked, and I fought off a wave of revulsion -- their eyes were too large, too empty, and this alien was currently staring at me. After another long, awkward moment, the alien leaned down to get closer. "Is it true you can only see three basic colors?" The alien's question was almost conspiratorial, a vast difference from the bland tone of the meeting. "Three colors?" I nearly laughed again, but opted for clearing my throat instead. "No, we see much more than that, although it is true that all the colors we can visualize are based off of three primary colors." The alien was mostly silent, blinking slowly again. They were all like this. Every action seemed deliberately slow and calculated. "So then how do you communicate with Ghoosha?" The question caught me off guard. "With what? Goo, er, gusher?" I couldn't quite pronounce the word properly. Human mouths weren't formed for the delicate words and pronunciation of the aliens' language. The alien's gills flicked outwards for a moment before resuming their gentle sway. "Ghoosha," it corrected, infinitely patient. "The other major race on your planet." I bit down on my lip, hard, desperately wanting to laugh. Another race? Not possible -- but the aliens never lied. They were careful, pragmatic creatures, and either didn't quite grasp the concept of lying or dismissed the act of lying entirely. Some of us were convinced it was the former, and that the aliens were a gentle, childlike race without a proper grasp on human actions. Over the course of the summit I had seen some world leaders treat the aliens patronizingly. The aliens hadn't seemed to mind, responding to every question kindly and thoroughly no matter how contemptuous -- but they never lied or mislead. That meant that the Ghoosha, whatever they were, were real. It was my turn to pause. The alien waited for my response, gills swaying. It took me another moment to collect myself. "We are unaware of the goo-shaw. This is something we should discuss more thoroughly once the summit resumes." The alien blinked slowly, gills curling at the tips before unfurling. Their features were broad, flat, and grey, as was with most of their kind. It was hard to register emotion -- any emotion -- at all, even with how large their eyes were. Yet it seemed, almost, as if the alien pitied me. They blinked again, clear eyelids stretching across their eyes. "Yes," the alien said. "We should. But may I ask another question?" I glanced at my watch. "If it's quick. We resume in four minutes." The alien blinked again. "What color am I to you?" I raised a brow. Trick question? No -- it had to be related, overall. The aliens didn't ask without reason and this would be no exception. "Grey," I responded, glancing at my watch again. The alien waited, patiently, and then it clicked -- "We can't see them," I said flatly, looking up at the alien again. "Yes," it responded, and this time I was sure of it. Pity. It colored their voice. "It seems we have so much more to discuss."	Roughly 3 hours (or three days I didn't really bother to keep time these days) after that conversation I sat on a table trying to decide wether to itch at the space between the tracking bracket and my wrist or at the crusty bandages over my eyes.. or maybe I could manage both? I continued to attempt such a feat till I heard it coming toward me, it continued talking to itself as it fiddled with the bandagesaround my head till they suddenly loosened, something smashed to the floor, suddenly I was on the other side of the room, something hot dribbled over my lips, sounds muted out and disappeared and for a moment everything was chaotic fear, then I fell to the floor closing my eyes shut gasping for air and the calmness that would hopefull come with it, I touched my hand to my ear, transfer the molten substance then peeked at my hand, It glistend with colors, yup definitely blood, but also not? My hand glistend with thousands of colors, I slowly looked up at the alien being looking bow at me, it was talking again but no longer to its self, another creature floated by it's side, stranger still they both eminated radiant colors, my original keeper picked up a helmet with cords dangling from it and popped it one my head before hurriedly typing something into a computer then he stopped, turning to look at me the color around him changed to something closer to a sickly green, that was the day they found out humans can see emotions with the full color spectrum "Well I can't see shidadle now" I replied, breafly touching the rugged bandages covering my eyes before going back to itching at the small space between the tracking bracelet and my wrist,
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	Roughly 3 hours (or three days I didn't really bother to keep time these days) after that conversation I sat on a table trying to decide wether to itch at the space between the tracking bracket and my wrist or at the crusty bandages over my eyes.. or maybe I could manage both? I continued to attempt such a feat till I heard it coming toward me, it continued talking to itself as it fiddled with the bandagesaround my head till they suddenly loosened, something smashed to the floor, suddenly I was on the other side of the room, something hot dribbled over my lips, sounds muted out and disappeared and for a moment everything was chaotic fear, then I fell to the floor closing my eyes shut gasping for air and the calmness that would hopefull come with it, I touched my hand to my ear, transfer the molten substance then peeked at my hand, It glistend with colors, yup definitely blood, but also not? My hand glistend with thousands of colors, I slowly looked up at the alien being looking bow at me, it was talking again but no longer to its self, another creature floated by it's side, stranger still they both eminated radiant colors, my original keeper picked up a helmet with cords dangling from it and popped it one my head before hurriedly typing something into a computer then he stopped, turning to look at me the color around him changed to something closer to a sickly green, that was the day they found out humans can see emotions with the full color spectrum "Well I can't see shidadle now" I replied, breafly touching the rugged bandages covering my eyes before going back to itching at the small space between the tracking bracelet and my wrist,
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"We call them Ghosts." When the alien first mentioned the name Ghoosa, the ambassador was sceptical and confused. But as the alien explained a Ghoosa, he slowly start to realise what it was. "Yes some people on earth believe in them and every few say that they have encountered them. I consider it a bloody superstition. I believe in what my eyes can see, my ear can hear and my hand can touch" "But your eyes are incapable of seeing them. They are tripolatized and the Ghoosa exists in quarantine spectrum" "Right. Then for me they don't exists" The alien who looked exactly like a human but with absolutely no hair smiled at the ambassador. "But they do friend. And people do see them when your mental activity recalibrates for the hormonal surges" "What?" "Tell me human, when and where are all the tales of ghosts from?" "I don't understand what you ........ Oh. Fuck oh. " "Yes human. When men are afraid, when the darkness limits the tripolatized spectrum or when the fog filters the white light. It is when all your ghost encounters are. The adrenaline laced blood helps the optic centre focus on what is unseen" "I don't believe in bull shit like ghosts. I am a man of science" The ambassador was getting up to leave. He continued "Right if we can't see or touch them, why don't they touch us?" "Oh they do. And you will know when they touch" the humanoid smiled while his eyes drifted behind the man. The ambassador suddenly felt a chill in the air, goosebumps appeared on his forearm and in his reflection on the windowpane behind the alien he saw his dead wife with her hand on his forearm. The ambassadors scream and the aliens laughter echoed out of the room as the guards rushed it.	I stare at the man in interest. Well, I saw him as a man. We are face-to-face currently, but over the screens, I saw him as a wispy, gray creature, with many eyes and long, tapered fingers ending in black. "Yessss, the Ghooossshhhaaa," he hisses, his voice vaguely resembling a kettle that is boiling over. "You've seen them, yesss? There are many..." His voice trails off, a result of the translator beginning to adjust. It's so slow, but the BER hasn’t gotten funds lately. "They walk, they fly, they swim... Stars, can you not see them? They walk as you do, they speak as you do, they know you, yet you do not know them?" I'm speechless. This, this, man has accused me of ignorance in front of all the world! Doesn’t he know how this will tarnish my image? On second thought, he probably does. It does make him look good, after all. Snake! I grit my teeth, my perfect smile never falling from my perfectly controlled face. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I'm afraid I don't know these 'Ghoosha', as you put it. Is there, perhaps, and equivalent word in our language?" "Yes, they call themselves sh-" His voice is sharply cut off. I stare, in fear and curiosity, straight in my seat. Is he having a fit? A heart attack? (Does he have a heart?) His face goes pale, his illusion slipping. A cold wave of terror washes over me. I've seen this once before. It was when a juvenile of their species attacked a human, resulting in a poison dart. In the last moments of his life, the illusion fell. His face is almost fully translucent. I can see the tips of his fingers. They are pitch black. Then as suddenly as the fit came upon him, it leaves. Shocked back into reality, I jump to my feet and rush to the ambassador, kneeling beside him. But it is hopeless. He is dead, his illusion existing only in memory. I'm suddenly terrified. Their ambassador has died, on our planet, in our midst, seemingly at our hands. This could spell war, and frankly, I don't know whether going nuclear on them could stop that. I'm feeling cold right now. Over a few moments, the feeling intensifies, until I feel a cold breath fanning across my right ear. "He was giving away our secrets, Ambassador. Do not make the same mistake."
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	I stare at the alien. “What are the—” A searing, stabbing pain suddenly explodes in my legs and quickly spreads across my whole body like wildfire. I try to scream, to cry out, but it’s too late. My throat constricts. My jaws clamp. My whole body shuts down. With a look on its face that seems perhaps somewhere between shock and terror, the alien turns and flees. I’m all alone now. I collapse back into the ground, my head bouncing hard against the pavement. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as blood trickles from my shattered skull. I lie like that for a time. A still conscious corpse unable to move, to breath, to blink or even move my eyes a little. Darkness blossoms in my vision, swirling everything away. My mind goes last. It feels strange, kind of like how I’d imagine falling into a black hole would be...a stretching and a thinning passing away into nothingness. In my very last moments, I hear a voice that seems to emanate from somewhere within me. A voice that speaks in perfectly enunciated English. “Housing unit #111124675846 has been shutdown. It was informed of our existence. We require assistance. Over.” I really wish I could scream.	I stare at the man in interest. Well, I saw him as a man. We are face-to-face currently, but over the screens, I saw him as a wispy, gray creature, with many eyes and long, tapered fingers ending in black. "Yessss, the Ghooossshhhaaa," he hisses, his voice vaguely resembling a kettle that is boiling over. "You've seen them, yesss? There are many..." His voice trails off, a result of the translator beginning to adjust. It's so slow, but the BER hasn’t gotten funds lately. "They walk, they fly, they swim... Stars, can you not see them? They walk as you do, they speak as you do, they know you, yet you do not know them?" I'm speechless. This, this, man has accused me of ignorance in front of all the world! Doesn’t he know how this will tarnish my image? On second thought, he probably does. It does make him look good, after all. Snake! I grit my teeth, my perfect smile never falling from my perfectly controlled face. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I'm afraid I don't know these 'Ghoosha', as you put it. Is there, perhaps, and equivalent word in our language?" "Yes, they call themselves sh-" His voice is sharply cut off. I stare, in fear and curiosity, straight in my seat. Is he having a fit? A heart attack? (Does he have a heart?) His face goes pale, his illusion slipping. A cold wave of terror washes over me. I've seen this once before. It was when a juvenile of their species attacked a human, resulting in a poison dart. In the last moments of his life, the illusion fell. His face is almost fully translucent. I can see the tips of his fingers. They are pitch black. Then as suddenly as the fit came upon him, it leaves. Shocked back into reality, I jump to my feet and rush to the ambassador, kneeling beside him. But it is hopeless. He is dead, his illusion existing only in memory. I'm suddenly terrified. Their ambassador has died, on our planet, in our midst, seemingly at our hands. This could spell war, and frankly, I don't know whether going nuclear on them could stop that. I'm feeling cold right now. Over a few moments, the feeling intensifies, until I feel a cold breath fanning across my right ear. "He was giving away our secrets, Ambassador. Do not make the same mistake."
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	I stare at the man in interest. Well, I saw him as a man. We are face-to-face currently, but over the screens, I saw him as a wispy, gray creature, with many eyes and long, tapered fingers ending in black. "Yessss, the Ghooossshhhaaa," he hisses, his voice vaguely resembling a kettle that is boiling over. "You've seen them, yesss? There are many..." His voice trails off, a result of the translator beginning to adjust. It's so slow, but the BER hasn’t gotten funds lately. "They walk, they fly, they swim... Stars, can you not see them? They walk as you do, they speak as you do, they know you, yet you do not know them?" I'm speechless. This, this, man has accused me of ignorance in front of all the world! Doesn’t he know how this will tarnish my image? On second thought, he probably does. It does make him look good, after all. Snake! I grit my teeth, my perfect smile never falling from my perfectly controlled face. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I'm afraid I don't know these 'Ghoosha', as you put it. Is there, perhaps, and equivalent word in our language?" "Yes, they call themselves sh-" His voice is sharply cut off. I stare, in fear and curiosity, straight in my seat. Is he having a fit? A heart attack? (Does he have a heart?) His face goes pale, his illusion slipping. A cold wave of terror washes over me. I've seen this once before. It was when a juvenile of their species attacked a human, resulting in a poison dart. In the last moments of his life, the illusion fell. His face is almost fully translucent. I can see the tips of his fingers. They are pitch black. Then as suddenly as the fit came upon him, it leaves. Shocked back into reality, I jump to my feet and rush to the ambassador, kneeling beside him. But it is hopeless. He is dead, his illusion existing only in memory. I'm suddenly terrified. Their ambassador has died, on our planet, in our midst, seemingly at our hands. This could spell war, and frankly, I don't know whether going nuclear on them could stop that. I'm feeling cold right now. Over a few moments, the feeling intensifies, until I feel a cold breath fanning across my right ear. "He was giving away our secrets, Ambassador. Do not make the same mistake."
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	"We call them Ghosts." When the alien first mentioned the name Ghoosa, the ambassador was sceptical and confused. But as the alien explained a Ghoosa, he slowly start to realise what it was. "Yes some people on earth believe in them and every few say that they have encountered them. I consider it a bloody superstition. I believe in what my eyes can see, my ear can hear and my hand can touch" "But your eyes are incapable of seeing them. They are tripolatized and the Ghoosa exists in quarantine spectrum" "Right. Then for me they don't exists" The alien who looked exactly like a human but with absolutely no hair smiled at the ambassador. "But they do friend. And people do see them when your mental activity recalibrates for the hormonal surges" "What?" "Tell me human, when and where are all the tales of ghosts from?" "I don't understand what you ........ Oh. Fuck oh. " "Yes human. When men are afraid, when the darkness limits the tripolatized spectrum or when the fog filters the white light. It is when all your ghost encounters are. The adrenaline laced blood helps the optic centre focus on what is unseen" "I don't believe in bull shit like ghosts. I am a man of science" The ambassador was getting up to leave. He continued "Right if we can't see or touch them, why don't they touch us?" "Oh they do. And you will know when they touch" the humanoid smiled while his eyes drifted behind the man. The ambassador suddenly felt a chill in the air, goosebumps appeared on his forearm and in his reflection on the windowpane behind the alien he saw his dead wife with her hand on his forearm. The ambassadors scream and the aliens laughter echoed out of the room as the guards rushed it.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	I stare at the alien. “What are the—” A searing, stabbing pain suddenly explodes in my legs and quickly spreads across my whole body like wildfire. I try to scream, to cry out, but it’s too late. My throat constricts. My jaws clamp. My whole body shuts down. With a look on its face that seems perhaps somewhere between shock and terror, the alien turns and flees. I’m all alone now. I collapse back into the ground, my head bouncing hard against the pavement. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as blood trickles from my shattered skull. I lie like that for a time. A still conscious corpse unable to move, to breath, to blink or even move my eyes a little. Darkness blossoms in my vision, swirling everything away. My mind goes last. It feels strange, kind of like how I’d imagine falling into a black hole would be...a stretching and a thinning passing away into nothingness. In my very last moments, I hear a voice that seems to emanate from somewhere within me. A voice that speaks in perfectly enunciated English. “Housing unit #111124675846 has been shutdown. It was informed of our existence. We require assistance. Over.” I really wish I could scream.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	“Some day, you’ll learn, as the Ghoosha did, that 90% of WP is based on formulaic pseudo-prompts that are more likely to make you a worse writer than a better one.” “But surely today is not that day?” “Yes, we will continue posting terrible prompts. Why would anyone ever want to be a writer? What a stupid pursuit. Let us continue to manually pleasure each other.” “You are the president of a society with only feet, one day you meet a person with hands...” “Oh yes, this will go right to the front page! Excelsior!” “Wait till you hear the one about being born with one very specific unrealistic plot device, that ‘one day’ ironically interacts with another random facet of an improbable world! Totally different than this one, obviously.” “Genius... Just genius... buy the book rights before someone else nabs ‘em!” “You live and a world without publishing, and have just written the first book...” “My god, you’re unstoppable.”	"The race communicates via color but has a name that can be translated into phonetic english?" I puzzled. "We have a name that can be translated, yes..." the alien trailed off in thought. "Well then, I guess we communicate through you." I grinned. The alien's tendrils curled and it's eyelets furrowed while I had a remarkable feeling of dejavu... as though I was being cursed in a language I could neither hear nor understand. "I'll pay for the pancakes," I said, hoping to fill the silence. The mood brightened again. "I knew you would. The Goosha compells you." the alien replied. That was my first and final breakfast with an alien - from then on, I insisted on making Dinner at my place.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	I laughed nervously. I shouldn't have done this -- the summit was all but over, broken for a brief recess before the final terms had been agreed to. Diplomacy, it was being called, although it was more like Earth being bound in shackles. "Fascinating," the alien finally said, the gills on his neck flaring. It blinked, and I fought off a wave of revulsion -- their eyes were too large, too empty, and this alien was currently staring at me. After another long, awkward moment, the alien leaned down to get closer. "Is it true you can only see three basic colors?" The alien's question was almost conspiratorial, a vast difference from the bland tone of the meeting. "Three colors?" I nearly laughed again, but opted for clearing my throat instead. "No, we see much more than that, although it is true that all the colors we can visualize are based off of three primary colors." The alien was mostly silent, blinking slowly again. They were all like this. Every action seemed deliberately slow and calculated. "So then how do you communicate with Ghoosha?" The question caught me off guard. "With what? Goo, er, gusher?" I couldn't quite pronounce the word properly. Human mouths weren't formed for the delicate words and pronunciation of the aliens' language. The alien's gills flicked outwards for a moment before resuming their gentle sway. "Ghoosha," it corrected, infinitely patient. "The other major race on your planet." I bit down on my lip, hard, desperately wanting to laugh. Another race? Not possible -- but the aliens never lied. They were careful, pragmatic creatures, and either didn't quite grasp the concept of lying or dismissed the act of lying entirely. Some of us were convinced it was the former, and that the aliens were a gentle, childlike race without a proper grasp on human actions. Over the course of the summit I had seen some world leaders treat the aliens patronizingly. The aliens hadn't seemed to mind, responding to every question kindly and thoroughly no matter how contemptuous -- but they never lied or mislead. That meant that the Ghoosha, whatever they were, were real. It was my turn to pause. The alien waited for my response, gills swaying. It took me another moment to collect myself. "We are unaware of the goo-shaw. This is something we should discuss more thoroughly once the summit resumes." The alien blinked slowly, gills curling at the tips before unfurling. Their features were broad, flat, and grey, as was with most of their kind. It was hard to register emotion -- any emotion -- at all, even with how large their eyes were. Yet it seemed, almost, as if the alien pitied me. They blinked again, clear eyelids stretching across their eyes. "Yes," the alien said. "We should. But may I ask another question?" I glanced at my watch. "If it's quick. We resume in four minutes." The alien blinked again. "What color am I to you?" I raised a brow. Trick question? No -- it had to be related, overall. The aliens didn't ask without reason and this would be no exception. "Grey," I responded, glancing at my watch again. The alien waited, patiently, and then it clicked -- "We can't see them," I said flatly, looking up at the alien again. "Yes," it responded, and this time I was sure of it. Pity. It colored their voice. "It seems we have so much more to discuss."	"The race communicates via color but has a name that can be translated into phonetic english?" I puzzled. "We have a name that can be translated, yes..." the alien trailed off in thought. "Well then, I guess we communicate through you." I grinned. The alien's tendrils curled and it's eyelets furrowed while I had a remarkable feeling of dejavu... as though I was being cursed in a language I could neither hear nor understand. "I'll pay for the pancakes," I said, hoping to fill the silence. The mood brightened again. "I knew you would. The Goosha compells you." the alien replied. That was my first and final breakfast with an alien - from then on, I insisted on making Dinner at my place.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	"The race communicates via color but has a name that can be translated into phonetic english?" I puzzled. "We have a name that can be translated, yes..." the alien trailed off in thought. "Well then, I guess we communicate through you." I grinned. The alien's tendrils curled and it's eyelets furrowed while I had a remarkable feeling of dejavu... as though I was being cursed in a language I could neither hear nor understand. "I'll pay for the pancakes," I said, hoping to fill the silence. The mood brightened again. "I knew you would. The Goosha compells you." the alien replied. That was my first and final breakfast with an alien - from then on, I insisted on making Dinner at my place.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Well, ask Tom Starter. ", the beautiful blonde with large baby blue eyes declared, pointing to India on the globe on my desk. Let's review, shall we? 1. Aliens land on my lawn last night. 2. They wake me up at 3:30 , are quite cordial and charming, and carry a mild sedative that they administer by flashing a lavender colored light in my eye. They also have no mouths. I won't elaborate on their original appearance other than that because I dont want to puke again. 3. Beautiful lady is the leader, and the one most enthusiastic about changing appearance for me. 4. They were perplexed about my lack of understanding of what colors and light really are. 5. They left in a hurry to Washington once it was clear I'm not THAT Fred Armary.( Head of NASA) I don't have time to explain much else other than I found Tom meditating in an Ashram in Meshandisha, India in the Yedysh province, by his social media account. I was already a seasoned traveler so I went on my way back to the country I'd wandered around in as a youth. He said he'd had a dream I'd seek him and he'd been writing about the Ghoosa his whole life. Well, since he saw the Twilight Zone episode about them in 1962. I looked at him funny when he said that and made a mental note to look that up when I got back to the hostel. I didn't tell him about the aliens. Tom explains: the Ghoosa are "pain bodies" that people give up when they recover from illness. Mental illness creates the strongest ones. They continue existing after we heal as long as we acknowledge them by suffering. They communicate among themselves and feed on negative energy, and though they are not malicious, they need our suffering to survive. I sat, dumbfounded and asked about how to see them. And He said something that I'm still going over and over in my head on my flight back to Hawaii. They are no longer a separate race.	"The race communicates via color but has a name that can be translated into phonetic english?" I puzzled. "We have a name that can be translated, yes..." the alien trailed off in thought. "Well then, I guess we communicate through you." I grinned. The alien's tendrils curled and it's eyelets furrowed while I had a remarkable feeling of dejavu... as though I was being cursed in a language I could neither hear nor understand. "I'll pay for the pancakes," I said, hoping to fill the silence. The mood brightened again. "I knew you would. The Goosha compells you." the alien replied. That was my first and final breakfast with an alien - from then on, I insisted on making Dinner at my place.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	“Some day, you’ll learn, as the Ghoosha did, that 90% of WP is based on formulaic pseudo-prompts that are more likely to make you a worse writer than a better one.” “But surely today is not that day?” “Yes, we will continue posting terrible prompts. Why would anyone ever want to be a writer? What a stupid pursuit. Let us continue to manually pleasure each other.” “You are the president of a society with only feet, one day you meet a person with hands...” “Oh yes, this will go right to the front page! Excelsior!” “Wait till you hear the one about being born with one very specific unrealistic plot device, that ‘one day’ ironically interacts with another random facet of an improbable world! Totally different than this one, obviously.” “Genius... Just genius... buy the book rights before someone else nabs ‘em!” “You live and a world without publishing, and have just written the first book...” “My god, you’re unstoppable.”
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Well, ask Tom Starter. ", the beautiful blonde with large baby blue eyes declared, pointing to India on the globe on my desk. Let's review, shall we? 1. Aliens land on my lawn last night. 2. They wake me up at 3:30 , are quite cordial and charming, and carry a mild sedative that they administer by flashing a lavender colored light in my eye. They also have no mouths. I won't elaborate on their original appearance other than that because I dont want to puke again. 3. Beautiful lady is the leader, and the one most enthusiastic about changing appearance for me. 4. They were perplexed about my lack of understanding of what colors and light really are. 5. They left in a hurry to Washington once it was clear I'm not THAT Fred Armary.( Head of NASA) I don't have time to explain much else other than I found Tom meditating in an Ashram in Meshandisha, India in the Yedysh province, by his social media account. I was already a seasoned traveler so I went on my way back to the country I'd wandered around in as a youth. He said he'd had a dream I'd seek him and he'd been writing about the Ghoosa his whole life. Well, since he saw the Twilight Zone episode about them in 1962. I looked at him funny when he said that and made a mental note to look that up when I got back to the hostel. I didn't tell him about the aliens. Tom explains: the Ghoosa are "pain bodies" that people give up when they recover from illness. Mental illness creates the strongest ones. They continue existing after we heal as long as we acknowledge them by suffering. They communicate among themselves and feed on negative energy, and though they are not malicious, they need our suffering to survive. I sat, dumbfounded and asked about how to see them. And He said something that I'm still going over and over in my head on my flight back to Hawaii. They are no longer a separate race.	“Some day, you’ll learn, as the Ghoosha did, that 90% of WP is based on formulaic pseudo-prompts that are more likely to make you a worse writer than a better one.” “But surely today is not that day?” “Yes, we will continue posting terrible prompts. Why would anyone ever want to be a writer? What a stupid pursuit. Let us continue to manually pleasure each other.” “You are the president of a society with only feet, one day you meet a person with hands...” “Oh yes, this will go right to the front page! Excelsior!” “Wait till you hear the one about being born with one very specific unrealistic plot device, that ‘one day’ ironically interacts with another random facet of an improbable world! Totally different than this one, obviously.” “Genius... Just genius... buy the book rights before someone else nabs ‘em!” “You live and a world without publishing, and have just written the first book...” “My god, you’re unstoppable.”
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	[0312] Dr. ██████ █████: For the record, this interview is being recorded for future review, analysis and to serve as a means to decide course of action. Do you acknowledge this? [0312] ███-████: ◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞◼̢̢͝◼̷́͢ Note: Translation software indicates information was acknowledged. Henceforth, all dialogue recorded from ███-████ will be presented in translated format. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: Your vessel was detected flying over ███ ████ ████, New York, approximately... fifty-five minutes ago. You then proceeded to land when and where directed. What is the purpose of your presence on this planet? [0313] ███-████: I was curious about the rumors surrounding your species. [0313] Dr. ██████ █████: And which rumors were those, exactly? [0313] ███-████: That you could only observe a spectral depth composed of three main colors, with all observed variants being mixtures of those three. Dr. ██████ █████ refers to his tablet for permission to confirm this rumor. Permission is granted. [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: That's correct. The cones in our eyes only allow for that level of depth with the slight exception of tetrachromats. Have you not encountered a similar species or course of evolution in the universe? [0314] ███-████: Oh, but of course! That is far from unique! What surprises me and others is how you have achieved this balance with the other inhabitants when all evidence states that you should not even be able to observe them! [0314] Dr. ██████ █████: (Pauses) What other inhabitants? [0315] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED], of course! [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: (Refers to his tablet again for several seconds before being permitted to expand his line of questioning.) I'm sorry, the what? [0316] ███-████: The [DATA EXPUNGED]! The other sapient species that inhabits this world! Do you have a different name for them? [0316] Dr. ██████ █████: Possibly. Why don't you describe them in detail for me and I can possibly correct any terminology? (Dr. ██████ █████ is commended for his quick thinking and poker face.) [0317] ███-████: Oh, well... It's quite difficult to describe them if you don't perceive several other spectra of light. How would you describe ◼̷̀◼̷◼̷́͢◼̨҉͏̷͜◼̷̀◼̷◼̵̧̀҉͘◼͏̕͜͞͞ (Approximate translation: Navy Blue mixed with Bark Brown) to the blind you can cure, yet do not? ███-████ thinks for several moments. [0319] ███-████: I suppose they are best described as the light that the leaves of plants don't absorb intermingled with the light reflected from a surface of a large body of water, but with physical form. Save for with your species of course. Yours is the only species that they seem to be completely intangible with. You walk through them and they you. The same goes for your respective ecosystems. [0320] Dr. ██████ █████: Our ecosystems? [0321] ███-████: Yes! For example, you do not seem to be affected by the vast majority of volcanic activity on this planet and can even live comfortably beneath the Second State Seas! Despite having no amphibious adaptations like those my own people display! [0321] Dr. ██████ █████: The second state... I'm sorry, what? [0322] ███-████: The seas composed of water's second state. The one it takes on when exposed to the spectra of your local star once reflected off the surface of [DATA EXPUNGED], your second moon." [0322] Dr. ██████ █████: Our... I'm sorry, there seems to have been some confusion. Earth only has one moon. ███-████ regards the doctor with a look that facial gesture translation software interprets as shock. It remains silent for several minutes until looking around with what is interpreted as realization. [0326] ███-████: You honestly cannot see any of this, can you? Or any of the [DATA EXPUNGED]. [0327] Dr. ██████ █████: See what? [0327] ███-████: We're currently largely submerged beneath a king tide of the Second State Sea. This room has been steadily filling with secstate water. That's why all of the [DATA EXPUNGED] have left. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: (Alarmed) Are you saying there are currently unauthorized entities in this facility?! [0328] ███-████: Well no, not any more. They started to leave once [DATA EXPUNGED] started to rise. See? You can see it clearly outside your reinforced window near the ceiling. [0328] Dr. ██████ █████: I'm telling you there is- Oh god. Oh my god, where in the hell did tha-? What is all thi-?! Dr. ██████ █████ is heard gasping and gagging, as if desperate for air. Several items are knocked around in his panic. On-site personnel are unable to lend aid as those listening in and close enough to render aid are exhibiting the same phenomena. After several minutes ██ personnel are dead. Autopsy reveals cause of death to be suffocation and extreme hypoxia. [0332] ███-████: Oh. Oh my. I didn't realize. I'm so sorry. (Silence) [0333] ███-████: Oh! Hello. What an ingenious device! What? Oh... Yes, I'm afraid it was after I pointed out... I see. I'm very sorry, I wasn't aware. Yes, I understand that you set the boundaries in place, I just didn't understand why. I'm... Yes, of course, if you're able. I would very much like to leave, I feel... Sounds indicate that ███-████ has moved to where Dr. ██████ █████'s body is presumed to lie. [0333] ███-████: I really am so very sorry. I didn't know you were a protected species. Response teams investigating the area found the bodies of personnel and the interview room to be locked and secured according to standard containment protocol. ███-████ was reported nowhere to be seen. At 0355 its ship was observed to simply vanish from sight, with all anchoring equipment falling to the ground, indicating that the ship simply blinked out of existence. This interview and the species referred to as [DATA EXPUNGED] have both been deemed to be a Memetic Hazard and is prohibited from reading by all personnel that do not possess clearance level 3/1812.	I laughed nervously. I shouldn't have done this -- the summit was all but over, broken for a brief recess before the final terms had been agreed to. Diplomacy, it was being called, although it was more like Earth being bound in shackles. "Fascinating," the alien finally said, the gills on his neck flaring. It blinked, and I fought off a wave of revulsion -- their eyes were too large, too empty, and this alien was currently staring at me. After another long, awkward moment, the alien leaned down to get closer. "Is it true you can only see three basic colors?" The alien's question was almost conspiratorial, a vast difference from the bland tone of the meeting. "Three colors?" I nearly laughed again, but opted for clearing my throat instead. "No, we see much more than that, although it is true that all the colors we can visualize are based off of three primary colors." The alien was mostly silent, blinking slowly again. They were all like this. Every action seemed deliberately slow and calculated. "So then how do you communicate with Ghoosha?" The question caught me off guard. "With what? Goo, er, gusher?" I couldn't quite pronounce the word properly. Human mouths weren't formed for the delicate words and pronunciation of the aliens' language. The alien's gills flicked outwards for a moment before resuming their gentle sway. "Ghoosha," it corrected, infinitely patient. "The other major race on your planet." I bit down on my lip, hard, desperately wanting to laugh. Another race? Not possible -- but the aliens never lied. They were careful, pragmatic creatures, and either didn't quite grasp the concept of lying or dismissed the act of lying entirely. Some of us were convinced it was the former, and that the aliens were a gentle, childlike race without a proper grasp on human actions. Over the course of the summit I had seen some world leaders treat the aliens patronizingly. The aliens hadn't seemed to mind, responding to every question kindly and thoroughly no matter how contemptuous -- but they never lied or mislead. That meant that the Ghoosha, whatever they were, were real. It was my turn to pause. The alien waited for my response, gills swaying. It took me another moment to collect myself. "We are unaware of the goo-shaw. This is something we should discuss more thoroughly once the summit resumes." The alien blinked slowly, gills curling at the tips before unfurling. Their features were broad, flat, and grey, as was with most of their kind. It was hard to register emotion -- any emotion -- at all, even with how large their eyes were. Yet it seemed, almost, as if the alien pitied me. They blinked again, clear eyelids stretching across their eyes. "Yes," the alien said. "We should. But may I ask another question?" I glanced at my watch. "If it's quick. We resume in four minutes." The alien blinked again. "What color am I to you?" I raised a brow. Trick question? No -- it had to be related, overall. The aliens didn't ask without reason and this would be no exception. "Grey," I responded, glancing at my watch again. The alien waited, patiently, and then it clicked -- "We can't see them," I said flatly, looking up at the alien again. "Yes," it responded, and this time I was sure of it. Pity. It colored their voice. "It seems we have so much more to discuss."
