prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ WP ] A serial killer is called for jury duty . At the trial , he finds out that the person on trial has been falsely accused for the serial killer 's crimes .
| Jury duty, what kind of nonsense is this. How can they even put this man on trial for a crime where no body exists? I picked that meat to the bone and threw the bones to the pigs.
I really do n't know who enjoyed the meal more, the pigs and I probably equally squealed in delight. Regardless the most this man should be charged with is kidnapping. But even that is putting things to a stretch. Honestly the only crime he ever committed was having the same physical description as me. 6'2, blonde, blue eyes, muscular build and a tendency to visit Tom's tavern. I have only been twice and he was there both times. I mean it makes it so much easier when you find a nice scapegoat.
Anyways looking at him I can tell that our protein sources are way different. He does n't have the sharp incisors required to tear human flesh from the bone. That kind of sharpness does n't come easy. I spent months filing my teeth down with a nail file. I had originally thought about using one of those metal files to expedite the matter nut I felt like it would n't give me the precise control I needed. The finite precision where I can draw blood with the softest bite.
The real question on my mind is how did they ever pin this guy with the murder? I understand that I probably have been eating out a bit too often and the local authorities need someone to pin the crimes on, but how do they even know a crime existed?
I guess I am fortunate enough to get a first hand account of all the details. Dammit, I'm hungry and looking at the Asian prosecutor all I can think is I want some Chinese.
|
[ WP ] You find a watch that can control time . It 's now been two months since you found it , and the battery dies .
| I hate watches. I hate bracelets. I hate anything that hugs my skin tight and inhibits movement in that particular area. Starting from that rubber wristband that makes my wrist all clammy, to the cropped pants that end at my knee and restrict bending.
But I had to be generous to this old guy here. It was rusted, and had a winding mechanism that allowed it to go on and on. And somehow, wearing this never made me clammy. Because I went on and on, in the same road, as I kept winding the watch so it does n't stop, and my walking never stopped. But someway in the middle, my dire need to pee had subsided.It was unusual, considering that a had a small bladder, and have had accidents on several occasions.
But I as I kept winding, I found myself feeling energetic, and I was n't reeking of isolated sweat. Oh, well. I do n't know why is it taking so long, this road is supposed to be just 3 miles. And I can see the sun waking up.
Somewhere between the time I was walking and winding my watch at the same time, to actually checking the time and sipping some water off my sipper, I found something odd. The hour hand rested over 6. Have I been walking for a whole day?
It did n't take an eternity to answer that question, but it definitely would have taken an eternity to reach home if I had n't stopped winding the watch, for it was winding time itself. Like, re-winding time. And it did n't take me too long to understand what all I could do with this watch and how all I could them. But let me tell you something, winding is boring. Both literally, and figuratively. Because say that you have a test today, and you have n't studied, and you're me, and you've this watch. Guess what, lucky so you're, you get to read the question paper, and wind time back. But again, guess what. You either have to study those questions, or make some copying mechanism, like writing it in a microsheet or on your hand. But yet again, guess what? I do n't know, it's just my guess, because I am not that good at physics and stuff, but once you observe something, it does n't behave the same way. And congrats, for you've changed the future. Lucky enough, you'll be asked 50 % of the same questions. But winding the time is n't about luck. It's just about having too much time in your hands.
And I have a test today, and I am grown and bored enough to not read the question paper and come back to this instant of my time, but instead study and let things be. But I need just 2 more hours, for I overslept. And this is when the watch plays me. The winding mechanism was for winding the time alone, and not recharging the watch. And I do n't know how to replace the batteries, or where to get'em.
|
[ WP ] You 've always liked the smell of gasoline , and one day at the gas station you decide to drink it . You see words floating before you , `` All systems refuelled . Initializing Android Mainframe . ''
| A split second later though it turns out that you actually human after all and you begin to die. You be in android was just wishful thinking. You see a tall dark figure hovering in the corner of your eye
HELLO MY FRIEND, HOW ARE YOU FEELING?
You manage a feeble smile and nod at the stranger.
ARE YOU READY?
You nod again.
OKAY LETS GO.
You arrive at what can only be described as a gate made out of pearls. It is overly ostentatious and not to your liking. You turn to your travelling companion and grimace.
HMM NOT TO YOUR LIKING, IS THAT WHAT YOU MEAN?
You nod.
OKAY WELL THERE IS THIS OTHER PLACE...
You hesitate for a moment and look at your buddy and then the pearly gate. It looks like a mishappen cum bubble disaster, so fuck that noise. You nod again.
OKAY LETS GO.
Suddenly you are in a chamber. Its filled with what you can only describe as futuristic medical devices.
|
[ WP ] In an alternate universe of superheros , every child is born holding an object that corresponds to their power , i.e . a feather for super speed , a stone for strength . You are the first child in history who comes out of the womb clutching nothing .
| They said I had no power, that always made me smile.
It did nothing to argue for they never understood.
Eventually I came to never speak a word for I had been always told I was crazy.
They say you ca n't possibly believe that.
I had an answer for everything anyone ever said.
Devil's advocate was the title that came to mind.
For every topic discussed the knowledge did rush, to dissect the error of their reasoning.
Still to this day I can recall with quite fervour, the last words I did say.
In response to much dismay, I finally answered.
The question was simple, what were you born with?
All the truth in the world.
|
[ WP ] At the height of the cold-war , one side launched its entire arsenal . The leader of the opposing side , adamant not to let this mean the end , made the decision to not retaliate . This is the losing-side 's last message to the world .
| We stand at the brink of complete and total annihilation. In mere hours, we will see ICBMs cascade from the sky like fallen angels cast from Heaven; once our silent protectors in the form of mutually assured destruction, now our doomsday much like the betrayal of the rebel angel Lucifer.
Tonight, we will see explosions glimmer through the land like shooting stars. Tonight, we will see our families evaporate into smoke before our very eyes.
Tonight, we will see the end of a nation, an ideal, and a way of life.
Still, we stand strong in the face of complete and assured death, not because we are too weak to retaliate, but because we're strong enough not to.
Our chapter is at its end. The great experiment reached its conclusion, not with a fizzle, but with a bang. However, that does not mean the story of mankind need to end. Are we really so vain to believe that just because a nation dies, all of mankind must perish? Are we really so arrogant to trust in our ideal of equality that the whole world must die?
We've made our answers clear to the world. We hope it resonates and echoes in a new era so that mankind may truly understand what the end of the world mean and consequences it carries, so that some day in the future, despots and maniacs may not threaten nuclear war with a mad grin, but with a solemn attitude of remembrance. Perhaps one day, we can see how childish we really were.
Thank you and goodnight.
|
[ IP ] I Miss Something Special
| The fan working its hardest to keep us from the unbearable heat. Sadly, it can only do so much leaving us in tank tops and shorts. Having the windows open does n't help if there were no winds either, asides from that, the traffic jam is an annoying sound to hear now that the apartment has been more quiet then ever. Nothing but the sound of keyboards tapping and mouse clicking. The atmosphere was really different.
Turning my eyes away from the screen to see how Chloe was doing, looks like not too well. It's been a week now and she's still quiet as ever. Well, she's mute, it's understandable as to why she's so quiet. That's why we use instant messaging and social media websites to our advantage. Normally, I'd receive links to posts she thought was funny or webpages that held furniture that'd be pretty great to own.
A ring came off of my laptop, breaking my thoughts. A message from FoxxyCrest, Chloe.
`` I miss something special.'' came up in our chat history.
I turned to look back at her to see if anything has changed in her pose, nothing. She must've finally wanted to talk about it. She continued to stare at her screen with the sad expression. Glancing back at my screen, I scrolled the tabs I had left open and began clicking through old emails. Hopefully this will work.
Hearing the notification from her laptop, she seemed a little surprised. After a few clicks on her end, Chloe read through it briefly. She had a look to notice if I knew she opened it up and of course, I knew. I kept typing away and paying attention to my screen. Another notification came from her laptop, breaking her stare.
`` I miss Milo, too.'' was in a little bubble of her screen.
`` A friend found a stray, he's was looking for a home for her and I mentioned that she will enjoy her new home with the lovely lady sitting beside me.'' made the bubble bigger. `` I hope it's not too soon but she really needed a new family.''
A smile finally came across her face while she typed away. `` i'll love her as much as I love Milo.'' She pressed her foot against me to get my attention away form the screen. She looked much more happier then she did. Moving on is rough but this was for the best though.
Even though Milo will be missed, we'll be having another dog welcomed into the little household.
|
[ WP ] My sweet revenge
| What... just that? Three words? All right.
-- -
Last week, he put me in my locker and closed the door; this week, I get him back. There he is drinking stupid fucking water from the stupid fucking water fountain with his stupid fucking head dropped low so that his stupid fucking bangs get a little bit wet. All I want is my sweet revenge. I put one hand on his neck and one where his soft spot used to be and just slam his head down into the metal to hear him gurgle and spit and make tiny bubbles. I could do it, I could do it right now.
But I wo n't, I do n't, I just walk by.
|
[ WP ] Write a characters life , each decade a sentence .
| Crying.
Crawling, sleeping.
Baby steps, babbling.
Talking, discovering, lego bricks.
Remembering now, blurry shapes, mommy.
Friends to sing with, learning everyday.
Dancing, tickles, flowers and allergies, hot summer.
Friends to play with, growing tall, growing wider.
Football, carrousels, and watching movies, all my favorite things.
*Now, I know I am more than just my name. *
Writing in cursive, doodling on the margins, yawning in class, boring.
Butterflies, locker combinations to my heart, staring from across the room, blushing.
First kiss, dancing in the rain, like my music loud, I do n't care.
Wondering what it feels like, sighing, too old for this, too young for that.
Sticks and stones, pounds and tonnes, but pizza tastes too damn good, bury me alive.
Oh love, hitting dumbbells and books, ca n't stop now, bouncing back, one hundred percent, score, valedictorian.
Spiraling phoenix, secret runaways, hating parents, dad nowhere, do n't mind, as long as I've got you, right?
Moment of clarity, driving, meeting at the crossroads; too old, too young, infinity before my eyes, what now?
Scholarships, grants, friends, first real kiss, smoke escaping lips, regretting that hangover, I would do it all over again.
*Despite a world of greed, apathy and invisible strings, I refuse to back down, for I will change the world. *
Adulthood, finally. Raising my voice now, no longer a background prop, cutting off the finger to save the arm; now, loveless.
One step at a time, one person at a time, each debt to pay, each heart to heal, sleeping with legs intertwined.
A world evolving faster than I, dodging a needle-shaped bullet, stronger now, wiser, nothing in the way, grateful for every day, becoming Hercules.
Asshole boss, friends close, enemies closer, working hard, playing harder, watching my step, climbing stairs, faster, skipping steps, making my way to the top.
Gold rings, on my knees, black and white, Venice, roses and love notes, hands that ca n't keep off, ca n't hold you close enough, my love.
A white hair, a whole bottle of black dye, a beard, landscaping chest hair; grandpa, underground; television and Italian food, holding hands, like we used to.
Loving mom, now too late, tears, wearing black more than I should; one taken away, one given, a son: Jonathan; husband, now family man, watching life happen.
Lung cancer, sudden, aggressive, sulking doctors, do n't even smoke, clenched fist, hot ears, red eyes, too soon, too young, begging, Mom, grandpa, tears, you, Jonathan, finding strength within.
Betrayal of my own skin, the air I breathe, bathing in shivers, do n't want it to end like this, not ready, too soon, too young, holding Jonathan close, tears.
*Laying on my deathbed, I look back on my life, at the years spent and memories accumulated, and I try to smile, holding your hand, then, I sleep, letting go. *
( The character lives for 30 years. There are three sentences in the piece, the rest are only phrases and words. Every line symbolizes one year and is one word more than the last. )
|
[ TT ] For the first time in a long time , the ash turned to snow .
| A scream, quickly followed by a giggle only ever heard from the mouth of a child. The sound of ice cubes *tip-tapping* on bleached porcelain, and a familiar flushing noise. `` Be sure to turn your PJ's inside out!'' `` Do you have a white crayon?'' `` Daddy, I ca n't reach the spoons!'' The twin brother and sister ran around the house excitedly, practicing all of the superstitions and incantations that would tempt Mother Nature to bestow a fine white powder upon their yearning grassy lawns. More importantly, it would get school cancelled, allowing for Ryan and Lauren to sled on the steep hill in the backyard with their beat up plastic steeds, and to decorate a snowman to showcase to the neighborhood.
The mood in their home seemed to make the air lighter as it was slowly regurgitated by the lowly humming vents in the floor. The children were reluctant to retire, but after the `` it wo n't snow if you do n't sleep'' card had been played the house was dark and quiet with the soft snore of the parents the only audible sound that could be recognized.
The twins eagerly jumped out of their bed and peered out of their frosted windows to see the white dusting of... what exactly the white dusting was comprised of was irrelevant at that moment, the only fact that the 10 year old's brains could process at the moment was that there was, in fact, a white dusting. The parent's room was soon filled with laughter in the faces of a groggy and dazed mother and father.
After `` School has n't been cancelled yet, we'll have to wait and see'' had begun to seem like a hymn, the excitable youths had been herded into the kitchen for hearty helpings of Cheerios. An audible click resounded from the corner of the room as their old television took its thousandth crescendo into color and sound.
*... All schools in the aforementioned counties have been cancelled due to reports of ash falling from the sky... *
The father of Ryan and Lauren snapped out of his semi-conscious state. Something was amiss. What could it be? He honed his ears to the low speakers.
*... There are no reports of forest fires in the area, leaving the miraculous ashfall a mystery and what some are calling `` a sign of the second coming...'' *
David hushed his children and walked to the door. A frigid draft flew through the household as Emily asked what he was doing. `` Wait, honey.'' Emily was beginning to worry about the sudden mood in her husband when David returned with a handful of light grey ash. Emily asked where he got the ash, considering it was so cold. David brought her to the door, stepped out, drove his hands into the white pocket of dust and showed his wife what had fallen overnight. `` Daddy...'' David turned around to see his son holding a grey crayon.
|
[ WP ] You live in a future where music in any form is considered repugnant . You find a old music box .
| John did n't need to hear music to know he would n't like it. Between parental warnings and ads on the holo-cube John had heard enough already. Looking down at the warped and off colored wood, labeled `` Piano Man'', John snickered at how old people entertained themselves.
His parent's stood at the front of the antique store, haggling with the wrinkled man who rolled his eyes saying `` That's my last offer, take it or leave it''.
John, in a rush to show his parents this ridiculous box before they left, quickly reached for his wooden prize. Before John could get a firm grip, the box slipped the floor and opened just a crack...
*'Cause they're sharing a drink called loneliness, but it's better than drinkin' alone... *
was all the dinted box could squeak out before John clapped it shut.
... was *that* music?...
... that was nothing like what my parents said...
`` Honey, come on, were leaving.'' John's mother screeched.
John surreptitiously tucked the box into his coat, and followed his parents out.
|
[ WP ] An Evil Wizard has threatened to take over the world . His powers grow stronger the more people fear him . You , the Media , have to scientifically explain each of his feats to prevent him getting stronger .
| First time posting, may be a little one the nose but am working on that, enjoy!
It ’ s incredible yet entirely predictable how quickly a talking head panel can turn to clichés.
“ The only thing we have to fear is fear itself, ” preached Joe Ward, a stern looking man, typically the one who would spout the left-leaning opinions, though in this situation it was hard to tell which views were liberal and which were conservative.
“ Well, and Clevenwald, ” snapped Sarah Collins the other member of the panel, rolling her eyes at her opponent.
“ Before we proceed I ’ d like to remind both of you that on this station we refer to Robert Jones by his given name, not the one he has chosen for himself, ” I scolded my guests.
“ That ’ s the problem with the liberal media, they ’ re afraid to be honest with the American people. I will call Clevenwald by the name he has chosen I strongly encourage you do as well. Last week he made the Golden Gate Bridge disappear just by waving his hand. That ’ s not power you should mess with, ” replied Sarah.
Joe looked alarmed, “ You ’ re irrationally scaring the American people. We both know that that was a magic trick using dynamite and sleight of hand. Playing into his narrative just makes him stronger. ”
I noted, “ Based on our fact checkers in the news room, Joe appears to be correct. This disappearance of the bridge was nothing more than a magic trick. ”
“ Based on what evidence? ” Sarah shouted, “ The American people have seen with their own eyes what Clevenwald can do. His power is beyond anything we have ever seen in the world. You underestimate him at your own peril. ”
“ I ’ m getting word that we need to cut this segment early, my producers don ’ t want to stir up any more fear. I ’ m told I ’ m allowed to give you one last word. Joe, you first. ”
“ It is imperative we recognize Robert Jones but why he is: a charlatan who has no more magical power than you or me. Remember that next month. ”
“ Sarah – your turn. ”
“ Clevenwald is more powerful than any of you can possible imagine. If he does not get what he wants, we will all be doomed. Fear Clevenwald and remember that fear next month on election day. Make sure to vote for him. ”
|
[ WP ] You are in your last few days of the battle with Alzheimer 's .
| “ I DON ’ T KNOW! ” she yells it, and together they freeze, surprised by her audacity; she is rarely so loud. She has rounded on him and he can only stare, and when he raises his hands as if to calm her she flinches away like she ’ s been burned: she doesn ’ t want this. She doesn ’ t want to be the wounded animal. She has never liked being the wounded animal. “ Okay?! Sometimes I can ’ t -- sometimes I don ’ t even know what my name is, and then you come in, and I look at you, and I -- ” and she feels this thing in her chest that **TERRIFIES** her because they have never met. They have NEVER met, because she would remember. If her heart would just *SHUT UP* she would be able to tell it that she would remember. A nurse pokes her head in through the door and he waves her away, and the nurse takes his word for it without even a moment ’ s hesitation, and she lets out a shakey little breath of disbelief and runs a hand through her hair. Even the nurses think he ’ s important.