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	INT. UN GENERAL ASSEMBLY - MEETING ROOM - DAY Outside the room the full general assembly sits and impatiently awaits. The US President is at the podium giving a long winded introduction. Inside a small group of scientists waits to usher out the soon to be newest member, ambassador 457,837,684,729,957,749,737 from the 2nd principles moon of the third planet in the system 4726e6ad. The ambassador is a shifting colored blob of gas encased in glass transported by a hovering computerized disk. A calm and soothing voice comes from the ambassadors metal disk. AMBASSADOR Is it true you can only see three basic colors? The group around the Ambassador look at each other, not sure who the Ambassador was talking to. After a few moments, LEE, one of the scientists from China steps forward and answers in a heavy accent. LEE Yes Ambassador, we see the colors red, green and blue. Do you see more? AMBASSADOR Of course, why else would we be here? Lee and the other scientists look preplexed. LEE We are aware of the other colors in the spectrum and can translate them in representations which we can see, ultraviolet and thermal. Which do you see? AMBASSADOR No, no, no, I'm talking the true fourth color, the color of the Ghoosha. LEE Ghoosha? I do not know this term. Lee turns to the other scientists, they are all as perplexed as he is. AMBASSADOR Ghoosha, the other race on this plant. The ones who called us here. How do you communicate with them if you can't see them? LEE There is no other race on this planet Ambassador. In the background it sounds like the President is ending his introduction. AMBASSADOR Well this is confusing. We've seen your movies and know you are aware of the Ghoosha. LEE Can you explain what a Ghoosha is? AMBASSADOR We see them with spectral vision. They are your dead. They are who called us here. At the podium the President steps aside and the Ambassador floats out to the crowd leaving the stupefied scientist behind.	I stared blankly for a second.... "The Dungeon Dimension creatures?" "Yes, the Things. They are the colour octarine but if you can't see that..." "Ah. Yes, modern theory suggests they can only be seen by those with the talent, and we have no such humans left. In any case, the few records of those creatures we have claim the pretty ones look like a cross between an ugly octopus and an angry bicycle. I'm not so sure we need to communicate with them. Better to pretend we're alone, see?" "An odd way of seeing things human, but i concede your point......." &#x200B; Can't think of where to go with this one, you're welcome to edit/build upon it if you wish
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"You'd have to repeat that." I say, taking a sip from my flask, never letting my gaze leave the three glowing eyes of the chitinous creature before me. "I may only be a petty officer and translation specialist but even I would know of a second dominant species on my home world." "They call themselves the Ghoosha." It chitters, oversized mandibles mangling the words. "They are what govern the rules of your society. The great creatures that exist in the plane of the funadment. The beings that have guarded and coached your people from a realm beyond all understanding; The realm of the eighth colour." "No sorry." I sigh. Poor bastard must have had his data come from some deluded post singularity parascience cult. An all too common occurence given his race's inability to tell fact from fiction... "There are no other lifeforms on sol three that humanity has not already catalogued and analysed. Our technology has allowed us access to dimensions one to nine. We have a presence across a staggering six percent of spacetime thanks to project Hawking and the Firefly initiative but I have no clue what the blazes your on about." "Then how do you explain the grand gap," "The what now?" "How your civilisation went from no interplanetary travel to interstellar in a thousand years. How you all did the unthincable by making translators that revolutionised diplomacy. How you can simulate everything you want to just by taking that tiny screen!" The creature is getting more and more agitated by the second, its many limbs twitching and writhing as it spoke, one enormous claw piercing the desk next to my holotablet. "Oh." It finally clicks. "You guys don't have AI."	I stared blankly for a second.... "The Dungeon Dimension creatures?" "Yes, the Things. They are the colour octarine but if you can't see that..." "Ah. Yes, modern theory suggests they can only be seen by those with the talent, and we have no such humans left. In any case, the few records of those creatures we have claim the pretty ones look like a cross between an ugly octopus and an angry bicycle. I'm not so sure we need to communicate with them. Better to pretend we're alone, see?" "An odd way of seeing things human, but i concede your point......." &#x200B; Can't think of where to go with this one, you're welcome to edit/build upon it if you wish
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	The first rule of xenodiplomacy is that emotions cause problems. Don't show any. Better still, don't have any. Never be angry. Never be greedy. Never be pleased. Never be surprised. So of course I'm not surprised when, once again, I accidentally discover that we're not alone. We've never been alone. We weren't alone long before the Conglomerate made First Contact. I hereby formally resign my position and refuse to return to Earth. I'll live out the rest of my life on Lunar Base Seven. More than that. More than you could possibly know. But you have to know. Someone has to know. Someone has to not be surprised. There's a color on the color wheel that's missing from the rainbow. Our color wheel and our rainbow, that is -- these mere products of our biology. It's a color that our brains just make up. Magenta, we call it. Anti-green, in our circular way of thinking. That's a purely terrestrial defect. Our Friends from the Conglomerate see things more clearly. It turns out that everything they've got on what they use for a color wheel is right there in their rainbows. They don't have a magenta. They have a ghooshy. We see an imaginary color. They see a ghostly one, something no combination of our human-perceptible hues can fake. Don't be pleased. Don't be greedy. Just find a way to beg, borrow or steal some tech that'll let you detect the Ghoosha. Ghostly-colored things are all around you. It's a question of long-term survival for our kind -- and what our kind sometimes becomes. As for me, I'm here to stay. For the rest of this life, and hopefully for all of the next. I'll be the first to make a permanent home up here. Better to rule on the Moon than to serve in Hell. There is Hell on Earth. We've never been alone. Don't be surprised. Ghosts are not the top of their food chain.	I stared blankly for a second.... "The Dungeon Dimension creatures?" "Yes, the Things. They are the colour octarine but if you can't see that..." "Ah. Yes, modern theory suggests they can only be seen by those with the talent, and we have no such humans left. In any case, the few records of those creatures we have claim the pretty ones look like a cross between an ugly octopus and an angry bicycle. I'm not so sure we need to communicate with them. Better to pretend we're alone, see?" "An odd way of seeing things human, but i concede your point......." &#x200B; Can't think of where to go with this one, you're welcome to edit/build upon it if you wish
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Goosha?" I said, tilting my head a bit. "Who are they?" The alien looked at me strangely. I had difficulty reading his expression. He was almost entirely human in appearance, with angular features and an air of delicacy and grace. The only thing that would separate him visually from a human were his ears; they were long and tapered to a point, sticking out somewhat from his long flowing hair. But despite visual similarities to a human, his expression and body language were impossible to read. Impassive and imperious, utterly devoid of any movement that wasn't mediated and pondered. He spoke neutrally and flatly, "The Goosha? The Lords of the Sky?" I could only shake my head in ignorance. Who or what was a 'Goosha'? "I'm unfamiliar with that word." "So, the "red green blue" is accurate then? You don't have psir cones in your eyes?" "I have no idea what... sire? sigher? Is." "A pity." the alien said, gesturing beside him. "Because a representative of the Goosha stands before you." I looked to the side of him, and saw only empty air. "Is this a joke?" "Hardly." a snide tone slipped into the alien's voice, his posture subtlely shifting to a haughty loom. "Goosha are about twelve inches tall, shaped bipedally like you and I, with psir skin and neoil hair. They have two diaphanous ciavi wings and communicate by glowing in a variety of colors." "I don't know what sire, knee-oil, and see-ah-vee are." "Hmm. I suppose not." the alien sighed resignedly. "You would need psir cones to see the other colors that happen when you mix red blue and green with them. A pity. " he held his chin a moment in consideration. "What about the Sebt? The Tintari?" I could feel my face getting hot. "I don't know those words, either." The alien's expression grew... I think it was cold. "The Lords of Magma and Sea? You don't know of them, either?" I slammed the table. "Look, Mister... whatever your name was, if you wish to open contact with our world, you are going to have to stop with these juvenile pranks. There are NO people living on this planet by ANY of those names." "Re-open contact you mean." the alien said, not missing a beat. "And my name is Aedwyn. We use to share this world with Men, before we left to cross the western sky. But it seems Men have forgotten much of their own people's past." In the empty space to Aedwyn's right, a burst of color suddenly flaired into existence, brilliant pinks and yellows. There were brief gaps of nothing, what seemed to be... holes in the light. I fell into my chair, mouth hanging open. "What... was THAT?" "That was my Goosha friend, making a considerable effort to speak in red-green-blue spectra for your convenience. A terrible strain on them, I do hope you appreciate it." Aedwyn settled into his chair, grinning knowingly. "He was simply reminding me that Goosha, Sebt, and Tintari, are not the words you would know those people's by." Aedwyn's grin grew wider, as if coming to the long-anticipated punchline of a joke. "Goosha: Fairy. Sebt: Dwarf. Tintari: Mermaid. And Iliene..." he tapped the points of his tapered ears briefly, "Elf." "NOW, maybe you remember?"	I stared blankly for a second.... "The Dungeon Dimension creatures?" "Yes, the Things. They are the colour octarine but if you can't see that..." "Ah. Yes, modern theory suggests they can only be seen by those with the talent, and we have no such humans left. In any case, the few records of those creatures we have claim the pretty ones look like a cross between an ugly octopus and an angry bicycle. I'm not so sure we need to communicate with them. Better to pretend we're alone, see?" "An odd way of seeing things human, but i concede your point......." &#x200B; Can't think of where to go with this one, you're welcome to edit/build upon it if you wish
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Is it true you can only see three basic colors?" the alien being asked. "Just about. Our eyes have three major primary colors perceived by the cones in our eyes, and most of the colors we perceive on what we call the visible spectrum are a mix of Yellow, Red, and Blue." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The Other Major race on your planet." "I wasn't aware of any other such intelligent race." "But you keep care of Ghoosha ambassadors in major cities. Surely you've established a means of communication. You have hundred of humans meeting with them every day. When we arrived, we spoke to them first. They welcomed us to your planet with a spectacular display of dazzling colors and welcoming patterns, as well as a three hour dance of peace." "Care to describe where these Ambassadors are?" The alien fiddled with their glowing tablet for a moment, and then responded. "My computer tells me that even within the borders of this country, there are ambassadors in the locations you would call Gulfport, Mississippi, Orlando, Florida, Indianapolis, and San Diego, California." "There must be some kind of mistake, those aren't major capitals of the U.S. Would you care to describe what the Ghoosha look like?" "They are distantly related to the Homo Sapiens, different order but the same class of Mammlia. Unlike the fingers you have, they have pectoral flippers, and a tail fin for propulsion. The Ghoosha told me that humans have an understanding where they are allowed to occasionally visit their domain of over 71% of the surface of the planet for the purposes of sharing food and using transportation." "Wait a minute ... flippers? Do they have a breathing hole on their back?" "Yes. They also use the surface of their skin on their back to relay messages and communicate on top of regular verbal singing. We thought you humans were the same, as you have [stripes and spots on your skin](http://mentalfloss.com/article/65092/our-skin-covered-invisible-stripes) and also use unusual singing and verbal communication." "Flippers, blow holes, in a few cities, making performances ... are you talking about Dolphins?" The alien once again checked their tablet. "Correct, although we are aware they don't like being called that." "But humans don't have stripes. And last I saw them, which granted was when I was still a teenager, Dolphins don't change color." "Do you not use cameras to translate their performances? What colors do you see the Ghoosha as?" "I dunno, I'd say a solid grey?" The alien looked perplexed, then twisted their tablet around to face me. "Would you care to tell me what you see on my screen?" "Looks like a solid white to me." "There is so much more to the spectrum that you've been missing."	I stared blankly for a second.... "The Dungeon Dimension creatures?" "Yes, the Things. They are the colour octarine but if you can't see that..." "Ah. Yes, modern theory suggests they can only be seen by those with the talent, and we have no such humans left. In any case, the few records of those creatures we have claim the pretty ones look like a cross between an ugly octopus and an angry bicycle. I'm not so sure we need to communicate with them. Better to pretend we're alone, see?" "An odd way of seeing things human, but i concede your point......." &#x200B; Can't think of where to go with this one, you're welcome to edit/build upon it if you wish
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"You'd have to repeat that." I say, taking a sip from my flask, never letting my gaze leave the three glowing eyes of the chitinous creature before me. "I may only be a petty officer and translation specialist but even I would know of a second dominant species on my home world." "They call themselves the Ghoosha." It chitters, oversized mandibles mangling the words. "They are what govern the rules of your society. The great creatures that exist in the plane of the funadment. The beings that have guarded and coached your people from a realm beyond all understanding; The realm of the eighth colour." "No sorry." I sigh. Poor bastard must have had his data come from some deluded post singularity parascience cult. An all too common occurence given his race's inability to tell fact from fiction... "There are no other lifeforms on sol three that humanity has not already catalogued and analysed. Our technology has allowed us access to dimensions one to nine. We have a presence across a staggering six percent of spacetime thanks to project Hawking and the Firefly initiative but I have no clue what the blazes your on about." "Then how do you explain the grand gap," "The what now?" "How your civilisation went from no interplanetary travel to interstellar in a thousand years. How you all did the unthincable by making translators that revolutionised diplomacy. How you can simulate everything you want to just by taking that tiny screen!" The creature is getting more and more agitated by the second, its many limbs twitching and writhing as it spoke, one enormous claw piercing the desk next to my holotablet. "Oh." It finally clicks. "You guys don't have AI."	INT. UN GENERAL ASSEMBLY - MEETING ROOM - DAY Outside the room the full general assembly sits and impatiently awaits. The US President is at the podium giving a long winded introduction. Inside a small group of scientists waits to usher out the soon to be newest member, ambassador 457,837,684,729,957,749,737 from the 2nd principles moon of the third planet in the system 4726e6ad. The ambassador is a shifting colored blob of gas encased in glass transported by a hovering computerized disk. A calm and soothing voice comes from the ambassadors metal disk. AMBASSADOR Is it true you can only see three basic colors? The group around the Ambassador look at each other, not sure who the Ambassador was talking to. After a few moments, LEE, one of the scientists from China steps forward and answers in a heavy accent. LEE Yes Ambassador, we see the colors red, green and blue. Do you see more? AMBASSADOR Of course, why else would we be here? Lee and the other scientists look preplexed. LEE We are aware of the other colors in the spectrum and can translate them in representations which we can see, ultraviolet and thermal. Which do you see? AMBASSADOR No, no, no, I'm talking the true fourth color, the color of the Ghoosha. LEE Ghoosha? I do not know this term. Lee turns to the other scientists, they are all as perplexed as he is. AMBASSADOR Ghoosha, the other race on this plant. The ones who called us here. How do you communicate with them if you can't see them? LEE There is no other race on this planet Ambassador. In the background it sounds like the President is ending his introduction. AMBASSADOR Well this is confusing. We've seen your movies and know you are aware of the Ghoosha. LEE Can you explain what a Ghoosha is? AMBASSADOR We see them with spectral vision. They are your dead. They are who called us here. At the podium the President steps aside and the Ambassador floats out to the crowd leaving the stupefied scientist behind.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Goosha?" I said, tilting my head a bit. "Who are they?" The alien looked at me strangely. I had difficulty reading his expression. He was almost entirely human in appearance, with angular features and an air of delicacy and grace. The only thing that would separate him visually from a human were his ears; they were long and tapered to a point, sticking out somewhat from his long flowing hair. But despite visual similarities to a human, his expression and body language were impossible to read. Impassive and imperious, utterly devoid of any movement that wasn't mediated and pondered. He spoke neutrally and flatly, "The Goosha? The Lords of the Sky?" I could only shake my head in ignorance. Who or what was a 'Goosha'? "I'm unfamiliar with that word." "So, the "red green blue" is accurate then? You don't have psir cones in your eyes?" "I have no idea what... sire? sigher? Is." "A pity." the alien said, gesturing beside him. "Because a representative of the Goosha stands before you." I looked to the side of him, and saw only empty air. "Is this a joke?" "Hardly." a snide tone slipped into the alien's voice, his posture subtlely shifting to a haughty loom. "Goosha are about twelve inches tall, shaped bipedally like you and I, with psir skin and neoil hair. They have two diaphanous ciavi wings and communicate by glowing in a variety of colors." "I don't know what sire, knee-oil, and see-ah-vee are." "Hmm. I suppose not." the alien sighed resignedly. "You would need psir cones to see the other colors that happen when you mix red blue and green with them. A pity. " he held his chin a moment in consideration. "What about the Sebt? The Tintari?" I could feel my face getting hot. "I don't know those words, either." The alien's expression grew... I think it was cold. "The Lords of Magma and Sea? You don't know of them, either?" I slammed the table. "Look, Mister... whatever your name was, if you wish to open contact with our world, you are going to have to stop with these juvenile pranks. There are NO people living on this planet by ANY of those names." "Re-open contact you mean." the alien said, not missing a beat. "And my name is Aedwyn. We use to share this world with Men, before we left to cross the western sky. But it seems Men have forgotten much of their own people's past." In the empty space to Aedwyn's right, a burst of color suddenly flaired into existence, brilliant pinks and yellows. There were brief gaps of nothing, what seemed to be... holes in the light. I fell into my chair, mouth hanging open. "What... was THAT?" "That was my Goosha friend, making a considerable effort to speak in red-green-blue spectra for your convenience. A terrible strain on them, I do hope you appreciate it." Aedwyn settled into his chair, grinning knowingly. "He was simply reminding me that Goosha, Sebt, and Tintari, are not the words you would know those people's by." Aedwyn's grin grew wider, as if coming to the long-anticipated punchline of a joke. "Goosha: Fairy. Sebt: Dwarf. Tintari: Mermaid. And Iliene..." he tapped the points of his tapered ears briefly, "Elf." "NOW, maybe you remember?"	INT. UN GENERAL ASSEMBLY - MEETING ROOM - DAY Outside the room the full general assembly sits and impatiently awaits. The US President is at the podium giving a long winded introduction. Inside a small group of scientists waits to usher out the soon to be newest member, ambassador 457,837,684,729,957,749,737 from the 2nd principles moon of the third planet in the system 4726e6ad. The ambassador is a shifting colored blob of gas encased in glass transported by a hovering computerized disk. A calm and soothing voice comes from the ambassadors metal disk. AMBASSADOR Is it true you can only see three basic colors? The group around the Ambassador look at each other, not sure who the Ambassador was talking to. After a few moments, LEE, one of the scientists from China steps forward and answers in a heavy accent. LEE Yes Ambassador, we see the colors red, green and blue. Do you see more? AMBASSADOR Of course, why else would we be here? Lee and the other scientists look preplexed. LEE We are aware of the other colors in the spectrum and can translate them in representations which we can see, ultraviolet and thermal. Which do you see? AMBASSADOR No, no, no, I'm talking the true fourth color, the color of the Ghoosha. LEE Ghoosha? I do not know this term. Lee turns to the other scientists, they are all as perplexed as he is. AMBASSADOR Ghoosha, the other race on this plant. The ones who called us here. How do you communicate with them if you can't see them? LEE There is no other race on this planet Ambassador. In the background it sounds like the President is ending his introduction. AMBASSADOR Well this is confusing. We've seen your movies and know you are aware of the Ghoosha. LEE Can you explain what a Ghoosha is? AMBASSADOR We see them with spectral vision. They are your dead. They are who called us here. At the podium the President steps aside and the Ambassador floats out to the crowd leaving the stupefied scientist behind.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Goosha?" I said, tilting my head a bit. "Who are they?" The alien looked at me strangely. I had difficulty reading his expression. He was almost entirely human in appearance, with angular features and an air of delicacy and grace. The only thing that would separate him visually from a human were his ears; they were long and tapered to a point, sticking out somewhat from his long flowing hair. But despite visual similarities to a human, his expression and body language were impossible to read. Impassive and imperious, utterly devoid of any movement that wasn't mediated and pondered. He spoke neutrally and flatly, "The Goosha? The Lords of the Sky?" I could only shake my head in ignorance. Who or what was a 'Goosha'? "I'm unfamiliar with that word." "So, the "red green blue" is accurate then? You don't have psir cones in your eyes?" "I have no idea what... sire? sigher? Is." "A pity." the alien said, gesturing beside him. "Because a representative of the Goosha stands before you." I looked to the side of him, and saw only empty air. "Is this a joke?" "Hardly." a snide tone slipped into the alien's voice, his posture subtlely shifting to a haughty loom. "Goosha are about twelve inches tall, shaped bipedally like you and I, with psir skin and neoil hair. They have two diaphanous ciavi wings and communicate by glowing in a variety of colors." "I don't know what sire, knee-oil, and see-ah-vee are." "Hmm. I suppose not." the alien sighed resignedly. "You would need psir cones to see the other colors that happen when you mix red blue and green with them. A pity. " he held his chin a moment in consideration. "What about the Sebt? The Tintari?" I could feel my face getting hot. "I don't know those words, either." The alien's expression grew... I think it was cold. "The Lords of Magma and Sea? You don't know of them, either?" I slammed the table. "Look, Mister... whatever your name was, if you wish to open contact with our world, you are going to have to stop with these juvenile pranks. There are NO people living on this planet by ANY of those names." "Re-open contact you mean." the alien said, not missing a beat. "And my name is Aedwyn. We use to share this world with Men, before we left to cross the western sky. But it seems Men have forgotten much of their own people's past." In the empty space to Aedwyn's right, a burst of color suddenly flaired into existence, brilliant pinks and yellows. There were brief gaps of nothing, what seemed to be... holes in the light. I fell into my chair, mouth hanging open. "What... was THAT?" "That was my Goosha friend, making a considerable effort to speak in red-green-blue spectra for your convenience. A terrible strain on them, I do hope you appreciate it." Aedwyn settled into his chair, grinning knowingly. "He was simply reminding me that Goosha, Sebt, and Tintari, are not the words you would know those people's by." Aedwyn's grin grew wider, as if coming to the long-anticipated punchline of a joke. "Goosha: Fairy. Sebt: Dwarf. Tintari: Mermaid. And Iliene..." he tapped the points of his tapered ears briefly, "Elf." "NOW, maybe you remember?"	The first rule of xenodiplomacy is that emotions cause problems. Don't show any. Better still, don't have any. Never be angry. Never be greedy. Never be pleased. Never be surprised. So of course I'm not surprised when, once again, I accidentally discover that we're not alone. We've never been alone. We weren't alone long before the Conglomerate made First Contact. I hereby formally resign my position and refuse to return to Earth. I'll live out the rest of my life on Lunar Base Seven. More than that. More than you could possibly know. But you have to know. Someone has to know. Someone has to not be surprised. There's a color on the color wheel that's missing from the rainbow. Our color wheel and our rainbow, that is -- these mere products of our biology. It's a color that our brains just make up. Magenta, we call it. Anti-green, in our circular way of thinking. That's a purely terrestrial defect. Our Friends from the Conglomerate see things more clearly. It turns out that everything they've got on what they use for a color wheel is right there in their rainbows. They don't have a magenta. They have a ghooshy. We see an imaginary color. They see a ghostly one, something no combination of our human-perceptible hues can fake. Don't be pleased. Don't be greedy. Just find a way to beg, borrow or steal some tech that'll let you detect the Ghoosha. Ghostly-colored things are all around you. It's a question of long-term survival for our kind -- and what our kind sometimes becomes. As for me, I'm here to stay. For the rest of this life, and hopefully for all of the next. I'll be the first to make a permanent home up here. Better to rule on the Moon than to serve in Hell. There is Hell on Earth. We've never been alone. Don't be surprised. Ghosts are not the top of their food chain.
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Goosha?" I said, tilting my head a bit. "Who are they?" The alien looked at me strangely. I had difficulty reading his expression. He was almost entirely human in appearance, with angular features and an air of delicacy and grace. The only thing that would separate him visually from a human were his ears; they were long and tapered to a point, sticking out somewhat from his long flowing hair. But despite visual similarities to a human, his expression and body language were impossible to read. Impassive and imperious, utterly devoid of any movement that wasn't mediated and pondered. He spoke neutrally and flatly, "The Goosha? The Lords of the Sky?" I could only shake my head in ignorance. Who or what was a 'Goosha'? "I'm unfamiliar with that word." "So, the "red green blue" is accurate then? You don't have psir cones in your eyes?" "I have no idea what... sire? sigher? Is." "A pity." the alien said, gesturing beside him. "Because a representative of the Goosha stands before you." I looked to the side of him, and saw only empty air. "Is this a joke?" "Hardly." a snide tone slipped into the alien's voice, his posture subtlely shifting to a haughty loom. "Goosha are about twelve inches tall, shaped bipedally like you and I, with psir skin and neoil hair. They have two diaphanous ciavi wings and communicate by glowing in a variety of colors." "I don't know what sire, knee-oil, and see-ah-vee are." "Hmm. I suppose not." the alien sighed resignedly. "You would need psir cones to see the other colors that happen when you mix red blue and green with them. A pity. " he held his chin a moment in consideration. "What about the Sebt? The Tintari?" I could feel my face getting hot. "I don't know those words, either." The alien's expression grew... I think it was cold. "The Lords of Magma and Sea? You don't know of them, either?" I slammed the table. "Look, Mister... whatever your name was, if you wish to open contact with our world, you are going to have to stop with these juvenile pranks. There are NO people living on this planet by ANY of those names." "Re-open contact you mean." the alien said, not missing a beat. "And my name is Aedwyn. We use to share this world with Men, before we left to cross the western sky. But it seems Men have forgotten much of their own people's past." In the empty space to Aedwyn's right, a burst of color suddenly flaired into existence, brilliant pinks and yellows. There were brief gaps of nothing, what seemed to be... holes in the light. I fell into my chair, mouth hanging open. "What... was THAT?" "That was my Goosha friend, making a considerable effort to speak in red-green-blue spectra for your convenience. A terrible strain on them, I do hope you appreciate it." Aedwyn settled into his chair, grinning knowingly. "He was simply reminding me that Goosha, Sebt, and Tintari, are not the words you would know those people's by." Aedwyn's grin grew wider, as if coming to the long-anticipated punchline of a joke. "Goosha: Fairy. Sebt: Dwarf. Tintari: Mermaid. And Iliene..." he tapped the points of his tapered ears briefly, "Elf." "NOW, maybe you remember?"	"Three colors? What exactly do you mean by that?" "Ah, I apologize." The being across from me taps its headset a few times, twisting a few dials. "I believe my translator made an error," it says. Oh well. It happens. "I believe I've fixed it. Now, is it true your species can only exist in three dimensions?" "Unfortunately, yes." "Ah, that explains the lack of faster than light travel." "I suppose it does," I say, twirling a pen in my right hand. "So the primary reason for this exchange is technological, I take it?" It asks its questions in that weird imitated monotone of computerized speech. Must be a fancy AI, too. It's got simulated inflections and regional dialects and everything. Pretty deep in the uncanny valley, I'd say. "Well we've received many signals from your planet, and offer a simple exchange. With our upgrades, you should be able to craft spacecraft that are capable of faster than light travel." Excellent. That's exactly what we wanted to hear. "And our corporation will maintain exclusive rights to this technology for the next decade," I say. It shakes its tendrils around its head in mock acceptance. Closest thing to a nod, I assume. "In exchange, we'll give you exclusive rights to our combat drone schematics, specifically the orbital defense designs." It salivates slightly, and something wet and heavy drips onto the floor. Disgusting. "This seems to be a fair exchange, is it not, human?" "I believe so." With this tech we'll be able to beat out those generational colony ships sent out hundreds of years ago, back when we were first starting to crack open asteroids in the belt between Mars and Jupiter. "I do have another question, human." "Ask away," I say. Though I have some idea of what it may be. "The Ghoosha sent messages to us as well, asking for aid in exchange for our technology." "The Ghoosha?" "The other race." "Ah." Bit of a sad story, but still, it's just curiosity. Humans have an amazing ability to forget about the atrocities they'll commit to stay alive. "Well that was mostly accidental," I say. Accidental in the way a man takes out a life insurance policy on his soon to be dead partner. "They lived beneath the oceans, and couldn't survive on land. Gills and all, to be precise." "Indeed," the alien representative says, though I can't tell if the emotion is genuine or falsified. "We killed them before we'd discovered gravitons." "How so?" "Too much plastic in the ocean. Shredded their lungs to bits." "And they asked us to save them?" "We believe so. No one discovered their messages until after they'd died." "I imagine it was quite a shock to find underwater civilizations in the deep abyss." "That it was." The alien seems to ponder this, and stands to leave. "We appreciate doing business with you," it says. "Likewise." As it leaves, we already have begun to receive the schematics. Easily decipherable, though that goes without saying. BZZZZZZZZZZ A notification from my cybernetic implant. "Mr. Rogers?" "Yes?" "Shall we upload the schematics now?" "Yes." "How long will it take for them to notice they're corrupted?" "Oh, they won't figure it out until it's too late." I take out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag. Ghoosha. What a stupid name. A stupid species that died a stupid death because it wasn't willing to step up and do what needed to be done. I wonder what they called themselves. Plenty of anthropologists dig through those strange artificial cities carved into the ocean floor, though the language still can't be deciphered. Maybe if we sell planet cracking rights to Mercury they'll give us a few more uplifting designs. Ghoosha. Call them what you want. I'll just think of them as those idiot squids trapped in oceans so polluted it'd be like trying to breathe through a constant stream of gasoline poured down your throat. The aliens will build our designs, and be quite surprised when we activate the backdoor and turn their systems against them. Hell, they never expected their android servants to begin resisting and destroying their own creators. Whatever they think of us, they don't seem to blame humanity for those schematics. Whatever. What's the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? Well that just makes you a sucker. Infect them with a disease and they come to us for the cure. Not our fault they gave up warfare a long time ago. After all, there's not that much room in the solar system anymore. And there's always profit to be found in the most unlikely of places. Perhaps on their home world. Perhaps on their stations. Perhaps from their own star. Another drag. With these ships, it won't take us long to get there. Scan their system, infiltrate communication arrays, map their colonial strongholds and systematically take what's theirs. We got shareholders to please and they're impatient sons of bitches. It's nothing personal. Just business. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- r/storiesfromapotato
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet."	"Is it true you can only see three basic colors?" the alien being asked. "Just about. Our eyes have three major primary colors perceived by the cones in our eyes, and most of the colors we perceive on what we call the visible spectrum are a mix of Yellow, Red, and Blue." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The Other Major race on your planet." "I wasn't aware of any other such intelligent race." "But you keep care of Ghoosha ambassadors in major cities. Surely you've established a means of communication. You have hundred of humans meeting with them every day. When we arrived, we spoke to them first. They welcomed us to your planet with a spectacular display of dazzling colors and welcoming patterns, as well as a three hour dance of peace." "Care to describe where these Ambassadors are?" The alien fiddled with their glowing tablet for a moment, and then responded. "My computer tells me that even within the borders of this country, there are ambassadors in the locations you would call Gulfport, Mississippi, Orlando, Florida, Indianapolis, and San Diego, California." "There must be some kind of mistake, those aren't major capitals of the U.S. Would you care to describe what the Ghoosha look like?" "They are distantly related to the Homo Sapiens, different order but the same class of Mammlia. Unlike the fingers you have, they have pectoral flippers, and a tail fin for propulsion. The Ghoosha told me that humans have an understanding where they are allowed to occasionally visit their domain of over 71% of the surface of the planet for the purposes of sharing food and using transportation." "Wait a minute ... flippers? Do they have a breathing hole on their back?" "Yes. They also use the surface of their skin on their back to relay messages and communicate on top of regular verbal singing. We thought you humans were the same, as you have [stripes and spots on your skin](http://mentalfloss.com/article/65092/our-skin-covered-invisible-stripes) and also use unusual singing and verbal communication." "Flippers, blow holes, in a few cities, making performances ... are you talking about Dolphins?" The alien once again checked their tablet. "Correct, although we are aware they don't like being called that." "But humans don't have stripes. And last I saw them, which granted was when I was still a teenager, Dolphins don't change color." "Do you not use cameras to translate their performances? What colors do you see the Ghoosha as?" "I dunno, I'd say a solid grey?" The alien looked perplexed, then twisted their tablet around to face me. "Would you care to tell me what you see on my screen?" "Looks like a solid white to me." "There is so much more to the spectrum that you've been missing."	"Three colors? What exactly do you mean by that?" "Ah, I apologize." The being across from me taps its headset a few times, twisting a few dials. "I believe my translator made an error," it says. Oh well. It happens. "I believe I've fixed it. Now, is it true your species can only exist in three dimensions?" "Unfortunately, yes." "Ah, that explains the lack of faster than light travel." "I suppose it does," I say, twirling a pen in my right hand. "So the primary reason for this exchange is technological, I take it?" It asks its questions in that weird imitated monotone of computerized speech. Must be a fancy AI, too. It's got simulated inflections and regional dialects and everything. Pretty deep in the uncanny valley, I'd say. "Well we've received many signals from your planet, and offer a simple exchange. With our upgrades, you should be able to craft spacecraft that are capable of faster than light travel." Excellent. That's exactly what we wanted to hear. "And our corporation will maintain exclusive rights to this technology for the next decade," I say. It shakes its tendrils around its head in mock acceptance. Closest thing to a nod, I assume. "In exchange, we'll give you exclusive rights to our combat drone schematics, specifically the orbital defense designs." It salivates slightly, and something wet and heavy drips onto the floor. Disgusting. "This seems to be a fair exchange, is it not, human?" "I believe so." With this tech we'll be able to beat out those generational colony ships sent out hundreds of years ago, back when we were first starting to crack open asteroids in the belt between Mars and Jupiter. "I do have another question, human." "Ask away," I say. Though I have some idea of what it may be. "The Ghoosha sent messages to us as well, asking for aid in exchange for our technology." "The Ghoosha?" "The other race." "Ah." Bit of a sad story, but still, it's just curiosity. Humans have an amazing ability to forget about the atrocities they'll commit to stay alive. "Well that was mostly accidental," I say. Accidental in the way a man takes out a life insurance policy on his soon to be dead partner. "They lived beneath the oceans, and couldn't survive on land. Gills and all, to be precise." "Indeed," the alien representative says, though I can't tell if the emotion is genuine or falsified. "We killed them before we'd discovered gravitons." "How so?" "Too much plastic in the ocean. Shredded their lungs to bits." "And they asked us to save them?" "We believe so. No one discovered their messages until after they'd died." "I imagine it was quite a shock to find underwater civilizations in the deep abyss." "That it was." The alien seems to ponder this, and stands to leave. "We appreciate doing business with you," it says. "Likewise." As it leaves, we already have begun to receive the schematics. Easily decipherable, though that goes without saying. BZZZZZZZZZZ A notification from my cybernetic implant. "Mr. Rogers?" "Yes?" "Shall we upload the schematics now?" "Yes." "How long will it take for them to notice they're corrupted?" "Oh, they won't figure it out until it's too late." I take out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag. Ghoosha. What a stupid name. A stupid species that died a stupid death because it wasn't willing to step up and do what needed to be done. I wonder what they called themselves. Plenty of anthropologists dig through those strange artificial cities carved into the ocean floor, though the language still can't be deciphered. Maybe if we sell planet cracking rights to Mercury they'll give us a few more uplifting designs. Ghoosha. Call them what you want. I'll just think of them as those idiot squids trapped in oceans so polluted it'd be like trying to breathe through a constant stream of gasoline poured down your throat. The aliens will build our designs, and be quite surprised when we activate the backdoor and turn their systems against them. Hell, they never expected their android servants to begin resisting and destroying their own creators. Whatever they think of us, they don't seem to blame humanity for those schematics. Whatever. What's the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? Well that just makes you a sucker. Infect them with a disease and they come to us for the cure. Not our fault they gave up warfare a long time ago. After all, there's not that much room in the solar system anymore. And there's always profit to be found in the most unlikely of places. Perhaps on their home world. Perhaps on their stations. Perhaps from their own star. Another drag. With these ships, it won't take us long to get there. Scan their system, infiltrate communication arrays, map their colonial strongholds and systematically take what's theirs. We got shareholders to please and they're impatient sons of bitches. It's nothing personal. Just business. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- r/storiesfromapotato
[WP] All the world leaders have a groupchat. One day you accidentally get added.	I prepared myself a coffee, even went down to the store despite the awful cold weather and bought some cookies. This will be a long a night. All those secrets. Maybe I can even write a blog post about this and get famous. I'm still pondering about that though, I don't know if it's wise to mess with all world leaders. Frankly, I don't think I will. I don't have guts. But still, I can't keep away, the curiosity eats me. So I make myself comfy in the chair and start the app whilst savoring my coffee. &#x200B; TheRealFuckBoy: What we'll do with our current crisis that we have at hand guys. I won't tolerate it. 大陰莖 : Calm down . Calm down. We sort this RamNath: No he wont. He just big mouth christian! TheRealFuckBoy: Who asked a totally small dick. I never called support LiberteFraternite: Man that is total insensible! Please stop this and apologize TheRealFuckBoy: Don't you have some riots to attend to? ReichtLiebeGal: Ignore that man. I do so TheRealFuckBoy: No. NO! You don't. I'm the one that ignores. I'm the best at ignoring Thatcher56: Yes, please stop this nonsense. LiberteFraternite: Stfu England. Nobody asked you HappyBelgiumChocolate: Yeah stfu RamNath: F U england!! MrPutITin: Boys, boys, lets keep this on subject. TheRealFuckBoy: Thank you dog. Someone that actually uses his brain. I admire that man. TheRealFuckBoy: I truly do MrPutITin: ;) SushiBanzai: We all know you do. So, tell us. What you intend to do about this. You opened the subject TheRealFuckBoy: Man I had this great, really great plan. And you made me forget. It was great and now I forgot it. Thatcher56: Your country has the studio. You should be a man for once and set this straight RamNath: England you stink bro! HappyBelgiumChocolate: Yeah stfu VivaPSOE: You know how to ruin a perfectly delicious sangria england! MapleNectarBoy: But this time he is not wrong. He has the power to fix this. I really want to see the next season, guys MrPutITin: I love the blind boy. Reminds me of me ReichtLiebeGal: Dude, you're not blind MrPutITin: My love for Russia is. HappyBelgiumChocolate: O snaaap! TheRealFuckBoy: :)) I can't deal with this guys. You need to convince your local Netflix not to cancel it or straight up you ban it . Tell them that. Or you can build a firewall like China did. Trust me, it's the best way, simply the best way to do this. If I interfere they will say I'm a fucking bigot since I didn't interfered for the black guy. SushiBanzai: But you really are one TheRealFuckBoy: :)) Stop it man. This Japanese humor is the best. I tell you SexenioLocco: Maybe I can send some more hermanos to convince them TheRealFuckBoy: :)))) C'mon man. Don't make me build the wall. SexenioLocco: :)) HappyBelgiumChocolate: =)) &#x200B; I just logged off. This was just not what I've expected. Guess my book about new world order has to wait for another day. Neah, I won't write that. I don't want to be a target. Freaking coffee, it was a decaf, great ... &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;	"Oh god" was the only response I could get out before the entire world was asking. Who was I and why am I in this chat of leaders. Then I remembered. The world's newest country was a monarchy based in the same place that Greece was. Similar population too, the only difference is they gained power out of nowhere and the only question anyone had was how. It was a family from America that had taken over, and guess what? They were my 6th cousins. Who knew I would be a world leader. After a bit of digging I realized that their whole Lin was wiped due to a knife a wench and some turkey. That's a story for another time, as the ambassador to America is coming.