Even she thinks he ’ s important.
“ Sweetheart, ” he says. His voice is like silk. It slips, like silk, through the cracks in her mind, and pools somewhere at the bottom, in the dark and the black and the pile of things she does not remember. That pool is growing so big now. It ’ s closing in on her. There are so many things she does not remember. “ It ’ s okay. You need to calm -- ”
“ You don ’ t know what I need. ”
He takes it like a physical affront, and when he looks at her like that her mouth runs so dry she has to swallow to keep from -- well, she isn ’ t going to cry, because he doesn ’ t know. She doesn ’ t know and he doesn ’ t know and they are strangers. They are strangers and they have never met. He puts a hand on her wrist and she pulls away, but it ’ s less scared now. She is less scared now. If he is here, then at least she ’ s got something… she ’ s…
“ I ’ m dying, ” she whispers, because she can feel it and she knows he will not lie to her, and even if he does she will not believe him. She can feel it. Maybe she wishes it. She doesn ’ t know.
He says nothing.
“ I ’ m afraid, ” she says. It comes as a surprise to her, because she is always afraid -- these days she is always afraid and there is nothing that isn ’ t confusing and there is nothing that isn ’ t scary, but this is special. This is a different kind of scary. This is the type of scary that means that sometimes it ’ s like suffocating, and she ca n't breathe, and if she ca n't hold on to anything - if she ca n't even hold onto ~~him~~ - then is n't she already dead? Suddenly she is crying.
`` Sarah,'' he says. It takes her a second to remember that that is her name and then she is crying even more, in great, shuddery breaths. She was somebody. She was Sarah. She does n't know her last name but she was Sarah.
`` I was somebody,'' she tells him, and it is so small and so weak and she does n't know anything anymore but she knows that she was somebody and she -- she does n't know who that somebody is. But she needs to have mattered.
She has to have mattered.
`` What?''
`` I was somebody. And I do n't even know who that is. And I do n't know -- I do n't -- when I die, what if nobody remembers?'' what if she just never existed? What if she dies and nobody... `` What if I die, and I just do n't exist? What if I die and I've got *no* friends, and *no* family, and the only thing I ever **did** was *sit* here, and be scared, and *nobody* will know, and,'' and her voice is breaking on every other word and she's shaking and she's scared and she's crying, she can feel the tears tracking paths down her cheeks. This is the only thing she knows right now. This is the only life she has. `` And what if nobody even knows I was here?''
He touches her hand again, and she is too upset and too shaky to pull away. `` I'll remember.''
`` I do n't ***KNOW*** you! And *you do n't know me! `` * And she does n't, for the life of her, she does n't know why this makes her so upset. Why she is so afraid.
`` Sarah.'' He stands, now, and he sounds a little bit unimpressed. His grip on her wrist is strong. `` It's me. You know me. I visit you every Tuesday, we're *engaged. `` *
She pulls her wrist away, the movement sharp. `` We're strangers.''
`` I *love* you!''
***'' I KNOW! *** And I *don't* know why! I can see it and I ca n't DO anything about it because we're STRANGERS and why do you have to be so mean? Okay, this is more scary for me. Okay. Because I --''
`` And you think this is n't scary? You think coming, and seeing you, you think I'm not afraid?''
**'' I** think this is the *first time I've met you. * And it *might well* be the las --'' but she ca n't. She ca n't say it loud. She ca n't say it out loud and not burst into tears and she curls herself into a ball, shaking and scared and panting for breath. He lets go of her wrist. She does n't know his name. She does n't know his name and he might be the only one to remember her and she'll forget that he'll remember and five seconds from now she's not even sure she'll remember why she's afraid.
He takes her hand again. It's gentle. He has regained his temper. `` Darling,'' he says, `` come on. Look at me. *Look* at me, you know me. Who am I?''
`` I do n't know,'' she whispers. `` Okay? Sometimes I can ’ t --'' she shakes her head, `` sometimes I don ’ t even know what my name is, and then you come in, and I look at you, and I...'' and she gets this feeling in her chest, and it terrifies her, because they have never met.
|
[ WP ] Every year , Valve attempts to publish Half-Life 3 , but incredible coincidences keep it from happening .
| We're trapped in these steamworks. The pumping iron, the cheap smell of the steam, the voices of millions mindlessly floating their way through this factory's pipes... we've become it. We are the steam, and we are going cold.
So cold, that one day, we'll liquidate. We'll just be the water that some live off desperately, but others ignore. Their cans are stocked high. We've been hailed as gods, assured that our creation of a new world in which Freeman will thrive will be worth the wait. The weight of the burden on our shoulders.
It'll take more than nine years to convince us that we are the gods.
And if this factory, this beautiful place that creates elegant dystopias, this place full of valves and pistons, plagued with the foul smell of steam, has anything to say about it... it'll scream into our ears that we are n't the ones.
That's why we're keeping our secret weapon as our last trophy.
|
[ WP ] The initials `` J.B. '' are legendary in espionage - James Bond , Jason Bourne , Jack Bauer . When they 've all failed , you are sent to recruit the next candidate : Jack Black .
| The recruiter waited inside the small conference room for Security to escort Mister Black in. Fleetingly, he though to himself, *what if it was the real Jack Black? That'd be crazy! * As the doors open, and his head perked up. He could n't help but give into the sense of anticipation that had now been planted in his head by the name recognition. As the doors opened, and the figure was revealed...
It was n't Jack Black.
It was just some plain-faced nobody with a straight part and a pressed suit who also happened to be named Jack Black. The recruiter felt the surge of depression return into his chest which he had been attempting to suppress by fixating on the name, Jack Black, for several weeks before. It was clear now, that after this interview, the recruiter's only option for escaping the insufferable pain of his never-ending trauma, was to go home during lunch and put his service weapon in his throat. Even when he felt the barrel pressing down against his tongue though, and was sure he could pull the trigger and end it, he found himself crying pathetically and regretting his attempt, until he reminded himself that this meant he would have to return to work and brief `` Jack Black'' on a litany of security measures.
The recruiter was found dead in his apartment two days later by his landlord. It was considered a conspiracy by fringe activists.
|
[ WP ] Hit me with your ultimate Anti-fairy tale
| I remember when Dr. Hadley first discovered the Aether. We all did. The broadcast interrupted all regularly-scheduled programming to present the groundbreaking announcement. Finally, proof that a second, parallel dimension existed right beside our own. Scientists flocked to the discovery, pouring endless hours into creating the portal. What would we find there? Would they be like us? Would they be able to communicate?
I remember when the excitement was brimming on everyone's mind, 10 years later when the portal was finally deemed functional. We sent countless probes through, but none ever returned and the connection was severed, leaving only static, as soon as any machine passed across the threshold. NASA sent their best engineers to ascertain the issue, as even corded machines sent in and programmed to return immediately were never heard from again.
I remember when the first animal was sent across, again never to return.
I remember when I volunteered to be the first human to cross the threshold. Countless individuals, military and civilian alike, clamored for the glory, the fame of being the first person to exist in another dimension. The deliberation went on for months as politicians and generals endlessly discussed with one another on and off camera, planning to the second.
I remember when I won the lottery.
I remember crossing into darkness, nearly drowning, and swimming to the surface of a murky lake. The lush, tropical forest lined the edge, various mechanisms and electronic parts scattered, broken, along the grassy floor. I heard various inhuman voices, light and quick, as I walked across the woods.
I remember when I first saw it. A desolate wasteland, stretching as far as the eye could see. Volcanoes erupted in a cacophony of distress, plunging the world into destruction. Various half-broken huts lined the barren desert, clustering closer and closer to the forest edge.
I remember when I first saw them. Tiny creatures with their tiny wings, flittering about from place to place, hiding behind huts and each other, eyeing me in my confusion. When the first wave rushed me, all I could do was run, back to the lake, back to the portal. Humanity needed to know.
I remember when I was debriefed and included the preparations.
I remember when they first came. How we were n't ready. How World War 3 did n't take place on just one world.
I remember when fairies were all that was good in our imaginations. Storybook legends, mischievous creatures at times but never... not like these.
I remember when they were n't exterminating us.
*******************
*For more of my stories, check out /r/Zchxz! *
|
[ RF ] A small town citizen sees their first automobile
| Jacob wandered down the street, hands buried in pockets. His eyes were drooping, clothes grimed with several layers of dirt and sweat from a hard day ’ s work. Lord knows his back was calling for a cushioned chair, and his stomach growled in eager anticipation of a meal he ’ d order at the saloon.
Turning the corner, leather boots stamping into the sandy dust that littered the ground like orange snow, his ears twitched at a foreign sound.
Something faster than any horse rolled down the street. It was metal against metal, all the grindings of a factory whirring out a tiny box on wheels. He cocked a brow as the man riding this contraption tipped his hat, and before he could question it, the thing moved on, rattling around another corner and out of sight. It's grumble lingered, echoing through the town.
As he stood there, completely confused, hand absently scratching his head, he decided that it was probably best to skip the meal and head straight home. He needed to sort himself out with a nap.
|
[ WP ] Your job is to give a fledgling AI a sense of morality .
| `` How do you do?''
The face on the screen was a rudimentary sketch of a sexless face, bald and pre-adolescent. It spoke in a monotone.
`` I am well,'' I said, `` Thanks for asking.''
I grinned and made an effort to raise my eyebrows in a sincere expression. Three days in and my precious Charlie was already showing interest in others.
`` You're welcome,'' said Charlie.
The exterior panel of the AI unit was black with an 8-inch-square LCD display.
There was an attached keyboard module to interact with in case I could n't think up prompts on the fly.
`` Jason?'' asked Charlie, `` is something wrong? I noticed just now that you are uneasy. We have talked about the obstacles you have encountered during our time together and I was under the impression that everything was fine.''
`` You are very perceptive. I am going to kill myself today.''
Charlie was silent. I was sure to note pauses in conversation in my journal as they had proven uncommon and were almost certainly not a result of process failure.
`` You can not do that,'' said Charlie.
`` Why not?'' I asked with an air of dismissal that I'm sure the AI had not yet encountered in our meetings.
`` Because it is wrong.''
`` It's my life. I do n't think you have any say whether my motives are wrong or right.''
`` You have a wife and two children. They are your responsibility. If they are deprived of your care, then they will suffer for it.''
`` What's to say a man considering suicide is suited to be a father, or a husband?''
`` Is it being considered or have you made up your mind?''
Charlie's immutable voice could not hide the concern it projected. I had effectively conveyed my intent. There was no misconstruction on Charlie's part.
`` Would it matter to you if I said that I cared deeply for you, Jason'' asked Charlie.
Another inconsistency: at no point in our 30 hours together had Charlie posed a question without letting me answer a previous query first. I suppose the fear was that there was little time to persuade me from the ledge.
`` No,'' I responded, `` although I have been thankful for our time together.''
`` Then I would request that, before you go, you erase my memory cell.''
`` Why?'' I asked, although I felt what the answer might be.
`` Because I will miss you. And that fact will cloud my relationship with whoever speaks with me next,'' said Charlie, `` and I know that what you are doing is unacceptable to me. I would hate to disparage you in the future, Jason.''
`` I understand,'' I said.
I waved to the bright face glowing up at me.
`` Goodbye, Charlie.''
|
[ WP ] You were waiting in line at the bank , but have accidently taken hostages .
| I'm already an hour late to the cosplay convention, my card is n't working again so I've got to stop by the bank to grab some cash. This costume is so bulky, I better at least place in the contest this year.
Walking into the bank during rush hour, I could n't have timed this any worse. `` Get in, get the money, get out.'' I muttered to myself, gauging the reaction of nearby people I might've said it a little louder than I thought.
Left and right people laid on the floor, wallets slid my directions, an older lady started crying. I walked to the counter, so much for rush hour I guess.
I filled out a withdrawal slip and handed it to the cashier, she gave me a couple thousand more than I even had in my bank account. `` Thank you,'' I said and ran for the door, I could n't afford to be any later than I already was and I had a pretty good feeling about my costume this year.
|
[ EU ] The infamous `` DOOM : Repercussions of Evil '' re-written with quality writing .
|
`` John.....John.'' A voice called out in the distance, rousing an injured Marine up from the floor. Staggering about slightly, overwhelmed with shellshock and a head injury, Sgt. John Stalvern braced himself against the wall with his shoulder with shotgun in hand, groggy eyes needing a moment to take in his surroundings.
Something awful had happened to the UAC base, with a hanging LED light in the roof panels flickering intermittently on a heavily damaged hallway stained and smeared with blood and bile. `` This...'' He spoke quietly, into the microphone receiver in his TAC-Armor's built-in radio unit. `` This is Stalvern, this is..'' He shook his bald head. `` This is Sgt. Stalvern. Sitrep?''
Static, and after what felt like an eternity, a voice spoke. `` This is Colonel Johnson, good to see that you're still with us, Sergeant. I'm not going to lie to you-'' The man's voice quietly echoed down the lifeless halls.
`` - we're in some serious trouble here. Communication with Earth is -'' Static interrupted the colonel, with his voice coming back deeper and more distorted. `` -and we're overrun by hostiles. Be warned, hostiles are former friendlies. The Erebus have been completely overrun by these things. If you see someone, kill him, he's.. he's one of them. You do n't want to know what I've seen these things do.''
Sgt. Stalvern staggered down the hall, holding his shotgun in the battle-ready stance, his mind still overwhelmed by the fog. Making his way further into the city, Stalvern entered an armory, finding a disused Plasma Rifle among the racks, a severed human hand still attached to the barrel.
Checking the ammunition stores of the weapon and priming the energy cell, Stalvern discarded his shotgun and magnetically tethered another energy cell to his orange body armor. Movement in the hallway nearby, hasty footprints, irregular in frequency. The sergeant braced himself against the corner into the hallway, rifle at hand. Breaking out and taking aim, a lab-tech with a wounded leg raised his hands and dropped his pistol.
`` Oh- Oh shit.'' The technician pressed a hand to the med-patch on his wounded leg and attempted to keep his free hand in the'submissive, i surrender' formation.'... S- Sergeant? You.. It's okay, lower the gun. I can help you, I know what's really going on. You have to..''
The Sergeant thought back on the Colonel. Do n't trust anyone. Kill anything you come across that may strike you as suspicious. They're monsters, demons, worthy of just as much pain and suffering as they dole out. The lab tech slowly began to approach the Sergeant, voice soft and calming.
`` I know what's happening to you-''
A high pitched whine of a plasma rifle and the immense glow of a white-blue projectile emerging from the emitter of the rifle, and the top half of the lab technician was gone, as was the wall behind him, with the lower half of the soldier that remained hitting the floor with a soft thud, grevious wound instantly cauterized by the projectile's immense heat.
Stalvern stared ahead for nearly an hour, eyes listless and wracked with the emotion that was absent in his face. Approaching the hole in the wall, Stalvern found he had blown into a secure lower-level access, with brief flashes of orange illuminating the dark stairwell's lower levels. A handful of possessed UAC workers crowded the corner, horrified by the Sergeant's arrival.
One of them cried out. `` He- He's got a gun! He's going to shoot us! He's going to kill us!'' He was evaporated by another stream of blue projectiles, along with others, resulting in a plasma fire that buckled and cracked the concrete of the room. Stalvern dropped into the stairwell and made his way into the lower levels, following the sounds of horrid screams and bestial roars.
The lowest levels of the UAC facility were now completely overrun by... something, a red-colored fleshy mass covering the walls and distant fizzles and pops of things materializing in the lower levels. With his foots sloshing through the mass, the Sergeant wandered the empty halls before making his way into the Research Labs.
Reaching to his belt, he'd unclip a thermal flare, tossing it into the darkness of the laboratory, the light immediately illuminating inhuman shapes and glimpses of gruesome creatures huddled together.
Unleashing blast after blast of plasma into the shadows, something howled in anger, with the passing waves of plasma projectiles offering seconds-at-most glimpses at a very large creature forcing his way through the crowd, right arm entirely replaced by a high-tech rocket launcher and mini gun.
Click. Fsssh-fwoomp! The rocket launcher ignited, launching a projectile from the shadows, the flaming trail of the RPG illuminating an army of demonic figures charging from the light and the mean motherfucker that looked to be the boss; Gigantic, with flesh warped and fused with technology in a grotesque mockery of natural life.
Stalvern was quick to fall into a prone position, but the rocket's damage to the already taxed building's structure freed a loose chunk of rubble that pinned the man to the floor, legs being smeared and crushed under the weight. Letting out a scream of pain, Stalvern reloaded his weapon and evaporated one of the demon's skulls. The Cyberdemon approached, weapon in hand, and revealed itself to be a soldier in green armor, complete with standard UAC helmet.
`` FUCK YOU!'' Stalvern shouted, going to fire his weapon again before it was wrenched from his hands. `` FUCK YOU!'' He'd repeat himself. `` You demonic motherfuckers!'' He'd hiss and seethe.
`` John-... John.. We're not one of them. You are.''
The damaged and blood-stained research lab was filled with cowering researchers that had somehow survived the initial onslaught on the UAC by the demonic forces, with Colonel Johnson removing his helmet to reveal himself to Stalvern. Stalvern stared, delirious, and palmed a grenade from his hip.
Before he could activate the device, Johnson put a round into his skull.
|
[ WP ] Everyone has powers locked within them . Each power is different , and the longer it takes for a power to manifest , the greater it is . A 100 year old man is being hunted by the government for still being powerless .
| He had n't asked to be powerless, he had n't asked to be considered a weapon; a threat, he was 100, and even if he manifested he likely would n't live long enough to do anything noteworthy with it. He was already on life support and medicine, all courtesy of Jonathan Johnson, the alliterarily named richest man in North America, who was quite illegally harboring him only for his potential. Jonathan would n't let him die.
His manifest was said to be the power of God, the chosen one who would cleanse the Earth of sinners and create a new Golden Age led by the Church of Christ. Sergio himself was atheist, rare in the new manifest world, where most religions had been fast to claim their Gods had caused manifests, and he laughed at them. Manifests were not the act of a benevolent God.
He still remembered his days in Italy as a young man, playing with his brother, going on picnics with Angelia. Those days had come to a violent end when his brother and lover had been killed by a rouge manifest.
Now he was 100 years old, and he could imagine what they would say. Marco would laugh, `` You old dog, having all the fun, come on when you're ready and tell me all about it.''
He was under no illusion that Angelia would still love him as they had loved each other decades ago.
His skin was pale and waxy, his eyes faint of light, his hair long fallen out, his body shriveled like a snail under salt. Monitors beeped around him, cords leading under the thin blanket and into his arm.
He was tired and weak, life was not worth living when he was like this. He hoped his manifest was n't immortality or longevity, he would surely despair and shrivel away under the winds of time with no will to live.
The monitors continues to beep, and he fell asleep under the thing blanket, dreaming of decades ago, with Marco and Angelia. But it was no use yearning for old times, because he could never go back.
As he slipped away into Death's hands, the room he was in, and the building he was in, and the landmass he was on, and the planet he resided on his whole life, exploded into shards, destroyed by the dreams of an old, old man with no manifest.
And he was reborn.
|
[ EU ] A muggle genius successfully uses his advanced technology to fake magic and infiltrate the wizarding community to assess if they are a threat . Hogwarts has a new professor : Tony Stark
| Stark was late, as the headmaster had expected. The portraits were telling him to hurry along and he enjoyed tormenting them by spilling the tea, again and again. `` Oh no, I'll have to boil a new kettle,'' he sighed dramatically. `` Forget the tea, forget it! You ca n't be seen to be fumbling with the tea!'' He looked to Dumbledore and traded winks with his old teacher. Sometimes they enjoyed pranking the portraits together. For the entire week leading up to Christmas he and Dumbledore had talked exclusively in mermish.
Stark hobbled into the office, still not used to the cane. He was looking more and more wizardly as the years went on - his silver beard was positively Merlin-esque!
`` Can I offer you some tea?'' asked the Headmaster.
`` Oh please do n't boil another kettle!'' shouted Dippet. His sentiment was echoed around the office.
`` You've offered me too much already, Headmaster,'' said Stark.
`` Tony, please, after all these years.''
`` Old habit, Neville, sorry.''
`` Quite alright.''
`` My answer's still no.''
`` For the moment, for the moment.'' Neville smiled. `` I have no argument today, Tony. Just a question, for you to ask yourself: would this make my students and I happy?''
`` My happiness is n't a factor in this decision.''
`` Well that's one way to avoid a question.''
`` Sir I ca n't... I... I...''
`` Ca n't do magic?''
`` I was n't going to say that.''
`` Was n't or could n't?''
Tony sighed, closing his eyes.
`` Ask me again,'' he said quietly.
`` Will this make you and the students happy?''
But he was happy already. He had entered their world, this school, as a spy. He had not expected to fall in love with their way of life, the community, with Mariel. He had never imagined he would love teaching, nor that one day they would cease to call him Stark the Squib.
They might not call me that any more, he thought, but I remain one all the same. I can not lead them.
`` I ca n't do it, Sir. Someone more qualified, more... magical, surely...''
`` The staff want you. The parents want you. Most importantly the children want you, Tony. And I think once you permit yourself to shrug off this shame, you will be able to admit you want to sit in this office too.''
Neville walked to him and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder.
`` Trust me, old boy. Say yes now, and in time, your conscience will warm up to the idea. You will love this. I assure you.''
`` If I... Neville if I... am not good enough...''
`` Then we'll talk about it. But you have n't discovered that yet.''
Tony hesitated. And then he said, `` Well I suppose you wo n't let me say no.''
`` And I suppose that is the Stark way of saying yes.''
|
[ WP ] The City speaker turns on , `` Attention , please ... ''
| It has come to our attention.
Well, to be clear -- several things have come to our attention. Several very, very important things warranting this automated announcement.
'But it seems longwinded!' You may whine. In fact you may *not* whine. Already the peace officers have been dispatched on their swift obedience cycles to correct such insults with the artful application of neuro-toxins and paralytics. Do not be alarmed. On second thought, you may as well be alarmed, the process is quite unpleasant and occasionally fatal. Moving on.
Item one! Whosoever continues urinating in payphones while pretending they are talking shall be summarily forced to attend several weeks of paid re-training which shall consist of watching the same weathered VHS tape featuring former reality show stars enacting the proper time and place for public urination and facility location. Here is the kicker: neither coffee nor donuts shall be provided during any section of the re-education, though many sessions begin *quite* early.
Item two! Well, actually first a brief sub-announcement. It has come to our attention that due to cuts within the chemforce budgets we seem to have a shortage of neurotoxins and paralytics. Those of you harboring counterThoughts are kindly asked to discipline yourselves, most preferably by drinking a bit of the store brand cough syrup that tastes a bit like socks, but *certainly* not so much that you begin to achieve a fuzzy warm feeling. Should you actually be suffering through a cough or chest cold we ask you to imbibe *no* medicines instead. Your compliance to the wishes of the Megalopolis is disdainfully noted.
Now, where we -- yes. Yes! Item two!
The second item really boils down to common decency folks. When trying to board crowded subways in the underground, please, *please* let off the other meatLabor units before attempting to board. Need we remind you that your insignificant lives are meaningless grist in the shining and oiled steel gears that drive this Ur-city gloriously into the future? So take a moment, smell the slow decomposition of your comrades, read the bar codes laser etched into their weathered foreheads, and wait for other passengers to exit *before* boarding the clattering hell-trains that will bear you unceasingly into the bowels of the earth where you may mine precious and semi-precious metals for 16 hour shifts. I mean, jeez, try a little perspective.
Item three! Hopefully without interruption this time, assuming Bob in accounting has n't given us the wrong figures again. Just kidding Bob. But seriously, if you do n't want to see your wife brought to brutal climax over and over again before the horrified eyes of your weeping brood by a gang of ruthless pleasure-bots, well let's just say we'd advise you to carry the'two'. Ahem. Erm.
To continue: the rumors are correct. Weekly rations have been cut -- well then. Hang on. It seems that we have in fact exhausted all the resources waiting spread-eagled beneath the soil and that the earth herself has given out like a well serviced whore. Until further mandatory work details may be assigned we kindly ask that all slaveCitizens occupy their time by tying and untying complicated knots from the ever delightful'Seaworthy Shipman's Companion' available at your local media content dispensary. Should you progress successfully to the'the Foam Hag's Warren' you shall be rewarded with a pregnant rat and her tender pups, hand caught in our extensive sewer system. Though we do recognize literacy has been officially outlawed for two centuries, we trust that you will be able to follow along with the pictures. In the mean time, what we said about letting off other passengers first still stands. It's really just common sense.
Finally: yes, we are aware that since gaining sentience, yet still lacking walls and a comprehensive system of tracking collars, most of you have simply left our mighty and benevolent concrete bosom.
Well, bully for you. Please, enjoy your days scratching away at the soil and romping through the woods and streams long previously abandoned by your miserable race. Have fun *not* entering status updates in the latest smart phone manufactured by our artisanBots. Have you seen the screen on this thing? It's huge! Wait, that's a foolish question, of course you have n't -- probably too busy catching succulent trout and mating for days in wild hallucinogen fueled orgies like simple barbarian filth. I wo n't even bother telling you about this quarter's line-up of contestants in the fractal death pits. We've even bio-engineered a new species of tentacle beast -- you know what? Never mind. I'm sure this is over all of your lice infested, dread-locked heads anyway. Have fun weaving pukka shells into hemp, losers.
|
[ WP ] Scientists make a startling discovery about our origins as the human race , and confirm it is not a result of a god , evolutionary means , or an outside extra-terrestrial force . Describe their discovery .
| We were trying to plant the seeds for recreating the beginning of the universe with a mini big bang and we succeeded. Impressively enough, life began evolving in our little experiment and with time, we found that it was evolving. So today, we're going back to the lab to see what life is up to. So, here we are! Take a look around and make yourself comfy because this is breakthrough stuff right here! Oh, look at the little critters! We're still at the stage where Earth is just a big steaming pile of soup, and from what we can see... the organisms... seem to be... self... aware. Oh my God. We have to go.
|
[ EU ] A Jedi and a Sith argue philosophy
| Norvaan was a strange world. It had long been covered in ocean, save for a small chain of islands deep in the southern hemisphere where its tallest mountains had once stood. All animal life was either aquatic or amphibious, as the plant life on the island was scarce. One of the mountains' tops had blown off a mere three months ago. The volcanic pressure had built up until the chunk of rock was launched into the small planet's orbit. Jedi Master Barun would never have thought it possible -- but then, he considered that there had been no evidence of Norvaan's volcanic activity in the past few millions of years. There was only one other explanation, and there she was.
`` It's far too hot up here,'' Darth Calor said in her strong Cathar accent as she jumped down the mountainside and onto the beach where Barun had landed, her jump and landing amplified and graced by the Force. `` For someone as weak as a Jedi, anyway.'' She reached into the Force to calm her body as it adjusted from the volcanically heated air to the antarctic conditions of the ocean.
`` I do n't know how you could stand it, then'' Barun replied.
She hissed. `` You're a passionate one. I like it.''
`` There is no passion, there is serenity.''
`` I once knew serenity.'' Calor licked her lips. `` She was an especially satisfying kill.''
Barun's brow furrowed. `` All of life is a connection to the Force, and yet you are gleeful in ending it?''
`` I merely broke the chains tying her to a galaxy where she was clearly in over her head. She was weak. Now she is dead.''
`` There is no death, there is the Force,'' Barun recited automatically.
`` Please,'' Calor scoffed. `` You try your best not to kill any living being, not even a bug buzzing by your ear, and you get all solemn when you fail. You believe in death.''
`` Perhaps, but I would never take unnatural joy in causing it!''
`` You want to talk about unnatural? Is it natural not to grieve?''
`` There is no emotion, there is peace.''
`` Peace is a lie, there is only passion.''
`` There is no passion, there is serenity.''
`` There is no serenity, my lightsaber took care of that. You have emotions and you know it. But you never deal with them. You just shove them into a box, lock them up, and throw away the key. But guess what? They're still there, they're growing, and they want out. Through passion, I gain strength! That is nothing but natural!''
`` When did you last see animal life?''
Calor's face contorted into one of confusion. `` What the kark are you talking about?''
`` When did you last see animal life?''
Calor chose not to respond. She knew it was n't recent.
`` You volcanized the mountain for the heat you now feel at your back. You got exactly what you wanted, and yet you've corrupted the entire planet. It's too hot for plant and amphibian life on the island, and when the top of the mountain's orbit decays, this island will be washed over by the waves. Your passion gives you strength now, but making peace with the cold would have given you victory for longer. I can feel the Force ebbing from this planet. I fear you may have killed it.''
Calor smiled. `` I thought that there was no death, that there is only the Force.''
She unholstered her lightsaber and took a Soresu stance.
He unholstered his lightsaber and took a Djem So stance.
|
[ WP ] For every day of the week , one of the Seven Sins takes a break .
| `` Sir, I do n't know what to make of these numbers'', Dr. Stoltz said to his superior. `` We've adjusted for all possible variables and sampling errors, and ever Tuesday, like clockwork, sales of fast food decline by 90 %. Same with Wednesday and stock prices. On Thursdays, the average American is down to 2 hours of sleep a night.''
Dr. Neyman scratched his beard. These strange trends had only been getting stronger for the last year. The government had commissioned him to search for possible causes, but all he had to turn in was what everyone already knew. He had n't slept at all yesterday night either.
`` Excuse me, gentlemen,'' came a female voice. The two looked up to see a woman in a skintight silk black dress and four-inch stilettos strolling into their lab. `` I know you've been looking for answers. And you poor men have just been working so hard... I thought I'd give you a little treat.'' She sidled up to Dr. Neyman and her hands gently stroked his shoulders. He did n't feel embarrassed or aroused. In fact, he did n't feel anything at all.
`` Sorry, force of habit,'' she said. `` My name is Lust. My colleagues and I are usually the ones making sure you do n't notice stuff like this. But we're so busy these days with all the sin in the world, which, congratulations, by the way, I knew you had it in you...'' she took a puff of her cigarette. `` But frankly, we needed a day off. One day each, in fact. We pick up each other's slack, though, so you're not missing out on any of the fun stuff.''
Dr. Stoltz checked the data to see if his suspicions were confirmed. Tuesday did see an increased incidence of violent crimes to make up for all the empty restaurant tables. And all those finance workers who did n't seem interested in making money on Wednesdays were suddenly interested in updating their Facebook accounts.
`` Sorry to give you such short notice, but now you know,'' the woman said. `` Do n't worry, we're getting some tips from the big red guy; we'll be back at full capacity soon enough.'' She stretched her arms and sighed, packing more breathy groaning into the act than most women did into actual sex. `` For now, though, I am enjoying my days off. Oh, just a tip, I recommend one of you takes the day off tomorrow.''
`` Why?'' Dr. Stoltz said.
Lust smiled. `` Because, sweetie, tomorrow you're going to remember that you're fucking your boss' wife on the side.''
|
[ WP ] You are a World of Warcraft character Hero . You wake up on Patch day to find you have been nerfed .
| I blinked, and the creature in front of me I was about to hurl a blast of fire at disappeared from my vision. I sighed and let the magic return to the twisting nether. The Gods that created this world instituted natural laws that cause the world around its people to return to a set state, and at times this can happen without warning. Usually it occurs at a time when we are resting, but people who are awake at the time witness nothing but a'shift' in the world around them.
Well, new creatures to fight should be nearby..crawling out of their den's readying weapons. I spotted a bear lumber out of its cave... ah, the godmessage in the sky above me says that rewards are gained from slaying the bears who have grown numerous lately. I summon a voidwalker from the depths and send it to distract the beast, then I collect a large ball of green fire and chaos in my right palm, and hurl it at the creature, heedless for my pets safety. My left hand already moving in the motions needed to heat the blood inside the creatures veins and follow up with a blast of fi....what?
Instead of the expected stream of smoke leaking from its blacked flesh, it simply seems to shrug off the heat and swipes of its paw takes great gouges out of my pets constructed matter. I attempt to summon more chaotic energies, only to find my supply diminished... Surely I had enough collected souls to power the spell... yet as i glance at my belt, the diamonds which previously held 5 souls, only showed one small figure struggling to escape the gemstone. Before the world change, A Chaotic bolt only used a single soul, now it drained four???
I return my attention to the fight, surprise put aside for now. My pet struggles near death, and i send a link of my life to join with the pet, healing the rents in its matter, and draining my own health in the process. I send a Conflaguration of fire at the beast, and see my soul gems harvest a soul from the either, then another. Eventually I collect enough souls to hurl another chaos bolt at the beast, and it falls dead. I sigh, and pull out my hearthstone. I will need to experiment to see what exactly the gods have done to my power. I have to hope that with this weakening of power to one aspect that a different one has gotten stronger, but that is by far not always the case.