[WP] All the world leaders have a groupchat. One day you accidentally get added.	\[Alex Bishop has joined the conversation\] Macron: Hey, who is this, did someone else become a world leader without anyone else realising? Theresa: Could be another Australian prime minister? Merkel: No, I believe the Australian prime ministers name was Scott Marston. ~~Malcolm~~ Scott:…...Morrison. Merkel: What, the person who has been added is called Bishop? ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: No, my name is Morrison. Merkel: And? ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Scott Morrison, the Australian prime minister!! Merkel: Oh sorry, either way do you know who our mystery guest is? ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Unfortunately, no. Theresa: Do we think he’s accidently added someone to the chat again? Kim Jong Un: Wouldn’t be the first time. \[Xi, Putin and four others like this comment\] Macron: Listen we all agree it’s not right to remove you from this chat now, but since we can’t remove any people anymore from this chats thanks to you, this is sort of your fault. Kim Jong Un: I got what I wanted. Macron: (sigh) well should someone bump him to get his attention? Theresa: Why can’t you do it? Macron: Because I did it last time and he hasn’t stopped ringing me occasionally just to chat, you do it! Theresa: Listen, I’ve just become the first prime minister in the UK found in contempt of parliament, I’m not in the mood. \[Kim Jong Un and nine others like this comment\] Merkel: Perhaps, Trudeau? Trudeau: Oh no, I had to sit there as he signed the wrong piece of paper today. He had one job!! Get Morrison to do it! ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Why me? I’ve just been minding my own business and don’t want any of this. Trudeau: Precisely, besides, it isn’t like he’s going to remember who you are. \[Theresa, Jacinda and fourteen others like this comment\] ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Fine, I’ll do it. \[Scott Morrison has bumped Donald Trump\] Donald: “Michael Cohen asks judge for no Prison Time.” You mean he can do all of the TERRIBLE, unrelated to Trump, things having to do with fraud, big loans, Taxis, etc., and not serve a long prison term? He makes up stories to get a GREAT & ALREADY reduced deal for himself, and get..... Jacinda: Scott remember the rules please and check beforehand to see if he is mid-twitter rant you bloody egg. Donald: ....his wife and father-in-law (who has the money?) off Scott Free. He lied for this outcome and should, in my opinion, serve a full and complete sentence. Merkel: Donald this isn’t Twitter, we just need to know if you added this Alex Bishop person by accident? Donald: Siri Twitter now. Theresa: Donald please just answer the question, and that’s not how Siri works. Donald: I barely know Alex Bishop! He was a friend of an associate of mine, HE informs me that he’s always telling people that he knows me, BIG LIAR. Macron: So….you did add him? Donald: Witch hunt! Can’t believe the dems would do this, CRAZY!! \[Fifteen minutes of incoherent ranting later\] Trudeau: Do you think he’s finally stopped? Jacinda: I believe he’s at funeral for now, so we’ve got a few minutes. Macron: Well that was a mess. Theresa: and, we still don’t know who our mystery person is. Kim Jong Un: They got a better reception than I did here. Merkel: That’s because Alex Bishop isn’t threatening the world with a nuclear strike! Alex Bishop:…….or am I? Alex Bishop: \[Posts GIF of Leonard Nimoy vanishing from Marge Vs The Monorail\] \[Alex Bishop has left the conversation\]	"Oh god" was the only response I could get out before the entire world was asking. Who was I and why am I in this chat of leaders. Then I remembered. The world's newest country was a monarchy based in the same place that Greece was. Similar population too, the only difference is they gained power out of nowhere and the only question anyone had was how. It was a family from America that had taken over, and guess what? They were my 6th cousins. Who knew I would be a world leader. After a bit of digging I realized that their whole Lin was wiped due to a knife a wench and some turkey. That's a story for another time, as the ambassador to America is coming.
[WP] All the world leaders have a groupchat. One day you accidentally get added.	\[Alex Bishop has joined the conversation\] Macron: Hey, who is this, did someone else become a world leader without anyone else realising? Theresa: Could be another Australian prime minister? Merkel: No, I believe the Australian prime ministers name was Scott Marston. ~~Malcolm~~ Scott:…...Morrison. Merkel: What, the person who has been added is called Bishop? ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: No, my name is Morrison. Merkel: And? ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Scott Morrison, the Australian prime minister!! Merkel: Oh sorry, either way do you know who our mystery guest is? ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Unfortunately, no. Theresa: Do we think he’s accidently added someone to the chat again? Kim Jong Un: Wouldn’t be the first time. \[Xi, Putin and four others like this comment\] Macron: Listen we all agree it’s not right to remove you from this chat now, but since we can’t remove any people anymore from this chats thanks to you, this is sort of your fault. Kim Jong Un: I got what I wanted. Macron: (sigh) well should someone bump him to get his attention? Theresa: Why can’t you do it? Macron: Because I did it last time and he hasn’t stopped ringing me occasionally just to chat, you do it! Theresa: Listen, I’ve just become the first prime minister in the UK found in contempt of parliament, I’m not in the mood. \[Kim Jong Un and nine others like this comment\] Merkel: Perhaps, Trudeau? Trudeau: Oh no, I had to sit there as he signed the wrong piece of paper today. He had one job!! Get Morrison to do it! ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Why me? I’ve just been minding my own business and don’t want any of this. Trudeau: Precisely, besides, it isn’t like he’s going to remember who you are. \[Theresa, Jacinda and fourteen others like this comment\] ~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Fine, I’ll do it. \[Scott Morrison has bumped Donald Trump\] Donald: “Michael Cohen asks judge for no Prison Time.” You mean he can do all of the TERRIBLE, unrelated to Trump, things having to do with fraud, big loans, Taxis, etc., and not serve a long prison term? He makes up stories to get a GREAT & ALREADY reduced deal for himself, and get..... Jacinda: Scott remember the rules please and check beforehand to see if he is mid-twitter rant you bloody egg. Donald: ....his wife and father-in-law (who has the money?) off Scott Free. He lied for this outcome and should, in my opinion, serve a full and complete sentence. Merkel: Donald this isn’t Twitter, we just need to know if you added this Alex Bishop person by accident? Donald: Siri Twitter now. Theresa: Donald please just answer the question, and that’s not how Siri works. Donald: I barely know Alex Bishop! He was a friend of an associate of mine, HE informs me that he’s always telling people that he knows me, BIG LIAR. Macron: So….you did add him? Donald: Witch hunt! Can’t believe the dems would do this, CRAZY!! \[Fifteen minutes of incoherent ranting later\] Trudeau: Do you think he’s finally stopped? Jacinda: I believe he’s at funeral for now, so we’ve got a few minutes. Macron: Well that was a mess. Theresa: and, we still don’t know who our mystery person is. Kim Jong Un: They got a better reception than I did here. Merkel: That’s because Alex Bishop isn’t threatening the world with a nuclear strike! Alex Bishop:…….or am I? Alex Bishop: \[Posts GIF of Leonard Nimoy vanishing from Marge Vs The Monorail\] \[Alex Bishop has left the conversation\]	I prepared myself a coffee, even went down to the store despite the awful cold weather and bought some cookies. This will be a long a night. All those secrets. Maybe I can even write a blog post about this and get famous. I'm still pondering about that though, I don't know if it's wise to mess with all world leaders. Frankly, I don't think I will. I don't have guts. But still, I can't keep away, the curiosity eats me. So I make myself comfy in the chair and start the app whilst savoring my coffee. &#x200B; TheRealFuckBoy: What we'll do with our current crisis that we have at hand guys. I won't tolerate it. 大陰莖 : Calm down . Calm down. We sort this RamNath: No he wont. He just big mouth christian! TheRealFuckBoy: Who asked a totally small dick. I never called support LiberteFraternite: Man that is total insensible! Please stop this and apologize TheRealFuckBoy: Don't you have some riots to attend to? ReichtLiebeGal: Ignore that man. I do so TheRealFuckBoy: No. NO! You don't. I'm the one that ignores. I'm the best at ignoring Thatcher56: Yes, please stop this nonsense. LiberteFraternite: Stfu England. Nobody asked you HappyBelgiumChocolate: Yeah stfu RamNath: F U england!! MrPutITin: Boys, boys, lets keep this on subject. TheRealFuckBoy: Thank you dog. Someone that actually uses his brain. I admire that man. TheRealFuckBoy: I truly do MrPutITin: ;) SushiBanzai: We all know you do. So, tell us. What you intend to do about this. You opened the subject TheRealFuckBoy: Man I had this great, really great plan. And you made me forget. It was great and now I forgot it. Thatcher56: Your country has the studio. You should be a man for once and set this straight RamNath: England you stink bro! HappyBelgiumChocolate: Yeah stfu VivaPSOE: You know how to ruin a perfectly delicious sangria england! MapleNectarBoy: But this time he is not wrong. He has the power to fix this. I really want to see the next season, guys MrPutITin: I love the blind boy. Reminds me of me ReichtLiebeGal: Dude, you're not blind MrPutITin: My love for Russia is. HappyBelgiumChocolate: O snaaap! TheRealFuckBoy: :)) I can't deal with this guys. You need to convince your local Netflix not to cancel it or straight up you ban it . Tell them that. Or you can build a firewall like China did. Trust me, it's the best way, simply the best way to do this. If I interfere they will say I'm a fucking bigot since I didn't interfered for the black guy. SushiBanzai: But you really are one TheRealFuckBoy: :)) Stop it man. This Japanese humor is the best. I tell you SexenioLocco: Maybe I can send some more hermanos to convince them TheRealFuckBoy: :)))) C'mon man. Don't make me build the wall. SexenioLocco: :)) HappyBelgiumChocolate: =)) &#x200B; I just logged off. This was just not what I've expected. Guess my book about new world order has to wait for another day. Neah, I won't write that. I don't want to be a target. Freaking coffee, it was a decaf, great ... &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B;
[WP] As Voyager II leaves the solar system, scientists are flabbergasted to discover that the probe simply appears in Nasa's HQ. In its memory banks is a single phrase, "**** Has Left the Playable area, and has been returned to spawn."	Eight scientists with a total of thirteen Phds (and two engineers) crowded around the flashing readout on an intern’s monitor, the one they used for illicit inquisition (professional and not) because he was there so infrequently and always came to staff parties but nobody could ever remember as having contributed to the communal recreation fund. All other readouts read a continuation of the mathematically coherent curving projected path, but our clever geese had known to look deeper long ago. &#x200B; “Welp.” Huffed a liver-spotted man in his late-seventies with a wiry white beard rereading the taunting text over low circular glasses through narrowed beady eyes, his life’s work now completed in this confirmation. A nagging suspicion reached out from the single digit years of his life to pat his shoulder in empty consolation. “I guess… we’re confirmed.” &#x200B; The gravity of this could not be overstated. It had long been the suspicions of every person in this room, confided in lunch rooms with hushed tones and constituted the basis of the truest form of trust and sense purpose they had ever experienced, that they would one day discover something of precisely this nature and they had undertaken a quest in that pursuit as raison d’etre. The decades-long undertaking had more recently involved a lengthy process involving cutting through the flooring to access wiring not included in the structural blueprints of the facility, but which would have had to be there if their inferences about the administration, life and reality had been correct and confirm the real truth each had been chasing intuitively from the beginning of their now-provably digital lives. They’d soldered boards and hand-wound custom wire to match the likes of which they’d discerned running conduit beneath their feet to access their sensory equipment for mere minutes at a time for many years. It all coalesced to run through a tangle of just-good-enough processors filled with terabytes of personally coded circuitry deciphering what must have been, they reasoned, output to the a priori necessitated cabal of multinational directors monitoring and perhaps guiding humanity’s development (including their own) to unknown purpose throughout recorded history with links to the unimaginable reality superseding their own. &#x200B; “Let’s shut it down.” After a long blinking a USB slid limp from the back of the computer, and in silence each in turn shuffled back to their computer, the wind knocked from their bodies. Drained of meaning, yes, but filled anew with purpose. They had all of them sacrificed their lives up to this point in dedication to this, the ultimate probability and the bottleneck question that must, they felt, be satisfied. &#x200B; Now, they could relax, and life could begin. &#x200B; The torture was in not knowing. If life were authentic it naturally followed that the authenticity would need be codified to discern a number of logical endpoints that would unravel the natural state of man, the natural order, and the probability of divinity as well as a nexus of likelihoods and certainties far too vast and important to attempt to detail here. That authenticity could now be released. Their rebirths were at hand. &#x200B; They called loved ones and professed admiration. They booked flights to vacation spots they’d spent forever neglecting. They wrote emails, some of apology to those they were ashamed of hurting and others admonishing and forgiving villains from their past they’d always resented. They went about spending their money, experimenting, playing. They found laughter of a depth and fullness they’d forgotten having lost. They bonded. They slept together and professed love to old flames. They abandoned addictions and habits, experimenting with new ones. They wrote. They read fiction. They sat in the sun and learned to love foods they thought they hated. They volunteered. Some abandoned religion, others took it on. &#x200B; They embraced themselves and each other with a vigor and fullness they had never conceived of. They deconstructed their contraption and told no-one of their new understanding. &#x200B; It was enough.	everyone was silenced by this phrase. it wasn't possible to comprehend. words were floating through their minds, but none loud enough to be heard. After a long second that felt like an hour people started to react. some laughed, some cried, there was something else out there. there were skeptics of course, people who thought it was a prank, a joke from some tech support but there was no way it could have been, the probe had the info gathered, the remenants of star dust, and a big dent where it must have hit something large and metallic. it wasn't long before the news broke out, even though there was an indefinite embargo people talked, cash was too alluring for them and the insanity of it all was too much. the media knew something was up and it only took 2 days for all the details to come out. pt.1 (first ever prompt sorry)
[WP] Pennywise is feeling a little bored during the holidays, seeing how kids don’t venture outside during blizzards. He decides to pick out a house at random and pick a child living in it. Unluckily for him, Kevin McCallister hates clowns and will do all he can to stop his attacker.	Kevin McCallister, for the 4th time in his life, was Home Alone. Though this time it wasn't due to the negligence or stupidity of his family this time, he had stayed behind intentionally, by his own accord. Hell, his mother was practically begging him to go, feeling extremely guilty and traumatized, letting her "Poor baby alone to fend for himself in the world." Well Kevin wasn't a kid anymore. It was his 17th year alive on this Earth, and he had been doing fine this winter. He hadn't gone with as he knew he wouldn't enjoy it, and thought it would cost them too much with him on board. His family had gone to a part vacation part business trip to somewhere tropical. Maybe it was the Caribbean? He didn't remember, nor did he really care, he just wanted them to enjoy their trip, and for himself to enjoy the Midwest, as he liked it, predictable and cold. Nevertheless, he still had chores at home and work at the 7-11, and tonight was his Friday off, and the day scheduled for the pumbling repairs. If he was able to take care of everything, then he would get his own personal PC with a copy of Doom 2, which while he hadn't heard incredible things about, was still reason for celebration for him. But this past week had been... strange. Nothing too out of the ordinary, just.... that feeling, when you know something's slightly off, like when you know there was a yellow simley face mug on the counter just a few seconds ago. Probably just cabin-fever getting his nerves. While he liked the cold, he wasn't a fan of being outside in it. It was more the feeling of the holidays he enjoyed, and while he was kinda a loner who was too close to either his mom or dad, they were still family who loved each other. And then, there was the clown. From the moment Kevin saw the bastard, he knew that he, no, It was trouble. No sane person just stands out there in a blizard with a clown costume on holding a buncha balloons and walking towards a house with a creepy-ass smile keeping direct eye-contact with the only person inside. So, he got to work. The plans he had used before probably would work, he didn't have enough time. But he still had time, and time, no matter how small, is all he needed. He started by rushing to his parent's room, and grabbing the pump-action and a few boxes of shells from his dad's hunting closet. He then went to the kitchen and started grabbing peanut butter, banana bread, some fruity candycanes, and a 6-pack of Surge. He then hopped downstairs and set up his dad's hunting supplies, grabbed some trap parts, and a few other treats. He grabbed Doris and the parrot, and gathered some aftershave and shaving cream. Finally, he sacrificed an old unused sweater to the Gods Of Improvised Bandoliers, and begun his fight.... ....It had seen a few kids like this, the hold-outs, the loners, the attemping survivors, but he was just like the rest. So, being polite, It walked up to the door, and turned the handle. It was locked, as expected, and as typical. It did it's indescribable magic, opened the door, and was greeted by an aftershave-shavingcream pie. While this would flay the skin of a mortal, this did nothing to It, but still sure fucking burnt like hell in It's eyes! While It was wiping the shave out of It's eyes, It heard a curious spraying sound. When It could finally see, the sound turned out to be Barbasol and Silly-String cans covering It, which had no effect But then came the image of a Bic disposable light, and then just like that, It was up in flames. So, front door was a bust, and even if the trap had gone off, the kid was probably there waiting. So, the basement was next, which It was fond of. Immediately, there was a bear trap at the base of the door. Not too conspicuous, but It was no fool, and It was not trapped in a house by It's lonesome. So, It oppend the door, and saw another trap right beyond the frame. Heh, stupid kid. But then It heard a click, and immediately stepped to the side. Twas a swinging paint can, and was there to presumably get It to step back into the trap, how typical. It stepped forward, and then came swinging the door towards It, as It reacted by stepping back to where It was, and then came the can to knock It's face into the bear trap. It eventually was freed from the spring-loaded jaws, and ventured further into the basement, to where It found the stairs, littered with bear traps, with spikes along the walls. While more complex then the last, It found a way, by bracing against the bare parts of walls, It could safely reach the top. As It reached halfway through the stairs, It went again to brace itself, but felt some sort of cable between it and the wall. Then the spikes which littered the walls came down upon It, impaling themselves into It's flesh, while also causing It to fall into the traps, which proved unremovable this time. It, while in pain and injured, still reached the top, and saw this time a single spike on the ground, and it knew that there would be a, "click." It immediately bended It's back like a limbo player, and swiftly dodged the paint can, but as It went back up, It was hit by the can, and fell down the stairs again. It, in an indescribable amount of pain, struggled back up the stairs, and eventually reached it hand upon the top, yet then immediately placing It's other hand on the spike, impaling It's hand. As It approached the living room, It heard small sounds of something talking, barely unintelligible. But It had no need for ears, so It focued in on the conversation. "Quiet you stupid...... thing!" "I am not a thing," Squawk! "Ok, you stupid bird, just be quiet! He could be here any minute!" Squawk!* "It's a little bitch" Squawk!* As It approached the coach and the fireplace, It saw the feathered vermin in their cage, and also the shaggy fluffed mop of the boy's head, as It leaned in to take a peak at his soiled face, the vermin spring from their cage, and cuased It to fall, stumbling into the fireplace face-first. Ash and soot covered It's face, followed by a familiar spraying sound, and then, a familiar image of a lighter. It was screaming, running mad like a bull surronded by four walls. It's form burning and aching all at once, It's entire essence on fire. Then, came the steps... ...As soon as Kevin had heard the traps going off, he had speed-dailed the only people he trusted in this situation. As soon as he was off the phone, he tactically searched the house, until the otherwordling screaming scoarched the wall of the house. Kevin rushed downstairs, the creepy motherfucker being burned alive, seemingly unable to stop. Then, It heard Kevin, and he unloaded on the man. Somehow, he was still up and moving, yet falling back. It fell to the floor, trying to process what was happening, and felt as a slivery blade punctures It's suit. Kevin repeatedly stabbed the invincible asshole with his Swiss Army Knife his sister had gotten from Yellowstone. He lodged the multi-tool into It, and then got up, and taunted It. It charged Kevin, giving up the clown-charade, and followed him as he darted around. Kevin knew he couldn't keep the fight in here, so he rushed out the door, dodging the still-going Bic lighter trap. It crashed through the doorframe, and met Kevin outside in the road, receiving another shotgun blast, the last straw. It, for the first time in a while, finally spoke. "You don't know who I am! I will haunt you for the rest of your days b-" It was cut off by the Wet Bandits Inc. Van ramming straight into It, Marv stepping out and giving It a kick in the ass with a baseball bat. It was defeated, mentally speaking, and quickly crawled back into the sewers via a grate. Kevin was extremely thankful, he had finally gotten rid of whatever that thing was. He turned to Marv and Harry, who had just stepped out of the van "Never thought I'd say this, but thank god for the Wet Bandits." "Kid, you okay? The fuck was that thing?" "What do ya mean, Hare, it was some fucking insane asshole!" "No it wasn't Marv you dimwit, you see a person ever act like that?" "Well.... remember our time back out in the Big Apple?" Kevin interjected, "Guys, guys. It doesn't matter, he's fucked off. All I need you to do now is one thing." "Sure, whatever ya need kid." "We need some plumbing done, think you could set us up?" "Oh yeah, absolutely kid. We'll get the things outta the van." "Thanks guys, the money's on the counter. I just gotta do a few things out here." While not the best service there was in-town, the Wet Bandits knew how to deliver. 9 years ago they had been tried for assault, harrasment, and attempt of theft against Kevin, but Kevin gave his testimony and insisted that they only get charged for attempted minor theft, and get 5 years, which they did. 3 years ago, they got out of the system, and were adjusting to life in the Midwest well, starting a plumbing and repairs business, getting their Bachelor's degrees, and Marv was even a player on the town's Minor-league team. While it was crazy, insane, crazily insane, and insanly crazy, this was his home. And with friends and family like he had, he knew that he'd never truely be Home Alone. Edit: Some grammer and spelling fixes. Sorry guys, I made this at like 9 PM on a Wednesday.	Kevin heard a knock at the door. He’d been through this routine a few times before. The robbers were probably back again. He queued the scene from the movie and, in the lowest voice he could, called through the door. “Hello?” “Hiya Kevin!” It wasn’t the voice of either robber. Then again, Kevin wasn’t exactly using the correct voice himself. “Oh, aren’t you gonna say something?” His voice was off. Something about it wasn’t right. “I’m not letting anybody in this year.” He hopes he sounded firm. “Especially someone I don’t know.” “Well. I, Kevin, am Pennywise the Dancing Clown. You are Kevin. So now we know each other.” At this point, Kevin had some ideas for dealing with Pennywise. “Well, Pennywise, I bid you farewell.” “No you don’t. You’re going to stay right here.” At this, Kevin walked to the storage closet. He could hear Pennywise rattling off threats as he grabbed supplies: a hangar, an iron, some screwdrivers, a gallon bucket of paint, two ice picks, and a slingshot. Something was going to work. Quickly, Kevin set up his traps. First, he rigged his microwave up to the hangar. Transformers were incredibly easy to work with. The hangar went over the door handle. The iron was strung up to swing across the entire room. The screwdrivers went at the top of the stairs. The paint wouldn’t swing down the staircase this time. It sat perched on the door. Kevin kept one ice pick, while the other stayed by his bed. The slingshot also never left his side. Pennywise decided the door wasn’t good enough for him, so he used a window. Kevin was not expecting a surprise entrance like that. Broken glass rained everywhere. Kevin grabbed a bread roller. He grabbed an oven mitt too, grabbing the hangar and charging at Pennywise. He was one tough preteen. Pennywise vanished as soon as that happened. His mental projections earlier faded away, leaving only Pennywise and the weapons. Pennywise tried every trick in the book, but forgot the most important one. “Come on out, Kevin! I’ve got a balloon for you? What’s the matter? Don’t you want a balloon?” There was an odd sound coming from Pennywise. “Aaaaahhhhh!” Kevin took his screwdriver running after the clown. The chase wasn’t particularly close, nor was it much of a chase. Kevin tried to stab the abdomen. Pennywise turned to meet him face-to-face. Kevin thrive the screwdriver at him, but it missed. Pennywise grabbed Kevin by the shirt, but Kevin escaped. He grabbed an ice pick and hacked through Pennywise’s head. Or, he tried. The knife went right through. Part 2 if there’s demand!
[WP] The year is 2074, and an Ancient God emerges from the ocean and chooses you as its host. You gain all its powers, allies and a neat extra voice in your head that tells you what to do sometimes. What it doesn’t tell you is that its Ancient enemy has risen as well and taken your sister as host.	“This is getting ridiculous!”Paricea screamed in my mind, “For years, you had my forces and you decide to talk?!” “Is Skirus giving you a hard time too?” I ask my sister as I casually refilled her tea. “Oh, no,” she laughed, “Not at all. But you could easily change that.” She adjusted her glasses to look at her tablet, almost paper-thin and the holographic control panel hovering by her left hand. “Oh? And what do I have to do in order for that to happen?” I settled down in my chair, with enough blankets and pillows for it to be considered my second bed. I gave her a cheeky smile. “Did you enjoy any James Cameron’s Avatar movies? If so...” We were both silent. Then at the same time, we cracked up. “What are you waiting for?! Our war shall not wait any longer! You vowed loyalty to me and for what? For you to befriend my mortal enemy!” Paricea was a broken record, we had this conversation for multiple years... “Well, should’ve given me the offer before I got arthritis,” I projected my thoughts to the immortal god, “Maybe before I turned 78.” Needless to say, he should’ve picked someone more suited for this whole General of the Ocean thing. Same thing for Skirus, he should’ve never picked a 81 year old woman for Sky Commander. And they should’ve know that not every sibling out there has a horrible relationship like them... Thankfully, Skirus knew that. Paricea kept grudges like he was a Greek god. “Shall we ignore the deities for another day?” My sister inquired. “Oh! Please! They can wait for a few more years... by the way, how close are we to immortality?” “Science says,” she tapped away on her tablet for a moment, “Within the decade.” “We got plenty of time then,” I picked up my coffee and had a sip of it. Finally, I can have coffee straight from the pot without adding anything to it. Only took 58 years. “And how’s your book coming along?” “Oh, the fans will love it! If Skirus is right, it will be the best one yet!” “And I hope before then, Paricea will actually acknowledge that this feud is rather silly.” “Never!” Such a stubborn asshat... “Care to let me have a sneak peek?” I wrapped a blanket around my legs to settle in for the hourlong reading fest. “Of course,” she swiped the screen and her work-in-progress novel replaced the previous news article, “Where were we last?”	(Told from the sister's POV) It was a cloudy, average Fabuary day at ClearView ™️ High, sponsored by ClearView Optics ™️ , for any cyber needs in YOUR sockets! Freya could practically see the woman with evidently plastic boobs against a blue background in her head, the commercial having played between periods. She slammed her dusty, red, and quite ugly locker shut. She was late to history class, and just couldn't be late. As she walked down the hallway, she replayed an old musical song in her head- it was from Old Broadway before CyberMusic came to be. Freya sighed; Scientists were trying to make SQUIPs a real thing, known as the Patch ™️ . Stupid idea, look how Jeremy turned out. As she turned in the hall, her navy hoodie caught on something. Frowning, she turned to the FiberLyfe walls and saw it. But it was impossible- nothing could break through Fyber. So why was a tiny hook poking through? The hook was golden, and had a shimmer to it; Freya recalled the unique sheen of the yellowish metal from ROCKS! class. On it was a small necklace, made of a strange metal. On its end was a pendant, one that held a small rock. None of this was possible, much less the rock- it was gray, yet had red bands rippling throughout it. As if fate had gripped her, Freya caught herself unclasping the necklace. She shrugged- her brother, Gabriel, often found himself doing random things without his notice lately; maybe it was a genetic thing. Placing it around her pale neck, it felt right. Unlike anything in this "utopic" society. As she clasped the necklace once again, the wings came.It was golden. The rock. It was golden now, with white bands slicing through the shimmery surface. Freya blinked, shocked; even FyberLife walls couldn't just change color. She turned around to see if any TechnoSchool BOTS were around, trying to catch skippers such as her; and she realized she was no longer in ClearView ™️ 's dim hallways, but rather in a vast desert with little but sand and flora in it. Her prematurely white hair was a model's shimmery black mane, her vampiric-pale skin an Egyptian's golden tan. White wings shone around her, and a name rang in her head; *Kaelax. Kaelax.* Suddenly, the craziness dissipated. She was face\~down on the linoleum floors, the smell of the desert still lingering. She felt it. Kaelax. She felt the wings shimmering just below the surface of her cells, ready to manipulate the universe- and more. She was no longer Freya, but a powerful deity ready to destroy anything who dared cross it. Freya was now Kaelax. &#x200B; &#x200B; I'll do a part 2 later, see you lot then! Feedback is TOTALLY welcome. Thanks.