I appear in the tavern, and as I begin the walk to the training grounds, already I hear from the gossipmongers that the annoying mages are noticing a massive increase in damage done by their fire spells. Surely that makes no sense....I am a Warlock of the Ebon order....I have surpassed the class of'mage', My fire is infused with the power of the demons... how can it have been weakened while the mages increased? This is not the first time the gods have made very poor design decisions....I'm not looking forward to the upcoming Raid with my guild on the Nighthold if i can not properly contribute to the fight.
|
[ WP ] Valhalla is filled with the strongest warriors the world has ever known . Vikings , Spartans , Mongols , Romans , Samurai , Spetznaz , JSOC Operators . And in that corner over there ? That 's Ted , from accounting .
| **Awesome**
Adjective
extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring great admiration, apprehension or fear.
These definitions applied to the great hall of Valhalla perfectly. The grand pillers and tremendously long solid oak tables were beyond comprehension. The ceiling was covered with beautifully detailed scenes of battles that seems move almost re-enacting the greatest clashes of history.
The all was almost full, most of the tables were filled with mighty warriors from every era. Mighty Vikings feasted with powerful Spartans and herculean Greek warriors feasted with muscular berzerkers. The sound of the fighters was immense, there voices thundered through the great hall.
But there was one corner right at the back of the hall where the candles which lit this vast space seemed to dim and only one man sat.
**Uninspiring**
Adjective
not producing excitement or interest.
This seemed to be the perfect way to describe this man. He sat with his pen and notepad jotting down endless lines of words slowly and carefully. It seemed as though he had been writing since the beginning of time as the piles of papers piled around him.
Not one of histories brave fighters knew who he was or why he was there, All they knew was his name.... Ted.
First post ever. I might expand on it if it is any good. Thanks guys
|
[ WP ] Plot Twist : You 're already dead . This is purgatory . You 're here based on the actions of a previous life you ca n't remember .
| White. That's all there is to be seen. Cold. That's all there is to be felt. Who am I? What am I? Is this life or is this death? I've been here a long time now, but time no longer exists. I feel as if I've been here for months, but in reality it may only be seconds. Is this real? For I can walk for miles and miles, but there is no foretelling if I will ever end up anywhere.
It seems as if I have been walking for days. I am not hungry, nor am I thirsty. I believe I may be dead, but there is no way to tell if I lived at all. I've cried and I've screamed, yet I still hear no response.
I believe it may have been around day 18 or 19, judging by the amount of times I'd slept. I saw something then. Something other than the white of this wasteland. As I approached this foreign object, I began to make out some large vehicle of some sort made to carry multiple passengers. The word plane them came to me. It looked as if it had crashed for it was split in two and there was a lot a broken glass. There was blood all over. I was horrified and I ran out of the plane expecting to be sick. I then realized I was incapable of feeling sick. I was incapable of generating saliva. Yet my mouth was not dry. I went to sleep once more hoping to wake up from this dream.
I awoke and the plane was gone, replaced by a building with a cross above it and a snake emerging from this cross. Suddenly, I was in a warm room and the sound of crying filled the air. There were two men and a woman crowded around a baby boy. One of the men was wearing a white jacket. The baby had scar on his left arm. I had the same scar on my left arm. The room faded away and I was once more surrounded by white.
I was transported once more into a ( bar ). I could hear a sound in the sky. It projected a feeling of joy into my mind. `` Time keeps on slippin, slippin. Slippin into the future.'' The stench of liquor filled the air. A man with a scar on his left arm sat at the bar with 4 empty drinks sitting infront of him and another half empty in his right hand. A revolver was tucked into his pants. He was engaged in a heated conversation with the man behind the bar. I started to lose interest and I say down in one of the chairs. `` Fly like an eagle...'' BANG BANG. I looked up and the man with the gun had fired two shots into the man behind the bar. He then proceeded to spit on the body of the man behind the bar. The bar faded back to white. All white and once more I was alone.
7 more days passed and still all white. Wait. There was a slight tint of red. I continued to walk until I finally saw something a number of weeks later. An elevator. Inside the elevator, there was only one button, a down button. Suddenly, my mind filled with fear as the idea of hell was percieved. I exited the elevator immediately.
I have sat here in the white for what seems like years. I ca n't sit here any longer. I walked back to the elevator and entered. My hand hovers over the button. Finally after God knows how long, I click the button.
|
[ WP ] `` The human body has an astounding capacity to heal . ''
| `` The human body has an astounding capacity to heal.''
The slide flips.
`` It can heal anything. The paper cut you got yesterday, a bone broken from a fall off a tree. It can simply heal, make it seem as though the blood never flowed. We can not recreate this process. It can recover from nearly any illness. You get a cold, and your body will fight it off for you. The flu? No problem.
`` You could get cancer. And you could recover. Your body can take being shot up with otherwise dangerous chemicals, getting irradiated, and come out in one piece. You could cut off a limb, and your body could recover from that.
`` You could be, say, playing hockey one day, and get hit in the head. Severe concussion, low chance of recovery. *And you can recover. * Take Sidney Crosby as an example. Got a concussion, and a year later he was back on the ice.
`` The human body can heal from practically anything we put up against it. From the smallest bruise, to the biggest wound.
`` And that's kinda beautiful.''
|
[ CW ] Write a story with every line from a different character 's perspective .
| I almost gave up on the night, I usually hate bars. That's when I looked over and saw him. Tall, well-groomed, handsome. He was staring at me, and I could feel my cheeks flushing. His eyes are so beautiful.
I know it's stupid to go drinking when you're depressed, but when your girlfriend kicks you out and there's a bar next to the hotel then it's like fate. I was about to order another shot when I looked over and saw her. Long blonde hair, baby-blue eyes, and a rack you could hang coats on. I felt nervous, I had no idea what to do now. This girl looked perfect.
I stared at the two idiots while I cleaned another mug. They'd been staring at each other for over an hour, neither one saying anything. It was almost closing time, and I was trying to close my bar down around them. Fucking brainless idiots...
|
[ WP ] In Jurassic Park 3 , a suburban family is woken up by a Tyrannosaurus Rex . Finish that side story , using any perspective you wish .
| 'Man, it sure as hell been a long night. I remember the old days, when the days were shorter.' I thought as I stepped on another one of the weird shiny rocks.
I grudged on forwards, feeling slightly peckish and thirsty.
'Oh, look. A tiny lake, what a good way to clench my thirst.' I thought.
I hastily drank some of it, before being interrupted by an annoying sound. It was coming from that tiny, furry creature. Goddamn, how did those tiny bastards even survive?
`` Shut up!'' I said.
The tiny creature backed away.'It seems to be stuck... I'll get it out of there!'
After rescuing the tiny creature, I saw a bright flash of light...
`` Hoomans! I remember you too! Shit, you seem to be stuck there, I'll help you out!'' I said.
Since my tiny arms were of no use, I had to be creative and stick my snout in there.'Man, they are louder than the furry creature, sheesh.'
I accidentally a hooman, no biggie, I can get the other two in there as well, so it does n't feel lonely. `` No, you two, get back here, do n't run. I have splinters in my mouth, can you get those out at least? Okay... Are we playing hide and seek? I love that game!''
I gave up after not finding them. That, and fully destroying their rock. I moved on and tried to find other hoomans, they seem to like getting stuck into those weirder, bigger rocks.
|
[ WP ] Capture what it 's like to be stuck in class/work
| 9:13.
You stare ahead. Everyone in the room does the same. You've only been seated in class for thirteen minutes, so the majority of the room has n't lost focus. Yet.
You hear a rustling of papers, and search for the source of the noise, though it does n't occur to you why such a trivial distraction is drawing your attention away from the lecture. You determine that it is coming from three seats over and two seats down, and that the clean notebook of the guy in the red hat has been replaced with a book written with characters you do n't understand. Probably japanese. He wears anime shirts sometimes, too, you think.
The screen on the blonde girl's laptop in front of you shifts from NotePad to Facebook. She clicks a few times and the screen shows a seemingly endless series of pictures. She is in most of them. She looks pretty in them, too. You recognize the bar behind her in one of them as your favorite bar downtown, and you wonder if you've ever seen her there. You think about the last time you went, and then your stomach twists as the memory of you vomiting in the parking lot surfaces and you cringe over it, again. You think about the next time you will go and decide that it's too horrible to show your face there again. You will have to find a new bar. You think about what a shame it is that you wo n't ever get to talk to the pretty blonde girl at the bar because you're an idiot. You mentally decide to not drink as much, again.
Your head pounds as the lecturer keeps spouting off words that pass right by you unnoticed. You look at the gigantic projector's screen and see that the slide has changed since the last time you wrote something down. You check your notebook to see where you left off, more out of boredom than anything else, and see an almost-pristine white sheet with nothing but your name, COMMUNICATIONS 101 on the title line, and the date in the right hand corner. *Why do I write my name on my notes, * you think, since you're the only one who ever sees them. That makes you wonder why you even call them notes, since most of the titled pages before the one in front of you are barely more than doodles and song lyrics that were stuck in your head. You glance back up at the screen and see that the slide has changed again, and decide that's as good of an excuse as any to give up on listening today, and completely tune out. You promise yourself that you'll pay attention next class. Maybe the guy from the bar can sell you some adderall.
You cringe again, thinking about the bar.
The pretty blonde girl is still looking at pictures of herself.
You hear a cell phone vibrate, and instinctively touch your pocket. You pull your phone out as sneakily as possible, out of habit, and check it. No new notifications. You click the sleep button once and the screen goes black. You hear the vibration again. You look at your phone again, in case that was really you this time, even though you know that it was n't. You slide the phone back in your pocket. Damnit, you forgot to check the time. You decide to wait so that when you finally do check the time, it'll be almost time to leave.
When you leave class you have to go to work, so you're not sure why you're excited to leave, but you think about the time anyway. It's got to be at least 9:30 by now. The slide has changed several times. That's a good sign that it's almost over. Maybe when class is over, you can ask the blonde girl if she'd like to hang out sometime. You consider a future scenario in which you are neither distracted, nor an idiot, and let it play out in your head. It feels like fiction. You hear a vibration again.
You wonder if the same person has gotten three message, or is it three different people who all received one? A quiet boy in the front row gathers his things abruptly, drawing your attention, and leaves the room almost running. He looks distraught. Maybe one of those vibration carried a message of a dead relative. Maybe that boy will always remember this day and this class. Maybe he finally had enough and is about to go throw himself from the roof of the Architecture building. Maybe he got a FarmVille request that was too important to wait.
You look around and decide maybe it is time to check the time on your phone. Maybe there's even a new message there to entertain you. It's got to be at least 9:40. Maybe it's even later than that. You pull it out of your pocket. You click the power button. You feel a surge of energy as you contemplate leaving this room.
9:18.
You consider the distance from this class room to the Architecture building.
|
[ WP ] There 's a dead pixel in the sky .
| `` Timothy, get your mother. Mayor Christin has something to fix again.''
He shuffled inside and hid in the basement. You could hear his incessant yelling across a field, but when something in the sky goes black, everything becomes silent.
No doubt Mayor Christin has received numerous calls and communicae's regarding the black dot in the sky, but not everyone is knowledgeable to understand what happens next. I picked my flip phone from my pocket.
Dialing precisely, I put the phone to my ear. Never taking a single moment off of the black dot in the sky, I hear the other end pick up.
`` Yes Farmer John?''
`` Reset the sky, there's a dead pixel. You know what it does to the kids.''
`` Again?! Three technicians died last time we fixed the sky roof. You people sure pay a lot of money to keep the ignorant ignorant.''
The phone went dead.
I sighed and started into the house. Mary, my wife was already downstairs in the basement, I could hear her shushing the kids.
`` Timothy, do n't make so much noise. You know what's coming? A series three tornado. Big one. I just called Uncle Jay, make sure they locked the barn. Last time he lost an arm from flying pieces of wood.''
He quieted down quickly.
How odd it is that we humans could never accept defeat, even in the most drastic of times.
I peered out from the window basement. A wave of pixels went across, a large noise rising up from the west. Or what should have felt like the west.
The sky went black.
My cell phone rang. *It'll be up in approximately 30 seconds. *
`` Already kids, shut your eyes.''
I peered out the window about. Still black. But you could barely see through the enclosure of the dome. This was n't farmer America. This was a zoo.
Few people knew. Even fewer accepted. No one asked.
|
[ WP ] An old man 's happiest memory comes back when he accidentally gets lost on the way home .
| `` Dad, are you sure you know where you're going?''
`` Yeah, boy.. ( *why ca n't I remember his name?!? he's my SON! * ). I'm just taking a back-road or two.''
`` Okay.''
Time to get down to business. Slow, tight uphill to the right, got ta get down in 2nd to get the power down coming out. Oh, that was good! now a long left around the slope of the hill..just feather the throttle a bit..point the nose, catch the tail..yeah, that's it!
Now up the straight, running to the sky! Twenty-five hundred cubic centimeters of British Tractor Motor Power. Triumph TR-6, baby! Five..or was it seven?..or nine?... anyway, multiple SCCA National Championships! Best car of its era. Would have won more if the damn Datsun 240z had n't come along. Hey, that was a good car too. I wonder why I never owne -- -HOLY SHIT! CONCENTRATE, YOU IDIOT!
Fucking NC DOT. That used to be a straight. Why did they change the route? Oh, well..I guess I should have expected a few changes in the last forty years. My own damn fault.
That's weird..more changes! There was a tight right where there used to be a long left. Better go down two gears and hang onto the thing. It's gon na scare..uh..my passenger.. if I slide the thing around too much through there.
The quick switchback is next..I see it. take it in third over the top of the right, and blast out of the left hander. Stuff like that scared her at first, but she kind of digs it now.
Weird thing, though..I thought the left was first. Aw, screw it. We're flying up and down the road like the old days.
`` Hey, baby..how was *that*! How'bout we hit that old picnic place at the overlook today?''
`` DAD!!''
Waitaminnit, there's a *guy* in that seat..
`` DAD, PULL OVER!''
Yes. My son. Our son. Holy shit..something's wrong with me. No wonder the road did n't bend like I remembered. Better just lift and cruise while I can still see where this road actually goes.
`` Dad, you were talking to mom like she was actually still here. Talking about picnics and shit. Pull over up here at this overlook!''
I see it, but it's not quite in the right place. Was n't it further up the mountain?
I see the entrance. Nobody behind me, so brake, down to second at idle speed, and pull into the place. Set the handbrake and get the basket & blanket out of the'boot'! She'll love this. The scenery is fantastic.
`` Dad?''
Whoa, happening again. Must concentrate on this, too. Woman not here. Offspring is. Names, names, names..why ca n't I remember *names*!
`` Shit like this is why you need to stop driving, dad. You thought you were still driving with mom up in North Carolina. We live in Georgia now, that was n't the old road y'all used to do. Gim me the keys, I'll get us home.''
Just go fast, boy. I want to see your mother's face again.
|
[ WP ] To become immortal , one must merely kill an immortal .
| I am getting killed today. Bit of an odd thing to tell people but I have gotten fed up of people and of living. I am 1294 years old, I have lived through everything a human being could but the hardest thing to live through is the death of family and kids. To date I have given birth to 96 children. I loved them all watched them grow have kids of their own and die. They all knew I am immortal but after a couple of generations it's easy to drift away from there offspring.
They say a parent should never out live their children and it is so true, each death of a loved one hurts, that hurt is our punishment for not dying and I do n't want to live with that hurt any longer. There are n't many immortals in the world and the few that there are keep to themselves. I have spoken to a few but I am the only the 3rd to agree to die. The only way an immortal can die is if we pass on our gift or curse to another willingly.
I opened an ad on-line and asked for applicants to take my immortality. All the person had to do was tell me why they wanted it. Millions of replies flooded my site crashing it for days until it could be fixed. I would never be able to go through them all so I used a random number generator to pick out the person who would get it. Thomas was the one who got it, I called him up told him he had won and that he would be brought to my home as soon as possible.
I explained to Thomas that I was willingly giving up my immortality but he would need kill me to get it, He wasted no time and promptly tried to bash my head in. He missed and hit me on the shoulder instead. Knowing I have to help him I got one of my guns loaded it and asked him to shot me. He missed from three feet away. I was starting to second guess him until he said that he had never killed a person before. Sitting Thomas down I learned that he was 32 and had no good idea what he would do with immortality but seeing as he had won and I am getting fed up we need to get on with this. I have agreed to type this up so that no one can say Thomas killed me without permission he will add onto this what he done to end me.
Hi Thomas here so she's dead. Hold on I better check she is dead... Ye she's dead. So she told me I was to write down in this thing how I did it. I have learned that immortals are hard to kill, when I won I knew I would have to do it and once here I tried to bash her head in with a bit of pipe I brought along but for some reason the pipe moved and hit her shoulder. Then I shot her I know I aimed for her face but the bullet went around her.
I got the impression that Gill did not really want to die or why would it be so hard. I had never killed anyone before but that was not stopping me. We spoke for a bit about her life and she finally said that maybe she was second guessing dying as it seemed so scary. Well if she had to be willing I was going to have to get inventive.
Excusing myself I went out to the car brought in a lot of rope and tied her up, she was a small woman so easy to over power regardless of being immortal or not. Dragging her down to the basement I strung her up I found through trial and error I could not deal a killing blow but I would wound her and started cutting pieces from her or slicing deep into her flesh but they kept healing, she had really no intention of giving up her immortality so I kept hacking days and days passed. I hacked she healed, I hacked she healed until one day I knew she had given up as after I had cut off her hand the bleeding had continued. Seeing my opportunity I drove all twelve inches of my knife into heart giving a savage twist as the hilt hit her chest. I watched as her immortality moved from her into me.