[WP] Scientists have created a drug which makes you forget the last 24 hours, to help people who have had traumatic experiences and such. You have woken up with cuts and bruises, but with no memory of the previous day. You want to know what happened.	(Alert. Dark themes, trigger warning. It's pretty obvious that the WP scientists are complete idiots.) = = = = \[Edited for formatting\] = = = = "...mmm. Urgh..." Pained moans emerge from dry lips as wakefulness intrudes in on my slumber. Sensations from all over, all knocking at once bearing mixed messages. I feel ravaged. Or is it ravished? I feel at once eighty and eighteen: my limbs and lower body are telling completely different stories, although they are both sore and exhausted. Hang on. Where's my boxers? "Shit!" Tartan sheets fly off my bare chest as I sat up in surprise. Morning. My room. My posters. My bed. So far, so good, but I don't like going commando. Never understood why Thomas does it. He says he likes the freedom, but I can not imagine being able to sleep. Well, obviously I did. Yet I can't even find any loose garments around the room, let alone a shred of memory recent enough to matter right now. My left hand gropes at the side table, and instinctively finds the phone. Same place as it always is, although there's a sensation of empty space next to it. The screen comes to life as I lift the blocky junk to my face. Three notices and missed calls, but before I could read the text, I notice the scabs on my left arm. New lines, running alongside the old, almost invisible scars from a stupider time. No, don't think about that part. Where did this new one come from? I check myself over. Another bruise here. Cut there. Oh there's a sizable band-aid above my right eye. It needs changing. That sticky, humid itch somehow lost itself amongst the other aches and complaints, until now. The phone buzzes, and a sudden anxiety rises in my confused mind. I curl up like a hedgehog as Thomas's voice breaks the morning quiet. "Ah, you're up. Feeling okay, man?" That opening, he knows something. "Um, maybe. What happened, Tom?" "Phew, that's a long story. Where do I start?" Bingo. "Uh... let's start with the cuts and bruises." "So. Last night at the bar. You, my man, got into a fight when I went off to take a leak. One-on-two, no less. Then we all got kicked out and into the station. Should have waited for me, dickwad." Speaking of which... "Okay, but I don't remember any of this." "That's a worry. The bastards got you you good, but I didn't think that blood on your face meant anything serious." ...Do I ask about how I feel fucking used? Angry and powerless? I contain myself. "I don't have a headache right now." "The other thing is, coppers said your drink might be spiked. Word has it there's a new drug in town, so they're sending glassware off to be tested. Hal's still raging about having to buy extra to keep the place open tonight. Plus everybody's spit, too." Interesting. I look left at the shelf, seeing only a box of countertop painkillers. Opened. "Tom, do you have my stuff? I don't see my wallet." "One of them ran off with it. I can't cancel your card, so you'll have to do it as soon as you're fully awake, ok? I'm coming over now. I got off work so I can take you around. ...dude, do you remember any of this?" The tone of concern is touching, I guess. We did grow up together, fist-fighting our way through the school yard. "Yeah... Nah. Something is wrong, Tom. I don't know how to put it. But..." "We'll stop by Dr Nick on our way to the station. He'll make sure everything is ok." "No I mean -" "Just chill, I'll be there for you." "Alright, see you in ten." I chicken out, but at least I remember how far Thomas lived. "Ciao. If you still feel stiff, I left some drugs on the table. Third-party crap, but does the job." Yeah, I feel like a zombie alright. I could use a few pills. But first I should see what else I missed - hopefully not a Presidential Alert for midnight rapists. Missed calls: Thomas, Thomas, mother. Meh. Notice one. Phone out of credit, please recharge. Story of my life. Notice two. Mother's WhatsApp message. Hope I can come home for Christmas. GBub23's WhatsApp message. Still remember wild night; third date? ...maybe. I sigh. Don't want to think about it right now. Notice three. Bank balance alert. Yeah, better check. I flummox myself at the login. I reset it yesterday afternoon, so naturally I forget the new code. I wrote a slip of paper with a hint, but it's... in my wallet. Shit. Ok, chill. There's at least one thing that I can at least succeed at right now, and that's taking a pill, then dress myself before Thomas arrives. I grab the box then haul my sorry, bare ass to the sink. It's a tiny studio, so this challenge involves walking five steps then shoving a flimsy curtain aside. I spot clothes in a pile by the porcelain. Bits of blood, check. The blister pack crinkles as I pop out a pair, eyes staring at the mirror, not having a big enough pair to check the brand and use-by date. Tom and I have both sourced some shady meds in the past. Better to rely on the placebo effect, than to know the truth. I drink some water from the tap. God, I feel like shit. I remember Hal's bar, but not walking into it. I remember Dr Nick, but wasn't that on TV? Wonder drug for PTSD, he claimed. Too late for the likes of me, but the military is actually considering this madness... Fuck, that's some Big Brother news. Not even allowed to remember that you're a killer, just the good soldier bits. The lack of yesterday is really on my mind. Is this what hardcore junkies feel after their memories have been shot to pieces? I look down again. The cloths I'm supposed to have worn are torn. Shirt, once torn. Jeans, thrice torn. A corner of my boxers stick out from underneath, ...torn. What. The pills are in my mouth by the time the doorbell rings. A moment of terror hits me, and I can't tell if it's my own PTSD or something even worse. Do I spit and pretend, or do I swallow and forget?	You jump out head with a bad headache and weezy stomach. While you drag yourself to the door you see something. "A picture?" you think. But as your eyes adjust you realise it's a picture of you with a blue eyed red beanie wearing 17 year old looking man with red sharpie on top written "TAKE WHAT'S IN YOUR HAND" almost instinctively you open your hands to see a purple pill. "Oh my fucking god, how long have I been here?!?" you think, shaking with adrenaline. somehow you muster up the courage to shout for help, but as you finish you notice something in the corner of your eye. "TAKE IT NOW" "SWALLOW IT" repeated over and over again on all of the walls. at this point you are on the verge of tears. knowing that you have to leave, you go for the door but it's locked. as you take your hand off the door knob you see another picture attached to the door. it's a picture of an arm with a cut terrifyingly looking like your arm. as you walk back you start to see more pictures of arms with cuts on them, sex scenes with you and the guy, the front door to your mother's house, when suddenly, you remember. "Oh." you think as you stop shaking. With your mind seemingly gone blank you calmy walk back to the bed, sit back down and take the pill. You pass out. Moments later you jump out with a bad headache and a weezy stomach...
[WP] A major error in the postal service has lead to a decades long backlog of letters now suddenly arriving daily at your house, you read them and begin to unravel the story of the previous owner. What you start to piece together is horrifying.	May 23rd, 1989 Dear Mr. Gomez, Thank you for sending in your manuscript. Sadly, it does not fit the new direction our company is trying to pursue. We encourage you to send your manuscript to other publishing houses, or to send us a new manuscript, in accordance to the guidelines attached to this letter. Sincerely, David Peterson First Reader __________________________________\| August 27th, 1989 Dear Mr. Gomez, You are hereby invited to attend the DuMont Estate's gala on September 3rd. Wear your best clothing, and come ready to leave well into the night. Sincerely, Kara DuMont. _________________________________\| September 4th, 1989 Dear Mr. Gomez, I am a journalist working for the Lakeview Herald. I would like to interview you for a story about recent events near your home. Attached is my schedule for the next week and a half. Please return this letter with whatever time is most convenient for you marked, and I will meet with you then at your place of residence. Best wishes, Kate George. ____________________________________\| September 10th 1989 José, We need to talk about Sep. 3rd. They know what you saw. Meet me ASAP. I'll be in the motel until the end of the month. Marcus. _____________________________________\| September 20th, 1989 Dear Mr. Gomez, I am a journalist working for the Lakeview Herald. I would like to interview you for a story about recent events near your home. Attached is my schedule for the next week. Please return this letter with whatever time is most convenient for you marked, and I will meet with you then at your place of residence. Best wishes, Kate George. ________________________________________\| If you tell anybody about what happened you are dead _________________________________________\| September 28th, 1989 Dear Ms. Gomez, We regret to inform you that your father is in critical condition in the hospital. We tried contacting you by phone multiple times. He is being cared for at Lakeview Hospital. As you are his next of kin, we require your signature before we can proceed with the necessary surgeries. M. Pearson, Lakeview Hospital. _____________________________________________\| December 8th, 1989 José, Glad to hear you're alive. I'm coming to you next week. We'll figure something out. Marcus. _______________________________________________\| December 28th,1989 Mr. Gomez, We are willing to negotiate for your silence on this matter. Please come to our abode within the next week if you are interested. K.G. ______________________________________________\| March 2nd, 1990 Dear Mr. Gomez, We regret to inform you that your application has been rejected. Feel free to apply at another time, when you have acquired more relevant experience. Sincerely, Clarkson and Sons ________________________________________________\| May 27th, 1990 José, See attached. Told you so. Marcus. ________________________________________________\| August 12th, 1990 Julia, Sorry about your dad. I'll see if I can help him out. If you see him, tell him to stay on the DL. Marcus. _______________________________________________\| August 26th, 1990 Dear Mr. Gomez, You are hereby invited to attend the DuMont Estate's gala on September 5th. Wear your best clothing, and come ready to leave well into the night. Sincerely, Kara DuMont. _______________________________________________\| September 18th, 1990 Dear Mr. Gomez, I am a journalist working for the Lakeview Herald. I would like to interview you for a story about recent events near your home. Attached is my schedule for the next week. Please return this letter with whatever time is most convenient for you marked, and I will meet with you then at your place of residence. Best wishes, Kate George. ___________________________________________\| September 22nd, 1990 Julia, Get to my place ASAP. Your dad is with me. Marcus. _____________________________________________\| November 17th, 1990. Dear Mr. Gomez, We regret to inform you that the results were positive. The blood found at the scene was that of your colleague, Marcus Johnson. Please report to the station as soon as you can. Sincerely, Frederick Johansen. Lakeview PD. ____________________________________________\|	The wintry air outside breathed against the snow-kissed windows. I sat by myself, the lone lamp harshly illuminating my desk. The chair, the desk, the house was comfortable, though not too comfortable – everything had an edge to it that was subtle but perceptible. This house was old. The walls turning beige gave it away. But with its age it carried a charm, the intoxicating smell of hardwood and the intricate patterns drawn on vintage furniture that seized your eyesight, perhaps a bit too much. This was a house full of love, but with love came baggage. When the postman came this morning, he delivered a box marked with “FAILED TO DELIVER” in large pink letters. Inside, it was filled with letters, weighing the box down with their ideas. That box now sat on my desk. I have been reading the letters all morning, and the pieces are finally starting to come together. >Dear Alfred, >I hope you’re enjoying yourself. It must be lonely by yourself, without family and friends, right? Who am I kidding. You’re in the city. There’s no way you can be lonely. You walk outside and you’ll see fresh sets of faces that you’ve never seen before. So how is it? How different is the city from the town? I’m a bit concerned for you because you haven’t written for the past few weeks. >Love, >Eve * My fingers traced across the paper as I read. It was fine paper, smooth and creamy in colour, but there were grooves where a pen had once gouged ink into the paper. >Dear Eve, >I don’t know if you’re reading these letters or not, because you never seem to reply. The city is great, but I feel lonely all the time. The people outside have no respect for the old like we did back in the town. Old things, old ideas. I found a lovely old house, at a marvellous price too. A charming house to distract myself from others. These city people, they’re my age but I don’t feel much like them at all. They’re vain and frivolous, and I told you how they didn’t like old things. Anyways, I know this might sound funny, but lately I’ve been suspecting that this house is haunted – I don’t know why, maybe it’s my nerves acting up because of the strangeness of the city in general? I’ve been too afraid to visit the basement. I don’t know why. Thought this might interest you. >Love, >Alfred * >Dear Eve, >I figured it out. Our letters aren’t getting through. That postman, that little rat, I knew he’d fail! I knew it from the look of him. I knew it by the moment he first set foot on my turf. Anyways, I visited the basement and there was nothing. Well, not exactly. There weren’t any ghosts for sure, but there was this book, and it was beautiful, beautiful I’m telling you. It had no title, just a cover bound by soft red leather and what was inside was a treasure. You see, it was something that agreed with me for once. The city people, they are frivolous and lacked all virtue. The book showed me what was good. An important philosopher or something must have lived inside this house and wrote it. I’m so excited to show this to the world. >Love, >Alfred * >Dear Alfred, >Yes, I’m getting your letters now. Our kids are great. Sam had already learned how to walk and Jasper started school in January. I must say I’m a bit concerned for you, Alfred. You seemed to hate this postman a lot. Why do you assume that the postman did it deliberately? It might just be an innocent mistake, like when we were back in school, Mrs Porter accidentally marked some of your questions wrong and gave you the wrong grade. You were so upset. But then we went to her office together and it turned out that she had stayed up all night trying to mark our exams and was half-asleep when she got to yours. I’m sure the postman is just a nice person who’s a bit confused on the inside. And the city people. They can’t all be frivolous and distasteful! There must be some great people who you just haven’t met yet. >Love, >Eve * >Dear Eve, >I have great news. I just got my latest piece published! Seems like all the hard work had finally paid off. Yes, it was in the Daily Patriot, and I know how you feel about that paper, but hear me out. It was a compromise. I know you don’t agree with it, and I don’t fully either. But it was a pathway to letting the ideas spread. The ideas in the book shall touch the world. They’ll show these city-people what constitutes as holy and pure while they suffocate in their own excrement because they cannot discriminate what sets the good apart from the bad. Did you know some people I’ve met actually defended the postman? They said that he was just a little boy and his parents were poor and his superior is the one who is always forgetful, but they don’t see that, little boy or not, he is inefficient. His roots should have indicated. He is impure. He is from an impure place. I can’t fathom how you might expect me to like these city-people. Did you know that the Daily Patriot was the only paper that would publish my piece? I found a book, and it was the only thing that gave life meaning, made it make sense for me, and everyone I spoke to shot it down. They told me it was garbage and I shouldn’t believe in it. They don’t see that it’s history. They don’t see that it’s tradition. Tradition is the glue that holds society together. Without it, you have little mongrel postmen running around not delivering letters properly. We will build a pure society, and we will save society from themselves. >Love, >Alfred * >Dear Alfred, >Your comments about purity concerns me. What does it mean that people are impure? Can people be impure based solely on their parents? Love is pure. Love is the only thing that is pure. I’ve heard great things about the city, a place where people may love each other freely, where love does not discriminate and be bound by the same rules we have here. I’ve heard that in the city, love is free, and love is the purest of them all, it is an emotion that moves mountains, an emotion that rewrites laws and melts icy hearts. Remember when we got married? The people in town chided me for marrying into a poor family, but I knew who you were, Alfred Kingston, I saw you in your brilliance and I saw the boy that topped the class and looked far into the city skyscrapers while the rest of us mulled in our fields and in front of our televisions. Don’t make the same mistake as they did, Alfred. I love you, but I’m not sure if you are still the same person. >Love, >Eve * >Dear Eve, >I can’t believe that of all the people, you’d be one to disagree with me. Can’t you see? People have always lived life in a certain way, and then everything changed. Laws changed, rules changed, our culture changed. No one appreciates the old ways anymore, and that’s why so many people are impure these days. I will restore society to its former glory and might. Back in town, people laughed at me for thinking I could marry you. Look at where I am now, in the city, where none of them could ever dream of. Isn’t it the same with city-people? >Best regards, >Alfred * >Dear Alfred, >I read your last letter and I don’t know if you’ll be reading this, but your plan won’t work. Your words, “martyrdom”, “sacrifice”, they scare me, Alfred. No matter how important you think your mission is, please, don’t do it. They’ll call you mad and take you away, they’ll put you in jail. That book. Burn it. Please. You used to be so wonderful and kind, but that book has given you hate, it has given you a group of people to save who don’t need to be saved. It corrupted you. It made you into your own enemy, it made you the same as the people thought we shouldn’t be together. Please, Alfred, think about our children. Don’t you care about them anymore? Is this mission really what you believe in? >Love, >Eve * I reached for another letter, but as my fingertips reached the paper, my hand recoiled with a sudden jerk. How can something as smooth and harmless as this paper have such a burn to it? It was me. I didn’t want to read anymore. Slowly, I carried the box to the basement, as if waking from a great sleep. And then I saw it, the monster in the basement, the thing that haunted the house. A mahogany chair, shining bright red despite there being no light. On top of it was a book. I walked closer. Bound by red leather, the cover was as soft as skin and the pages had an allure to them, something of history, something that felt like it had weight and significance, something that would draw eyeballs like the intricate patterns on the furniture. The edges of my pages kissed my fingertips, warm in the middle of the snow, inviting. I lifted the book and placed it gently into the box, where it lay with broken letters. I sealed the box and hid it away in a corner. The house was mine. It had history. It was old and brought with it its allure. But on top of it all, it was mine. History was mine to make meaning of, mine to pick out the best parts and leave out the dredges. I would interpret history instead of letting it interpret me. *** Loved this? Check out r/ProjectSlate!
[WP] A major error in the postal service has lead to a decades long backlog of letters now suddenly arriving daily at your house, you read them and begin to unravel the story of the previous owner. What you start to piece together is horrifying.	January 4, 1986 Elle, I know it sucks. I was there too, remember? But you’re almost over the finish line. Just a few more months and you’ll graduate. Then you can go wherever you want. Get yourself a ticket out of there. Pick a guy with a good work ethic and get knocked up like I did. If you can’t wait for college then grab one of the boys in your high school. Or a teacher or whatever. I know you’ve got to get out of there. You can do it. But you can’t come here. Ted was my way out and I’ve got a good thing going here. Having a pretty younger sister around batting her eyelashes will NOT help me out. Don’t deny it. I know you have a crush on him. And he’s stupid enough to make some regrettable decisions and then you’ll mess us everything for me. Get yourself out. Finish your senior year and then get yourself out. I love you. Bonnie. January 5, 1986 Mel, You were wrong. There’s no way Bon will take me in. I wish I could just jump on the train and go down to you, but there’s no way your mom wouldn’t send me back here. And with the whole twin ESP thing my mom would probably know where I was the second your mom found out. I’m driving Mom crazy. I know it. I’ve been pestering everyone I love and I keep just wasting their time with my problems. Except, I can’t talk about my REAL problems, so they just hear about stuff like how hard it is to keep my piano in tune in the dining room, and how mean the other waitresses at Bryan’s are. That stuff just doesn’t seem so important. None of it’s important. Elle. January 17, 1986 Bonnie, I’m driving Mom crazy. I’m driving everyone crazy. Love your kids a lot of kisses from Auntie Elle, okay? Tell them I love them. I love you. Elle. January 24, 1986 OUR DEEPEST SYMPATHIES Dear Mr and Mrs Keith MacElroy, Please accept the sincere condolences of everyone here at Shorebird Insurance. Keith, take all the leave you need. We are here for you, and you are in our thoughts. Best regards, Anderson Samuels, CEO Shorebird Insurance January 24, 1986 To Mrs Bonnie Connors and Mrs Debora MacElroy; It is the decision of the Framingham Police Department that the original letter, dated January 17, 1986, written by Miss Elizabeth MacElroy and addressed to Mrs Bonnie Connors, must remain in the custody of the Framingham Police Department. The letter is evidence and crucial to our ongoing investigation. Given the nature of the letter and its attenuating circumstances, you may come to the station and make a photocopy of the letter if you choose to do so. Please direct and further inquiries to Detective Richard Mansfield. Sincerely, R Mansfield January 24, 1986, Aunt Deb, I’m enclosing the last letter Elle sent me. I don’t know what to say. We’re all here for you. Melanie January 30, 1986 Keith, Stop it. Just stop. There is a reason the kids stayed with my folks while we were in town. There is a reason I will not let you anywhere near them. Do I really need to spell it out for you? Stop trying to invite yourself over. Stop playing the victim. Just stop. Theodore Connors February 4, 1986 Deb, Say the word and I will get right in the train and come to you. Or just get on the train yourself and come to me. If you need out of Keith’s house, GET out. Don’t blame yourself for Elle. Keith is a monster. Take care of yourself. Dawn February 5, 1986 MAY GOD’S LIGHT COMFORT YOU IN THESE DARK TIMES Keith & Deb, If you need ANYTHING, stop by. We’re here for you. Andrew & Linda February 13, 1986 THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS Keith, I’m so sorry for your loss. There are no words Alice February 19, 1987 Keith, It’s your fault. It’s all your fault and you know it. I know it. Elle told me. You didn’t consider that now did you. You didn’t think that Elle would have a boyfriend. Well she did. I was her boyfriend and I loved her and it’s your fault she’s gone. I’m telling everyone. Steve Doeliner	The wintry air outside breathed against the snow-kissed windows. I sat by myself, the lone lamp harshly illuminating my desk. The chair, the desk, the house was comfortable, though not too comfortable – everything had an edge to it that was subtle but perceptible. This house was old. The walls turning beige gave it away. But with its age it carried a charm, the intoxicating smell of hardwood and the intricate patterns drawn on vintage furniture that seized your eyesight, perhaps a bit too much. This was a house full of love, but with love came baggage. When the postman came this morning, he delivered a box marked with “FAILED TO DELIVER” in large pink letters. Inside, it was filled with letters, weighing the box down with their ideas. That box now sat on my desk. I have been reading the letters all morning, and the pieces are finally starting to come together. >Dear Alfred, >I hope you’re enjoying yourself. It must be lonely by yourself, without family and friends, right? Who am I kidding. You’re in the city. There’s no way you can be lonely. You walk outside and you’ll see fresh sets of faces that you’ve never seen before. So how is it? How different is the city from the town? I’m a bit concerned for you because you haven’t written for the past few weeks. >Love, >Eve * My fingers traced across the paper as I read. It was fine paper, smooth and creamy in colour, but there were grooves where a pen had once gouged ink into the paper. >Dear Eve, >I don’t know if you’re reading these letters or not, because you never seem to reply. The city is great, but I feel lonely all the time. The people outside have no respect for the old like we did back in the town. Old things, old ideas. I found a lovely old house, at a marvellous price too. A charming house to distract myself from others. These city people, they’re my age but I don’t feel much like them at all. They’re vain and frivolous, and I told you how they didn’t like old things. Anyways, I know this might sound funny, but lately I’ve been suspecting that this house is haunted – I don’t know why, maybe it’s my nerves acting up because of the strangeness of the city in general? I’ve been too afraid to visit the basement. I don’t know why. Thought this might interest you. >Love, >Alfred * >Dear Eve, >I figured it out. Our letters aren’t getting through. That postman, that little rat, I knew he’d fail! I knew it from the look of him. I knew it by the moment he first set foot on my turf. Anyways, I visited the basement and there was nothing. Well, not exactly. There weren’t any ghosts for sure, but there was this book, and it was beautiful, beautiful I’m telling you. It had no title, just a cover bound by soft red leather and what was inside was a treasure. You see, it was something that agreed with me for once. The city people, they are frivolous and lacked all virtue. The book showed me what was good. An important philosopher or something must have lived inside this house and wrote it. I’m so excited to show this to the world. >Love, >Alfred * >Dear Alfred, >Yes, I’m getting your letters now. Our kids are great. Sam had already learned how to walk and Jasper started school in January. I must say I’m a bit concerned for you, Alfred. You seemed to hate this postman a lot. Why do you assume that the postman did it deliberately? It might just be an innocent mistake, like when we were back in school, Mrs Porter accidentally marked some of your questions wrong and gave you the wrong grade. You were so upset. But then we went to her office together and it turned out that she had stayed up all night trying to mark our exams and was half-asleep when she got to yours. I’m sure the postman is just a nice person who’s a bit confused on the inside. And the city people. They can’t all be frivolous and distasteful! There must be some great people who you just haven’t met yet. >Love, >Eve * >Dear Eve, >I have great news. I just got my latest piece published! Seems like all the hard work had finally paid off. Yes, it was in the Daily Patriot, and I know how you feel about that paper, but hear me out. It was a compromise. I know you don’t agree with it, and I don’t fully either. But it was a pathway to letting the ideas spread. The ideas in the book shall touch the world. They’ll show these city-people what constitutes as holy and pure while they suffocate in their own excrement because they cannot discriminate what sets the good apart from the bad. Did you know some people I’ve met actually defended the postman? They said that he was just a little boy and his parents were poor and his superior is the one who is always forgetful, but they don’t see that, little boy or not, he is inefficient. His roots should have indicated. He is impure. He is from an impure place. I can’t fathom how you might expect me to like these city-people. Did you know that the Daily Patriot was the only paper that would publish my piece? I found a book, and it was the only thing that gave life meaning, made it make sense for me, and everyone I spoke to shot it down. They told me it was garbage and I shouldn’t believe in it. They don’t see that it’s history. They don’t see that it’s tradition. Tradition is the glue that holds society together. Without it, you have little mongrel postmen running around not delivering letters properly. We will build a pure society, and we will save society from themselves. >Love, >Alfred * >Dear Alfred, >Your comments about purity concerns me. What does it mean that people are impure? Can people be impure based solely on their parents? Love is pure. Love is the only thing that is pure. I’ve heard great things about the city, a place where people may love each other freely, where love does not discriminate and be bound by the same rules we have here. I’ve heard that in the city, love is free, and love is the purest of them all, it is an emotion that moves mountains, an emotion that rewrites laws and melts icy hearts. Remember when we got married? The people in town chided me for marrying into a poor family, but I knew who you were, Alfred Kingston, I saw you in your brilliance and I saw the boy that topped the class and looked far into the city skyscrapers while the rest of us mulled in our fields and in front of our televisions. Don’t make the same mistake as they did, Alfred. I love you, but I’m not sure if you are still the same person. >Love, >Eve * >Dear Eve, >I can’t believe that of all the people, you’d be one to disagree with me. Can’t you see? People have always lived life in a certain way, and then everything changed. Laws changed, rules changed, our culture changed. No one appreciates the old ways anymore, and that’s why so many people are impure these days. I will restore society to its former glory and might. Back in town, people laughed at me for thinking I could marry you. Look at where I am now, in the city, where none of them could ever dream of. Isn’t it the same with city-people? >Best regards, >Alfred * >Dear Alfred, >I read your last letter and I don’t know if you’ll be reading this, but your plan won’t work. Your words, “martyrdom”, “sacrifice”, they scare me, Alfred. No matter how important you think your mission is, please, don’t do it. They’ll call you mad and take you away, they’ll put you in jail. That book. Burn it. Please. You used to be so wonderful and kind, but that book has given you hate, it has given you a group of people to save who don’t need to be saved. It corrupted you. It made you into your own enemy, it made you the same as the people thought we shouldn’t be together. Please, Alfred, think about our children. Don’t you care about them anymore? Is this mission really what you believe in? >Love, >Eve * I reached for another letter, but as my fingertips reached the paper, my hand recoiled with a sudden jerk. How can something as smooth and harmless as this paper have such a burn to it? It was me. I didn’t want to read anymore. Slowly, I carried the box to the basement, as if waking from a great sleep. And then I saw it, the monster in the basement, the thing that haunted the house. A mahogany chair, shining bright red despite there being no light. On top of it was a book. I walked closer. Bound by red leather, the cover was as soft as skin and the pages had an allure to them, something of history, something that felt like it had weight and significance, something that would draw eyeballs like the intricate patterns on the furniture. The edges of my pages kissed my fingertips, warm in the middle of the snow, inviting. I lifted the book and placed it gently into the box, where it lay with broken letters. I sealed the box and hid it away in a corner. The house was mine. It had history. It was old and brought with it its allure. But on top of it all, it was mine. History was mine to make meaning of, mine to pick out the best parts and leave out the dredges. I would interpret history instead of letting it interpret me. *** Loved this? Check out r/ProjectSlate!
[WP] Virtual reality and artificial intelligence means you can date a digital replica of anyone, but for legal reasons you need a waiver from the person in question. You've sat down with someone to have that difficult conversation.	"Sign this." Gwendolyn Marsh, an older lady from the Accounting department shoved a paper across the table to me. "What?" "Just sign it." Gwen was insistent, which made my eyebrows feel like rising upward. I scanned the paper and my eyelids began quivering. "It says here you want me to give up my... DCR?" Gwen smiled outside, which meant she was pissed off inside. I suppose she thought she was doing me a favor. "Digital cloning rights. Each individual can make one copy of themselves with machine learning, VR, algorithms; that bullshit. And I want a clone of you! Isn't that flattering?" _Isn't that flattering?_ No, Gwen, it's not flattering for a woman twice my age to be interested in me. "Uh, thanks, but no thanks." I tug at my collar. "What does someone your age want with a VR copy of me anyway?" Gwen laughed. "I keep trying to invite you over and you keep being busy! I would just _love_ to spend time with you, and this is a way we can both be satisfied." I sat up. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I also had to think about myself. "Gwen, I won't sign this. These are my rights and I don't feel comfortable just giving them away." I had hoped that would be enough, and my hopes were quickly dashed. Gwen got out her checkbook and reading glasses. "How much?" She pulled out a pen and fidgeted with it eagerly. "Gwen, it's the year 2069. I don't know when you were born, but some green rectangle with a number you wrote on it will never be worth as much as my identity. You used to be able to buy and sell peoples' dignity like it was nothing, but that's just not how things work anymore." Gwen trembled. She was used to getting what she wanted with her Daddy's money, and this scenario was clearly going places she didn't want. "Uh," I stammered, "I've got some friends who might sell you their DCR, though." "I don't want your friends. I want you. You." Gwen's eyes glimmered like a hungry shrew looking at their next meal. Already she was fantasizing about gnawing away at a simulated copy of me; undressing me with her eyes, her corpulent body barely containing itself as she imagined tackling me and pressing down upon me with her gelatinous body. I could already see her disgusting grin stretching across her face as she engulfed me with her XXXL flesh. In spite of my disgust with this creature, I held my tongue. She worked in Accounting. I had to be polite. After a brief silence, I said, "Well, that's nice." I had hoped some disdain might give this oversized female rodent the virtue of humility. Gwen frowned. Could it be? Would she finally leave me alone? I prayed to Neo-Allah that she would realize her foolishness and leave me be. "You're the spitting image of my late second husband, I deserve you. I need you. You're being selfish. It's just a hologram! I used to send nudes all the time when I was your age. This isn't so different." I could barely contain my fury. Her shameless hypocrisy made my skin crawl. "Well, I'm terribly sorry, but I have a meeting on Pluto, and if I don't catch this launch today..." "We can go in my shuttle! Imagine, hours of talking and getting to know each other better." "Ah, eh..." "Oh please, please! You made me beg." "I didn't make you do anything, Gwen. You are the one trying to force me to do something. I suggest taking some emotional stabilizers, or perhaps going for a walk." I turned my back upon her, walked out and sighed. I felt my implant vibrate, and sweat went down the back of my neck. It was Gwen again. There was just no pleasing some people...	"Uhmmm... no. It just doesn't feel right." She seemed very hesitant about letting me date an AI generated version of her in virtual reality, but I was getting desperate. I've never had any experience with hooking up with girls, and VR seems like my last hope of trying to fix that problem. "It's not like I'd do anything weird, I'm not like that. I just wanna... know what it's like, you know? To just.. not be alone for once." She probably took me for some kind of creep, trying to satisfy his perverted instincts. "What would you even do if I said yes?" I dug through my mind, trying my best to think of all the possibilities I could have with VR to give me the time of my life. What would I do if I got the chance to date the girl of my dreams in a reality where I can do anything? Skydiving in the Himalayas? Bungee jumping in Macau? Scuba diving in Hawaii? There are just too many options. "I don't know... a cup of coffee?" "You could have just asked me when we first met!" She grabbed my hand and took me to the nearest coffee shop.
[WP] You wake up on an alien dissection table. You seem to be unharmed, but now an alien wants you to pay the massive bill for whatever procedure they performed.	I woke up to loud voices and clanking metal. Bright lights shined into my eyes. I covered them, annoyed. “...hrrrf...mom, what are you doing?” I slowly uncovered my eyes to see a scaly orange creature peering at me with a large toothy smile and what looked like a... clipboard? “Hello patient...” She checked her notes quickly. “...72847! It looks like you’re making a great recovery! You’ve certainly been through a lot hun. I’ll bet you’re hungry!” I looked around. An IV tugged at my left hand and there was a cart next to my bed with a questionable platter of glowing mush. “That’s alright. Maybe later. Actually, sorry, uh... ma’am? Am I dreaming right now? I’m not sure why I’m here.” She blinked at me, seemingly concerned. “Oh honey... do you not remember what happened? The... you know.” She made a general motion towards her own body. I shook my head. She inhaled sharply. “Well, you were definitely suffering. On the edge of death. I don’t know all the medical lingo myself, but when our people found you, you were on the brink of death.” She gently touched my hand with her claw. “It must have been so hard for you...” “Wait wait wait, I still don’t understand. Where am I? What did you do to me?” I panicked and lifted my shirt. There were no scars. I grabbed my head. Nothing hurt but I felt different. “What happened to me?!?!” I screamed. I suddenly noticed a rapid beeping noise and looked up at a screen above my bed. My heart rate was going crazy. Then I noticed another heart rate. And another heart rate. And another. How many heart monitors do you need for one patient? The orange creature back away, making room for two more creatures who ran in, likely alerted by the loud noise. One of them sat down by the bed. “Please, you must be very confused, let me explain...” I felt calmer. Maybe it was the doctor. Or maybe it was the blue fluid pulsing into my IV. The doctor creature “You see, when we found you, 72847, you were within only decades of death. You only had one heart and a terribly weak immune system, which we’ve supplemented with our own technology... your lifespan should be extended back to the normal range?” “The... the normal range?” I asked softly. “Oh, at least 11,000-14,000 rotations around your sun. Don’t worry. Everything is fixed.” She grabbed the paperwork the first creature had left on the table. “Now, of course, before you are transported back to your planet, we need to talk about payment... most of our patients choose the extended plan.” I saw a number that made all of my hearts drop at once. “But don’t worry. You should have enough time.”	I opened my eyes and was confronted with a slowly intensifying white light. The low hum and steady beeping from a machine next to me informed me that I must still be submersed in my dream. I laid my head back down and tried to use my time wisely. If I’m stuck in an oddly lucid dream, may as well be introspective. This wasn’t the first time I’d had strange dreams after drinking at Ray’s. The pungent blend of cheap beer, wasabi-covered peanuts, and hard-boiled eggs never seemed like a good idea six years ago, let alone earlier tonight. And yet here I lay. I might never learn. “Ray and his usual crowd weren’t so bad,” I mused to myself, “and besides, it beats going straight home to drink alone.” The light was becoming more intense. “Shit,” I thought to myself, “I’d better not be passed out at the bar. I bet Ray’s kid is shining that damn laser pointer in my eye.” I rolled my head to the right to try and avoid the light. That god damn green thing was still in the corner. It moved a fuzzy hand away from the knob on the wall and the light finally held fast at its current level of brightness. It gave me a toothy grin and waved its hand in silly, floppy way that betrayed the nimble dexterity I witnessed when it carefully trimmed my toenails, taking special care to preserve each individual nail. I tried to be polite (even if I was dreaming, no sense in being rude) and raised my head to smile and wave back, but only succeeded in the former. My hand strained the metallic restraints on my wrists, and I shot my head back down. CLANG! My head crashed into the hard table below me. “Sweet Jesus that hurt… oh shit.” Why did not that wake me up? “Oh shit.” Why am I not waking up? The green fuzzy thing reacted with surprised and rushed to my side. “That’s the last god damn time I am mixing god damn cheap beer with god damn wasabi peanuts.” To my surprise, the thing loosened the restraints and pulled a screen in front of me. I rubbed the back of my head. Fight or flight simply would not kick in, and I couldn’t help but be amused by this thing. As I contemplated the three pictographs glowing in radiant blue against the black screen. A poorly drawn stick figure. “Me?” I simultaneously assumed and asked, pointing at myself. My companion smiled and nodded, tufts of hair swaying through the air as it did. The next pictograph showed stick-figure-me handing something to a muscular looking version of my companion. I lay my finger on the second image, then slowly raised it to my apparent caregiver. “You?” A nod. I looked back at the muscular drawing, and back to my rather plump caregiver. It shrugged. The final pictograph showed stick-figure-me in bed, in what looked like a house drawn by a blind man having a house described to them by an idiot who didn’t really understand what houses were for. Below the three pictographs was a symbol followed by an absurd amount of numbers. I looked around for my pants, “What the hell do you want? Do you take credit? At the very least I need my damn pants.” Maybe this thing had some sort of translating machine that could make my sense of my questions. Couldn’t hurt to talk out loud anyways, that’s how I did my best thinking after all. The caregiver noticed I was searching for something, and produced a silver bin. It had my pants, shirt, and belt. I rummaged through the pockets and found my wallet. I fanned it open to show my friend. It looked inside the wallet, perhaps contemplating the meaning of the plastic rectangles and slim strips of green paper, then back at me. It furrowed its brow, gave a hearty sigh, and made a noise that sounded like a cow mooing peacefully. The machine next to me began to emit a new sound- a gushing, rushing, sound- and I felt myself drifting back to sleep. I awoke later to the sound of my alarm bleating its siren song. My hand lifted itself to my face, this time unrestrained. 7:37 AM. “Maybe I was dreaming after all,” I thought, feeling the odd marriage of relief and faint disappointment. I swung my feet to the carpet, and heard an odd crinkle. I looked down to see my toenails had been taped back to my toes. I wiggled my toes and stared at them, contemplating whether or not unlocking one of the great mysteries of the universe- are we alone? - would be a suitable excuse to skip work. I laughed to myself. “That’s the last time I am mixing cheap beer with wasabi peanuts.”