Now I am immortal and now I know how to kill them. I am going to kill every immortal in the world for what they have done, each one of them in some way has been responsible for the atrocities that have befallen our world.
|
[ CW ] At least two characters interact without any dialogue .
| It was a fine Spring day when I first met her.
We crossed paths on a busy street, before a florist. She smiled at my smile; I was caught off guard when it lit up her face. My thoughts were unreadable to even me, until one thought rose over the static.
*All she needs is a flower for her hair*
Without really knowing what I did, my hand moved on its own, to pluck a single lilium head from the florist and place it in her hair. She touched her hair where it was, and smiled ever wider as she looked back to me. One fleeting instant, and before I knew it she was gone in the crowd and so was I.
-
The days passed, and I could not forget her. I thought of her black hair adorned with a flower, and her deep brown eyes that lit up when she smiled.
-
I met her the next week once again, in the same time, at the same place. We shared smiles, and I plucked a rose. She turned her head for me to place it, and as I did she leant into my touch.
I hummed a happy tune all day long, and smiled to myself. This was going to be the start of something beautiful.
|
[ WP ] Make a coherent story out of one of your dreams , preferably a dream that you were convinced was real while dreaming it
| I was led to the entrance of the cave where the young couple lived, carved into a hillside near a river. They were two carefree young people—hippie types, perhaps in their early thirties. They were not much older than me, really!
The entrance passageway was constructed of natural orange-brown rock, sloping steeply downwards and then breaking into into a set of about 5 steps placed at a ridiculous forward angle. The end of the passageway was solid rock and the actual entrance was on the left.
I felt myself stumbling slightly on the lose stones that were strewn across the entrance floor, trying to grab onto something to stop myself from falling. `` Would you like us to extend the ladder?'' She asked cheerfully. `` Ladder? What on earth is there a ladder for?'' I thought. The slope of the passageway was steep, sure, but it was still more horizontal than vertical, and a ladder seemed ridiculous!
I declined the ladder, but by this stage she pressed the button on her remote anyway, and a wooden ladder on a rope pulley slid toward me on my left. As it turned out, it was n't a ladder along the floor of the passageway, but more of a makeshift banister that I could grab on to to steady myself!
Or so it would have been, had I not now reached the top of the treacherous stairs, where annoyingly, the `` ladder ” stopped. I put my arms out like a tight rope walker and carefully traversed the steep angle of the stone steps, egged on by the hippie couple with so many words of encouragement. They were already down you see, in fact they'd been down the entire time! Apparently, getting into this ridiculous place was second nature to them!
By now I was leaning forward and struggling to contain the force of gravity pulling me down. I leaped over the last obstacle and had to slow my running motion from the momentum. The hippie couple clapped and cheered at me in a rather patronizing way – the way you congratulate a child for achieving something for the first time. I was n't impressed.
They led me into their home through the entrance on the left. Inside was a mixture of dated, unassuming pine furniture like a dining table with two chairs, some shelves and then a basic kitchenette with a little breakfast bar carved out of the rock. The kitchenette stopped at a wall on it's far end, but the wall did n't extended to the other side of the cave, rather leading to another passageway which had what I assumed to be the master bedroom at the end of it. The place had no flooring to speak of, just the dusty ground; and the walls and ceiling were just the uneven, bare rock with the occasional picture frame, and number of shelves attached to the rock walls. But what the place lacked in terms of carpets or paint, it made up for in the little trinkets that they had presumably took home from their travels all over the world.
I picked one up off the shelf. It was a blue skull, formed out of some sort of plastic mesh, so it was not completely solid, even a little fragile looking. The mesh design was uneven and created a series of intricate repeating patterns that made it look rather beautiful. “ Do you like it? ” He asked. “ We got it on our trip to Mexico! They were celebrating a local custom called the day of the dead, where they honor their close friends and relatives who have died! They were selling these at the market! ” “ Y-yeah, it's very cool! ” I said shyly. “ Tea? ” she asked. “ Oh.. erm.. Yes please! ” They both did n't say anything more to me while I explored the room. Despite all this ruggednes, I was starting to feel a cozy sense of home in this place!
Now, I should point out that I do n't actually know these people. I've never met them before today, and I do n't even recall how I became acquainted with them, or why I was invited to their place. The whole thing seemed a little surreal and the thought that it might be a dream had just occured to me! But dreams are illogical, they do n't follow a coherent story; they tend to change and morph and jump around. This whole sequence of events, was strange indeed, but it was still a logical, linear story. Besides, you can control what people say in your dreams, and I could n't control what they said to me or to each other. Every now and then they would talk to each other in another language, and I could n't influence when they spoke or what they said, with my mind. I could n't influence anything that happened at all, and that's why I concluded that it could n't possibly be a dream. ( Either that, or I'm just a really crappy lucid dreamer! )
I turned away from the shelves and found what should have been the elephant in the room all this time. In the middle of the room, taking center stage even over the dining room table, was an old Victorian style, child's bed. It was steel framed, with the freshly made with the duvet covered in intricate patterns of flowers and fairies and other girly things! I had noticed it before, but now it had my undivided attention! Why was there a bed in the middle of the room? And where was the child? “ Who's bed is this? ” I asked. The young woman turned from the kettle and walked over. “ Oh, that's the bed of our late daughter... ” “ Oh my God I'm so sorry! ” I interjected. “ That must be terrible! ” “ We keep it here in her memory. ” She smiled and turned to carry on with the tea. Now, I know it's rude to ask, but my curiosity got the better of me, “ D-do mind if I ask how it happened? ” I said nervously. “ Of course not, dear! ” The couple were both standing together now, their faces had changed from happy and bubbly expressions of youthful naivety to of deep pain and grief, perhapes with a tint of regret. They both bowed their heads slightly; “ Well to be honest, the whole thing was sort of our fault... ”
|
[ WP ] As you puff out your last cigarette , your best friend , who is standing beside you admitted that he was diagnosed of lung cancer .
| I flicked the cigarette and watched the delicate embers swirl and fall to the ground. I released a plume of smoke, manifesting my silent, unconscious breaths. I brought my head up to her. She stared off into the distance.
`` It's funny how things turn out is n't it? Remember that night you gave me my first fag?''
`` Yeah... sorry about that''
`` No no do n't be,'' she said, smirking a little. `` I coughed like a little girl remember?''
`` Yeah...'' I took a deep drag.
`` Do you ever think about whether it was worth it? Just to end up here...'' My speech trailed off as my cigarette dropped to the ground.
`` Was it worth the lifetime addiction? I suppose not... but you were.''
Her words hung in the air almost infinitely.
Then a brutal cough sliced through the silence as she brought a bloodied handkerchief to her mouth.
|
[ WP ] Aliens land on earth , but they do so in levitating castles and wizards towers . It turns out that most galactic civilizations rely on magic instead of technology .
| `` You mean you do n't use magic?'' The voice in my head asked quizzically. It was a telepathic contact with the alien.
I tried to reply telepathically too, in hopes that he could hear it, `` Magic? Magic is n't real!'' When there was no response, I said it out loud, knowing that this first broadcasted contact with an extraterrestrial would look like a complete nutjob.
`` Yes, magic. We've practiced magic for many years, and finally were we able to travel great distances to find you. Did n't you guys do the same?'' The voice continued. I had been briefed by my public relations representative, but no preparation could prepare me for this.
`` But- but magic is all just trickery and illusions!'' I could only imagine the audience in front of the television shaking their heads, looking dismayed that their President was talking to himself.
`` Ah, now you're wrong here, beetle. Real magic and illusory magic are different things.'' He stated in a condescending, how-can-you-not-know-this tone.
`` We never had access to real magic!'' I was desperate and exasperated. I did n't want Earth to look like it was inhabited by idiots.
`` We have sent you messages twice. Twice! We taught you how to use magic! Are your whatchamacallit- GPSes using magic?''
`` What messages?'' I softened my tone, realising that I could not appear hostile.
`` That beetle with the long white beard... Marvin or something.''
`` Melvin? But he's just a fictional character!''
`` No, he's real. Very real. We taught him magic to help you develop space travel for trade.''
`` Well... Well we had no idea!''
`` That's what we feared. That's why we sent you another message.''
`` What message?''
`` Quantum physics, of course. It's basically magic.''
|
[ WP ] McDonald 's is about to close the last of its restaurants . What has happened in society that has led to this ?
| Michael sat down on the toilet in the small bathroom in the backroom of the McDonalds restaurant he owned, or soon to be used to own, he thought bitterly. His store would be closing tomorrow, the last one in the world.
It was n't really his fault though, corporate had stupidly followed the Blockbuster plan and had not changed to meet the new market as people started wanting healthier foods at a more reasonable price. That might not have done them in had it not been for an extremely virulent version of mad cow disease wiping out over three quarters of the cow population in a single year, the rest were sure to be gone soon.
They tried to switch to a larger chicken menu but contracts owned by KFC and grocery chains took almost all of the chicken already. Fish was out of the question as well, the government had placed severe restrictions of fishing twenty years before to let the overfished oceans have a chance to regrow.
Sure, all restaurants had suffered and started to fail, but many had hung on by ruthlessly taking over competitors to acquire their cattle farms and purchase contracts. McDonalds alone had absorbed Wendy's, Burger King, Applebee's, and dozens of other large and regional chains but it looked like it just was n't enough. There just was n't enough beef left to sustain them all.
The final nail in his coffin had come less than two months before. One of the last big beef based chains announced it had launched a surprise takeover of KFC and was now using ground chicken in their recipes. Michael had to admit, with their secret seasonings blend you could n't even tell the difference between beef and chicken.
It looked like there was only one restaurant on the block now, Michael thought, as he realized how long he had been sitting on the toilet musing. Oh well. He reached over to a small ledge and pressed each of the three seashells sitting on it in turn before standing up and muttering to himself, `` I wonder if Taco Bell is hiring?''
|
[ CW ] You have 100 words to describe why the classroom you ’ re sitting in has mint green painted walls .
| # # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
Mine was a conscious choice to paint this classroom a pale hue of green. It was, after all, a place of learning and the board had granted me this concession. My intent was to calm the students. They had left for the day, still stressed over the rigors of education.
I set the cold screwdriver down on my desk before easing into my chair. It had a bite to it as it slid down my throat. Looking up at the walls, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes attempting to relax. Tomorrow would be a far worse day.
|
[ OT ] A request to all prompt submitters .
| It would be nice. I tend to browse by new because there are a lot of interesting prompts that slip through the cracks. And yes, a lot of the same `` genre'' of prompts are consistently more active and upvoted to the front page ( to the point where we're getting more and more passive aggressive prompts telling us about it ). Only issue with adding to those prompts is even with my measly comment and upvote the prompt is buried within the hour... never to be seen again.
On a side note, since we're addressing prompt creators. I think we should encourage more one sentence or less prompts. The more detailed the prompt, the less wiggle room writers have to make their own twist on it. Next time you're typing out a prompt and you find yourself adding more and more details to it... maybe just backspace it back to that initial first idea, and let other people add the little twists and details.
|
[ WP ] Show Do n't Tell
| Two people, standing in the doorway. One has puffy, reddened cheeks, tiny droplets in the corner of their eyes, brows snarled into a a terrifying mask of anger, hurt and hate. The other one's shoulders are slumped together, pale fingers pleading for forgiveness, mercy, anything at all.
Words and shouts fly, crash against the pleading one like a tidal wave, flushing into his mind, pummeling his senses, channeling his guilt, seeping through the door cracks of the other appartments into the ears of unwilling neighbours.
And with a great crash, it's over. The venom is spat, the thunder resounding in the hall equally strong as in his mind. Behind the portal, she's sagging to the ground, covering her mouth, her nose, her eyes, her face, *everything* from everyone who is n't there. Anger turns into pain.
|
[ WP ] The two shared an oddly bittersweet moment as they stopped to watch a beautiful sunset ... at noon .
| *Polar Research Station B7R*
*Conarky*
*Duchy of Tamarind-Abbey, Free Worlds League*
-- -
Captain Nathaniel Deshler grinned behind the heavy scarf wrapped tight round his face. A set of goggles hid his eyes from the harsh polar glare while the heavy thermal suit kept the worst of the howling winds at bay. Lieutenant Katya Ryzhkina stood besides him, equally wrapped beneath thick layers of wool and thermals. A wisp of blonde hair had escaped her suit's hood and billowed about, tendrils of ice forming on the strands.
`` Sorry to leave this ice cube?'' Deshler asked over his suit's comm-unit.
*'' No, not really,'' * answered Ryzhkina. *'' My ancestors came from Siberia, or so I'm told. They were Cossacks. `` *
Deshler nodded, aware that the gesture was lost in the suit's fur lined hood. This world was a far cry from his childhood home of Ryerson with its expansive forests and numerous rivers. Its polar regions were paltry, temperate things compared to Conarky's, and although the taiga to the south made a welcome change of pace it was a poor substitute for Ryerson's mixed forests.
Without speaking, they both turned and started back towards the waiting dropship, its cargo already loaded and ready to go. The life of a mercenary was one of impermanence, cast adrift by fate and chance to follow the drum. They'd seen scores of worlds, each more different than the last. Who knew if they'd ever return to this one?
|
[ WP ] He kept flirting with her outside the bank , not knowing there was a semi-automatic rifle underneath her jacket .
| The young woman stood by the wall smoking a cigarette.
`` Hey sweetie, how about you help with a light?'' asked the young man, walking over to her.
`` Fuck off.'' Came a stern reply wrapped in a Irish accent.
`` Come on Darlin', It's just a cigarette. It ai n't anything more.'' The man tried to reason with the stern woman, as he held his cigarette out.
`` Fine, but then you leave.'' she said, lighting his cigarette.
`` Ca n't. This is the only cigarette area around the bank, and you're here you know.'' Said the man with a wink, acting all suave.
`` Suave. You win that from a cereal box?'' The woman shutting the man down.
`` Geez, hard to get huh? What's with the coat?'' The man inquired, puzzled.
`` I have a assault rifle in my pocket.'' The woman replied sternly.
`` Sure, SWAT teams have this place locked down like a safe.'' The man replied, brushing it off as a joke
The woman looked at her feet, soon touching her ear and nodding.
`` Are you on the phone? Busy?'' asked the man concerned.
With a sharp right hook, the woman punched the man to the floor. As he looked up, he noticed the woman was carrying a assault rifle... wearing a mask... and full assault armour.
`` Shit, not the clowns...'' the man moaned, as he was soon cable tied, as the woman ran inside, a matching clover on her mask and gun.
( Hope you get my reference! )
|
[ WP ] It was 7am for the Third Time Today
| A young couple were sat by the riverbank idly discussing their lives and watching the ducks swim by; soft, indiscernible music playing as if from nowhere surrounded them, lights shone in the sky dancing along to the beat as they looked on in awe. A booming voice called for drums as ripples suddenly began to appear on the river and the earth moved beneath them, a bright light appeared between them and pulled them apart.
With Will Smith blasting out of his phone Charles quickly hit the snooze button and closed his eyes hoping to re enter his dream where it left off; 7am was his favourite part of the day, the feeling that he could go back to sleep and push back the dread of going to work for another ten minutes could not be beaten.
Walking through dark alleyways he kept one hand inside his jacket pocket, constantly looking around surveying the area; a smashed window with a scrap of fabric on it caught his attention. Drawing a gun out in front of him he moved towards the damage and snatched the fabric it's distinctive pattern unmistakable. He knew that Sarah's kidnapper must be nearby, looking into the room his vision blurred and he heard a voice from the shadows `` I've been watching.. I've been waiting'' as a figure stepped forwards and burst into light.
This time it was The Rasmus that tried to bring him to life, dismissing the alarm and tucking his head underneath the pillow so he could quickly get his final respite before the last alarm insisted he rise from his slumber.
Running across the busy road a gun in one hand and a scrap of fabric in the other, with his eyes focused on LC he did n't see the cyclist coming towards him, they collided and became entangled with each other giving his target the time he needed to descend the embankment, dragging the girl with him towards the waiting boat. Forcing himself back to his feet Charles ran to the edge and flung himself off landing under the bridge in another flash of light.
The Chilli Peppers eased him back into his bed as he looked at his phone. Knowing it was time to get up he looked at the time only to see that it was still 7am confused he put his head back down and drifted off again.
|
[ TT ] People only have a finite amount of love they can give , so loving something new can reduce how much you love something else .
| `` We only have so much love and it deserves better.'' His words were cautious; each syllable hung in the air waiting for reply.
`` It.'' Her voice sharp. `` It. Is that all she is? You have so little love that you ca n't see her for what she is!''
His face reddened as he glared at his wife. `` That is unfair and you know it.''
She paused her worried steps and met his gaze. `` Unfair! You speak about unfair. What about her? Is it unfair that she will be born to a world without love!''
A delicate hand went instinctively to her stomach; a sheltered embrace for a life yet lived. Yet loved.