[WP] A classic ‘knight saves princess’ story, but the narrator is utterly insane.	"Hey, you." "You there." "Want to hear a story? It's a good one, and it's true." "I know it's true." "What you don't believe me?" "I'll prove it when the story is told." "Trust me." "Please." "Thank you, I'll tell it like it happened." "It all started ten years ago, back in the days of war. In the days where men and women were killed in the streets by roaming bands of soldiers. They were dark days -- evil days, twisted days, maligned, maladjusted, malodorous, malignant, mal...mal... Another word that begins with mal -- mal means bad don't you know. Anyway, it was a mal time to be in your Kingdom." "The mal Empire which neighbors the Kingdom was convinced your Princess was a witch. They declared war, a war to 'root out the evil of your land'. You were poorly prepared. How could you prepare? You loved your Princess. She was fair as something which was very pale, beautiful. I remember she was beautiful. Divine. The first time I saw her, my heart nearly stopped in my chest. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I was in love. I think we all were." "The Empire struck hard. The Empire stuck quickly. They kidnapped the Princess and stole her away, locking her in the tallest tower of an enchanted castle. The people of your Kingdom were shocked, but still, a call was put out to all the knights of the land. "Bring our daughter back, and you will be given her hand to wed," the old king had said. He was a kindly old man, he liked to sing you know." "Anyway, the Prince of a nearby Kingdom answered the call. He and five, or was it six? No, definitely probably five. Maybe. Anyway, five-ish people accompanied the Prince. They were strong lads, good lads, the opposite of mal lads. My lads? No, that's stupid. Anyway, they were bold and brash, brave, and benevolent, b..be...I know there's another word for them." "Starts with a b." "Beneficent?" they asked. "Sure, that's a good one. Thanks." "They set out on a quest, a quest to rescue the maiden from the tallest tower. They fought many bandits, killed trolls, and even fought a dragon. Have you eaten dragon? Tastes like lizard and sulfur. Terrible. As they closed in towards the tower, odd things began to happen. Creatures attacked the party in the woods. Creatures that never would have been hostile before. We—they killed squirrels by the score, frogs in their hundreds. I can't think how many woodland creatures died on their swords." "They waded through blood and flesh to reach the tower. Eventually, they cut their way in through the door. They were outnumbered by the tower guard, but they movements were off. They moved like puppets, jerky and odd. The party cut their strings, the poor bastards. Bloody and bruised, the party finally found the chamber where the Princess would be held. They would finally save her." "The Prince had his doubts now. He had seen strange works, witnessed many odd occurrences. He went in alone. She sat in the tower room, overlooking the land through a great window. She sat on what had been a couple guards. They had twisted themselves into the shape of a chair. She was using them as furniture. "Thank you for coming gallant knight" she said. Her words were like knives in the skull, the Prince felt pain, unimaginable pain. He wanted to bow, to serve this Princess, this woman who would be Queen." "She walked up to the Prince and she smiled. Her smile was like ivory, her face was carved silver, her eyes shone like rubies in the night. Truly she was beautiful, beatific, brilliant, beauteous...She was evil. He knew that. He knew she was mal, that she needed to die. He knew that his will couldn't hold out forever...." "I think more than anything, she was surprised when he stabbed her. When he stabbed her with his thrice blessed sword. She became very ugly as she died, screaming and wailing, crying and begging, and finally she cursed as she died. She didn't swear, no, she didn't swear. She reached out her hand and she...and she...and she..." "She touched the Prince's forehead. As she died, she said, "As long as you live, you will be nothing. Your people will not know you. Your family will mourn you as dead. Your friends will think you a stranger. And no one, will ever believe your tale, no matter how you tell it. They will kick you, and call you a madman. You will die, a crazed beggar." "She smiled as she died. I think that last curse made her truly happy, gave her pleasure." "You see, I am that Prince. I saved your Kingdom from the witch-Queen to be." "I know that all you hear right now is crazed rambling. I suppose I'm starting to feel a bit mad in truth.... I know that you stay only because you are frightened. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just have to tell the story." "It helps me cope." My story told, I sit down on the cobbled path, my home in the alley. The woman steps away from me slowly. As she turns to run, I hear her say, "Mad beggar! People like you ought to die, save the rest of us trouble." Leaning my head back against the wall, I cry. I had told the woman I'd prove it to her. I guess that proved what I'd said just fine. Just fine. ____________ /r/SirLemoncakes	I was in Innstown, in a shadowy inn, I met an old man with a beard. He cornered me and said "I'll begin my tale, but I warn you: it's weird." "No thanks," I said, standing my ground, "I'm only here for a stout." He picked me up, turned me around and boxed my ears all about. As I fell with an "ouch" into a hard chair he pricked a soft egg with his sword and I understood I was pickled there until his old fartship got bored. "It begins," he began, "with a wandering knight who went by Messer Carbonado he wandered by day--yay he wandered by night! peacefully like a tornado." I was glued with a glum glue to the hum- drum tale that the old brave expounded; upon the seat, my seat it went numb and shook with his voice that resounded: "Ser Carbonado had travelled four miles for hearing a dame was distressed. He crossed country--o'er brook and o'er stile all for his valour to test. He came to a tower, he came to it fast by whipping his cream-coloured steed and up at its top like the top of a mast some fluttering hair he espeed." I tried not to giggle, and not to give way, but the half-rhyme was laughably shit. As he boxed both my arms, I rued the day that ever I did laugh at it. "'Fair sir,'" he went on, dusting his sleeves, "Came a voice down from ever so far. 'Be you a valiant, for this gang of thieves has chained me high up in this tar.'" I needn't say what violence ensued, I hardly escaped with my toes-- but even his violence was hardly as rude as that he did to English poetry and prose. "'Come up, dearest knight', came the voice down, 'And soon you shall have your reward, for I am the lady of yonder town; my father its fiefdom and lord.'" With narry a thought, rushed in did the knight, breaking the door with his lance and flurried he fleet up many a flight in the hope of a forming romance. But at the top step, his footing it faltered and his eyes grew ever so big; his hopes they were dashed--conceptions altered: there stood I in a wig! Oh I bashed him and bashed him and buggered him fair, then I dashed out his brains something gnarly. I boiled his bones and I ate him right there with some bread that I made out of barley." He laughed and he laughed; his mad hollow eyes danced like a flame that grows long and suddenly (much to my surprise) I found myself laughing along. --But don't edge away, dear friend, lovely stranger; I'm really just pulling your leg. Sit down on this stool, you are in no danger-- let me buy you a beer and an egg!
[WP] A classic ‘knight saves princess’ story, but the narrator is utterly insane.	Once upon a time -- 8:37 AM, to be precise ( but the exact year was lost \[ no I don't know who lost the year \] ) -- a beautiful and sad princess with golden hairs and a name of flower, was prisoner of an evil dragon -- though she deserved her fate, because she was a \\\\ and is totally NOT a insertion of my EX, now that I think about it, she doesn't even deserve to be in a story so there is NO PRINCESS in the prison -- so the evil and greedy dragon was guarding his tower. Fortunately for -- wait, I need a princess for my story to work, so there WAS a princess in the tower, but with RED hairs so NOT like my EX -- so fortunately for the princess, a knight had heard of her distress, and was on his way to save her. Music! At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon. Live a big! A bad! And evil dragon. A legendary beast! Feared among us! That's the story of the Red Princess! &#x200B; The brave and courageous knight Hector. Was about to slay it with its armor! And mm... lala la la la! La la lalala and with its horse! &#x200B; At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon. Live a big! A bad! And evil dragon. A legendary beast! Feared among us! That's the story of the Red Princess! &#x200B; ... .... and courageous knight Hector. ... &#x200B; Well, let's stop the with music, the lyrics are not that good anyway. Lets focus on the story. So, Hector -- the name of the knight ( sometimes people don't understand it, that's why I remind it to you \[ no, that's not my name, mine is Ecthor, that's not the same etymology at all \] ) -- was about to save the princess and kill the dragon -- oh, spoiler, sorry -- where was I? In front of the tower, Hector summon the dragon: "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" -- Wait, THAT was not on the script! -- I was saying, Hector summon the dragon: "Come here, evil creature!" And the dragon answer "I, Ph'nglui, is here to protect the tower, containing mglw'nafh, the red Princess, if you want to enter, you will need to kill me!" Using all its ruse, Hector shot "E4!". The dragon fly and come in front of Hector saying "By Cthulhu, chess it is: E5." And then Hector jump with its R'lyeh \-- I mean its sword, sorry -- on the dragon wgah'nagl \-- or whatever was its name --, and kill it by surprise! Then, the red princess, fhtagn \-- not sure about the name -- great our hero and they both sing together! Sing with me, same as the previous song: &#x200B; At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon Live a big! ... dragon?... la la Iä, Iä, Cthulhu fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh ... the Red Princess! &#x200B; The brave and courageous knight Hector. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn &#x200B; Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn	I was in Innstown, in a shadowy inn, I met an old man with a beard. He cornered me and said "I'll begin my tale, but I warn you: it's weird." "No thanks," I said, standing my ground, "I'm only here for a stout." He picked me up, turned me around and boxed my ears all about. As I fell with an "ouch" into a hard chair he pricked a soft egg with his sword and I understood I was pickled there until his old fartship got bored. "It begins," he began, "with a wandering knight who went by Messer Carbonado he wandered by day--yay he wandered by night! peacefully like a tornado." I was glued with a glum glue to the hum- drum tale that the old brave expounded; upon the seat, my seat it went numb and shook with his voice that resounded: "Ser Carbonado had travelled four miles for hearing a dame was distressed. He crossed country--o'er brook and o'er stile all for his valour to test. He came to a tower, he came to it fast by whipping his cream-coloured steed and up at its top like the top of a mast some fluttering hair he espeed." I tried not to giggle, and not to give way, but the half-rhyme was laughably shit. As he boxed both my arms, I rued the day that ever I did laugh at it. "'Fair sir,'" he went on, dusting his sleeves, "Came a voice down from ever so far. 'Be you a valiant, for this gang of thieves has chained me high up in this tar.'" I needn't say what violence ensued, I hardly escaped with my toes-- but even his violence was hardly as rude as that he did to English poetry and prose. "'Come up, dearest knight', came the voice down, 'And soon you shall have your reward, for I am the lady of yonder town; my father its fiefdom and lord.'" With narry a thought, rushed in did the knight, breaking the door with his lance and flurried he fleet up many a flight in the hope of a forming romance. But at the top step, his footing it faltered and his eyes grew ever so big; his hopes they were dashed--conceptions altered: there stood I in a wig! Oh I bashed him and bashed him and buggered him fair, then I dashed out his brains something gnarly. I boiled his bones and I ate him right there with some bread that I made out of barley." He laughed and he laughed; his mad hollow eyes danced like a flame that grows long and suddenly (much to my surprise) I found myself laughing along. --But don't edge away, dear friend, lovely stranger; I'm really just pulling your leg. Sit down on this stool, you are in no danger-- let me buy you a beer and an egg!
[WP] A classic ‘knight saves princess’ story, but the narrator is utterly insane.	Once upon a time there was a knight who lived in a castle by the sea. In martial prowess he stood head and shoulders above his peers, and in acts of chivalry none could match him. He spent his days practicing his lance and his sword, and of course riding his trusted war steed, Dauntless, through the emerald cliffs by the crashing blue waves. Day after day he trained in solitude and waited for the hour when his kingdom needed his sword. That hour finally arrived. Tragedy had struck the kingdom of Fantastica. The evil wizard Vironius had died after a spell back fired, transforming his penis into a most irritable king cobra. News spread throughout the land that the Sinister Vironius was snuffed out by his own venomous member, and the people were sad. Who now, would kidnap the fair Princess Dianne? Who now would begin the dramatic sequence of events that would end in her rescue and safe return? The people of Fantasitica had come to rely on these kidnappings to lift their spirits from the horrible realities of indentured servitude. It distracted them from hordes of lice, the constant dysentery, and most importantly the stench of each other. Something had to be done, lest they become focused and work together towards socioeconomic reform. Hearing of this, the knight took action. He stormed the king's castle on his trusted war steed, Dauntless, and after the slaying of twenty seven of the kings guards came to the chambers of the princess. Seeing the furrow of her lovely brow, the knight explained to the princess he must kidnap her for the good of the realm. She agreed, but he told her not to agree as that would make a poor start to a kidnapping. She then disagreed. Satisfied, he stole the Princess Dianne from her castle and took her to his home by the sea. He placed her at the bottom of a deep hole, slick and inclimbable on the sides to prevent an untimely escape. Each day he passed a basket down to her containing the realms finest skin lotions of milk and honey. The knight explained to the princess that she must take the lotion from the basket and apply it to her skin, and again the princess was confused. Vironius never did this, she explained. The evil wizard just locked her in a tower by a single window and fed her nice things like cakes and interesting cheeses. The knight explained he had a better idea, and that once her skin was soft from the lotion he would cut it off and sew it into a Dianne suit for himself to wear in the privacy of his castle by the sea. Reluctantly, the princess put the lotion on the skin. And then one day, when the skin of the princess had nearly reached a most appealing state of luster and suppleness, a special member of the king's guard tracked down the knight's castle by the sea. Sir Jodie Foster found the princess in her hole, killed the good knight with her glock 9mm broadsword, then rescued Dianne and returned her to the King with much buzz in the news media. The peasants cheered the heroic act, once again ignoring the brutal inequality and retched smell of their daily lives. The feudal system of government had survived, all thanks to the brave, now thoroughly deceased knight, who lived in a castle by the sea.	I was in Innstown, in a shadowy inn, I met an old man with a beard. He cornered me and said "I'll begin my tale, but I warn you: it's weird." "No thanks," I said, standing my ground, "I'm only here for a stout." He picked me up, turned me around and boxed my ears all about. As I fell with an "ouch" into a hard chair he pricked a soft egg with his sword and I understood I was pickled there until his old fartship got bored. "It begins," he began, "with a wandering knight who went by Messer Carbonado he wandered by day--yay he wandered by night! peacefully like a tornado." I was glued with a glum glue to the hum- drum tale that the old brave expounded; upon the seat, my seat it went numb and shook with his voice that resounded: "Ser Carbonado had travelled four miles for hearing a dame was distressed. He crossed country--o'er brook and o'er stile all for his valour to test. He came to a tower, he came to it fast by whipping his cream-coloured steed and up at its top like the top of a mast some fluttering hair he espeed." I tried not to giggle, and not to give way, but the half-rhyme was laughably shit. As he boxed both my arms, I rued the day that ever I did laugh at it. "'Fair sir,'" he went on, dusting his sleeves, "Came a voice down from ever so far. 'Be you a valiant, for this gang of thieves has chained me high up in this tar.'" I needn't say what violence ensued, I hardly escaped with my toes-- but even his violence was hardly as rude as that he did to English poetry and prose. "'Come up, dearest knight', came the voice down, 'And soon you shall have your reward, for I am the lady of yonder town; my father its fiefdom and lord.'" With narry a thought, rushed in did the knight, breaking the door with his lance and flurried he fleet up many a flight in the hope of a forming romance. But at the top step, his footing it faltered and his eyes grew ever so big; his hopes they were dashed--conceptions altered: there stood I in a wig! Oh I bashed him and bashed him and buggered him fair, then I dashed out his brains something gnarly. I boiled his bones and I ate him right there with some bread that I made out of barley." He laughed and he laughed; his mad hollow eyes danced like a flame that grows long and suddenly (much to my surprise) I found myself laughing along. --But don't edge away, dear friend, lovely stranger; I'm really just pulling your leg. Sit down on this stool, you are in no danger-- let me buy you a beer and an egg!
[WP] A classic ‘knight saves princess’ story, but the narrator is utterly insane.	Once upon a time -- 8:37 AM, to be precise ( but the exact year was lost \[ no I don't know who lost the year \] ) -- a beautiful and sad princess with golden hairs and a name of flower, was prisoner of an evil dragon -- though she deserved her fate, because she was a \\\\ and is totally NOT a insertion of my EX, now that I think about it, she doesn't even deserve to be in a story so there is NO PRINCESS in the prison -- so the evil and greedy dragon was guarding his tower. Fortunately for -- wait, I need a princess for my story to work, so there WAS a princess in the tower, but with RED hairs so NOT like my EX -- so fortunately for the princess, a knight had heard of her distress, and was on his way to save her. Music! At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon. Live a big! A bad! And evil dragon. A legendary beast! Feared among us! That's the story of the Red Princess! &#x200B; The brave and courageous knight Hector. Was about to slay it with its armor! And mm... lala la la la! La la lalala and with its horse! &#x200B; At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon. Live a big! A bad! And evil dragon. A legendary beast! Feared among us! That's the story of the Red Princess! &#x200B; ... .... and courageous knight Hector. ... &#x200B; Well, let's stop the with music, the lyrics are not that good anyway. Lets focus on the story. So, Hector -- the name of the knight ( sometimes people don't understand it, that's why I remind it to you \[ no, that's not my name, mine is Ecthor, that's not the same etymology at all \] ) -- was about to save the princess and kill the dragon -- oh, spoiler, sorry -- where was I? In front of the tower, Hector summon the dragon: "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" -- Wait, THAT was not on the script! -- I was saying, Hector summon the dragon: "Come here, evil creature!" And the dragon answer "I, Ph'nglui, is here to protect the tower, containing mglw'nafh, the red Princess, if you want to enter, you will need to kill me!" Using all its ruse, Hector shot "E4!". The dragon fly and come in front of Hector saying "By Cthulhu, chess it is: E5." And then Hector jump with its R'lyeh \-- I mean its sword, sorry -- on the dragon wgah'nagl \-- or whatever was its name --, and kill it by surprise! Then, the red princess, fhtagn \-- not sure about the name -- great our hero and they both sing together! Sing with me, same as the previous song: &#x200B; At the highest point of the Mount Ka-Lhon Live a big! ... dragon?... la la Iä, Iä, Cthulhu fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh ... the Red Princess! &#x200B; The brave and courageous knight Hector. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn &#x200B; Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn	"Hey, you." "You there." "Want to hear a story? It's a good one, and it's true." "I know it's true." "What you don't believe me?" "I'll prove it when the story is told." "Trust me." "Please." "Thank you, I'll tell it like it happened." "It all started ten years ago, back in the days of war. In the days where men and women were killed in the streets by roaming bands of soldiers. They were dark days -- evil days, twisted days, maligned, maladjusted, malodorous, malignant, mal...mal... Another word that begins with mal -- mal means bad don't you know. Anyway, it was a mal time to be in your Kingdom." "The mal Empire which neighbors the Kingdom was convinced your Princess was a witch. They declared war, a war to 'root out the evil of your land'. You were poorly prepared. How could you prepare? You loved your Princess. She was fair as something which was very pale, beautiful. I remember she was beautiful. Divine. The first time I saw her, my heart nearly stopped in my chest. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I was in love. I think we all were." "The Empire struck hard. The Empire stuck quickly. They kidnapped the Princess and stole her away, locking her in the tallest tower of an enchanted castle. The people of your Kingdom were shocked, but still, a call was put out to all the knights of the land. "Bring our daughter back, and you will be given her hand to wed," the old king had said. He was a kindly old man, he liked to sing you know." "Anyway, the Prince of a nearby Kingdom answered the call. He and five, or was it six? No, definitely probably five. Maybe. Anyway, five-ish people accompanied the Prince. They were strong lads, good lads, the opposite of mal lads. My lads? No, that's stupid. Anyway, they were bold and brash, brave, and benevolent, b..be...I know there's another word for them." "Starts with a b." "Beneficent?" they asked. "Sure, that's a good one. Thanks." "They set out on a quest, a quest to rescue the maiden from the tallest tower. They fought many bandits, killed trolls, and even fought a dragon. Have you eaten dragon? Tastes like lizard and sulfur. Terrible. As they closed in towards the tower, odd things began to happen. Creatures attacked the party in the woods. Creatures that never would have been hostile before. We—they killed squirrels by the score, frogs in their hundreds. I can't think how many woodland creatures died on their swords." "They waded through blood and flesh to reach the tower. Eventually, they cut their way in through the door. They were outnumbered by the tower guard, but they movements were off. They moved like puppets, jerky and odd. The party cut their strings, the poor bastards. Bloody and bruised, the party finally found the chamber where the Princess would be held. They would finally save her." "The Prince had his doubts now. He had seen strange works, witnessed many odd occurrences. He went in alone. She sat in the tower room, overlooking the land through a great window. She sat on what had been a couple guards. They had twisted themselves into the shape of a chair. She was using them as furniture. "Thank you for coming gallant knight" she said. Her words were like knives in the skull, the Prince felt pain, unimaginable pain. He wanted to bow, to serve this Princess, this woman who would be Queen." "She walked up to the Prince and she smiled. Her smile was like ivory, her face was carved silver, her eyes shone like rubies in the night. Truly she was beautiful, beatific, brilliant, beauteous...She was evil. He knew that. He knew she was mal, that she needed to die. He knew that his will couldn't hold out forever...." "I think more than anything, she was surprised when he stabbed her. When he stabbed her with his thrice blessed sword. She became very ugly as she died, screaming and wailing, crying and begging, and finally she cursed as she died. She didn't swear, no, she didn't swear. She reached out her hand and she...and she...and she..." "She touched the Prince's forehead. As she died, she said, "As long as you live, you will be nothing. Your people will not know you. Your family will mourn you as dead. Your friends will think you a stranger. And no one, will ever believe your tale, no matter how you tell it. They will kick you, and call you a madman. You will die, a crazed beggar." "She smiled as she died. I think that last curse made her truly happy, gave her pleasure." "You see, I am that Prince. I saved your Kingdom from the witch-Queen to be." "I know that all you hear right now is crazed rambling. I suppose I'm starting to feel a bit mad in truth.... I know that you stay only because you are frightened. I'm sorry. Sometimes I just have to tell the story." "It helps me cope." My story told, I sit down on the cobbled path, my home in the alley. The woman steps away from me slowly. As she turns to run, I hear her say, "Mad beggar! People like you ought to die, save the rest of us trouble." Leaning my head back against the wall, I cry. I had told the woman I'd prove it to her. I guess that proved what I'd said just fine. Just fine. ____________ /r/SirLemoncakes
[WP] "Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die." That's the belief of an aspiring cult leader, who just got up from the ground after shooting himself in the head.	A drop of blood hit my face. I was frozen in shock, fear, awe, wonder, disgust, a pantheon of emotions took residence in my chest. A finger came up to my cheek and it took a moment to realize it was mine disassociation will do that to you. I looked at my finger tip- red blood has filled the spaces between the ridges of my fingerprint. Xena had Gathered us on an unusual day. Gathering was usually on Thursday afternoons, but she had called for a very important meeting on Friday, which interfered with me going to Melissa’s Little League softball game. I asked Patty to go in my place- I didn’t want my little girl left alone with her father. Xena had made a grand speech, something about a demonstration, a philosophy made real, tangible evidence of our faith. I still wouldn’t call my being here faith- it had started when Anise invited me to a bookclub, then a happy hour, and before you know it I was here, dressed in a red robe. This was a cult, I knew it, but I was never good at saying no. Plus, it got me friends on the outside world- religious practice was the one thing Jeffrey let me out for, even though he wasn’t a shining example of the good word himself. Then, at the end, she brought a gun to the underside of her jaw and smiled when we screamed. We begged her to stop, pleaded but she had just closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. She had been dead now all of 10 seconds, a shorter amount of time than it took me to take my next shaking breath, and now her body was rising from her prone position. I could still see the hole in her head, dripping blood. She dropped the gun and looked around at her; her pale skin smeared in dark crimson, bright green eyes shining. She giggled. “You see, ladies,” she said. “Humans don’t die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die.” It was quiet for a moment, then everyone in the room began to clap. After a moment, I joined too. ————— “That was amazing,” Anise said to me by the punch. She was so excited, she was jittery. “Xena is everything I’ve ever wanted in a God! She’s here, she’s real, she just came back from the dead-“ “According to her, though, we all can.” I said. It was hard to focus after all that. I sipped the punch- whoever had made it had poured far too much vodka in it. “Oh, Barb, yea I suppose but she discovered it! Xena is here in front of us! Where is this Jesus? Allah? Krishna? Zeus? All of them, gone, if they ever even existed, but Xena is here, flesh and blood, in all her glory!” She squeezed her styrofoam cup so hard I thought it would split. “As long as we don’t succumb to the pain, we can get through it?” I asked. I pivoted and poured some more punch. “Don’t accept death and it won’t come. She’s hardly the first person to say that.” “Yes, but she’s the first to demonstrate it so vividly! Barb, can you beli-“ She paused and I saw her eyes dart to my arm and her hand grasped my wrist. She pulled my free arm up to unveil a large, purpling bruise on my arm. She followed it to where it disappeared under the cloth, but I knew it went all the way up to my shoulders. She looked at me with wide eyes. “Did he do this to you?” I nodded softly and yanked my arm back. He had done worse. “Barb, what the fuck?” Her question was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Barbara, Anise?” It was Xena’s voice. She walked towards us with a soft smile, a white robe around her form. She was cleaned up, bandages under her jaw and on her head. “Is everything all right?” Anise gasped and went to her knees, bowing at her feet. “Yes, thank you Xena, for all you’ve done, thank you, thank you, thank you...” I smile and looked at the woman-who-lived, and she smiled back. “Yes, everything is fine Xena. Thank you for your teachings.” —————— The first hit hurt the worst. He wasn’t using a belt or a piece of wood, or a chair. He was using hands this time. He was angrier than I had ever seen him, yelling that I forgot to cook dinner, but I hadn’t, it had been in the oven while I was out. All he had to do was heat it up, if only he had looked. He had just gotten a paycut too, and the insurance had gone up because he had gotten in an accident. His next blow hit my jaw hard enough for blood to fill up. He pushed me to the counter top and slapped me back, then threw me against the wall. It wasn’t until midway through that I remembered Xena. The pain of death wasn’t enough to keep her away. Was there something I could live through this for? The sake of life wasn’t enough. Not Anise. Definitely not Xena. But as he hid me again, pushing me to the ground, straddling me, I remembered Melissa. My sweet baby girl. He grabbed me by my throat, his breath was laced with whiskey, his face red, eyes uncompromising and so far gone. He punched me twice and then reached up to the counter to grab a silver object. The thought of him hurting my baby girl was more painful than the thought of death, than anything. More painful than the first stab to my stomach, the second to my chest, the third to my heart. Melissa was more important than death. ————— The darkness hurt, a lot. I couldn’t breath, needles pressing into my skin, bones aching, I felt like I was being ripped apart. For a moment, it was the worst thing I had ever experienced. I thought I should run away from it. But then I remembered Xena. All she had to live for was a small cult of middle-aged women. I had Melissa. ————— When I woke up there were screams. It sounded like my daughter. I hard thuds- he was beating her. Coming back felt like sandpaper rubbing against raw muscle. It took the breath out of me, rubbed me raw, i coughed and coughed. But no, Melissa was alone. I couldn’t leave her alone. I scrambled up as fast as I could, searching for something. My hand fell on a butcher knife and I decided it was enough. I stumbled across the blood soaked linoleum to the living room. He was there, bent over my dear baby girl, hands shaking her. There was nothing in me but a goal. To stop him. To kill him. To get to Melissa. I walked over, knife in hand, The first cut was a stab to his back. He screamed and turned, but the second one hit his knee and he fell back on the ground. When his eyes met mine, and he saw me, bloody, crazed, a gaping wound on the side of my neck. He knew I should be dead. I knew I should be too. He screamed, but I slashed at him, his hands, his face, his arms, his neck, and finally I let it pierce through his chest, into his heart. He gurgled up blood, and went still, face still red and angry. I fell to my knees and too Melissa in my arms and we cried for a while, and I held her with everything I had in me. For a moment, I wondered if he would come back, if he knew what Xena knew. But after a moment I realized that he wouldn’t. He could never. He had nothing to live for. He wasn’t strong enough. But I was.	"Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire- they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die." That was his philosophy, that was his belief- that was his lie. It had to be. "You're a piece of shit!" I yelled at him, thoughts thrown into disarray after his worthless stunt. I refused to buy such a thing. My husband- the man I had married because I truly thought that he loved me, the man I had tried to raise a child with because I thought he loved me- and it was all bullshit. He didn't love me at all. "Marie!" he exclaimed, bouncing the gun in his palm, "It is true, and I know it! Watch me again!" He raised the gun to his temple once again and pulled the trigger. From the other side of his head came spurts of blood and strings of membrane, along with the lead that he had fired. He collapsed, grabbing hold of the table to regain his balance. "See, Marie, see?" he sputtered, coughing blood. "I am stronger than the bullet- I am stronger than death!" But I didn't buy it- I could never buy it. "All of those people out there," I said, pointing to the front door of our home, "All of those people you- that you fucking preach this shit to, and they all buy your fucking stunt! You're putting peoples lives- real people, their lives in danger! Can't you fucking see that?" My soul was screaming, but he grasped me anyways, pleading. "But, Marie, look at me!" he cried. There were three holes in the side of his head- three fake holes, they had to be. "I have overcome death! Wounds, illness, pestilence and disease- anything, Marie, we can overcome it! We can overcome death!" "You're a fucking liar!" I screamed at him, blazing tears streaming down my face. "Why can't you believe me, Marie?" he said, shaking me. "Because of our son!" I finally screamed, collapsing. "Because he was stronger than you will ever be!"
[WP] "Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die." That's the belief of an aspiring cult leader, who just got up from the ground after shooting himself in the head.	Silence fell among the parishioners as the gunshot echoed out in the great hall. Then Jebediah gurgled. He coughed and sputtered, but he was still standing. His arms at his sides, parts of his head on the wall behind him. Most of the right side of his face was missing. "And so," he began, barely able to enunciate. Though the bullet probably missed his tongue, it was surely torn and burnt from the muzzle flash. "I prove my--hack". He gagged. His throat was filling with blood. He tried again. "I prove my point." He paused and bent over sideways, letting the blood run off and clear his airways. Some parishioners winced. Others covered their mouths and ran outside. Even the truest believers could only barely stomach looking at Jebediah. Still bent, he continued. "Humans don't die because -- oh god -- because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire." Another pause. Jebediah held a finger up, bidding the parishioners to give him a moment. Blood flowed freely from his face and mouth. "They die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that -- hack -- they choose to die." Jebediah coughed violently, hands on his knees, struggling to get air in while keeping the blood out. "Speaking of which," he said, and died.	"Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire- they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die." That was his philosophy, that was his belief- that was his lie. It had to be. "You're a piece of shit!" I yelled at him, thoughts thrown into disarray after his worthless stunt. I refused to buy such a thing. My husband- the man I had married because I truly thought that he loved me, the man I had tried to raise a child with because I thought he loved me- and it was all bullshit. He didn't love me at all. "Marie!" he exclaimed, bouncing the gun in his palm, "It is true, and I know it! Watch me again!" He raised the gun to his temple once again and pulled the trigger. From the other side of his head came spurts of blood and strings of membrane, along with the lead that he had fired. He collapsed, grabbing hold of the table to regain his balance. "See, Marie, see?" he sputtered, coughing blood. "I am stronger than the bullet- I am stronger than death!" But I didn't buy it- I could never buy it. "All of those people out there," I said, pointing to the front door of our home, "All of those people you- that you fucking preach this shit to, and they all buy your fucking stunt! You're putting peoples lives- real people, their lives in danger! Can't you fucking see that?" My soul was screaming, but he grasped me anyways, pleading. "But, Marie, look at me!" he cried. There were three holes in the side of his head- three fake holes, they had to be. "I have overcome death! Wounds, illness, pestilence and disease- anything, Marie, we can overcome it! We can overcome death!" "You're a fucking liar!" I screamed at him, blazing tears streaming down my face. "Why can't you believe me, Marie?" he said, shaking me. "Because of our son!" I finally screamed, collapsing. "Because he was stronger than you will ever be!"