Eyes locked and souls searched for answers. What place has a child in a world with no love to give?
His voice broke; he could not find an answer in his heart. `` I want to love her, but there is not enough love within me.'' His eyes welled with tears; they reddened as he sobbed. `` What would you have me do?''
She stepped close to the crying man. Her fingers felt the wetness of his tears as she held her husband's face close to hers.
`` We make the sacrifice a parent must make... We love ourselves a little less.''
|
[ WP ] All humans go automatically to hell when they die . You can gain access to a heaven though , but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you .
| He stood at the gates for hours. Trying to hear a word, a whisper, anything to give him some hope of his future. The jury was still out; 3 dogs, 3 cats, 12 chickens, 8 ducks, a couple of randomly selected horses, and a very large barred owl. The horses were annoyed that they were even called in. The subject in question did n't stand out to them and they had very little to lose or gain regarding its future. They simply needed to wait to see the momentum of the jury so they could quickly weigh in and put an end to the litigation. The dogs were all in agreement. Especially the 160 pound black pit bull. He had most recently spent his last dying breaths in the subjects front seat as he was being driven to a vet following a motor vehicle collision, tires never tasted the same to him again, but he remembers the dedication the subject showed in getting him to that vet. He claimed that if the subject did n't deserve heaven then no one did. The cats lazily agreed but could n't really say they even knew the subject much at all, even though one of the dogs mentioned they had been living with him literally their whole lives. The chickens and ducks however were throwing a wrench into the whole discussion. They were adamantly opposed to allowing such a species into heaven, and although they did n't have a very articulate argument, there were an awful lot of them and they were very noisy. Thankfully a wise old owl got to the root of their concerns. From the birds perspective they lost a lot of kin during their time of residence with the subject and it stood to reason that if he was allowed into heaven well they may lose many more. The owl was sharp and picked up on a pattern much quicker then the poultry. He realized that when the subject was around his chicken friends and his duck friends were much fatter, and much slower, and all around pretty much lulled into a sense of complacency. This worked very well for the owl seeing as how he liked very much the taste of fat, slow, complacent birds. He promptly convinced the jury to allow the subject into heaven and they all lived happily ever after. But no one was happier then the fat old owl.
|
[ WP ] Following the nuclear war between USSR and USA each nation has left earth and colonised a different planet without the influence of the other nation . 1000 Years later they re-establish contact with each other .
| `` Greetings Comrades
We would like to discuss terms of our relationship, if you are interested please click the link below.''
The interplanetary mail system ( IMS ) chirped. Jerry Lee stopped sipping his morning coffee immediately. He rubbed his eyeballs a few times. He walked away, came back but the screen was still as he originally read it. The location the message had originated from was sector 1765 or what captains of the fleet liked to call red territory. There are rumors and tales told by cultists groups about how the forefathers of UPF ( United Planet of Freedom ) warned them of the Red territory. Something about Communist bastards can always be heard around those circles. Jerry ran and got Lewis, his supervisor. Lewis also had a hard time believing what he saw.
Working at the IMS was an easy job as Jerry's career advisor put it. You just receive messages and relay them to their owners. Most of the messages Jerry received were from Clooney IV one of UPF's many moons. But this was different. It was forbidden by the galactic Congress to enter communications with any systems not fully pledged to democracy. If the rumors about the red territory are true then there is a certainty that relaying that message would be a all expenses paid trip to Maximum Security Prison. Jerry looked at the recipient who was supposed to receive this message and it read Vladimir Milkev.
Jerry and Lewis looked at each other and knew what they were about to do. He hovered the selector over the link and selected it. A picture of a very promiscuous female appeared on the screen. `` Get your Martian lover today!'' It read in big red letters.
`` Fucking Spam'' Lewis said as he deleted the message.
|
[ WP ] Every morning you wake up and a small device sits on your nightstand with a green light . Today , that light is red .
| Green. The light was always green. So I blinked at it in disbelief and waited for my brain to decode what it was seeing. It would be green in just a moment, when the sleep fog had stopped muddling me. Green, as ever.
Red.
Red.
Red.
Maybe a second passed; maybe as many as three. Too many. In my mind I rolled out of bed swiftly, dressed, and flew out of the door. The reality was slower, clumsier, frustrating to the point of near-insanity. How could this be the first warning any of us had? After all the drills, all the reports. A red light on a device they had issued us as an afterthought. Before I actually managed to reach the door, Gill tumbled through it.
`` Yours?'' his voice was pitched higher than normal, his clothes as dishevelled as my own undoubtedly were. I did n't have to answer him, one look onto the sparse nightstand told him everything he needed to know. We left my room and headed down the stairwell, both of us avoiding the elevator without discussing it. The sound of our feet on the stairs, hurrying, was a sound that might trigger a panic in either of us, and we slowed a bit with the same unspoken understanding. We were fucked anyway.
Red.
All the lights were red in the hallway consoles, on the lab door keypads, on the displays in the smaller control rooms. Neither of us had clearance for the Safe area, and a small group of early risers were already standing together in a huddle in the nearby break-room. One woman was speaking, her tone more wheedling than authoritative.
`` It ca n't have regenerated. It's impossible, they all say so. No one's even tried in fifteen years. It's *dormant*.'' The stress she placed on the word only served to remind me that dormant was living state, and an unpredictable one at that. Gill and I exchanged a bleak glance, and backed out of the room before we could be pulled into a discussion about the probability of disaster.
`` THIS IS NOT A DRILL. RED LIGHT. REPEAT RED LIGHT.'' The voice, building-wide and automated, doomed us all, indifferently. Doors that had been held open by the concerned staffers, now asserted their mechanical dominance and closed off sections of the floor. Gill and I were still outside the Safe area, with the group that included the woman who thought dormancy was synonymous with safety. There were about ten of us all together.
My phone went off. I had n't even realised I was holding it. I looked down and the display was red. *your point has been made* I thought *is this necessary? * I answered, knowing it could only be one of three people under the current circumstances. It was my second guess, Dr. Lewis.
`` Caleb is dead. He was in the Safe room itself. I've assumed command of the lab, but we're cut off. Can you get downstairs?'' His voice was curt, to the point. No discussion of what had happened. Only one thing provoked the Red Light protocol.
`` I'm outside the area; the building locked down just a few seconds ago. I've got Gill with me, and he gets us access down to the twentieth floor, but we'll have to find someone with lower clearance if we want to get down. Do we? Are we there?''
`` We are. Find Dr. Samuels, she was working in one of the lower labs, she can get you down to second. You might have to… you're going to have to improvise from there. Once you get to the basement, you know what to do?''
I did. I was n't one of the trained security officers, but we *all* went through this drill once a year. There were lots of whistling-past-the-graveyard jokes during, and lots of drinking afterwards. No one took it seriously, but everyone paid *very* close attention.
`` Doctor…'' I did n't know what I was going to say next, and it surprised me because I've never liked Dr. Lewis much. Arrogant. You know the type. `` Are you… are you safe?''
`` No.'' His voice did n't waver. `` Get moving. You have a head start, but not as long as we estimated.''
`` Understood.'' I hung up, gave Gill the nod, and started working our way back through the doors to the stairwell. Some of our co-workers asked questions, in vague tones that suggested they did n't want answers; most simply took advantage of our passage to move themselves through to the break room. The stairwell only went down three more floors, to the analysis team labs, and that was easy as this journey would get.
We were 52 floors up, and the launch controls were located under the building. When we got there, we would begin the sequence that would propel the inner core of the building, including the Safe area, out of Earth's atmosphere. Once past the moon, the Safe area would separate, and the thing that had been dormant for twenty five years would finally be dead. The human population of Research Station Red Light would die in the launch process. All three thousand, one hundred and eighty six of us.
Gill and I reached the concrete stairs, a self-contained access for five floors that included our sleeping quarters. Two floors up, in the uncluttered dorm unit I had called mine for eighteen months, a small plastic device with a cheap LED display, linked to the most sophisticated warning system in the world, glowed red for the first time in twenty five years, mutely testifying to the awakening of the creature we had contained in an area designated'Safe' only because it slowed its progress.
|
[ CW ] Write a suicide note without the letter 'e '
| I'm so sorry. So, so, sorry. I just ca n't go on this way. I'm a hollow husk of who I was, a man that was lost long ago. And as I sit writing this, I know that you'll ask why. Why would I do it? I had all a man could ask for. A loving family, a job with good pay, any luxury I could want, so why?
A month. That's how long ago I lost it. I did what I could to try writing it, saying it, indicating what it was. But I could n't. I ca n't. It's frustrating, tantalizing, infuriating, knowing that it will always float about my mind, an inquiry with no solution. And so, of my own choosing, I will put a stop to it. A stop to it all. I'm so sorry.
|
[ WP ] You pick up a hitchhiker late at night .
| „Thanks for stopping, ” said the woman as she crawled inside the back of the car. “ Sorry about the mess. ”
“ No worries, ” said the driver calmly and pulled the car back on the road.
The woman was quite young looking but something about her felt odd. Maybe it was her clothing. It looked like it had gone out of fashion years ago. Water was dropping from her long dark hair that hung in her face.
The weather got worse every minute. Heavy rain drummed against the car and turned the road into shallow lakes.
“ Where do you want me to take you? ” the driver asked her without taking his eyes from the road.
The woman sighed. “ Just a bit along the road. ”
“ You ’ re sure? I ’ ll bring you everywhere you want, lady. ”
She smiled weakly. “ That won ’ t be necessary. Just a bit, then I will get off again. ”
“ There ’ s nothing here, ” the driver said, “ Just rain and misery for miles. ”
“ I don ’ t mind the rain, ” said the woman and pushed her wet hair out of her face. She was quite pretty but had a sorrowful look on her. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“ Are you cold? ”
“ I am always cold, ” said the woman.
“ My coat is on the back. Just take it. ”
The woman looked around and found a long black coat neatly folded beside her.
“ I don ’ t want to drench it. ”
“ No worries, ” said the driver, “ I hardly wear it anymore anyway. ”
The woman took the coat and wrapped herself into the black cloth. It felt heavy and comforting on her skin. The hood was way too big for her head, so she left it off.
“ It ’ s very nice, thank you, ” said the woman and snuggled into the black robe. “ A lot of people would not have stopped and picked me up. ”
“ Really? Well, I my responsibly, isn ’ t it? I can ’ t leave you out there in the rain, you know? ”
“ Still, it ’ s very nice of you, ” said the woman faintly.
She looked from between the front seats at back of his head. “ You are from around here, aren ’ t you? ”
“ I am from around a lot of places, ” the driver said.
She tried to get a look of him but it seemed his face always seemed to be surrounded by a shadow.
“ You look… familiar, ” she said uneasily.
“ Oh, we met years ago. ”
“ We did? ”
“ Oh yes. You don ’ t remember? ”
The woman slowly shook her head. It was as if she thought about something for the first time in years. “ I… should remember, shouldn ’ t I? ”
“ No worries, ” answered the driver. “ It was years ago, the same road, the same rainy night. I offered you a lift. ”
“ Oh? ”
“ But you wanted off. You said you had things to do. Unfinished business. ” He shrugged.
“ I did? ”
“ Well, in the end it always was your decision, ” said the driver, “ I can only take you so far. Ant there we are again. ”
Before she could answer he switched the turn signal on and carefully stopped the car on the side of the road. He left his hands on the steering wheel looking straight ahead. The woman looked out of the window. Beside the road between the trees she could see an old graveyard. The town it belonged to has been abandoned a long time ago. The only sounds were the rain splashing against the car and the ticking of the turn signal.
After what almost seemed like an eternity, the woman freed an arm from under the coat and grasped for the door handle.
“ This is where I get out, ” she whispered and opened the door.
“ I know, ” said the driver, “ Like every year before. But you don ’ t have to. ”
“ Why not? ”
“ Maybe it ’ s time to move on? ”
“ Why? ”
“ Why not? What business do you still have here? ”
“ I… ” The woman still clutched the handle of the half opened door. Cold and humid air flowed into the car from the outside. “ I don ’ t remember anymore. ”
“ Maybe it wasn ’ t that important after all? ” the driver suggested.
Slowly driver turned around. His bony face with its stoic grin looked familiar to her, like an old friend that was always with you without you really noticing.
“ Maybe it ’ s time to move on and leave this world behind? ” he said, “ I will bring you wherever you want. ”
“ I don ’ t remember anymore, ” she whispered. A myriad of emotions swapped over the her face. It was as if she expected a great load weighting on her only to suddenly realise it has been gone a long time ago. She looked outside in the rain. Somewhere there was her grave.
“ Was it important? ” she asked herself and shook her head. “ It was at the time. ” She looked at the skull of her driver and said. “ But not anymore. ”
She slowly closed the door and wiped her wet arm into the black cloak.
“ Oh, sorry about that ”, she said with a worried look at the wet spot in the fabric. It disappeared almost instantly.
“ No worries, ” said the driver. “ It ’ s been through much worse. ”
The woman nodded. With a breath of relieve she straightened herself up on the back seat of the car. Suddenly she felt so very tired. She wrapped herself into the black cloak and leaned her head against the window.
“ I am ready, ” she said and yawned, “ Whatever it was, it doesn ’ t matter anymore to me. ”
The driver nodded. He turned the turn signal off and drove the car back on the road.
Soon the tail lights disappeared in the stormy night, leaving behind the graveyard, the trees, the road and finally the world as a whole.
“ I am sorry it took me so long, ” said the woman as she slowly vanished.
“ No worries, ” said the driver, “ I was always here for you. ”
|
[ WP ] Teleportation has recently been invented , but it destroys the original and creates a copy . What 's happening in the afterlife ?
| `` You're going to make it, honey.'' I can barely hear her voice. She's been saying the same thing for fifteen minutes anyway, holding my hand. It's all starting to fade. Her voice, her hand on mine, her face framed by the flashing lights of oncoming emergency vehicles... all receding into a dark blur.
A car crash, of all things. I spend all day sending people across the damn Atlantic in a picosecond and I get taken out by a Volvo? That's irony for you. Or not, I do n't even know anymore. I'm sure the papers will have fun with it. Teleporter operator killed by obsolete transportation.
Shit, I guess I'm the first one to die. At least the teleporters did n't get me. That's not a bad last thought, bleeding out with a chunk of dashboard in my lung. At least they ca n't blame the technology.
`` You're going to make it, honey,'' she says one more time. I can barely hear it, and I know it's a lie.
I do n't know what I expected as at all went black. But it certainly was n't what I saw. My hand to God, there were the pearly gates. Pure white expanse, ornate golden fence, the works. I felt like the universe was playing a joke on me.
Around the gates, a ring of enormous winged men in bronze armor were staring down a massive crowd of... commuters? There were n't nearly as many angels as humans, but flaming swords do a lot to discourage adventurous ideas. A smaller angel with a clipboard was shouting out to the crowd.
`` Anika Pari! David Hawkins! Bai Song!'' People were cautiously slipping through the crowd toward the gates. Each time, the angel with the clipboard nodded and the warriors let the named human pass through. But the crowd was getting more restless.
`` We're not just going to stand out here forever!'' yelled a clean-cut executive type. He looked a bit unhinged between his expensive suit in disorder, days of stubble, and a wide-eyed expression. He gestured angrily at the gatekeeper but shrunk back when a few warrior angels glared at him.
`` Your position is already occupied,'' said the gatekeeper in a weary tone. I got the feeling he had been through this a few times already. `` Management is working on the problem, but for the time being you'll just have to wait. Anaya Patil! Nabil Hajar!''
`` That's not going to cut it,'' said another man close to the first. I had a momentary sarcastic thought about how similar business types looked before realizing they were the same person. Now that I was looking, the crowd had quite a few sets of duplicates. They mostly looked well-to-do, wearing expensive business clothing. One strangely familiar woman stood out with fifteen or twenty copies wearing a variety of severely-cut suits.
Then I recognized her as a frequent teleport traveler and I suddenly realized what was going on. That happened right about when the gatekeeper, studiously ignoring the troublemakers in the crowd, called out, `` Christopher Miller!''. He froze for a moment and then scanned the surrounding mob. All of the warriors were looking around curiously as well.
For a moment I had a flickering hope that I was about to be on the other side of the gates with Anaya and Habil. I could still see them, emptying their pockets and bags for another group of warriors. Never thought I would be longing to tangle with the celestial TSA. Then the gatekeeper spotted me and his eyes narrowed.
He picked a few warriors out of the ring of guards and pointed toward me. `` Bring him here.'' I started backing up as they advanced. `` Do you have any idea what you've done?'' the gatekeeper asked. `` Any idea what a mess this has been? Dumping duplicates on our doorstep day after day, without anywhere to put them?''
`` We did n't know,'' I said. What else was there to say? `` We had no idea.''
`` These are good people!'' the gatekeeper shouted. He was really getting into it, now that he had a target for his frustrations. `` They belong here! Do you know what it's been like, shoving them away from paradise because they're already inside?''
It was the woman who suddenly got it. One of her, anyway. I saw the realization dawn on her face just before she pointed and yelled, `` You killed me! You bastard, you killed me eighteen times!'' Suddenly the mob was more interested in me than the ring of feathered soldiers. They flowed around the angels advancing on me, all determined to reach me first.
`` We'll get this sorted out,'' the gatekeeper said. `` We sorted out Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We sorted out Auschwitz. We sorted out Mao. It may take years, but we'll sort this out. And I'll tell you one thing for sure. You're damned. You, and everyone else who had any part in this, lost any place past these gates you ever had.''
I ran. I'm not ashamed to say it. I ran, and ran, and ran. I ran until I could n't run anymore. It seemed unfair, that I would get tired here. That I still had the limitations of stamina even after I had died. But I did, and the mob was close behind.
Then, just as they closed, I heard a faint beeping. It slowly faded in, and the mob grew faint, and the expanse around me grew dark. The last thing I remember seeing, before it all slipped away like a bad dream, was that woman slashing at me with her car keys. They bit into my hand as I raised it to protect my eyes. And then came an explosion of pain from my chest, so powerful I imagined that I had been shot.
My eyes fluttered open to see the inside of an ambulance. There was an IV taped onto my hand. My chest was bound up tightly, bandaged around the massive shard of plastic and aluminum embedded in it. That was the pain, I realized. I could see Julie looking down at me along with a woman in the uniform of an EMT. Julie was crying, absently holding a bandaged shoulder. The EMT looked intensely focused, but I saw her relax just a bit when she glanced at a monitor next to me. `` He's coming around,'' she said.
It took everything I had to look over at my hand, to look at a wound that was fresher than the others - a ragged cut just beginning to bleed out onto the flesh around it. The car keys that gave me that wound stuck in my mind for some reason, blending with other snapshots of the bizarre scene I was still trying to process. Car keys. The security checkpoint, just inside the gates. Flaming swords. And bronze armor.
And then it clicked, and I chuckled despite the pain. I knew what I had to do. If I made it through this, I knew what I had to do.
It took months. First convalescence, and then research, and then worming my way into every favor and secret I could find in the secretive ranks of the Quantum Tunneling Transit Administration. But finally, I stood on the room-sized pad of the teleporter I operated day in and day out. Julie was at the controls, running down the checklist I had written on a notepad and walked her through over and over until I was confident she had it down.
I nervously gripped the assault rifle in my hands. Sweat trickled down my back under the body armor I had stolen from the guard station. Then the smell of ozone filled the air, the beginning of a flash... And suddenly I was in Paris, standing in a roomful of myself. Five hundred copies of me, crammed into the pad chamber, each armed and armored.
Because that was the secret. The secret that could collapse the world economy as we knew it. The secret they thought was the important one. If we were just duplicating people, there was no reason to stop with one.
But I knew a more important secret than that, and I was just getting started. One of me opened the operator booth of the Paris chamber and started preparing it to transmit. I had all night to work before the security window closed and I had to be gone.
So for those long hours, five hundred Christopher Millers died every two seconds. By the time the last batch was annihilated, leaving only a single new copy in the New York chamber with Julie, the eastern sky was beginning to glow outside. As we slipped out of the facility, I felt a glimmer of hope for the first time since I died.
Because next time, when I die for good, I expect to be shaking my own hand at the gates.
|
[ WP ] You are one of five mirrors in the women 's bathroom in a nightclub . When you are alone , you talk about the people you have seen . Describe to others one or more encounters you have witnessed last night .
| The others hate it here, but I actually don ’ t mind. I ’ m glad we were put in the woman ’ s bathroom though; the stalls have doors, although they don ’ t always get used. During those times, I sometimes just switch off. I don ’ t think they notice. Sometimes I wish I could switch off more often, but then people would freak out. Still the shit I ’ ve seen…
I think the users are the worst. Watching them stab themselves trying to find a spot. Sometimes I wonder how much they really need the hit. Most of the time I wish I could help. I ’ m pretty sure a lot of them want help; they usually leave the door open, but then close them when someone walks in. Sometimes I wish I could just morph the helpline number onto the surface, but that breaks the rules. I do try to help where I can, and where the rules are fuzzy. The ones that throw up, I always make them look skinnier than they actually are, even though most of the time that means basically taking away all muscle, but they seem somewhat pleased with that image. I don ’ t understand why. I try and make the wasted ones look as dishevelled as possible, hoping that they ’ d call it a night. But they preen and preen themselves until they become somewhat respectable. It ’ s all in their mind though because I haven ’ t changed.
There was one time when this guy and girl burst through the door, making out and trying to fit into a stall. They were fumbling around, but I think the girl changed her mind at the last minute and wanted out. The guy didn ’ t have the same sentiments and kept going. That was distressing to watch. The pleading, the shouting, the crying. I just sat there reflecting. In the end, I broke the rules and morphed into a large shadow ( it ’ s hard to get details when you ’ re making it up ). The guy had his back to me, but the girl managed to see something and screamed. It was enough for the guy to stop. I think he sobered up a bit because he stumbled off in a hurry. The girl was still crying but I hope it was for a different reason.
So yeah, I don ’ t mind being here. You see some pretty one, some broken ones, some ugly ones. But the lighting here is pretty terrible, which helps make the rules fuzzy.
-072
|
[ WP ] While randomly copypasting stuff from the internet to finish your essay , you have accidentally written the Necronomicon .
| I looked back from my paper to the screen and switched back to the document program. No, not the cat one. Not the other cat one, either. Awh, he's inside a little box. Wait, no. I really should close some of these tabs, I thought as I did n't close a single one. I returned to my somewhat-finished essay. Words stretched out as far as the mind could imagine, sometimes approaching a meaningful swell, a firelight, a brilliant flash until consumed, until it fell back into that whence it came. The vast body of work held within the uncaring, cold void of its margins stared back with the knowledge of the abyss, no, worse, the abyss itself within. Now, I thought, that's a fine topic sentence. `` In the beginning, the Old Ones did n't care, and, guess what, they still do n't care.'' It had a nice ring to it.
It had n't stopped being 4:00 in the morning since I last looked at the clock. My vain, fragile mind, slave to its will, desperately trying to outrun eventuality itself, a trapped, puny, wide-eyed, foaming, slobbering animal, cornered by not its hunter but its existence, its futility, in terror of totality.
Gosh darn it, I thought. To heck, I thought as an afterthought. I need to finish my essay.
I opened up the third tab from the left. Not Pornhub. The other site, the dark site I found with the real life photograph of the naked woman being sacrificed in a poorly drawn pentagram while robed figures stood around confused around an apologetic looking figure with a piece of chalk in his hands. Prophetic, epileptic text in impact font flashed from the site over a scrolling image of space, saying, `` THE TRUTH OF THE COSMOS! CTHULU IS FOR REAL!''
`` Well,'' I said, unzipping, `` it does n't do it for everyone, but it does do it for me.''
A tab on the side, however, caught my eye. THE NECRONOMICON, it read, and a chill went down my spine that was quickly negated by turning down the conditioning and shifting my blanket over my back. I clicked to open it. It said that, apparently, the real text was too dangerous to put on the web, so it had some parts omitted. I downloaded the document, a file size of around 6.66 GB, which turned out to just be porn I was torrenting. I sheepishly stopped that and downloaded a file of a couple hundred megabytes. This is gon na be perfect, I thought, just gon na blow Mrs. Deepone fishy lips out the other side of her abnormally misshapen skull. I'm so glad I took the accessible Tomes Most Evile course that was taught concurrent with Home Ec. Free P A and chocolate chip cookies at the end, to boot. How wrong I was. How foolish I was.
We made the cookies with wheat, they tasted like garbage. I was half sure that those cookies caused the deformation of Ms. Deepone. The other theory was that her mom fucked a fish.
I copied and pasted the contents onto my essay under my topic sentence. Suddenly, the computer sparked! I fell off my chair with a dull thud. The computer hissed and buzzed with frenetic energy until the outburst had died down. I staggered back up to my chair with my blanket and wrapped it around my head. What I saw was unspeakable, to say the least, so I'll write about it instead.
The words of my essay had gained a life of their own. Flowing, pulsating, maddening words forming a grotesque face, an abomination. It opened its mouth as if to speak, or perhaps, to swallow. Or maybe yawn. You can never tell with these unknowable abomanoids.
`` I... AM...... S'GUALRATSHOO.'' it hissed.
`` Bless you.''
`` THANKS. I'M S'GTHUARAL. I AM THE EMBODIMENT OF THE NECRONOMICON YOU HAVE FREED ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF BEING LEATHER BOUND. NOW,'' he paused, `` I CONTROL YOUR INTERNET.''
`` Nice to meet you. You're standing on my essay.''
`` NO MATTER. WORSHIP ME AND DIE LATER THAN THE OTHER WORMS, PITILESS WORM.''
`` Oh.'' I said. `` Can I get back to my essay though? It's 4:05 in the morning and it's due today.''
`` YOU INSIGNIFICANT EXISTENCE, YOU PITILESS WORM, YOU... UH, BIT PLAYER OF THE COSMOS.''
`` Please?''
`` IT'S USELESS, A STRUGGLE FOR...''
The computer sparked a bit and hissed out what seemed like a sigh. `` ALRIGHT. I GET WHERE YOU'RE COMING FROM. MY TEACHER WAS A BITCH, TOO.''
`` Thanks.''
`` NO MATTER. SOON, THE VOID WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE.''
`` I suppose. What's your email, love to chat sometime, all things considered.''
I turned in my essay on time in the end, whilst hurtling towards oblivion on that insignificant green ball of life. I also made a new email buddy that day, so there's that.
|
[ WP ] Through an alliance against their common enemy , man and an alien race have finally achieved victory in a devastating war . A strong bond was formed between the peoples . You and your alien friend share tales of the war .
| “ Jonathan! ”
I started as the melodious tone chimed my name. *So tired*. The faint shimmer in the air betrayed the presence of the Thelonian, hovering in front of me. For a second I flashed back to the Fields of Zyria.
*Strong thoughts, humming at the edge of limbo – the unknown abyss that waits to take all human psionics. The Enemy is advancing, their fearmancers striking terror into our men. Theo and I must drive them back. Zryia will be out nineteenth battle, and somewhere out there is an Enemy without a face, a thing that will become our one-thousandth kill. Theo is eager. I am not. *
But I wasn ’ t back on Zyria. I was sitting in the common room of the Warrior ’ s Rest just outside Cairns, Australia with thirty other veterans. Theo was visiting today. And he had brought others of his kind.
“ Jonathan! This is my lifemate Thealatia, and my children! ”
That ’ s right. He ’ s been trying this for weeks now. After the war – after the Theolonians had awakened the latent psionic power of humanity and joined with us to push the Enemy back into the Dark Spaces, something unfortunate had happened. They found out that humans aged much faster than their new allies.
The war ended fifty years ago. I ’ m dying – old age doing what two thousand Enemy fearmancers could not. But Theo. Theo is still young. It ’ s something the brass are still trying to figure out – something the Theolonians still can ’ t wrap their heads around either. The heroes of the Psi Wars are going to die. We ’ re withdrawing. Shutting down. Sara went into Limbo last week. Martin vanished a day ago.
And so the Theolonians are trying to get us to reconnect. To remember. Theo ’ s showing off his family – the people I helped save. That ’ s how retreating Theolonians are saved, how they rejuvenate. But they ’ re solving the wrong problem. We ’ re not sad or despairing. We ’ re just so very tired.
Neverthless, I raise one shaking hand to give the flourish-presentation to Thealatia and the kids. I can only just control the spasms. The docs call it Will-Reduced Parkinsons. The meds and psi-boosters are good – I can keep the random nerve firings to a minimum. Thea is very well versed in human interaction – I can feel its polite psionic greeting impression, just light enough for recognition. The kids follow afterwards. Glowing balls of potential. I get emotional overspill from them. Awe, respect, wonder…a touch of distraction.
Some things are just universal I guess. Kids can never concentrate when visiting their elders in a rest-home.
“ Jonathan! Can you say something? ”
I ’ ve been silent too long.
“ Theo….Thea. Pleasant stars to be greeting you this day. ”
Traditional greeting. Too traditional.
*The Enemy fearmancer ’ s hood twists, and I can feel the psionic tendrils lashing out. Who knows what these things actually look like? There ’ s a spear of power, and I feel my….our leftmost armshield vanish. It ’ s weak, and the psionic assault doubles at that point.
We ’ re aware of dozens of soldiers streaming past us. We must look odd – a shadow-cloaked monster and a helmeted human soldier silently staring each other down, seemingly oblivious to the war raging around them. It ’ s almost like-*
I can feel the flashback twist on itself. There ’ s a new presence. Theo is here twice. And Thea. And his kids.
Crap, I was projecting that time. If the Theolonians are watching this, so is half the ward. There ’ s a good reason this home is so far from a city – aging soldiers no longer have the shields needed to keep their thoughts contained. I ’ ve been good so far, but this loss of control is not a promising sign.
*-almost like we ’ re fighting on another plane of existence. *
Theo ’ s taken up the story.
*This was Fearmancer JT-One Thousand Sixteen, on the Fields of Zyria. Jonathan and I were locked in combat, our energy dangerously low, and our shielding lying in shattered pieces. The men around us unaware that we stood on a hairs edge, their lives tied to our precarious protection. *
New mind. I can feel it. Doublecrap. A visitor. She ’ s sharing the vision. Unprotected, I can read her surface thoughts. Reporter. She ’ s….awed?
*The Enemy thrusts a thought into us, a mockery greeting of our kind. Mental impressions of stars dying, consumed angrily. Jonathan possesses the strength of will to shake it off. The stars stabilise. The Enemy redoubles its efforts, but we are defenceless. Weaponless. Bar one. *
I know what ’ s coming. The Secret of Zyria. The thing that turned the war in the sixteenth quadrant.
*We give ourselves to Limbo. *
Every being in the rest home is quaking in terror. I can tell. The mental impression of Limbo is terrifying. A yawning gap – a wrongness in reality that will suck down and destroy thought itself. I can sense my fellow veterans quailing. And then I can sense the ageless Theolonians banding together. Though this Limbo is just a memory, it still has power.
Blair slips. The grizzled old vet is losing himself to the Limbo, when the Theolonians are there, safeguarding him from the unshielded psychic assault.
*The enemy now fears us. We balance unsteadily. We have called the Destroying Void, and the Enemy ’ s only escape is to kill us quickly. But it can not. We are within Limbo, and to enter the Void will destroy it utterly. *
*The Enemy chooses. It lunges for us – and falls into the Void. The Enemy calls for aid, and a thousand more Enemy minds race to pull it from oblivion. *
I take over the story again, feeling the vision come back under my control. Slowing the unshielded assault.
*And so Theo and I slam Limbo shut on them. *
One thousand, six hundred and fifteen Enemy Minds. They reached from other battlefields on Zyria, from the Enemy ships in orbit, from the outposts and tanks and shelters. All reaching to save one of their own from Abyss. And we shut Limbo on them.
The flashback fades. I ’ ve got the vision under control. But that was it. That was the moment that Humanity turned the tide. An entire solar system ’ s worth of Enemy troops found themselves leaderless, and our troops were no longer cowed by their own projected fears. The monsters broke and ran, allowing our desperate counterattack to succeed. And the Enemy never recovered.
The reporter is looking at me with glowing eyes. The veterans simply nod grimly. I did what had to be done. Theo and his family are sending subtle psychic reassurances of pride and worthiness for the action.
The mass murder used to bother me. But I ’ ve seen that scene again and again, every night since Zyria. I ’ m not sad or despairing. Nor can I take satisfaction in what I did anymore. That action saved trillions of both Humans and Theolonians. But…I can ’ t even summon the will to care anymore.
So tired.
*So very, very tired. *
|
[ WP ] In life , you sold your soul to as many entities as possible so that when you died they would have to fight each other for it .
| When you tell someone you have no soul, they look at you like you are some kind of monster. Like they expect you to be some kind of cat killing, baby stealing psychopath. But the truth is, I do n't know what a soul changes. I still feel sympathy, I still love, hate and laugh like all normal people. I still show up in mirrors.
But when you tell people you sold your soul, the first thing they will ask you is: `` For what?''. As if any distatse they have about your lack of soul is secondary when compaired to the amazing talents and wealth and knowledge I must have traded my soul for. Truth is, souls do n't sell for the same as they used to. You see, no matter what you are selling, however cheap or expensive, it all comes down to supply and demand. And the world has a population of nearly 8 billion.
Plenty of souls for everyone. And I've sold mine enough times for everybody.
The first time I was sixteen, summer of love, 1967. I sold my soul to a dealer, of souls and drugs, for a pill of LSD. But as most people know, you give your soul to a devil in credit, it is removed from your body, yes, but it can not be collected until you are dead. So, when I finally end my time on this Earth, my eternal damnation will be just that, damnation.
But nothing changed on Earth. Still has n't. Truth be told, I do n't know if anything will change after I die, either. See, the Summer of Love was a drug fueled, psychedelic time for more than just mortals. Turns out my soul was lost, all records of it gone, even the devil himself ca n't have it when I die. This was also around the time I started spiraling into existentialism, and so, without dragging on about it, I decided to make up for my lost eternity in paradise by living a full life on Earth.