[WP] "Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die." That's the belief of an aspiring cult leader, who just got up from the ground after shooting himself in the head.	Silence fell among the parishioners as the gunshot echoed out in the great hall. Then Jebediah gurgled. He coughed and sputtered, but he was still standing. His arms at his sides, parts of his head on the wall behind him. Most of the right side of his face was missing. "And so," he began, barely able to enunciate. Though the bullet probably missed his tongue, it was surely torn and burnt from the muzzle flash. "I prove my--hack". He gagged. His throat was filling with blood. He tried again. "I prove my point." He paused and bent over sideways, letting the blood run off and clear his airways. Some parishioners winced. Others covered their mouths and ran outside. Even the truest believers could only barely stomach looking at Jebediah. Still bent, he continued. "Humans don't die because -- oh god -- because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire." Another pause. Jebediah held a finger up, bidding the parishioners to give him a moment. Blood flowed freely from his face and mouth. "They die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that -- hack -- they choose to die." Jebediah coughed violently, hands on his knees, struggling to get air in while keeping the blood out. "Speaking of which," he said, and died.	A drop of blood hit my face. I was frozen in shock, fear, awe, wonder, disgust, a pantheon of emotions took residence in my chest. A finger came up to my cheek and it took a moment to realize it was mine disassociation will do that to you. I looked at my finger tip- red blood has filled the spaces between the ridges of my fingerprint. Xena had Gathered us on an unusual day. Gathering was usually on Thursday afternoons, but she had called for a very important meeting on Friday, which interfered with me going to Melissa’s Little League softball game. I asked Patty to go in my place- I didn’t want my little girl left alone with her father. Xena had made a grand speech, something about a demonstration, a philosophy made real, tangible evidence of our faith. I still wouldn’t call my being here faith- it had started when Anise invited me to a bookclub, then a happy hour, and before you know it I was here, dressed in a red robe. This was a cult, I knew it, but I was never good at saying no. Plus, it got me friends on the outside world- religious practice was the one thing Jeffrey let me out for, even though he wasn’t a shining example of the good word himself. Then, at the end, she brought a gun to the underside of her jaw and smiled when we screamed. We begged her to stop, pleaded but she had just closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. She had been dead now all of 10 seconds, a shorter amount of time than it took me to take my next shaking breath, and now her body was rising from her prone position. I could still see the hole in her head, dripping blood. She dropped the gun and looked around at her; her pale skin smeared in dark crimson, bright green eyes shining. She giggled. “You see, ladies,” she said. “Humans don’t die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die.” It was quiet for a moment, then everyone in the room began to clap. After a moment, I joined too. ————— “That was amazing,” Anise said to me by the punch. She was so excited, she was jittery. “Xena is everything I’ve ever wanted in a God! She’s here, she’s real, she just came back from the dead-“ “According to her, though, we all can.” I said. It was hard to focus after all that. I sipped the punch- whoever had made it had poured far too much vodka in it. “Oh, Barb, yea I suppose but she discovered it! Xena is here in front of us! Where is this Jesus? Allah? Krishna? Zeus? All of them, gone, if they ever even existed, but Xena is here, flesh and blood, in all her glory!” She squeezed her styrofoam cup so hard I thought it would split. “As long as we don’t succumb to the pain, we can get through it?” I asked. I pivoted and poured some more punch. “Don’t accept death and it won’t come. She’s hardly the first person to say that.” “Yes, but she’s the first to demonstrate it so vividly! Barb, can you beli-“ She paused and I saw her eyes dart to my arm and her hand grasped my wrist. She pulled my free arm up to unveil a large, purpling bruise on my arm. She followed it to where it disappeared under the cloth, but I knew it went all the way up to my shoulders. She looked at me with wide eyes. “Did he do this to you?” I nodded softly and yanked my arm back. He had done worse. “Barb, what the fuck?” Her question was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Barbara, Anise?” It was Xena’s voice. She walked towards us with a soft smile, a white robe around her form. She was cleaned up, bandages under her jaw and on her head. “Is everything all right?” Anise gasped and went to her knees, bowing at her feet. “Yes, thank you Xena, for all you’ve done, thank you, thank you, thank you...” I smile and looked at the woman-who-lived, and she smiled back. “Yes, everything is fine Xena. Thank you for your teachings.” —————— The first hit hurt the worst. He wasn’t using a belt or a piece of wood, or a chair. He was using hands this time. He was angrier than I had ever seen him, yelling that I forgot to cook dinner, but I hadn’t, it had been in the oven while I was out. All he had to do was heat it up, if only he had looked. He had just gotten a paycut too, and the insurance had gone up because he had gotten in an accident. His next blow hit my jaw hard enough for blood to fill up. He pushed me to the counter top and slapped me back, then threw me against the wall. It wasn’t until midway through that I remembered Xena. The pain of death wasn’t enough to keep her away. Was there something I could live through this for? The sake of life wasn’t enough. Not Anise. Definitely not Xena. But as he hid me again, pushing me to the ground, straddling me, I remembered Melissa. My sweet baby girl. He grabbed me by my throat, his breath was laced with whiskey, his face red, eyes uncompromising and so far gone. He punched me twice and then reached up to the counter to grab a silver object. The thought of him hurting my baby girl was more painful than the thought of death, than anything. More painful than the first stab to my stomach, the second to my chest, the third to my heart. Melissa was more important than death. ————— The darkness hurt, a lot. I couldn’t breath, needles pressing into my skin, bones aching, I felt like I was being ripped apart. For a moment, it was the worst thing I had ever experienced. I thought I should run away from it. But then I remembered Xena. All she had to live for was a small cult of middle-aged women. I had Melissa. ————— When I woke up there were screams. It sounded like my daughter. I hard thuds- he was beating her. Coming back felt like sandpaper rubbing against raw muscle. It took the breath out of me, rubbed me raw, i coughed and coughed. But no, Melissa was alone. I couldn’t leave her alone. I scrambled up as fast as I could, searching for something. My hand fell on a butcher knife and I decided it was enough. I stumbled across the blood soaked linoleum to the living room. He was there, bent over my dear baby girl, hands shaking her. There was nothing in me but a goal. To stop him. To kill him. To get to Melissa. I walked over, knife in hand, The first cut was a stab to his back. He screamed and turned, but the second one hit his knee and he fell back on the ground. When his eyes met mine, and he saw me, bloody, crazed, a gaping wound on the side of my neck. He knew I should be dead. I knew I should be too. He screamed, but I slashed at him, his hands, his face, his arms, his neck, and finally I let it pierce through his chest, into his heart. He gurgled up blood, and went still, face still red and angry. I fell to my knees and too Melissa in my arms and we cried for a while, and I held her with everything I had in me. For a moment, I wondered if he would come back, if he knew what Xena knew. But after a moment I realized that he wouldn’t. He could never. He had nothing to live for. He wasn’t strong enough. But I was.
[WP] "Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die." That's the belief of an aspiring cult leader, who just got up from the ground after shooting himself in the head.	"Watch." Metal pressed on the temple of David, dressed simply in red robes weaved out of linen. "Death only occurs when the spirit believes it is dead." &#x200B; He pressed the trigger. "Bam." The gunshot echoed throughout the silent halls of the auditorium. Blood gushed through the gunshot wound, spraying the wooden floors with a crimson red, painting the room with the scent of death. &#x200B; I clenched my fist in a mixture of nervousness and eagerness. Is he dead? Is he finally dead? The more I investigated into the cult, the more afraid I became. Something was wrong, really wrong with it. It did not seem like anything I have ever seen before, in my years of investigating different cults and societies. &#x200B; David. He was the centerpiece in all of this. David Manson. The more I looked into him, the more I dug into the background, the more I knew how dangerous this man was. &#x200B; The perfect monster. An immaculate man drove to change the world through his insanity. Suicides. Homicides. Fratricide. None traced to him, but all inextricably linked to him. &#x200B; Now, here I am. Looking at the man I have been chasing all this time. Committing his own suicide. I knew his ideology. I knew his creed. Was he correct? Was he wrong? &#x200B; Time passed in silence. One minute. Two. Three. I breathed a sigh of relief. Looks like he is really dead. Unease was spreading through the crowd now. I slowly crept my way to the exit. I would not want to be here when all hell broke loose. &#x200B; "Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die." &#x200B; I froze. A proclamation. There, there he is, his hands spread wide open, blood dribbling down his head, his eyes piercing. Silence. &#x200B; Then, all of the members felt to their knees, their heads bowed in reverence to the Messiah that stood before them. Sweat trickled down my forehead, dripping into the ground below. No way. No motherfucking way. I must be a trick. I must be. Unless, of course, he was correct... &#x200B; I could see it now, the change in the eyes of the members around me. The insanity coloring their eyes, the pure madness that comes with utter devotion. I trembled. I knew enough about cults to know what comes next. &#x200B; "Come, my fellow brethren. Rise and take your place amongst the first of our Order, to spread the good word to all that we know. The Messiah has come again. I have come again." &#x200B; A thunderous roar echoed through the auditorium, the fervor scorching my very soul. I refuse to believe in this nonsense. There must be some trick he pulled. &#x200B; If that is the case, let me be the Judas to his Messiah. Let me be the one to prove him wrong. &#x200B;	Erik got up from the ground after shooting himself in the head. He'd describe the pain as perhaps 5 on a scale of 10. Nothing to worry about, even if it did sting. He was sure of it, as sure as he was that humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire. He knew that death, as far as sentience was concerned, was a choice; a choice to liberate one's soul of pain. In his life - no! he had to will himself not to use that word in that manner - in the moments before he shot himself in the head, unfortunately he had only convinced a paltry dozen of this undeniable truth. Life sprang eternal as long as the person held, resilient and persistent, against nature's drag of the body back into the dust from which it sprang. Erik invested much faith into the soul and willpower. However, the work of those quack doctors with their fancy equipment and expensive methods convinced everyone otherwise. Only these devotees would see the truth. As Erik got up from the ground after shooting himself in the head, he heard the ululations and saw the prostrations of his cultists who saw the truth. He did not, however, see the one cultist who vomited and ran from the room. And even as her robe dropped to the floor, the floor in her wake covered in vomit, Erik was unfazed. It was simply a matter of time. Humanity would soon discover his secret to eternal life. He smiled at the remaining eleven, and they knew what to do. Eleven bullets shattered eleven skulls, but eleven people got up from the ground nonetheless. It was time to spread the truth. The wailing of police sirens and ambulances filled the scene. Paramedics pronounced the twelve dead on site, and the police ushered away the one surviving - no! not surviving! merely misled! - cultist away, her still shaking frame shrinking before the cultists. Erik and his eleven cultists tried to convince the paramedics otherwise. They knew the truth that was beyond modern medical knowledge. But the paramedics did not listen. It was as though they could not. Erik saw his mother, bless her soul. He had addressed this with her, the secret to eternal life, but he was not sure how she would respond. As sure as he was in his belief, he could not stand to see her cry in fear and sadness. Now, however, he saw the best time to convince her that her darling son was okay, that he had proven once and for all that But she did not listen. It was as though she could not. Erik could not stand to see her cry in fear and sadness, as she was doing on this rainy Tuesday, along with the mothers and fathers of eleven other students, whose bodies were sent in, one by one, into the crematorium. Erik tried to reach out to those dearly beloved, and his cultists were there, watching, too. This, to them, was the ultimate test of their faith. If the all-consuming fires could not diminish their existence, then it would be the true validation of their beliefs. And they tried! They tried everything they could to get their loved ones' attention. But they did not listen. It was as though they could not. And as the bodies burned, as the rapidly-aging parents tried to reassemble their lives in the absence of their beloved children, as twelve rooms remained untouched yet meticulously cleaned as a mark of mourning, Erik and his cultists, believing themselves strong even as they were slowly forgotten by a traumatised world, believing themselves strong even above the pain of suicide and cremation, they knew one truth. They had all the proof right before their rose-tinted eyes. Humans don't die because their bodies are too damaged or because they expire - they die because the pain of either situation is so unbearable that they choose to die.
[WP] The last thing you remember is falling asleep in front of CNN, just as the first photos of Ultima Thule from NASA's New Horizons probe were being received. You just woke up: your phone has 12 missed EMERGENCY ALERTs and through a gap in the curtains you can see several rocket trails in the sky.	Brace Yourselfs because my english sucks. You barely remember anything. You where watching CNN when everything blacked out. Now the sky is dark, and lines cover it up. Something is wrong. As you slowly get up from the coach you fell asleep for what feels like millenia, you take a peak at the sky. Its covered in lines, like you have never seen before. You look at the clock and its 12pm. The sun is not rising, and the darkness outside awaits for your arrival. As you wander around your house, searching for answers, you find your phone. You cant remember leaving it there at all. 12 Emergency Alerts. Non of them you remember being there before. You walk to the window again, this time you look to the street, as you see your neighbours fleeing away. Something is wrong, you think again, as you start walking towards the living room. Satelite TV seams to be gone, along with everything else. But a light of hope shines, as you discover everything got recorded onto the VCR. The recording leaves more questions than answers, but you dont have time to think about it, you need to get going. The Doomsday is upon us, and it came in a way no one expected. You grab your keys and run outside to your car. Driving down the road you start feeling bad, getting worse the further away you drive from home. Reality is collapsing on itself, as time slows down. Then the lights came, and took you away forever. You wake up on your coach, CNN is still on and reporting about the failure of new horizons. You look outside, and the lines are gone, and so is the darkness. Only one thing is off. A text on your phone. "Welcome to Ultima Thule"	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_whamobamokamo] [\[WP\] The last thing you remember is falling asleep in front of CNN, just as the first photos of Ultima Thule from NASA's New Horizons probe were being received. You just woke up: your phone has 12 missed EMERGENCY ALERTs and through a gap in the curtains you can see several rocket trails in the sky.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_whamobamokamo/comments/ab1qw3/wp_the_last_thing_you_remember_is_falling_asleep/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] The last thing you remember is falling asleep in front of CNN, just as the first photos of Ultima Thule from NASA's New Horizons probe were being received. You just woke up: your phone has 12 missed EMERGENCY ALERTs and through a gap in the curtains you can see several rocket trails in the sky.	No one really knew how long they had planned this. We all heard the stories growing up. The tinfoil covered stories that lined the weirdest parts of YouTube you would find yourself lost in after your midnight snack. All of the warning signs were there. 400 page bills passed with only the first 20 talked about. The usual stuff, tax breaks, weapon bans, trade agreements and which country to hate this term. As people of this Nation, we were used to it. Numb to it. We wanted an out, an escape... We just never thought the wool we saw in front of everyone’s eyes was just the reflection of ours... ———————————————————————— I woke up to some drama jockey spouting absurd explicits on the TV. It looked like one of those stock market wrap up shows that pop on once the market closes, but it was still morning. Apparently the photos weren’t that big of a deal, considering I passed out for a few hours I check my phone, to my surprise it was a little past 11am. As I unlocked my phone to check the array of drama reporting “Social Media” apps I have, it began to vibrate and screech a noise you only hear when some dude kidnaps his kids for a weekend. Between the harsh noise and what seemed to be every warning message coming through at once, it was all too confusing. What could cause a Tornado warning and a evacuation notice to both inhabit the same screen? Seems counter intuitive. As I started to open them, it seemed to be every warning system was triggered in some sort of fail safe attempt at letting the populace know, shit ain’t right. I get my phone to finally go silent, just to hear weeping coming from the TV. The host of some talk show is laying on his desk, clothes torn and dirty with his hair ajar, weeping. The green screen in the back was showcasing photo reels and videos of the smoke trails throughout the sky. I didn’t understand. I blamed the nap I took on me being out of it still, so I wiped my face and looked closer at the ticker tape. “NASA: Photo evidence confirmed Ultima Thule approximate match to Earth, able to sustain life” Well thank god, maybe I can finally get off this planet and leave the idiots here. “Government to begin final loading procedure” Wait.....what? What were they loading? “White House staffer reveals video of high ranking members of society being met with, buying tickets off world.” No...no no no no no. Don’t tell me. ———————————————————————— Broadcast was cut. I remember running to the window to look at the sky, seeing trails of smoke in every direction, like lines in the sand. In a fleeting moment of clarity, it all hit me... Those tinfoil hat stories were true. Those weren’t normal fume trails, those were rocket trails. Not just rockets, but ships off world. In a matter of hours we leaped from space observers to space colonizers. But it wasn’t “we”. It was them, the ones who made sure to keep people in the pecking order. The ones who enforced rules on already subjected masses. The ones who we thought were close to harmless, they left us. Left us in a world broken and shattered. They hit the reset button, but abandoned those who put them in place... Please be gentle, first time!	I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/u_whamobamokamo] [\[WP\] The last thing you remember is falling asleep in front of CNN, just as the first photos of Ultima Thule from NASA's New Horizons probe were being received. You just woke up: your phone has 12 missed EMERGENCY ALERTs and through a gap in the curtains you can see several rocket trails in the sky.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_whamobamokamo/comments/ab1qw3/wp_the_last_thing_you_remember_is_falling_asleep/) &nbsp;^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))
[WP] The last thing you remember is falling asleep in front of CNN, just as the first photos of Ultima Thule from NASA's New Horizons probe were being received. You just woke up: your phone has 12 missed EMERGENCY ALERTs and through a gap in the curtains you can see several rocket trails in the sky.	No one really knew how long they had planned this. We all heard the stories growing up. The tinfoil covered stories that lined the weirdest parts of YouTube you would find yourself lost in after your midnight snack. All of the warning signs were there. 400 page bills passed with only the first 20 talked about. The usual stuff, tax breaks, weapon bans, trade agreements and which country to hate this term. As people of this Nation, we were used to it. Numb to it. We wanted an out, an escape... We just never thought the wool we saw in front of everyone’s eyes was just the reflection of ours... ———————————————————————— I woke up to some drama jockey spouting absurd explicits on the TV. It looked like one of those stock market wrap up shows that pop on once the market closes, but it was still morning. Apparently the photos weren’t that big of a deal, considering I passed out for a few hours I check my phone, to my surprise it was a little past 11am. As I unlocked my phone to check the array of drama reporting “Social Media” apps I have, it began to vibrate and screech a noise you only hear when some dude kidnaps his kids for a weekend. Between the harsh noise and what seemed to be every warning message coming through at once, it was all too confusing. What could cause a Tornado warning and a evacuation notice to both inhabit the same screen? Seems counter intuitive. As I started to open them, it seemed to be every warning system was triggered in some sort of fail safe attempt at letting the populace know, shit ain’t right. I get my phone to finally go silent, just to hear weeping coming from the TV. The host of some talk show is laying on his desk, clothes torn and dirty with his hair ajar, weeping. The green screen in the back was showcasing photo reels and videos of the smoke trails throughout the sky. I didn’t understand. I blamed the nap I took on me being out of it still, so I wiped my face and looked closer at the ticker tape. “NASA: Photo evidence confirmed Ultima Thule approximate match to Earth, able to sustain life” Well thank god, maybe I can finally get off this planet and leave the idiots here. “Government to begin final loading procedure” Wait.....what? What were they loading? “White House staffer reveals video of high ranking members of society being met with, buying tickets off world.” No...no no no no no. Don’t tell me. ———————————————————————— Broadcast was cut. I remember running to the window to look at the sky, seeing trails of smoke in every direction, like lines in the sand. In a fleeting moment of clarity, it all hit me... Those tinfoil hat stories were true. Those weren’t normal fume trails, those were rocket trails. Not just rockets, but ships off world. In a matter of hours we leaped from space observers to space colonizers. But it wasn’t “we”. It was them, the ones who made sure to keep people in the pecking order. The ones who enforced rules on already subjected masses. The ones who we thought were close to harmless, they left us. Left us in a world broken and shattered. They hit the reset button, but abandoned those who put them in place... Please be gentle, first time!	It was around 6:00 pm when i went to sleep so of course i woke up a few times during the night to a odd noise but like normal i just wrote it off and went back to sleep then i woke up the next morning and saw my phone and read the words "This is a emergency alert, please stay ins..." 12 times, so out of curiosity i looked out the window and saw several rocket trails in the sky and then i ran every where in my home looking for food and grabing water, by time i was done 30 minutes had passed and i had calmed down eneugh to remember that i had not seen what had happened on the new about that probe, somthing about a few pictures from it then i remember that the last thing i heard before passing out was somthing about there being life out there, i then grabed my phone and unlocked it and read one of the alerts "This is a emergency alert, please stay inside and lock and doors and window and if you have a celler or basement and do not come out until an alert is sent out that it is fine" and in fear i went to google and looked up last nights cnn news story and skiped to the part where they show the picture and what i saw horified me and chilled me to my core cause what i saw was a massive ship belived to be around the size of mexico headed strait towrds earth. (Sorry if there are any errors in my writing but i am writing half of this in a car)
[WP] The last thing you remember is falling asleep in front of CNN, just as the first photos of Ultima Thule from NASA's New Horizons probe were being received. You just woke up: your phone has 12 missed EMERGENCY ALERTs and through a gap in the curtains you can see several rocket trails in the sky.	No one really knew how long they had planned this. We all heard the stories growing up. The tinfoil covered stories that lined the weirdest parts of YouTube you would find yourself lost in after your midnight snack. All of the warning signs were there. 400 page bills passed with only the first 20 talked about. The usual stuff, tax breaks, weapon bans, trade agreements and which country to hate this term. As people of this Nation, we were used to it. Numb to it. We wanted an out, an escape... We just never thought the wool we saw in front of everyone’s eyes was just the reflection of ours... ———————————————————————— I woke up to some drama jockey spouting absurd explicits on the TV. It looked like one of those stock market wrap up shows that pop on once the market closes, but it was still morning. Apparently the photos weren’t that big of a deal, considering I passed out for a few hours I check my phone, to my surprise it was a little past 11am. As I unlocked my phone to check the array of drama reporting “Social Media” apps I have, it began to vibrate and screech a noise you only hear when some dude kidnaps his kids for a weekend. Between the harsh noise and what seemed to be every warning message coming through at once, it was all too confusing. What could cause a Tornado warning and a evacuation notice to both inhabit the same screen? Seems counter intuitive. As I started to open them, it seemed to be every warning system was triggered in some sort of fail safe attempt at letting the populace know, shit ain’t right. I get my phone to finally go silent, just to hear weeping coming from the TV. The host of some talk show is laying on his desk, clothes torn and dirty with his hair ajar, weeping. The green screen in the back was showcasing photo reels and videos of the smoke trails throughout the sky. I didn’t understand. I blamed the nap I took on me being out of it still, so I wiped my face and looked closer at the ticker tape. “NASA: Photo evidence confirmed Ultima Thule approximate match to Earth, able to sustain life” Well thank god, maybe I can finally get off this planet and leave the idiots here. “Government to begin final loading procedure” Wait.....what? What were they loading? “White House staffer reveals video of high ranking members of society being met with, buying tickets off world.” No...no no no no no. Don’t tell me. ———————————————————————— Broadcast was cut. I remember running to the window to look at the sky, seeing trails of smoke in every direction, like lines in the sand. In a fleeting moment of clarity, it all hit me... Those tinfoil hat stories were true. Those weren’t normal fume trails, those were rocket trails. Not just rockets, but ships off world. In a matter of hours we leaped from space observers to space colonizers. But it wasn’t “we”. It was them, the ones who made sure to keep people in the pecking order. The ones who enforced rules on already subjected masses. The ones who we thought were close to harmless, they left us. Left us in a world broken and shattered. They hit the reset button, but abandoned those who put them in place... Please be gentle, first time!	Brace Yourselfs because my english sucks. You barely remember anything. You where watching CNN when everything blacked out. Now the sky is dark, and lines cover it up. Something is wrong. As you slowly get up from the coach you fell asleep for what feels like millenia, you take a peak at the sky. Its covered in lines, like you have never seen before. You look at the clock and its 12pm. The sun is not rising, and the darkness outside awaits for your arrival. As you wander around your house, searching for answers, you find your phone. You cant remember leaving it there at all. 12 Emergency Alerts. Non of them you remember being there before. You walk to the window again, this time you look to the street, as you see your neighbours fleeing away. Something is wrong, you think again, as you start walking towards the living room. Satelite TV seams to be gone, along with everything else. But a light of hope shines, as you discover everything got recorded onto the VCR. The recording leaves more questions than answers, but you dont have time to think about it, you need to get going. The Doomsday is upon us, and it came in a way no one expected. You grab your keys and run outside to your car. Driving down the road you start feeling bad, getting worse the further away you drive from home. Reality is collapsing on itself, as time slows down. Then the lights came, and took you away forever. You wake up on your coach, CNN is still on and reporting about the failure of new horizons. You look outside, and the lines are gone, and so is the darkness. Only one thing is off. A text on your phone. "Welcome to Ultima Thule"
[WP]In a fantasy world where levels and even evolutions are granted by killing strong opponents you were born as one of the weakest monsters. Then one day a powerful adventurer trips and falls on your weapon.	BLOOP – PART I: SERAPHIM \\\\\* In the world of Elyseria, there are the strong and the weak. Weakness is well known by the lower creatures. The goblins, skeletons, boars, and most definitely the slimes are no stranger to the painful bite of an adventure’s blade. Well it was a blade most of the time… sometimes it was an axe, or hammer, or in some rare cases a prolonged beating by a novice’s wooden stick. Bloop was a small blue slime, a creature that had the honor of being the lowest rung on Elyseria’s endless ladder of power and advancement. As new adventurer’s stepped into the dewdrop caves, Bloop and her friends were usually crushed under the first few steps of a new adventurer’s leather boots as they looked to the heavens with dreams of becoming a high level Paladin, Dragon Knight, or maybe a Star Mage. It was simply the way of the world. Low level adventurers would often delve through the caves, seeking marginally better treasure than what the world’s gods gifted newcomers with. From then on, lower creatures were simply easy prey for XP crystals – the essence of life that moves Elyseria forward. Those that gained enough XP would level and reach new echelons of power. Adventurers would take on new roles and be able to use powerful new skills and equipment and creatures would evolve to become more. All of it was powered by the coveted glowing XP crystals that dropped from all Elyserian life after being defeated. Those killed would simply respawn once more with what they were born with, doomed to start over and begin the long climb of advancement anew. For the lowest level creatures there was no looking to the heavens. Weak creatures were trapped in the constant cycle of death and rebirth. Novice adventures that passed through the caves were several times higher in level than these creatures were. Normally the creatures would be lucky if they survived a single stroke from an adventurer’s opening attack. While others low level creatures hated their fate and cursed it daily, Bloop always bounced positively. She came to terms with her lowly existing by convincing herself that she was contributing her paltry XP crystals to something greater. As the years passed, these thoughts kept her bounce cheerful. Inside she continued to believe that while today it may be an adventurer, tomorrow perhaps the gods would smile upon her and things would change to give her a chance at something new –something outside of dewdrop cave. And so Bloop started her day, pushing the hopelessness out of her mind like she usually does. Out from the spawning pool she plopped, bouncing happily along the dewdrop trail that she’s patrolled for the last ten years. She awaited the next adventurer to cut her down and wondered who it will be? Would it be a young human warrior with an iron sword? Maybe it might be a brooding apprentice with a black cloak and starter wand? Thoughts raced through her mind about who they might be and what they might level into. It was when Bloop was passing the crystal path at the midway point of the cave when she saw it. It started with a soft blue light that refracted off the cave’s shimmering walls, painting a kaleidoscope of colors throughout the area. It was an adventurer, but not a newcomer like she was used to. The humanoid figure was clad in diamond-like armor that glistened with multiple shades of color. A large pair of angelic wings sprouted from the figure’s back. What class was he? She recalled the day that a level 42 Dragon Knight entered the cave and slaughtered everything in it for fun. This was nothing like that. The multi-colored armor of the figure and gentle glow of his aura contrasted against the dark scales and serrated spikes that jutted from the dragon knight. Normally all Elysian creatures could sense the level of one another, but all Bloop could sense from this figure was a “Star” where there would normally be a number. Maybe his level was too high for her to see? Is that even possible? Bloop bubbled with excitement, wonder, -and confusion. It was then that the figure extended a hand, drawing aether from the air and forming the most brilliant runic weapon that she had even seen. The sheer force of the blade’s magic power caused the cave to surge with heat. Bloop looked towards the blade. Well, this is it she thought. It probably won’t even hurt. She wondered how high the damage would be, there was no doubt that this would be a critical hit. The strike never came. Instead the figure stopped and began speaking. An intense but strangely calm voice filled the area. “How many years have we chased the stars only to find that they never grew closer? How many backs have been broken to build a stairway into the unattainable?” Questions filled Bloop’s mind but she couldn’t ask any of them. The ability to speak was reserved for creatures that were level 20 or higher -with the only exception being adventurer types. Bloop was only level one. The figure looked down at the little slime with a gaze that was like two full moons sailing a starless sky. “It is time for an age to come to an end and for new rules to be written.” With that statement, the figure plunged the white hot runic sword into his own chest. A blinding fountain of light spilled forth from the gaping wound. The man seemed to almost smile as the light consumed him, leaving behind a radiant XP crystal that pulsed like the beating heart of a new world. Time froze for Bloop for what seemed like an eternity. The grand XP crystal simply towered her, spinning slowly and reflecting light off of its many facets. She reached out with a goopy tendril and touched it. That day everything changed.	The Pink fell onto the stones, making a weak squeal as I pulled my spear from its side. I hadn’t expected to meet an outsider here. This was our temple. But there he’d been, wide-eyed in the hall, bleeding from our labyrinth of traps, muttering in a strange, long-winded language. Ak’ha leaned against me, his claws tight upon my shoulder, his snout inches from the blood-wet iron. “Ugh!” Ak’ha spat, leaping backward. “It’s a human.” I nearly dropped my spear. My plumage ruffled and fluttered at my neck, and I felt the urge to both pee and run. Humans are monsters. Everyone knows that. Ur’za stepped around me. He poked at the Pink with a toe claw, whistling as he did so, warning us to be ready to run. And then he stopped poking and started to bend. His hand claws found the Pink’s neck. He scratched at the Pink’s cheek, pulled on its hair, and, to be sure, plucked a Shiny from the Pink’s ear. “It is dead,” Ur’za said. His voice was heavy with reverence as he turned toward me. Ak’ha came close, his eyes wide with madness. I smelled his musk and reflexively bared my fangs, causing him to trip over his feet and tail as he sputtered and backed away. “You killed a Pink,” Ur’za whispered. As I looked at the dead human in its metal shell, a mote of gold lifted from my arm and drifted on the cave’s currents of air. Another mote followed. Soon, the cave was awash with golden motes. I blinked. Strange thoughts came to me, pushing aside my urge to pee and stomping on my desire to eat and curl beside my kith. I thought of turning toward the Bad Air and leaving the cave. I wanted to see what was beyond the stone. And I felt like I could lead the other kobolds. I imagined large squares of them rushing toward lines of Pinks. We could take their stone homes, I thought. Looking at the Pink, I could decipher the symbols on its shell. Loras Lorissa. I knew that sound. The Pinks always came from its stone homes. And I knew this Pink was important. It wore a circle of silver around its head. Its sword pulsed with magic. The soft pelt on its back came from a mean cat. Gripping my spear in my claws, I turned to my fellow kobolds and looked them in the eye. One by one, they knelt. The others in our cave knelt, too. They spoke of my spear, Pinkclaw, and the dead metal-shelled human I had killed. This was how I became queen of the kobolds. And it is why our army now marches upon the surface cities. Even dragons bow to me and fly above my kith. I will never forget the day a human prince impaled himself on my spear. And I look forward to the day when there are no more human princes.
[WP] You finally kill that spider that's been lurking in your house for months. As it dies, you hear a faint jingle and an ethereal voice shouts joyously, "Level up!"	Dang spiders, I thought. I really have to find the money for an exterminator. I took my sandal to the 4th arachnid to stand in front of me today. As I hear the crunch, however, a chime rings in my head and I hear a high-pitched voice come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time: "Level up!" I thought I had just imagined it, but then I felt like I had a certain power. In an instant, I could make myself just a little smarter, or stronger, or more hardy, or more perceptive, charismatic, athletic, or just plain lucky. I could never muster the motivation to go to the gym, so I on a whim I decided to get stronger. Boom. My then-loose clothes suddenly fit a little better on me. I went to the mirror to find my arms somewhat bigger, my legs wider, and my abs somewhat more defined. For once, manual labor didn't seem like so much of a burden to me. And then it hit me. I'm my own video game character. I had to hunt down more spiders. Kill them. Take the experience from their curled, lifeless corpses. With my newfound strength, I moved the fridge out from the wall with some effort, but certainly less effort than before. There, a few more. I took my shoe to 6 or 7 more. "Level up!" I hear again, with slightly more fanfare. Intelligence was my pick this time. I had to start getting creative with finding spiders if I'm ever gonna keep this up. Sure, I could probably find bigger game (In-line with the whole RPG theme), but killing spiders meant leveling up and not losing (i.e. dying) in my own game. Be the exterminator was the first thought to fill by head after level 3. I headed out to grab some Raid from Home Depot and boy did I go to town on some spiders. An hour passed before I hear the oh-so-satisfying chime again, and I decided to be adventurous and be a bit more lucky. Abilities are great, but as in most RPGs, I need money, and I definitely do not have money. And that's how it started. With a bit of luck, and some smarts, I started my own business, Experience Exterminators. I seek to become the god of this game, and after calculating the number of spiders I have to kill along with the number I usually kill per hour, I can reach what I believe to be max level in 10 years. It's been 3 years since I've heard the addicting sound of progress, but just as satisfying is the look on someone's face when they ask the question of how the most perfect person they have ever met got stuck squashing bugs.	(Caution: this was composed by an individual with English as a second language! Apologies for any mistakes that I might have created) Confused you look around, not really able to grasp what just happened. As you want to make sense of the situation , you feel your body starting to tremble. Your extremities are shaking, almost impossible to control. Suddenly, a flash of energy goes right through your body, giving you the impression that your condition might be acting up again. At least, this is what your doctor wanted to make you believe since you were a child. The medication she gave you, your miracle drug, would get rid of that. You would feel nothing but peace anymore once you took it. It would suppress everything that made you feel uncomfortable and unable to function in the real world. But the more this was happening, this was certainly not the first time,and the more often I saw the bald man in the hallway staring at me, the more I was convinced that there must be more to this. Have my parents been lying to me? Is there more to my person than they wanted me to know? The ability to jump higher than my peers, the ease in which I was able to defend myself in a fight with the bullies, or the physical or mental boost whenever I experienced something out of the ordinary, it just made no sense that a simple mental condition would cause all of this. Am I superhuman? Am I a character out of a cartoon who can jump buildings and defends people in need where the police fails? What was happening? I tried to find answers, but neither my parents, nor my longtime physician, Dr Calloway would give me any answers, even though I knew just by looking into their eyes, that they have been lying to me all along. In frustration I turned to the only person, I have not yet interacted with, but who seemed to have been a companion of mine since I was a child, the bald man....
[WP] As you die, a series of statistics about your life flash past. One that catches your eye is “unsuccessful attempts on life : 99”. Suddenly, so many unexplainable events in your life begin to make sense...	Unsuccessful attempts on life: 99. This was the last thing I saw right before going into the light. During the past few moments as my life was flashing before my eyes, I had seen the highlights and lowlights of my life, and sure enough I felt like I was remembered some of the worst moments of my life, including all the harrowing challenges where I could have almost died. After I saw the statistic, I was ushered into a long line with thousands of people in front of me. We were all dressed in simple white clothes as we were waiting in front of a gate. At the very front, I could just barely glimpse the pearly gates of Heaven ahead of me with a bored St. Peter there looking through his statistics on every single person before him. This was going to take some time, but I guess I had all of time to wait there in line if I had to. As I was waiting in the line that seemed to take forever, I tried to pick up a conversation with the old man behind me. He spoke Portuguese, and I did not. He looked like a farmer with rough hands that had seen heavy work throughout his entire life. My work as a paralegal to a top medical malpractice lawyer definitely would not get me into heaven, as compared to his likely sacrifices he had made for his family. The female ahead of me was an aged grandmother who looked to be about 100 years old. She spoke only Japanese, and I did not. Therefore, I was left to my own devices in this line that appeared as though it would take a decade for me to get to the front to St. Peter. Instead of continuing to stand there in complete silence, I started making my case for why I should go to heaven. I did not find anything too compelling. I had not managed to say my Last Rites before I was killed by that truck that seemed to come out of nowhere as I was walking into my job. I did not go to church regularly. I did not volunteer to help sick or homeless people. I did not sacrifice any of my time or soul for anyone. I had just kind of lived. Shit, I thought as I realized I was going to go to purgatory and quite possibly hell. After this realization, I opened my eyes. There was the equivalent of three spots that were now empty in front of me, so I scurried forward. This was going to take a very long time. Now I started to think about that last statistic about unsuccessful attempts on my life. Geez that was starting to sound more realistic as I thought about the sheer amount of unfortunate luck that I had had over the past few years. I thought that life was trying to get me to use a medical malpractice lawyer as well. I had about a dozen car accidents over the past five years. Cars had nearly hit me as I was walking another near dozen times. I had choked about 20 times on food that I normally ate at home. I had had accidental poisonings at restaurants five times, including twice where I had to go to the hospital. Finally I arrived at the front of the line. I had seen St. Peter look at everyone before me, and he kept a stern look on his face as he approached them all. He either pointed towards the pearly gates allowing someone to pass, or he shook his head indicating they needed to go past the entire line to either go to purgatory or hell. Then he looked down at me and smiled. He then laughed before he shut the book for a second. “The soul that never seemed to get here at the right time. Michael, we have sent hundreds of angels to try to kill you over the years, but you kept evading us. I never thought this day would finally come that one of our own would finally return.” “What are you talking about?” “Archangel Michael, take off your mask and join your brothers in Heaven.” At that moment, everything became clearer. Wings appeared on my back, and all the memories returned. I had needed to return to heaven and protect the souls here, but instead my being had wanted to stay on Earth for just a few more hours or days each time until the one time I finally desperately needed to return home to Heaven.	“This is it huh” That’s what you’re thinking, laying in your own blood and seeing the rebar sticking through your stomach, meanwhile you’re seeing all these numbers that weren’t making sense at first, but you recognized them as part of a statistic board, something you’re used to since you only played rpg and solo adventure games, “Damn, my dexterity is low, no wonder I wasn’t any good at sports, oh well, at least my intelligence is high” Seeing all your stats and your vision getting blurrier by the second, you see something different, number of attempts on life, 99/100 “What the fuck, 99 attempts on my life? I’ve never been a dangerous guy” However it slowly clicks in your head, that time you felt like you were pushed from the balcony of your apartment from the 3rd floor, or maybe when you took a stroll through that abandoned car wash and one of the air dryers fell from the ceiling, maybe when you got mistaken for someone else and they tried to jump you “Fuck, someone has really been trying to kill me, huh, hehe I’m one hellava badass” But now your mind is racing, the 1 try that was successful, it felt odd that the brakes on your mountain bike just happened to fall off when you were turning around the bend, that car that just happened to be swerving into the bike path. “Shit, I guess it’s my time, damn” As you lay there, bleeding out getting prepared to die, something catches your eye that you can’t believe, “Respawn for 3,000 credits, fuck it, not much else to lose,” you say as your mentally see yourself pressing accept and a flash of white light appears, “Well damn, a fresh restart huh,” you say as the doctore reaches for you and pull you from the womb, your last thoughts being faded to nothing “Wahhh, wahh,” “Now, now,” the doctor says wiping the baby’s face.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	Mainly I get applause. That’s the most common response, although not my favourite. That position went to money, although it didn’t happen quite as often as I’d like. Sometimes there was laughter, even the occasional “ooh”, or “aah”. There was even, depending on the city, and the crowd, bored silence or taunts. I’d had it all. Or at least I thought I had, until now. I was new to the city of Grana, a few days boat journey from the places I was more used to. Of course, being there for the next few weeks carried a pretty harsh death sentence, so I had figured I’d hole up somewhere a little farther afield, just until things cooled down. Did I have the money for this surprise trip? Not the amount I’d want, but enough. Besides, if you knew some card tricks, you can always shore up the gaps with some gambling, or some street magic. Or at least, usually. The hat at my feet lay empty despite the swollen crowd around me. That was strange in general, given the amount of people, but also because, despite the silence, everyone actually looked really impressed. They just kind of looked a little terrified too. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to break this weird tension. “I accept any denomination of coin. Big or small.” I nudged the hat for emphasis, and smiled as kindly as I could. “You… You want coin?” Someone stammered. “Of course? Why else am I doing this?” Within seconds my hat was overflowing, people backing away from it with empty pockets, hands held up like I was threatening them with a knife. A strange as hell reaction, that was for sure. Still, not unappreciated. I knelt to scoop up my prize before some greedy urchins could get tempted. From my vantage point, the first I saw of the only remaining spectator was their boots. They were very fine, made from the skin of an animal I’d never even seen before. Essentially, they were the perfect mark. If someone that wealthy wanted to linger, I’d gladly perform some more tricks. Their spare change would probably make my other earnings look like shit. I palmed a few coins so it wouldn’t look like I had earned too much- people felt less generous when they saw your hat full- and straightened with a smile. “My lady,” I said, bowing deeply, wishing I’d palmed more coins. “How did you do that?” She said intently. She wore a long, purple coat, form fitting and at least as fine as her boots. She carried an intricate wooden staff, although she wasn’t leaning on it, so it was probably an affectation, an accessory, more than a necessity. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” I grinned. She didn’t smile back. Not a great start. I flourished suddenly, producing a card in my right hand. “But I’ll show you some more, if you have the time.” A quick click of my fingers and I ignited the corner doused with alchemicals for that very purpose. It went up in a flash, and I dropped ash artfully, like a chef garnishing a roast pig. It blew down a rapidly clearing street. She looked amazed, but also frightened. “I couldn’t feel that. At all.” “Well of course not. I’d never burn such a beauty as you.” I knew I’d messed up the second I said ‘beauty’. Her eyes blazed, literally, and the wind started to pick up. I saw the staff start to glow and, as my skin started to crawl, I realised and felt what she was. An actual magician. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. “You won’t bait me so easily,” she said. “Is that why you’re here, to pick a fight? I won’t walk into your trap.” “No, not at all,” I said, hastily, not sure what she meant. “I’m just here for money. I swear it.” “You swear?” her piercing eyes found his. “Interesting. For one such as you, that can only mean one thing… The Hellnest Contract.” The street was now fully empty. I was starting to realise that something had gone wrong, that I was over my head. Still, I hadn’t survived three death sentences and four arrests by admitting that. Until I had more information, I was going to pretend I was here for whatever kept her from frying me like I’d fried that card. “You’re sharp,” I said vaguely. “What else would someone of your… impressive talents, be looking for? I’d considered it myself but, I thought it was suicide. Now, however, I may reconsider,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “If you’ll have me, that is. I think you’ll find there are more enough gems to share, and adventuring alone is tedious.” Gems? Plural? I guess I’d been right about chump change. Whatever this was, she seemed capable. What she’d need me for, I didn’t know. I hadn’t gotten rich twice by admitting that out loud though. “Gladly.” “Interesting. Well, come with me high mage, I know the Lord offering the contract.” High what? I thought, as she walked away, down that road, now completely empty. I had a sudden feeling that 'over my head' was an understatement.	Wizards, for all their power and knowledge, are cowardly by nature. Must be all those years letting their pacts and rituals do all the menial work for them, but caught off guard a wizard is next to helpless. That's why they learn to hide their presence. Magic leaves a trail, that much is known. To those with a keen sense for it, tracking a wizard can be as easy as making breakfast. Still, survival comes in numbers, and so they gather, build their cities, make laws, and hide in plain sight. Sure, they might be a lot of wizards who can't hide their magic all that well, but it's the truly powerful that can walk down the street without being detected. It's one of those that I am after. Finding a wizard is all about perception. One detail leads to another, as one wizard will always lead to a coven, my master said whenever I failed to grasp the lesson, which was often during the first years after she took me in. She taught me “old magic”, little tricks that required nothing but nimble fingers and a bit of flair. Fake magic she called it. They seemed silly back then, but as I grew older I understood it was never about the tricks. And the crowd before me now was proof of the power behind them. Their expressions, a mix of awe and denial, as the cards in my hand vanish before their eyes. The inner workings of their minds reflected on the frown upon their gaze, the question nagging at the back of the mind. The raw excitement when the card they chose appears inside someone's pocket. It is art by its very nature, turned into snare for the game. It was a matter of time. A single streak of panic, a sideways glance in doubt, and their identity is revealed. It is the fear in their eyes that gives them away. They do not wonder how the magic is performed, nor do they find it amazing such a trick can be done. No, they fear the lack of magic in the air. The stillness in their senses gets the best of them, the belief that performing magic without a trace is sign of a warlock of the highest rank. And there it was. A man that had stopped to see what the gathering crowd was so excited about, now making a quick exit as a handful of shredded paper turned to a white dove as I flicked my wrist. Sorry, folks, show’s over. I shoved through the people in front of me as the wizard broke into a sprint. I couldn't afford to lose him just to keep my cover. He turned a corner and I followed him into an alley closed by a tall brick wall. He stood with his back against it, as if trying to push through it to get away from me. “Stop, don't hurt me, please!” he pleaded, voice cracking and dry. I did stop. There was something in his posture that made me reconsider. He had a hand in the wall, and the other held out toward me. Even though he acted afraid, he did not move his hands one inch. I pulled up my sleeves and raised my hands, showing my empty palms and bare wrists. “I just have some questions for you,” I said, keeping a calm tone. “Stay away!” the man snapped and looked almost ready to cry as I took a step forward. “I'm warn-” Before he could finish his sentence I sprinted forward, reaching for the knife strapped behind my back. The man did not flinch. Instead he slid a foot forward and made a pushing motion with his free hand. The wall behind him began to shift, forming shapes on its surface before a stone spear shot from it right for my head. I dropped to the floor, barely out of harm's way, and rolled to my feet, weapon ready. The man kept his posture, raising his hand and bringing it down with some force. The bricks formed into a tower, then shot up to the sky. They arched back and dropped right where I stood. I dashed to the side and threw my blade at the man. The bricks cracked upon one another as they crashed down, debris hitting my back as I slumped down and covered my head and neck with my arms. I jumped to my feet when it had ended, unable to see far through the cloud of red dust that had formed from the shattered bricks. A veil to hide, for sure, and strike unseen. “See, now, I'm looking for someone,” I said as I made my way over the rubble. “Not you, that much is true. But you might know him. I just want some information.” “Right,” the man replied from somewhere out of sight. “Whoever you're looking for is probably as dangerous as you are. I came here for a peaceful life, not to get drawn in your stupid war.” I could feel the dust around me stir. It flowed in streams, drawn together in a spot behind me. Whatever the wizard was doing, there was no way to anticipate. I had to react to it, and strike back before he moved again. “I have nothing to do with that,” I said. “I show you a picture, you tell me whatever comes to mind, I'll be on my way and you on yours. No one needs to get hurt.” No reply, just the sound of shifting sand, followed by dead silence. Unable to find my knife, I took a stone from the ground, and focused. Now. I spun around and felt something whip past my ear. I saw the trail it left throw the heavy dust, and flung the stone in that direction. There was a groan and a thud, then silence again. I ran and found the man trying to recover on the floor. The stone had hit him right in the stomach, while my knife had grazed his left arm. I found my weapon a few steps behind him, picked it up and pinned the wizard to the ground. I pressed the edge of the black against his neck. “By now the guards must be close, so I have no time for games,” I said and produced a piece of parchment from my pocket. I showed it to him, a sketch of an old, balding man with sunken eyes, sharp jaw, and a wicked grin. I saw his eyes flicker with horror before he turned away. “I don't know him,” he said sharply. “And I don't believe you.” I pressed the knife to the point of drawing blood. I could sense magic nearby. “Tell me his name, pagan!” His expression changed from fear to disgust. “Pagan?” he repeated. Amateur mistake, to let my tongue slip like that. “You're not a wizard!” “Answer the question or I'll gut you right here,” I threatened, no longer trying to keep appearances. “You savages,” the wizard scoffed. “We should've wiped you out when we had the chance.” “Don't test me,” I snapped back. “I don't care about you wizards or your conflicts with the rest of the world. But this man came to my village and murdered my father and everyone else there. So tell me who he is, and we can both go our own way.” The wizard stared. Not at me. It was like I was invisible as he withdrew inside his own thoughts. He knew more than I had wagered. But I could hear the guards close by, and I had no time left. “If you manage to escape,” he said, breaking out of his introspection. “Meet me at the Azure Queen tonight.” “Over here!” a rough voice called from the main street. Time was up. “The azure queen?” I asked before I lost my nerve. “It's a bar, dammit, go!” the wizard pushed me away. I didn't stop to think about it and ran. I felt the air grow heavy, a sign of a spell in the making. I felt an overwhelming wave of heat chase me down the alley. I reached the other end and turned the corner, just as a blast of fire shot out into the street. People began to run in panic, and I joined them in order to lose myself in the crowd. It seemed to work, as I ran a few streets and found myself without pursuit. I'd have to stay low for a bit before heading to the Azure Queen. I had to entertain the possibility that it was a setup, but it's been three years without a lead. Still, I saw no dishonesty in his eyes. He definitely knew something. I have to take that risk. As my master said, one detail leads to another. I would be remiss not to follow.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	An excerpt from on the efficiency of magic by Beverly Brine Much as a candle burnt for light still produces heat, so too does the use of magic radiate excess energy. This has always been a concern of mine. Despite our liberal use of magic, we still know very little about it. We do not know where this energy comes from; we do not know if it is a finite resource; and we do not know what effect this magic radiation, which I will refer to in this essay as runoff, has on us and our environment. Anecdotal evidence suggests that areas with high runoff, such as magic schools, experience higher windspeeds, increased plant growth, and the disappearance of small items. We send our children to these places from the age of five, yet our government has repeatedly denied funding for research into these phenomena. One wonders what tragedy we must endure before such issues cannot be ignored. This essay will detail what we know and what we must know. Project 1: Max Efficiency It is well known that the more experienced a person is with magic, the less runoff is produced. Conventional wisdom has stated, however, that it is impossible to achieve 100% efficiency. I am no longer convinced of this. Recently while shopping for supplies in town, I happened upon what I mistook at first for a simple beggar. In front of her was a small table, upon which sat a deck of cards, a few coins, three small cups and a ball, and a hat. What I experienced both terrified and thrilled me. She claimed to be from a distant land called "The Bronx". Over the next 10 minutes, she displayed feats of mind reading; teleportation and duplication of simple objects; and the conjuration of a rabbit. There was not a single drop of runoff. When I demanded to know how she had accomplished this, she simply told me "a magician never reveals her secrets". I plan to travel to this "Bronx", and attempt to learn how this is possible, but I will require a research grant to do so.	Wizards, for all their power and knowledge, are cowardly by nature. Must be all those years letting their pacts and rituals do all the menial work for them, but caught off guard a wizard is next to helpless. That's why they learn to hide their presence. Magic leaves a trail, that much is known. To those with a keen sense for it, tracking a wizard can be as easy as making breakfast. Still, survival comes in numbers, and so they gather, build their cities, make laws, and hide in plain sight. Sure, they might be a lot of wizards who can't hide their magic all that well, but it's the truly powerful that can walk down the street without being detected. It's one of those that I am after. Finding a wizard is all about perception. One detail leads to another, as one wizard will always lead to a coven, my master said whenever I failed to grasp the lesson, which was often during the first years after she took me in. She taught me “old magic”, little tricks that required nothing but nimble fingers and a bit of flair. Fake magic she called it. They seemed silly back then, but as I grew older I understood it was never about the tricks. And the crowd before me now was proof of the power behind them. Their expressions, a mix of awe and denial, as the cards in my hand vanish before their eyes. The inner workings of their minds reflected on the frown upon their gaze, the question nagging at the back of the mind. The raw excitement when the card they chose appears inside someone's pocket. It is art by its very nature, turned into snare for the game. It was a matter of time. A single streak of panic, a sideways glance in doubt, and their identity is revealed. It is the fear in their eyes that gives them away. They do not wonder how the magic is performed, nor do they find it amazing such a trick can be done. No, they fear the lack of magic in the air. The stillness in their senses gets the best of them, the belief that performing magic without a trace is sign of a warlock of the highest rank. And there it was. A man that had stopped to see what the gathering crowd was so excited about, now making a quick exit as a handful of shredded paper turned to a white dove as I flicked my wrist. Sorry, folks, show’s over. I shoved through the people in front of me as the wizard broke into a sprint. I couldn't afford to lose him just to keep my cover. He turned a corner and I followed him into an alley closed by a tall brick wall. He stood with his back against it, as if trying to push through it to get away from me. “Stop, don't hurt me, please!” he pleaded, voice cracking and dry. I did stop. There was something in his posture that made me reconsider. He had a hand in the wall, and the other held out toward me. Even though he acted afraid, he did not move his hands one inch. I pulled up my sleeves and raised my hands, showing my empty palms and bare wrists. “I just have some questions for you,” I said, keeping a calm tone. “Stay away!” the man snapped and looked almost ready to cry as I took a step forward. “I'm warn-” Before he could finish his sentence I sprinted forward, reaching for the knife strapped behind my back. The man did not flinch. Instead he slid a foot forward and made a pushing motion with his free hand. The wall behind him began to shift, forming shapes on its surface before a stone spear shot from it right for my head. I dropped to the floor, barely out of harm's way, and rolled to my feet, weapon ready. The man kept his posture, raising his hand and bringing it down with some force. The bricks formed into a tower, then shot up to the sky. They arched back and dropped right where I stood. I dashed to the side and threw my blade at the man. The bricks cracked upon one another as they crashed down, debris hitting my back as I slumped down and covered my head and neck with my arms. I jumped to my feet when it had ended, unable to see far through the cloud of red dust that had formed from the shattered bricks. A veil to hide, for sure, and strike unseen. “See, now, I'm looking for someone,” I said as I made my way over the rubble. “Not you, that much is true. But you might know him. I just want some information.” “Right,” the man replied from somewhere out of sight. “Whoever you're looking for is probably as dangerous as you are. I came here for a peaceful life, not to get drawn in your stupid war.” I could feel the dust around me stir. It flowed in streams, drawn together in a spot behind me. Whatever the wizard was doing, there was no way to anticipate. I had to react to it, and strike back before he moved again. “I have nothing to do with that,” I said. “I show you a picture, you tell me whatever comes to mind, I'll be on my way and you on yours. No one needs to get hurt.” No reply, just the sound of shifting sand, followed by dead silence. Unable to find my knife, I took a stone from the ground, and focused. Now. I spun around and felt something whip past my ear. I saw the trail it left throw the heavy dust, and flung the stone in that direction. There was a groan and a thud, then silence again. I ran and found the man trying to recover on the floor. The stone had hit him right in the stomach, while my knife had grazed his left arm. I found my weapon a few steps behind him, picked it up and pinned the wizard to the ground. I pressed the edge of the black against his neck. “By now the guards must be close, so I have no time for games,” I said and produced a piece of parchment from my pocket. I showed it to him, a sketch of an old, balding man with sunken eyes, sharp jaw, and a wicked grin. I saw his eyes flicker with horror before he turned away. “I don't know him,” he said sharply. “And I don't believe you.” I pressed the knife to the point of drawing blood. I could sense magic nearby. “Tell me his name, pagan!” His expression changed from fear to disgust. “Pagan?” he repeated. Amateur mistake, to let my tongue slip like that. “You're not a wizard!” “Answer the question or I'll gut you right here,” I threatened, no longer trying to keep appearances. “You savages,” the wizard scoffed. “We should've wiped you out when we had the chance.” “Don't test me,” I snapped back. “I don't care about you wizards or your conflicts with the rest of the world. But this man came to my village and murdered my father and everyone else there. So tell me who he is, and we can both go our own way.” The wizard stared. Not at me. It was like I was invisible as he withdrew inside his own thoughts. He knew more than I had wagered. But I could hear the guards close by, and I had no time left. “If you manage to escape,” he said, breaking out of his introspection. “Meet me at the Azure Queen tonight.” “Over here!” a rough voice called from the main street. Time was up. “The azure queen?” I asked before I lost my nerve. “It's a bar, dammit, go!” the wizard pushed me away. I didn't stop to think about it and ran. I felt the air grow heavy, a sign of a spell in the making. I felt an overwhelming wave of heat chase me down the alley. I reached the other end and turned the corner, just as a blast of fire shot out into the street. People began to run in panic, and I joined them in order to lose myself in the crowd. It seemed to work, as I ran a few streets and found myself without pursuit. I'd have to stay low for a bit before heading to the Azure Queen. I had to entertain the possibility that it was a setup, but it's been three years without a lead. Still, I saw no dishonesty in his eyes. He definitely knew something. I have to take that risk. As my master said, one detail leads to another. I would be remiss not to follow.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	Mainly I get applause. That’s the most common response, although not my favourite. That position went to money, although it didn’t happen quite as often as I’d like. Sometimes there was laughter, even the occasional “ooh”, or “aah”. There was even, depending on the city, and the crowd, bored silence or taunts. I’d had it all. Or at least I thought I had, until now. I was new to the city of Grana, a few days boat journey from the places I was more used to. Of course, being there for the next few weeks carried a pretty harsh death sentence, so I had figured I’d hole up somewhere a little farther afield, just until things cooled down. Did I have the money for this surprise trip? Not the amount I’d want, but enough. Besides, if you knew some card tricks, you can always shore up the gaps with some gambling, or some street magic. Or at least, usually. The hat at my feet lay empty despite the swollen crowd around me. That was strange in general, given the amount of people, but also because, despite the silence, everyone actually looked really impressed. They just kind of looked a little terrified too. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to break this weird tension. “I accept any denomination of coin. Big or small.” I nudged the hat for emphasis, and smiled as kindly as I could. “You… You want coin?” Someone stammered. “Of course? Why else am I doing this?” Within seconds my hat was overflowing, people backing away from it with empty pockets, hands held up like I was threatening them with a knife. A strange as hell reaction, that was for sure. Still, not unappreciated. I knelt to scoop up my prize before some greedy urchins could get tempted. From my vantage point, the first I saw of the only remaining spectator was their boots. They were very fine, made from the skin of an animal I’d never even seen before. Essentially, they were the perfect mark. If someone that wealthy wanted to linger, I’d gladly perform some more tricks. Their spare change would probably make my other earnings look like shit. I palmed a few coins so it wouldn’t look like I had earned too much- people felt less generous when they saw your hat full- and straightened with a smile. “My lady,” I said, bowing deeply, wishing I’d palmed more coins. “How did you do that?” She said intently. She wore a long, purple coat, form fitting and at least as fine as her boots. She carried an intricate wooden staff, although she wasn’t leaning on it, so it was probably an affectation, an accessory, more than a necessity. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” I grinned. She didn’t smile back. Not a great start. I flourished suddenly, producing a card in my right hand. “But I’ll show you some more, if you have the time.” A quick click of my fingers and I ignited the corner doused with alchemicals for that very purpose. It went up in a flash, and I dropped ash artfully, like a chef garnishing a roast pig. It blew down a rapidly clearing street. She looked amazed, but also frightened. “I couldn’t feel that. At all.” “Well of course not. I’d never burn such a beauty as you.” I knew I’d messed up the second I said ‘beauty’. Her eyes blazed, literally, and the wind started to pick up. I saw the staff start to glow and, as my skin started to crawl, I realised and felt what she was. An actual magician. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. “You won’t bait me so easily,” she said. “Is that why you’re here, to pick a fight? I won’t walk into your trap.” “No, not at all,” I said, hastily, not sure what she meant. “I’m just here for money. I swear it.” “You swear?” her piercing eyes found his. “Interesting. For one such as you, that can only mean one thing… The Hellnest Contract.” The street was now fully empty. I was starting to realise that something had gone wrong, that I was over my head. Still, I hadn’t survived three death sentences and four arrests by admitting that. Until I had more information, I was going to pretend I was here for whatever kept her from frying me like I’d fried that card. “You’re sharp,” I said vaguely. “What else would someone of your… impressive talents, be looking for? I’d considered it myself but, I thought it was suicide. Now, however, I may reconsider,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “If you’ll have me, that is. I think you’ll find there are more enough gems to share, and adventuring alone is tedious.” Gems? Plural? I guess I’d been right about chump change. Whatever this was, she seemed capable. What she’d need me for, I didn’t know. I hadn’t gotten rich twice by admitting that out loud though. “Gladly.” “Interesting. Well, come with me high mage, I know the Lord offering the contract.” High what? I thought, as she walked away, down that road, now completely empty. I had a sudden feeling that 'over my head' was an understatement.	"Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there" I announced with a squint. The onlookers now peered at a man in the middle of the crowd they had not noticed before."I assure you I-" The old man stopped as his hand came to the pocket beside his lapel. His gloved hand pulled the black jester from it and he smiled. His tea stained teeth were one of the many demarcations of his wealth. "Oh my, well played indeed..." The man blew on the card and it floated evenly into the deck in my hands. Only light sigh of power glided along my senses. "Though mere tricks, ofcourse" he smirked. Onlookers were unsure if they were allowed to cheer under such contexts, the crowd began to sink into the unease of a mage's duel. I broke the tension with a laugh. "Ofcourse my friend!" I said with a shuffle and a wink. Charm, like any magical talent, is only as complicated as you make it. Why burden the forces of nature when a wit can cut just as deep. "Forgive my folly, I am merely a traveler on his way to Rohjark, would you do me the honor of your introduction?" The crowd breathed in relief as he answered in formality "Captain of Law, Lord Desmond Hadry". He did not offer the slightest bow, only the curt turn of lip the highborn wear when addressing the lesser. I continued to shuffle as I moved, "Ladies and gentlemen we are honored here before us by the presence of the law, do well to hide your hand as they sneak the pocket, lest he thwart your grasp and lock it" I sang the last bit playfully. Nervous laughter broke out, but soon turned to better impressions as the deck moved back and forth in my hands, like the blades of a fan and I with it, side to side. The onlookers now calm swayed with me. Not so much magic, just a bit of encouragement. "Now, good captain, would you dare to meet me in a friendly wager?" I asked him. He noticed himself shifting ever so slightly but immediately straightened when addressed. "Of what sort dear fool?" his interest piqued. "Say I were to perform the trick again, could you stop me?" I challenge. "Easily." He assured. The crowd chuckled. "For 10 Platdents I say otherwise" I meet his posture. "And if you fail?" he smirked again, this time with a potent arrogance due only to the highest of talents. "I'll spend as many nights in your jailhouse." I propose to a horrified crowd. "A wager met then..." His power twinged again as his defenses raised. Now Aldra I thought out to my companion Another transfer if you'd be so kind. *At the price of an other nights blood?* Yes old friend, a taste of my blood. "Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there..." I squinted again, shuffling my cards. The crowd rushed in to look. The Captain's smile turned ten platdents heavier as his gloved hand reached to his pocket. "How!?" He mourned sourly. "Magic dear Captain" I smiled with innocence. "Be out of my city by nightfall..." He warned as he handed me my prize. "Ten scores with every step" I announced to applause, holding his riches above my head.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	An excerpt from on the efficiency of magic by Beverly Brine Much as a candle burnt for light still produces heat, so too does the use of magic radiate excess energy. This has always been a concern of mine. Despite our liberal use of magic, we still know very little about it. We do not know where this energy comes from; we do not know if it is a finite resource; and we do not know what effect this magic radiation, which I will refer to in this essay as runoff, has on us and our environment. Anecdotal evidence suggests that areas with high runoff, such as magic schools, experience higher windspeeds, increased plant growth, and the disappearance of small items. We send our children to these places from the age of five, yet our government has repeatedly denied funding for research into these phenomena. One wonders what tragedy we must endure before such issues cannot be ignored. This essay will detail what we know and what we must know. Project 1: Max Efficiency It is well known that the more experienced a person is with magic, the less runoff is produced. Conventional wisdom has stated, however, that it is impossible to achieve 100% efficiency. I am no longer convinced of this. Recently while shopping for supplies in town, I happened upon what I mistook at first for a simple beggar. In front of her was a small table, upon which sat a deck of cards, a few coins, three small cups and a ball, and a hat. What I experienced both terrified and thrilled me. She claimed to be from a distant land called "The Bronx". Over the next 10 minutes, she displayed feats of mind reading; teleportation and duplication of simple objects; and the conjuration of a rabbit. There was not a single drop of runoff. When I demanded to know how she had accomplished this, she simply told me "a magician never reveals her secrets". I plan to travel to this "Bronx", and attempt to learn how this is possible, but I will require a research grant to do so.	"Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there" I announced with a squint. The onlookers now peered at a man in the middle of the crowd they had not noticed before."I assure you I-" The old man stopped as his hand came to the pocket beside his lapel. His gloved hand pulled the black jester from it and he smiled. His tea stained teeth were one of the many demarcations of his wealth. "Oh my, well played indeed..." The man blew on the card and it floated evenly into the deck in my hands. Only light sigh of power glided along my senses. "Though mere tricks, ofcourse" he smirked. Onlookers were unsure if they were allowed to cheer under such contexts, the crowd began to sink into the unease of a mage's duel. I broke the tension with a laugh. "Ofcourse my friend!" I said with a shuffle and a wink. Charm, like any magical talent, is only as complicated as you make it. Why burden the forces of nature when a wit can cut just as deep. "Forgive my folly, I am merely a traveler on his way to Rohjark, would you do me the honor of your introduction?" The crowd breathed in relief as he answered in formality "Captain of Law, Lord Desmond Hadry". He did not offer the slightest bow, only the curt turn of lip the highborn wear when addressing the lesser. I continued to shuffle as I moved, "Ladies and gentlemen we are honored here before us by the presence of the law, do well to hide your hand as they sneak the pocket, lest he thwart your grasp and lock it" I sang the last bit playfully. Nervous laughter broke out, but soon turned to better impressions as the deck moved back and forth in my hands, like the blades of a fan and I with it, side to side. The onlookers now calm swayed with me. Not so much magic, just a bit of encouragement. "Now, good captain, would you dare to meet me in a friendly wager?" I asked him. He noticed himself shifting ever so slightly but immediately straightened when addressed. "Of what sort dear fool?" his interest piqued. "Say I were to perform the trick again, could you stop me?" I challenge. "Easily." He assured. The crowd chuckled. "For 10 Platdents I say otherwise" I meet his posture. "And if you fail?" he smirked again, this time with a potent arrogance due only to the highest of talents. "I'll spend as many nights in your jailhouse." I propose to a horrified crowd. "A wager met then..." His power twinged again as his defenses raised. Now Aldra I thought out to my companion Another transfer if you'd be so kind. *At the price of an other nights blood?* Yes old friend, a taste of my blood. "Sir, you seem to have my missing card in your pocket there..." I squinted again, shuffling my cards. The crowd rushed in to look. The Captain's smile turned ten platdents heavier as his gloved hand reached to his pocket. "How!?" He mourned sourly. "Magic dear Captain" I smiled with innocence. "Be out of my city by nightfall..." He warned as he handed me my prize. "Ten scores with every step" I announced to applause, holding his riches above my head.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	Mainly I get applause. That’s the most common response, although not my favourite. That position went to money, although it didn’t happen quite as often as I’d like. Sometimes there was laughter, even the occasional “ooh”, or “aah”. There was even, depending on the city, and the crowd, bored silence or taunts. I’d had it all. Or at least I thought I had, until now. I was new to the city of Grana, a few days boat journey from the places I was more used to. Of course, being there for the next few weeks carried a pretty harsh death sentence, so I had figured I’d hole up somewhere a little farther afield, just until things cooled down. Did I have the money for this surprise trip? Not the amount I’d want, but enough. Besides, if you knew some card tricks, you can always shore up the gaps with some gambling, or some street magic. Or at least, usually. The hat at my feet lay empty despite the swollen crowd around me. That was strange in general, given the amount of people, but also because, despite the silence, everyone actually looked really impressed. They just kind of looked a little terrified too. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to break this weird tension. “I accept any denomination of coin. Big or small.” I nudged the hat for emphasis, and smiled as kindly as I could. “You… You want coin?” Someone stammered. “Of course? Why else am I doing this?” Within seconds my hat was overflowing, people backing away from it with empty pockets, hands held up like I was threatening them with a knife. A strange as hell reaction, that was for sure. Still, not unappreciated. I knelt to scoop up my prize before some greedy urchins could get tempted. From my vantage point, the first I saw of the only remaining spectator was their boots. They were very fine, made from the skin of an animal I’d never even seen before. Essentially, they were the perfect mark. If someone that wealthy wanted to linger, I’d gladly perform some more tricks. Their spare change would probably make my other earnings look like shit. I palmed a few coins so it wouldn’t look like I had earned too much- people felt less generous when they saw your hat full- and straightened with a smile. “My lady,” I said, bowing deeply, wishing I’d palmed more coins. “How did you do that?” She said intently. She wore a long, purple coat, form fitting and at least as fine as her boots. She carried an intricate wooden staff, although she wasn’t leaning on it, so it was probably an affectation, an accessory, more than a necessity. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” I grinned. She didn’t smile back. Not a great start. I flourished suddenly, producing a card in my right hand. “But I’ll show you some more, if you have the time.” A quick click of my fingers and I ignited the corner doused with alchemicals for that very purpose. It went up in a flash, and I dropped ash artfully, like a chef garnishing a roast pig. It blew down a rapidly clearing street. She looked amazed, but also frightened. “I couldn’t feel that. At all.” “Well of course not. I’d never burn such a beauty as you.” I knew I’d messed up the second I said ‘beauty’. Her eyes blazed, literally, and the wind started to pick up. I saw the staff start to glow and, as my skin started to crawl, I realised and felt what she was. An actual magician. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. “You won’t bait me so easily,” she said. “Is that why you’re here, to pick a fight? I won’t walk into your trap.” “No, not at all,” I said, hastily, not sure what she meant. “I’m just here for money. I swear it.” “You swear?” her piercing eyes found his. “Interesting. For one such as you, that can only mean one thing… The Hellnest Contract.” The street was now fully empty. I was starting to realise that something had gone wrong, that I was over my head. Still, I hadn’t survived three death sentences and four arrests by admitting that. Until I had more information, I was going to pretend I was here for whatever kept her from frying me like I’d fried that card. “You’re sharp,” I said vaguely. “What else would someone of your… impressive talents, be looking for? I’d considered it myself but, I thought it was suicide. Now, however, I may reconsider,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “If you’ll have me, that is. I think you’ll find there are more enough gems to share, and adventuring alone is tedious.” Gems? Plural? I guess I’d been right about chump change. Whatever this was, she seemed capable. What she’d need me for, I didn’t know. I hadn’t gotten rich twice by admitting that out loud though. “Gladly.” “Interesting. Well, come with me high mage, I know the Lord offering the contract.” High what? I thought, as she walked away, down that road, now completely empty. I had a sudden feeling that 'over my head' was an understatement.	You could say I’ve always been a natural talent when it comes to magic tricks. In fact, my many travels have been funded by selling tricks to fledgling magicians. Back when I was a child I was impressed by the feats of seasoned performers, but as I’ve aged the veil of mystery surrounding even the most revered magic users has slowly faded. Their egos fueled rage as I explained, disassembled, and reproduced even the most complex illusions with ease. Even the best are limited by their abilities or their raw power. I’ve been on the road for the better part of the last decade in search of a rival, simultaneously hunting for a secret citadel populated by the very best: the elite of the elite. So far it appears to be no more than a fairy tale. I’ve yet to receive credible information from any of the villages I’ve visited or fellow travelers I’ve crossed paths with. Somewhere in the wide open, grassy foothills of the Urian mountains, I sat underneath a great oak tree, taking bites of a conjured apple and sips of conjured wine. This part of the western territory was considered dangerous because it was still largely unexplored, teeming with bandits and aggressive creatures, and worst of all, the loneliness was overwhelming at times. I heard them coming from far away. My sentry spell had sent a silent alarm at least 15 minutes ago. A branch broke to my left. “We desire your coin, traveler, not your life. You’re trespassing in our lands so now you must pay. You have no choice. We outnumber you.” I was torn between playing games with the bandits and just giving in. Every time it was the same. They steal my coins, I transmute more after they leave. “Sorry, I don’t have any coins today.” I kept my eyes closed. “Yer coins. Now!” He stuck the point of his dagger in my ribs. “My patience is running thin.” I didn’t feel like entertaining this man’s insatiable need for gold, so I sat still and silent. “Have it your way, traveler.” He stabbed at me with his dagger. During his backswing I snapped my fingers. His dagger folded up against my shirt, flaccid and rubbery. “What is this?” One of his clansmen stifled a laugh. He spun around to face him. “Shut yer trap or you’ll be next.” He pulled another dagger out and stabbed at me again, only to find his second dagger was equally flaccid, rubbery, and useless. His clansmen laughed at him. I snapped my fingers again. “Resol nervorum.” The bandit leader went stiff as a board and fell over. His clansmen glanced at each other nervously and backed away slightly. I pulled a heaping sack of coin out of my traveling bag and threw it to the observers. “Don’t worry. He’ll be okay in a couple hours.” They looked at each other and then at the bag. “It’s real. It’s not cursed. Enjoy it.” I drew a deep breath and continued on my way, the sound of clattering coins fading in the distance. My map was not to scale. Not in the slightest. And the citadel was disguised - of that much I was certain. I recognized the mountain I was facing, however. It was obvious whoever drew the map had been where I was standing, but the map ended here. There was a symbol drawn in the center of the mountain but it was an ancient symbol. I assumed by this point, my next stop would be ruins. The last users of ancient magic disappeared long ago, along with their techniques. 2 days into ascending the mountains I caught my first real whiff of another’s magic. It was faint, but I knew right away it was potent. “Odorem,” I whispered to myself. If these people were as powerful as they said, it was very likely there were traps or enchantments left behind to keep people out. The path before me illuminated, remnants of magic fluorescing. Ancient, foreign magical seals covered the stone walls. At the center was a door... or at least it looked like a door. “Aperi.” Nothing happened. I tried again. “Aperi!” Still nothing happened. I could sense eyes on me though. Lots of them. I opened up my bag and grabbed my journal. I had been studying the ancient languages for some time now but was never able to fully grasp them. I cleared my throat. I was nervous but concentrated on the sealed door. “Yngean!” The seal faded away and the real door was revealed. The door slowly rotated inward, where a young-looking man in strange clothing stood. “Stay where you are, stranger. Normally we would have sent you... elsewhere... but you were able to use an ancient tongue. Please, join me inside.” Magical energy oozed from the young man. The energy overwhelmed my senses. I cautiously approached the door and entered complete darkness. “Allow your eyes to adjust, stranger.” The magic was so potent here. Each breath I took seemed to energize me. The massive stone door closed behind me. As my eyes adjusted I realized I was standing in an enormous hallway. Portraits of what I could only assume were royalty of some kind hung on the wall. As if sensing my curiosity, the young man gestured at each wall with his hand. “This entrance is adorned with our greatest leaders, going back to the beginning of our history.” Each painting was bordered by gigantic, ornate stone pillars, each with beautiful, dancing patterns. “My name is Adonis, by the way. Formality is not my strong suit. I am advisor to the throne.” He laughed to himself and suddenly stopped at the second-to-last portrait. His eyes widened and he coughed into a closed fist. “I’m ashamed I didn’t recognize you sooner, but the throne has been sitting empty for two generations now. Sorry, I forget this is completely new to you.” My eyes traveled up the canvas only to find a familiar face. “Grandpa...” I felt my mouth go dry and my stomach turn. A man I only knew of from stories and images was a legendary king? Adonis turned on his heels. “Of course you’ll have to prove it. Seeing and opening our sealed entrance was impressive enough, but those are parlor tricks compared to the real test.” He stopped in front of another massive door. It was incredibly ornate and carved from a stone I had never seen before. Adonis snapped his fingers. “Welcome home, traveler. The Citadel awaits.” Every pair of eyes I encountered widened dramatically. “Forgive them, they haven’t encountered unrequited magic quite as powerful as yours. Your grandfather was the last and your father... well, nobody really knows. We just know he doesn’t want to be found.” The sheer amount of magical energy in the Citadel gave me a high unlike any other. I could feel every person’s energy inside the mountain, outside the mountain, and those who came before me. Adonis led me to a chamber inside a large central spire-shaped building. He turned to face me. “Grandson of Birndl, you are about to endure the trial of ascendance. Should you survive, your heritage will be proven, and we’ll get you started on subsequent trials of the throne. Good luck. Although I doubt you’ll need it.” He smiled and snapped his fingers. He and the entrance were suddenly not there. I pounded on the wall of the chamber and cried, “What if we’re wrong? What if I don’t survive? What happens to me?” Adonis’ voice filled my mind: “Don’t worry. We haven’t had that problem yet. Brace yourself, traveler. The ritual begins now.” I closed my eyes. I could hear voices chanting all around me. Words of many ancient tongues pulsated around me but all said the same thing: “Ascend, ascend, ascend...” My body reacted so strongly I began to pass out. As the world blackened, it was the first time I felt truly relaxed.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	An excerpt from on the efficiency of magic by Beverly Brine Much as a candle burnt for light still produces heat, so too does the use of magic radiate excess energy. This has always been a concern of mine. Despite our liberal use of magic, we still know very little about it. We do not know where this energy comes from; we do not know if it is a finite resource; and we do not know what effect this magic radiation, which I will refer to in this essay as runoff, has on us and our environment. Anecdotal evidence suggests that areas with high runoff, such as magic schools, experience higher windspeeds, increased plant growth, and the disappearance of small items. We send our children to these places from the age of five, yet our government has repeatedly denied funding for research into these phenomena. One wonders what tragedy we must endure before such issues cannot be ignored. This essay will detail what we know and what we must know. Project 1: Max Efficiency It is well known that the more experienced a person is with magic, the less runoff is produced. Conventional wisdom has stated, however, that it is impossible to achieve 100% efficiency. I am no longer convinced of this. Recently while shopping for supplies in town, I happened upon what I mistook at first for a simple beggar. In front of her was a small table, upon which sat a deck of cards, a few coins, three small cups and a ball, and a hat. What I experienced both terrified and thrilled me. She claimed to be from a distant land called "The Bronx". Over the next 10 minutes, she displayed feats of mind reading; teleportation and duplication of simple objects; and the conjuration of a rabbit. There was not a single drop of runoff. When I demanded to know how she had accomplished this, she simply told me "a magician never reveals her secrets". I plan to travel to this "Bronx", and attempt to learn how this is possible, but I will require a research grant to do so.	You could say I’ve always been a natural talent when it comes to magic tricks. In fact, my many travels have been funded by selling tricks to fledgling magicians. Back when I was a child I was impressed by the feats of seasoned performers, but as I’ve aged the veil of mystery surrounding even the most revered magic users has slowly faded. Their egos fueled rage as I explained, disassembled, and reproduced even the most complex illusions with ease. Even the best are limited by their abilities or their raw power. I’ve been on the road for the better part of the last decade in search of a rival, simultaneously hunting for a secret citadel populated by the very best: the elite of the elite. So far it appears to be no more than a fairy tale. I’ve yet to receive credible information from any of the villages I’ve visited or fellow travelers I’ve crossed paths with. Somewhere in the wide open, grassy foothills of the Urian mountains, I sat underneath a great oak tree, taking bites of a conjured apple and sips of conjured wine. This part of the western territory was considered dangerous because it was still largely unexplored, teeming with bandits and aggressive creatures, and worst of all, the loneliness was overwhelming at times. I heard them coming from far away. My sentry spell had sent a silent alarm at least 15 minutes ago. A branch broke to my left. “We desire your coin, traveler, not your life. You’re trespassing in our lands so now you must pay. You have no choice. We outnumber you.” I was torn between playing games with the bandits and just giving in. Every time it was the same. They steal my coins, I transmute more after they leave. “Sorry, I don’t have any coins today.” I kept my eyes closed. “Yer coins. Now!” He stuck the point of his dagger in my ribs. “My patience is running thin.” I didn’t feel like entertaining this man’s insatiable need for gold, so I sat still and silent. “Have it your way, traveler.” He stabbed at me with his dagger. During his backswing I snapped my fingers. His dagger folded up against my shirt, flaccid and rubbery. “What is this?” One of his clansmen stifled a laugh. He spun around to face him. “Shut yer trap or you’ll be next.” He pulled another dagger out and stabbed at me again, only to find his second dagger was equally flaccid, rubbery, and useless. His clansmen laughed at him. I snapped my fingers again. “Resol nervorum.” The bandit leader went stiff as a board and fell over. His clansmen glanced at each other nervously and backed away slightly. I pulled a heaping sack of coin out of my traveling bag and threw it to the observers. “Don’t worry. He’ll be okay in a couple hours.” They looked at each other and then at the bag. “It’s real. It’s not cursed. Enjoy it.” I drew a deep breath and continued on my way, the sound of clattering coins fading in the distance. My map was not to scale. Not in the slightest. And the citadel was disguised - of that much I was certain. I recognized the mountain I was facing, however. It was obvious whoever drew the map had been where I was standing, but the map ended here. There was a symbol drawn in the center of the mountain but it was an ancient symbol. I assumed by this point, my next stop would be ruins. The last users of ancient magic disappeared long ago, along with their techniques. 2 days into ascending the mountains I caught my first real whiff of another’s magic. It was faint, but I knew right away it was potent. “Odorem,” I whispered to myself. If these people were as powerful as they said, it was very likely there were traps or enchantments left behind to keep people out. The path before me illuminated, remnants of magic fluorescing. Ancient, foreign magical seals covered the stone walls. At the center was a door... or at least it looked like a door. “Aperi.” Nothing happened. I tried again. “Aperi!” Still nothing happened. I could sense eyes on me though. Lots of them. I opened up my bag and grabbed my journal. I had been studying the ancient languages for some time now but was never able to fully grasp them. I cleared my throat. I was nervous but concentrated on the sealed door. “Yngean!” The seal faded away and the real door was revealed. The door slowly rotated inward, where a young-looking man in strange clothing stood. “Stay where you are, stranger. Normally we would have sent you... elsewhere... but you were able to use an ancient tongue. Please, join me inside.” Magical energy oozed from the young man. The energy overwhelmed my senses. I cautiously approached the door and entered complete darkness. “Allow your eyes to adjust, stranger.” The magic was so potent here. Each breath I took seemed to energize me. The massive stone door closed behind me. As my eyes adjusted I realized I was standing in an enormous hallway. Portraits of what I could only assume were royalty of some kind hung on the wall. As if sensing my curiosity, the young man gestured at each wall with his hand. “This entrance is adorned with our greatest leaders, going back to the beginning of our history.” Each painting was bordered by gigantic, ornate stone pillars, each with beautiful, dancing patterns. “My name is Adonis, by the way. Formality is not my strong suit. I am advisor to the throne.” He laughed to himself and suddenly stopped at the second-to-last portrait. His eyes widened and he coughed into a closed fist. “I’m ashamed I didn’t recognize you sooner, but the throne has been sitting empty for two generations now. Sorry, I forget this is completely new to you.” My eyes traveled up the canvas only to find a familiar face. “Grandpa...” I felt my mouth go dry and my stomach turn. A man I only knew of from stories and images was a legendary king? Adonis turned on his heels. “Of course you’ll have to prove it. Seeing and opening our sealed entrance was impressive enough, but those are parlor tricks compared to the real test.” He stopped in front of another massive door. It was incredibly ornate and carved from a stone I had never seen before. Adonis snapped his fingers. “Welcome home, traveler. The Citadel awaits.” Every pair of eyes I encountered widened dramatically. “Forgive them, they haven’t encountered unrequited magic quite as powerful as yours. Your grandfather was the last and your father... well, nobody really knows. We just know he doesn’t want to be found.” The sheer amount of magical energy in the Citadel gave me a high unlike any other. I could feel every person’s energy inside the mountain, outside the mountain, and those who came before me. Adonis led me to a chamber inside a large central spire-shaped building. He turned to face me. “Grandson of Birndl, you are about to endure the trial of ascendance. Should you survive, your heritage will be proven, and we’ll get you started on subsequent trials of the throne. Good luck. Although I doubt you’ll need it.” He smiled and snapped his fingers. He and the entrance were suddenly not there. I pounded on the wall of the chamber and cried, “What if we’re wrong? What if I don’t survive? What happens to me?” Adonis’ voice filled my mind: “Don’t worry. We haven’t had that problem yet. Brace yourself, traveler. The ritual begins now.” I closed my eyes. I could hear voices chanting all around me. Words of many ancient tongues pulsated around me but all said the same thing: “Ascend, ascend, ascend...” My body reacted so strongly I began to pass out. As the world blackened, it was the first time I felt truly relaxed.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	Mainly I get applause. That’s the most common response, although not my favourite. That position went to money, although it didn’t happen quite as often as I’d like. Sometimes there was laughter, even the occasional “ooh”, or “aah”. There was even, depending on the city, and the crowd, bored silence or taunts. I’d had it all. Or at least I thought I had, until now. I was new to the city of Grana, a few days boat journey from the places I was more used to. Of course, being there for the next few weeks carried a pretty harsh death sentence, so I had figured I’d hole up somewhere a little farther afield, just until things cooled down. Did I have the money for this surprise trip? Not the amount I’d want, but enough. Besides, if you knew some card tricks, you can always shore up the gaps with some gambling, or some street magic. Or at least, usually. The hat at my feet lay empty despite the swollen crowd around me. That was strange in general, given the amount of people, but also because, despite the silence, everyone actually looked really impressed. They just kind of looked a little terrified too. “Don’t worry,” I said, trying to break this weird tension. “I accept any denomination of coin. Big or small.” I nudged the hat for emphasis, and smiled as kindly as I could. “You… You want coin?” Someone stammered. “Of course? Why else am I doing this?” Within seconds my hat was overflowing, people backing away from it with empty pockets, hands held up like I was threatening them with a knife. A strange as hell reaction, that was for sure. Still, not unappreciated. I knelt to scoop up my prize before some greedy urchins could get tempted. From my vantage point, the first I saw of the only remaining spectator was their boots. They were very fine, made from the skin of an animal I’d never even seen before. Essentially, they were the perfect mark. If someone that wealthy wanted to linger, I’d gladly perform some more tricks. Their spare change would probably make my other earnings look like shit. I palmed a few coins so it wouldn’t look like I had earned too much- people felt less generous when they saw your hat full- and straightened with a smile. “My lady,” I said, bowing deeply, wishing I’d palmed more coins. “How did you do that?” She said intently. She wore a long, purple coat, form fitting and at least as fine as her boots. She carried an intricate wooden staff, although she wasn’t leaning on it, so it was probably an affectation, an accessory, more than a necessity. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” I grinned. She didn’t smile back. Not a great start. I flourished suddenly, producing a card in my right hand. “But I’ll show you some more, if you have the time.” A quick click of my fingers and I ignited the corner doused with alchemicals for that very purpose. It went up in a flash, and I dropped ash artfully, like a chef garnishing a roast pig. It blew down a rapidly clearing street. She looked amazed, but also frightened. “I couldn’t feel that. At all.” “Well of course not. I’d never burn such a beauty as you.” I knew I’d messed up the second I said ‘beauty’. Her eyes blazed, literally, and the wind started to pick up. I saw the staff start to glow and, as my skin started to crawl, I realised and felt what she was. An actual magician. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. “You won’t bait me so easily,” she said. “Is that why you’re here, to pick a fight? I won’t walk into your trap.” “No, not at all,” I said, hastily, not sure what she meant. “I’m just here for money. I swear it.” “You swear?” her piercing eyes found his. “Interesting. For one such as you, that can only mean one thing… The Hellnest Contract.” The street was now fully empty. I was starting to realise that something had gone wrong, that I was over my head. Still, I hadn’t survived three death sentences and four arrests by admitting that. Until I had more information, I was going to pretend I was here for whatever kept her from frying me like I’d fried that card. “You’re sharp,” I said vaguely. “What else would someone of your… impressive talents, be looking for? I’d considered it myself but, I thought it was suicide. Now, however, I may reconsider,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “If you’ll have me, that is. I think you’ll find there are more enough gems to share, and adventuring alone is tedious.” Gems? Plural? I guess I’d been right about chump change. Whatever this was, she seemed capable. What she’d need me for, I didn’t know. I hadn’t gotten rich twice by admitting that out loud though. “Gladly.” “Interesting. Well, come with me high mage, I know the Lord offering the contract.” High what? I thought, as she walked away, down that road, now completely empty. I had a sudden feeling that 'over my head' was an understatement.	"Tough Crowd" The light of the new day broke over the mountains behind me. Being in relatively safe territory, I had decided to travel through the night. I stopped to camp for an hour or two at some point, laying my bedroll on some uneven ground that was laced with protruding roots. It was an uncomfortable rest, but at least I’d be on time for once. I crested the incline of the road in tandem with the morning light and my eyes laid bare to a quaint village sitting among the trees. The buildings were all made of the same dark brown wood, each having its own flair; some had painted roofs of golden yellow or rusty red. Others had fine metal work of silver or black iron inlays on their front door while others still had flower boxes attached to each window, stuffed to the brim with wild pansies and various other colorful forest flowers. A small river ran through the center of the village spanned by a wooden bridge wide enough for four people to walk abreast. It flowed from deep within the forest behind the village, as far as my eyes could see through the thick wood, all the way to a cliffside on the opposite end, cascading into a small waterfall that fed into the river far below. Despite its rustic appearance, I’d been to enough villages to know there was money here. Lots of it. I’d been hired as an entertainer of sorts for a child’s birthday party to be held at noon. “Court jester” and “fool” had often been heckles thrown my way, but the parents of these children paid top coin for these types of parties and I came highly recommended. Coin spoke louder than mockery, in these, and all, parts. The inn was my destination and it stood at the edge of the village near the forest. I reasoned that its location contributed to its name: the Forest’s Edge Inn. I went inside with my case full of supplies and informed the innkeeper that I was reporting for duty for the party this afternoon. I set up the stage for my show with ample time to spare, enough to enjoy a first-rate breakfast of fresh sausage, cured ham, perfectly hard-boiled eggs, and a mug of morning stout. Boy, was I right: plenty of coin here, indeed. The partygoers began to shuffle into the inn right around noon; the usual fair of shrieking youngsters, apathetic teenagers, and disenfranchised parents, but instead of being dressed in tattered tunics, handed-down shawls, and hair styled by sheep shears, as I was accustomed to, these folk were immaculately dressed in suits of numerous pieces, dresses with various nature motifs sewn on, and tightly cropped and fashioned hair-dos. The parents of the birthday girl approached me as they arrived, confirming my itinerary and paying me half my fee up front, as I required. “Do your work, clown,” the mother said to me with her nose turned upward. “She just had to have a clown.” The parents and the rest of adults left to the adjacent room from where the children gathered for the show. Here we go again. Just think of the money, I told myself. I donned my customary floppy hat and oversized shoes and adorned my face with the usual patterns that made my face look happy even when annoyed. I also found that raising my voice a pitch or two helped sell the idea that I was always jovial. “Hi, kids!” I started in my goofiest voice. “Who wants to see some magic?” I usually got a hefty cheer at this introduction, but something was off. The children half-heartedly, almost worryingly, emoted their enthusiasm, or lack thereof. I decided to begin thinking they’d come along eventually. I pulled out my deck of playing cards and began shuffling them, adding the standard flourishes and cascading techniques; it was all quite routine and tended to impress immediately. Not here. The children looked utterly terrified. Their mouths were all contorted, still deciding whether to scream or cry. Their eyes looked as if they’d seen all the scary monsters from their children’s stories all at once. Put away the cards, I told myself, reading the air in the room that hinted at the consequences to come if I continued. I felt sweat start to break on my brow, but their demeanors had calmed a bit upon me putting the cards away. “How about...this?!” I exclaimed as a I waved my hands and produced a faux-bouquet of flowers that were hiding in my sleeve. The children in the front row cried out as if stabbed by sharp steel. The others shuffled backward, aiming to get as far from me as possible. Tough crowd. “Oh, no, no, kids. It’s okay,” I said trying to reassure them. I threw the flowers away quickly which seemed to ease their minds once again. I should have stopped there. Why didn’t I stop there? Perhaps these tricks were too complicated for them, I thought. Perhaps flowers appearing out of nowhere and cards acting unnaturally was just too much for this group. These were staples in my routine, but every kid is different, as they say. So I went for the cheesiest, most child-friendly “trick” in my arsenal. I leapt off the stage toward the birthday girl, a child of five with auburn hair tied in pigtails and a blue dress with a white bow on the collar. I extended my hand to within an inch of her face then withdrew it, making a fist and placing my thumb between my index and middle fingers. “Got your nose!” I cheered, making my eyes as wide as possible and curving my mouth into a smile. The room turned to bedlam. The girl screamed as if her life was being threatened, as if I had physically removed her nose from her face and she was leaking blood all over her pretty blue dress. The other children rose to their feet, all screaming in unison, all falling over each other and banging on the doors to be let out of this hell they were trapped in. I tried my best to calm them, a futile effort. The doors flew open, the parents standing there, their faces twisted with worry and shock, each with a hand in their pocket as if fingering a sword, though they wore no scabbards, a hidden blade perhaps. “What is going on?!” the mother demanded, rushing toward her screaming child. “I-I just...I got her nose.” I said, holding up my hand still wielding the child’s “nose”, trying to establish my innocence. Surely the adults would realize the misunderstanding. My time, and pay, may be cut short, but this was getting out of hand. “Give it back!” the mother shouted. “W-what?” I replied. “Put it back. Right. Now!” she screamed desperately, her child’s life on the line. “But I, it’s just...look,” I tripped over my words, bewildered and overwhelmed. I opened my hand, spreading my fingers wide to prove my innocence once and for all. “Where is it?!” she shrieked, a sound emanating from her core that mimicked the banshees I remembered from my childhood stories. “Kill the clown!” the father finally shouted, finally removing his hand from his pocket, wielding a slender wooden shaft that looked like a stick, but carved and shaped purposefully, pointing it right at me. “He stole my daughter’s nose!” A group of other adults spilled into the room and lined the back wall, all wielding their own carved sticks in kind. “Die!” the mother shouted up at me, kneeling on the ground holding her child in her arms. With a flourish of their wooden implements, they all produced streaks of different colors: lightning blues, flames of red and orange, bright white lights and hurled them in my direction. My instincts made me duck and the streaks tore into the decorations and wall behind me. I dashed out of the room via the unblocked door and aimed for the exit. I bolted through hallways and doorways as various stick-wielders tried to head me off. I barely dodged all of their blasts as I found my way to the front doors of the inn. I burst through them and flew out onto the empty street, taking awkward, exaggerated bounds due to the unwieldy shoes I was wearing. The mob behind me poured out of the inn and began their pursuit, sending out a sporadic volley of colored streaks that littered the street all around me. I somehow stayed intact. I headed for the road on which I had entered town, but a group of stick-wielders had headed me off, intending to barr my escape route. The cliff. It was my only option. I might have a chance if I jumped off the waterfall. I didn’t have a chance against those carved sticks. I barreled toward my target, zig-zagging along the way to evade the bolts and flames still being hurled at me until I was meters away from the edge of the cliff. It was as if my mere presence in their village was a threat to its existence. I was to be erased from this world in whichever manner they could achieve. I sped toward the edge of the cliff and dove for my life. There was a queer utterance behind me and a gust of wind, a wind that did not pass by me or through me, but one that surrounded me, encased me and halted my fleeting descent. I rose up, floating, to the crowd that had gathered at the edge of the cliff. I looked down, hundreds of feet above the water that I had hoped to land in, almost thankful that this magic prison now held me. The father of the birthday girl stood in front, his carved stick pointed at me with his other hand outstretched and clenched as if gripping something, me, I suspected. “Now you will pay for your crimes, clown,” the man spoke with venom in his voice. He closed his hand and my world turned black. Cold iron surrounds me and I know not where I am. A glimmer of light shines through a crack in the stone wall. The quill and rotting parchment on which I write this account seems leftover from a past inhabitant of this cell. To those who read this, heed my tale and threaten no one’s nose here, in this village of mages.
[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.	An excerpt from on the efficiency of magic by Beverly Brine Much as a candle burnt for light still produces heat, so too does the use of magic radiate excess energy. This has always been a concern of mine. Despite our liberal use of magic, we still know very little about it. We do not know where this energy comes from; we do not know if it is a finite resource; and we do not know what effect this magic radiation, which I will refer to in this essay as runoff, has on us and our environment. Anecdotal evidence suggests that areas with high runoff, such as magic schools, experience higher windspeeds, increased plant growth, and the disappearance of small items. We send our children to these places from the age of five, yet our government has repeatedly denied funding for research into these phenomena. One wonders what tragedy we must endure before such issues cannot be ignored. This essay will detail what we know and what we must know. Project 1: Max Efficiency It is well known that the more experienced a person is with magic, the less runoff is produced. Conventional wisdom has stated, however, that it is impossible to achieve 100% efficiency. I am no longer convinced of this. Recently while shopping for supplies in town, I happened upon what I mistook at first for a simple beggar. In front of her was a small table, upon which sat a deck of cards, a few coins, three small cups and a ball, and a hat. What I experienced both terrified and thrilled me. She claimed to be from a distant land called "The Bronx". Over the next 10 minutes, she displayed feats of mind reading; teleportation and duplication of simple objects; and the conjuration of a rabbit. There was not a single drop of runoff. When I demanded to know how she had accomplished this, she simply told me "a magician never reveals her secrets". I plan to travel to this "Bronx", and attempt to learn how this is possible, but I will require a research grant to do so.	"Tough Crowd" The light of the new day broke over the mountains behind me. Being in relatively safe territory, I had decided to travel through the night. I stopped to camp for an hour or two at some point, laying my bedroll on some uneven ground that was laced with protruding roots. It was an uncomfortable rest, but at least I’d be on time for once. I crested the incline of the road in tandem with the morning light and my eyes laid bare to a quaint village sitting among the trees. The buildings were all made of the same dark brown wood, each having its own flair; some had painted roofs of golden yellow or rusty red. Others had fine metal work of silver or black iron inlays on their front door while others still had flower boxes attached to each window, stuffed to the brim with wild pansies and various other colorful forest flowers. A small river ran through the center of the village spanned by a wooden bridge wide enough for four people to walk abreast. It flowed from deep within the forest behind the village, as far as my eyes could see through the thick wood, all the way to a cliffside on the opposite end, cascading into a small waterfall that fed into the river far below. Despite its rustic appearance, I’d been to enough villages to know there was money here. Lots of it. I’d been hired as an entertainer of sorts for a child’s birthday party to be held at noon. “Court jester” and “fool” had often been heckles thrown my way, but the parents of these children paid top coin for these types of parties and I came highly recommended. Coin spoke louder than mockery, in these, and all, parts. The inn was my destination and it stood at the edge of the village near the forest. I reasoned that its location contributed to its name: the Forest’s Edge Inn. I went inside with my case full of supplies and informed the innkeeper that I was reporting for duty for the party this afternoon. I set up the stage for my show with ample time to spare, enough to enjoy a first-rate breakfast of fresh sausage, cured ham, perfectly hard-boiled eggs, and a mug of morning stout. Boy, was I right: plenty of coin here, indeed. The partygoers began to shuffle into the inn right around noon; the usual fair of shrieking youngsters, apathetic teenagers, and disenfranchised parents, but instead of being dressed in tattered tunics, handed-down shawls, and hair styled by sheep shears, as I was accustomed to, these folk were immaculately dressed in suits of numerous pieces, dresses with various nature motifs sewn on, and tightly cropped and fashioned hair-dos. The parents of the birthday girl approached me as they arrived, confirming my itinerary and paying me half my fee up front, as I required. “Do your work, clown,” the mother said to me with her nose turned upward. “She just had to have a clown.” The parents and the rest of adults left to the adjacent room from where the children gathered for the show. Here we go again. Just think of the money, I told myself. I donned my customary floppy hat and oversized shoes and adorned my face with the usual patterns that made my face look happy even when annoyed. I also found that raising my voice a pitch or two helped sell the idea that I was always jovial. “Hi, kids!” I started in my goofiest voice. “Who wants to see some magic?” I usually got a hefty cheer at this introduction, but something was off. The children half-heartedly, almost worryingly, emoted their enthusiasm, or lack thereof. I decided to begin thinking they’d come along eventually. I pulled out my deck of playing cards and began shuffling them, adding the standard flourishes and cascading techniques; it was all quite routine and tended to impress immediately. Not here. The children looked utterly terrified. Their mouths were all contorted, still deciding whether to scream or cry. Their eyes looked as if they’d seen all the scary monsters from their children’s stories all at once. Put away the cards, I told myself, reading the air in the room that hinted at the consequences to come if I continued. I felt sweat start to break on my brow, but their demeanors had calmed a bit upon me putting the cards away. “How about...this?!” I exclaimed as a I waved my hands and produced a faux-bouquet of flowers that were hiding in my sleeve. The children in the front row cried out as if stabbed by sharp steel. The others shuffled backward, aiming to get as far from me as possible. Tough crowd. “Oh, no, no, kids. It’s okay,” I said trying to reassure them. I threw the flowers away quickly which seemed to ease their minds once again. I should have stopped there. Why didn’t I stop there? Perhaps these tricks were too complicated for them, I thought. Perhaps flowers appearing out of nowhere and cards acting unnaturally was just too much for this group. These were staples in my routine, but every kid is different, as they say. So I went for the cheesiest, most child-friendly “trick” in my arsenal. I leapt off the stage toward the birthday girl, a child of five with auburn hair tied in pigtails and a blue dress with a white bow on the collar. I extended my hand to within an inch of her face then withdrew it, making a fist and placing my thumb between my index and middle fingers. “Got your nose!” I cheered, making my eyes as wide as possible and curving my mouth into a smile. The room turned to bedlam. The girl screamed as if her life was being threatened, as if I had physically removed her nose from her face and she was leaking blood all over her pretty blue dress. The other children rose to their feet, all screaming in unison, all falling over each other and banging on the doors to be let out of this hell they were trapped in. I tried my best to calm them, a futile effort. The doors flew open, the parents standing there, their faces twisted with worry and shock, each with a hand in their pocket as if fingering a sword, though they wore no scabbards, a hidden blade perhaps. “What is going on?!” the mother demanded, rushing toward her screaming child. “I-I just...I got her nose.” I said, holding up my hand still wielding the child’s “nose”, trying to establish my innocence. Surely the adults would realize the misunderstanding. My time, and pay, may be cut short, but this was getting out of hand. “Give it back!” the mother shouted. “W-what?” I replied. “Put it back. Right. Now!” she screamed desperately, her child’s life on the line. “But I, it’s just...look,” I tripped over my words, bewildered and overwhelmed. I opened my hand, spreading my fingers wide to prove my innocence once and for all. “Where is it?!” she shrieked, a sound emanating from her core that mimicked the banshees I remembered from my childhood stories. “Kill the clown!” the father finally shouted, finally removing his hand from his pocket, wielding a slender wooden shaft that looked like a stick, but carved and shaped purposefully, pointing it right at me. “He stole my daughter’s nose!” A group of other adults spilled into the room and lined the back wall, all wielding their own carved sticks in kind. “Die!” the mother shouted up at me, kneeling on the ground holding her child in her arms. With a flourish of their wooden implements, they all produced streaks of different colors: lightning blues, flames of red and orange, bright white lights and hurled them in my direction. My instincts made me duck and the streaks tore into the decorations and wall behind me. I dashed out of the room via the unblocked door and aimed for the exit. I bolted through hallways and doorways as various stick-wielders tried to head me off. I barely dodged all of their blasts as I found my way to the front doors of the inn. I burst through them and flew out onto the empty street, taking awkward, exaggerated bounds due to the unwieldy shoes I was wearing. The mob behind me poured out of the inn and began their pursuit, sending out a sporadic volley of colored streaks that littered the street all around me. I somehow stayed intact. I headed for the road on which I had entered town, but a group of stick-wielders had headed me off, intending to barr my escape route. The cliff. It was my only option. I might have a chance if I jumped off the waterfall. I didn’t have a chance against those carved sticks. I barreled toward my target, zig-zagging along the way to evade the bolts and flames still being hurled at me until I was meters away from the edge of the cliff. It was as if my mere presence in their village was a threat to its existence. I was to be erased from this world in whichever manner they could achieve. I sped toward the edge of the cliff and dove for my life. There was a queer utterance behind me and a gust of wind, a wind that did not pass by me or through me, but one that surrounded me, encased me and halted my fleeting descent. I rose up, floating, to the crowd that had gathered at the edge of the cliff. I looked down, hundreds of feet above the water that I had hoped to land in, almost thankful that this magic prison now held me. The father of the birthday girl stood in front, his carved stick pointed at me with his other hand outstretched and clenched as if gripping something, me, I suspected. “Now you will pay for your crimes, clown,” the man spoke with venom in his voice. He closed his hand and my world turned black. Cold iron surrounds me and I know not where I am. A glimmer of light shines through a crack in the stone wall. The quill and rotting parchment on which I write this account seems leftover from a past inhabitant of this cell. To those who read this, heed my tale and threaten no one’s nose here, in this village of mages.

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.