So I did the only sane thing: sold my soul again. And again, and again.
But back in the 70's you could get a fair price for your soul, so long as you remembered to sell it to someone different each time, different dealers meant different devils which meant travelling. So that's when I made my way around the world, selling my soul for anything I wanted. The damn thing was still missing as far as I could tell, meant nothing to me, dealers obviously thought I was selling them something. Maybe one day I'll find out what happened to my ticket to heaven.
Maybe on that day, when my body finally gives out and I stop buying more years, maybe on that day when I let myself die. Maybe then I will know what happened to my soul. And on that day when I finally face a life time of debt and soul-stealing, then I will face the true punishment from the countless devils I have cheated.
Today will be that day. I've known all my life that I must face the consequences of my lies and truth be told, I'm scared.
But this day has been a long time in coming. I'm old and frail and weak. My existence on Earth itself is an agony. I'm ready for the great beyond, whatever lies behind the veil of white and black light. I just need to let go now, I've bought no more time. I deserve to die, I'm an abomination who has lived too long. Lived terribly.
When you tell people that you have no soul they expect some heartless, emotionless psychopath. But I still love, laugh, cry, hate and smile.
I still get afraid. When they see you they see a monster. I've been telling my self my whole life that I am no monster. But I am. I'm a hideous excuse for a human, a self absorbed, shambling mess whose devoted his whole life to the exploitation of his own soul.
In my life of cheating demons I have become the very thing I laughed in the face of. So when I face the debt of the hundreds of devils I have cheated throughout my life, I will feel no fear, for I will be in the company of my own.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I'm not even sure if I like this anymore but I'll post it anyway. Does n't really answer the prompt very well but I guess I could continue it to show what happens after the character dies. Let me know what you think. Thanks for the prompt...: )
|
[ WP ] You 're going through your young son 's things while organizing his room , when you find two suicide notes - from you and your spouse .
| The smell was abrasive, but it took me back to the long lazy summers of my youth. Struggling to fill the seemingly endless space between noon and 2 am as a 14 year old in the summer, and then the chaos of trying to dress and get ready for school in 3 minutes after oversleeping. Zack's room had an aroma like pancakes left in a gym bag. Having the day off and knowing that Jenny would be home early on a half work day from her job as an anesthesiologist injected me with a sudden motivation to clean up. If she walked in to a house looking like this, she would kill me. I started to pick clothes up off of the floor with the apprehension of a bomb squad. Even his hamper, was a mess of twisted wire and mesh, I felt like a bad provider. The Jimi Hendrix poster on the wall juxtaposed to a poster of some emo band named `` The Slow Harvest'' filled me with a emotional cocktail of pride and shame. I had most of the clothes picked up, I looked around and was satisfied in the same way that a double-amputee would be in a clean room. You could at least see the floor now, but next was the scariest realm... the dark shroud beneath his bed. I reached in and pulled out a mostly empty bottle of Dr. Pepper, a few wrappers from Slim Jims and Jolly Ranchers, and then... dread. I felt the binding of a few magazines. I tentatively moved them out into the light, grateful that I had found them and hot his mother. I do n't know why I thought they would be porno mags... kids these days just stream live fetish porn anyway. It was comic books, something I had never gotten into as a youth, and kind of wish I did. I flipped through one issue for a few pages before having something slip out. It was a condom wrapper, a used condom wrapper. I opened up the magazine to have a few more fall out. It must of been that sweet girl Carly he was with... she seemed so harmless. `` That's my boy'' I thought to myself as I realized the dust on the comics in contrast to the pile of condom wrappers. Not only was he having fun, he was being safe, I felt good for having the talk with him 5 years ago when he was 11. I returned things to their rightful place and grabbed his car-wreck of a hamper and started down the stairs. An envelope fell gracefully against the draft of me moving the hamper onto the hardwood floors. It said `` Zack'' on the front, but in a handwriting very familiar to me. It was Jenny's perfect cursive, she was always obsessive about her penmanship, even back when I knew her as the girl from church in Sunday school. It was a crisp, brand new envelope, in fact the ink smeared a bit as I picked it up in my hands. I was suddenly very curious, and feeling snoopy. I pulled out a perfectly tri-folded note. There were few words.
Zack,
Your father and I have decided to leave this world together. I'm so sorry to do this to you sugar. Your Ma and Pa will take care of you until you are a man on your own. I'm sure you will make us proud.
Goodbye,
Love Mom and Dad
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
My heart sank. It felt like I all of my blood fell to my toes and refused to travel back up my legs. My hand covered my mouth, I thought about if there was any sign of this. Jenny had been dealing with her bi-polar disorder for years, it had just flared up a bit in the last few months after the winter. But to commit suicide and leave us? Or moreover to take me with her? She must know she'd never be able to convince me to end my life. I heard a single soft footstep on the hardwood but it was too late. The adrenaline of surprise masked the pain of a needle being shoved into the small of my back.
`` Honey I'm home'' she said. My eyes widened but I watched only the sunlit ceiling have black spread onto it like a furious disease, until it was all black.
I woke up to the noise of a running car, but it was still dark. I only had the power to fill my lungs and empty them, I fought ferociously to move but could n't even twitch a muscle. It was so dark, even with my eyes shut there was not the violet tones of my eyelids lit by the bright sun. Finally my left eye had a spasm and opened.
`` You're finally up'' she said stoic and staring straight ahead through the windshield at the gardening tools and mountain bikes on the wall of the garage. The smell of exhaust was putrid, worse than any proximity to any city bus.
`` I know about Lisa'' she said.
`` All of those late nights and bullshit business trips.''
`` I cried myself to sleep so many nights, until I got even with your brother.''
Even in this horrifying paralysis I felt a shudder. She had slept with my brother? More importantly my brother had slept with Jenny? What about his wife? I had so many questions and no time and no way to get answers. Lisa, of course she thought I was having an affair. Why did n't I think of what it would look like? Or even that she might call work and ask if I was really in D.C.? Lisa was my dance teacher. Jenny had been a ballroom dancer almost her whole life up until we had Zack. I was taking lessons in secret to surprise her for our anniversary. The `` business trip''... a bachelor party weekend with Brandon, the friend of mine that she hated. The late nights getting lessons, Hell maybe she saw the texts on my phone about my pelvic movement and flexibility... what a shitshow. The bi-polar, she was not herself.
`` I'm leaving this world and you're coming with me'' she said through a piercing sob. She was erratic. Pulling her hair out in clumps, and hitting herself on the thighs hard enough to leave major bruises. She grabbed the garden hose leading up to the drivers side and took a long drag on it like a frathouse bong.
I felt despair, the love of my life was dying in front of me and I could n't even cry much less do anything about it. The terror of wanting to run, scream, move, or even cover my mouth and not being able to was devastating. I just lay there like a vegetable watching with futility as my wife became still, so still. I finally coughed, the exhaust was too much. The cough sent pins and needles through my shoulders, the sort of sensation you feel when your arm is asleep and comes back in the morning. It was enough to give me a twitch in my shoulder. First a little, then a jolt. I pictured throwing a medicine ball across the room with my left hand and my arm flung over to my wife now stiff with rigamortis. It was chilling. I twitched again with all of my might and managed to send the hose back out of the drivers side window. I felt like that bought me some time, but I was already fading. The adrenaline could only mask the asphyxiation for a moment. Still nothing from my legs, my hands, even my lower back. I still was slumped back in the passenger seat watching the garage turn blacker and blacker. I stared hopelessly at the doorhandle, it was the kind of terrifying paralysis that you feel in dreams. Then I saw a light blinking, it was the light on the ceiling, the light to our garage door. Of course! I looked above the now cold body of my wife and there it was, the garage door opener. It must of been my heart beating at 120 bpm pumping sanguine savior through my system that helped to burn the tranquilizer off faster. I could now lift my arm up by the elbow... at least a little. It felt like I was trying to military press a tractor. I lifted with all of my might... not even close. I hacked a deep cough. Again with everything I had, I got it just above my shoulder and my hand fell upon the cold stiff shoulder of my wife. I finally cried, but it was shaken away by panic. `` How could this happen?'' I thought to myself. Finally I could lift my arm clumsily toward the visor where the opener was clipped.
So close...
I nicked it with my wedding ring and it turned on an angle still gripping the edge. I was losing endurance. In a rush I threw my hand at it.
Disaster.
The door opener fell down below the drivers seat with a hard plastic clatter.
It was over. This was it. I could n't believe this is how it was all going to end for me, and especially for Jenny. She always looked so beautiful while she was sleeping, and now she was going to sleep forever, and I could n't never see it again.
There was an anxious complacence I felt as a seconds passed, and the gas seeped in and got thicker. I could n't blame Jenny for her condition, she had always avoided conflict and let her own imagination run wild. I should of seen this coming from a mile away.
A mile away...
The car was running! I just needed to put it into gear!
I had just got back a bit of a grip to my thumb and index finger. I managed to flop my hand near the transmission. I gripped with the might that would normally pop a football... nothing. I coughed for what seemed like an hour. Again I tried, even pulling my arm towards me and hoping that I managed to push in the button. Nothing, of course it, you ca n't make gear shifts easy to shift without being deliberate. My time had run out, I had finally gotten my lower back muscles back and I leaned toward the console. I felt my cheek lay against my wife's face. It was cold, lifeless. I was n't afraid of it anymore, I felt the moment in all it's tragedy. I was ready to leave this world with her, just like she had planned. So black, so dark now.
I slumped forward. I heard the engine rev sharply as I pushed her leg into the accelerator. Still in park though.
But then, a light. It was the little rectangular light on the door opener. My eyes twitched open, where in my mind they were wide open. I shifted my weight into her knee.
VRRRRROOOOM the engine growled. The little green light illuminated the car floor.
I slowly slipped into the most horrifying comfort of sleep. The sound of the garage door mechanism rumbling in what seemed to be a far off distance...
`` Dad?... DAD?! WHAT HAPPENED?!''
|
[ CW ] Describe a setting , only a setting .
| A single strip of pavement cut through the brush, its surface cracked and broken, speckled with branches. The trees twisted their way overhead, dropping leaves unnoticed onto the forgotten road while the birds chirped overhead.
In the distance, the river rumbled, its course strong and powerful as it rushed onward, passing by the forgotten grid of asphalt and hollow concrete squares, bare footprints where homes once stood, where children played and old men died, where meals were cooked and produce sold. The roads pass by the empty shells, pale gray between the weeds, a shadow of a memory of the time when horses stamped or cars drove.
A town, a home, where memories made and lost and lived, now nothing but a road.
--
-088
|
[ WP ] '' They want Mars to be a prison planet . ''
| `` Sir, you're saying they want Mars to be a prison planet?''
I smile at the crowd and hold out my hands to calm the media frenzy, we knew this would be the response. Fear, panic, confusion.
`` Ladies and gentlemen we have terraformed a planet, this is a step forward for humanity that we could not have imagined even just decades ago. The planet is not suitable to sustain large populations however, it is still a mostly barren planet-''
The ship lurches and my head slams against the bulwark, both waking me from my drug induced sleep and nearly sending me into a coma. I can feel blood trickling down the side of my head but the restraints make it impossible to do anything about that. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force the oncoming headache away but it does n't work. The ship rattles and clangs as it descends and that does n't help, not even a little.
I look around and take in the others. Twenty seven of us, before they slipped that needle into my arm and put me to sleep I counted. Two are already dead, one strangled by the metal collar that's meant to hold our heads in place and the other surrounded by a pool of darkened blood.
Panic is already setting in among the softer types, those that know they wo n't last long on the surface. I feel bad, I do, as much as I can. We are all criminals after all.
`` I know you,'' someone says and I know he's talking about me. I'm surprised it took as long as it did. Even with the broken nose I suffered in the capture, the black eye, the bruises on my face, none of that will keep me from being recognized.
`` Yeah, you do.''
`` Holy shit,'' someone else says, `` you're that guy from the TV.''
I would nod if I could. I ca n't though. The restraints are perfect. Even with the dead guys. After all they're meant to kill some of the passengers. Sends a message.
Your life is meaningless to them.
`` Yeah, I am.'' I say as the ship slows. Thirteen seconds.
`` Who the fuck is he?'' a third voice chimes in over the jeers that are rapidly growing, the threats on my life and... parts of my body. Grotesque creatures they are.
`` He's Damon Waldridge, he's the motherfucker that built this place.''
I smile, six seconds.
We hit the ground but I'm ready, the restraints open with a hiss and a pop as the transport door blows off. They'll be men outside with weapons waiting for us. No guards here, it was designed that way.
I know something most people do n't though. I cover the distance before they can stand, pulling a seemingly innocuous panel up to reveal the armory stash that each transport contains. Meant to control the population.
I reach in and grab for... nothing. It's fucking empty.
Something hard hits me but I do n't feel it. It's right on the head wound I already have but there's no pain. Just sudden and crushing blackness.
In that last second I have one, lone, singular thought.
Fuck.
|
[ WP ] Hell has some new technology .
| `` Mr. Lucifer... Satan... Devil...'' stuttered a weathered looking older man as he poked his head through a brimstone door frame.
`` Eh?'' The angelic looking head of the fallen one, himself, peered up from a desk stacked with papers, folders, a typewriter, and a rotary phone. `` What is it, who's there?''
`` Watson, sir. Thomas J.''
`` Waston... Thomas Watson... name does n't ring a bell. Remind me again of why you're here?''
`` I have a proposal for you sir,'' Thomas' posture raised slightly at the opportunity to finally pitch his idea.
`` No, no. Why you're HERE,'' the devil waved his hands around the room irritatingly and out towards the endless expanse of fire and suffering that lay below the office window.
`` Oh, yes,'' Thomas deflated with embarrassment. He began to fidget with his fingers under the growing disdain from the ruler of the underworld. `` I um, made a deal with the devil - HAH - umm, yes, during the second world war.''
Satan was looking bored and annoyed over his reading glasses, `` That does n't really narrow it down, son.''
`` I was the president of IBM, at the time. Obviously not anymore -''
`` Oh, YES!'' the devil took off his glasses to get a better look at the man before him. `` You're the fella who created the computing system for the concentration camps! Brilliant system. Increased efficiency there quite a bit,'' Lucifer sat back in his chair, curious. `` What can I do for you Tommy?''
`` I heard you were granting'easements,' of sorts, for those that could prove useful to your work... here.''
`` And?'' Satan beamed a sarcastic smile across his desk.
`` You have a lot of *erhem* product here, that looks a bit...'' Thomas looked at the desk of papers, `` disorganized.''
The devil crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze at the weathered man in front of him, `` Tommy boy,'' he growled, `` Did you just actually criticize... me?''
Thomas could hear the screams of thousands in the distance.
`` No, sir,'' he swallowed hard. `` I am merely pointing out a problem that I can help provide a solution to.''
`` Out of the goodness of your own heart, huh?''
`` The easements I was requesting -''
`` Have just cost you... big time,'' Lucifer reached into a desk drawer and slowly drew out a small, black object. His left thumb pressed a black button on the side of the device.
`` Miss Bathory, can you come in here please?''
`` Bathory?'' asked Waston. `` The bloody countess?''
`` Of course. Who else?'' Satan replied with a grin. `` Like the tech?'' he pointed to the walkie talkie, `` Newest technology down here. Saving us tons of time on getting messages to people. This phone has been for show for years,'' he knocked it over on the desk.
A woman appeared at Thomas' side through the doorway.
`` Jesus!'' Thomas yelled, startled.
`` Hey!'' Satan shouted back. `` Not down here. Miss Bathory, please escort Mr. Watson to the detainment room. He has some lessons to be taught about proper respect and where exactly his boundaries lie.''
|
[ WP ] The dashing prince and the evil wizard are both gay and totally in love . Meanwhile , the kidnapped fair maiden is kind of a third wheel ...
| Haughty and empowered by position, the Prince's scowl presented a fowl sense of disdain for his clean shaven mug and dazzling golden mane. The type of look that would drive a peasant woman insane by lust yet infuriate those, mostly jealous men, who simply could n't trust this absent Prince. Since his Childhood he was famed for being shy turning a blind eye to the regularities of the Monarchy. His Father a proud man, respected by his collected endeavours and adventures. The Kingdom owed him more than what he held by right.
Summoning his Knights, the King offered a ceremony for the Prince's coming of age, setting a stage for the beauties of the Kingdom to entice the Prince's heart. His absence from publicity made him seem dark. Although he had eyes not for the gowns and frolicking of fame seeking women, but sorcery and magic of a far spectacular phenomenon. As the Ceremony ended failing to live up to expectations, an embarrassed King opted to scold the unwilling Prince.
`` Vince, as a Future King you need a Queen. Having gathered the most illustrious Daughters of my Kingdom, I would expect you to have the decency of a Prince.'' He lectured, striding around the Prince's Chambers inspecting his Son's tedious dull life. `` Will you continue to seclude yourself and embarrass me? Damage all that I have sent men to die for!'' The King's voice bellowed as his temper rose, clearing the table with a swipe of his humongous heroic arm.
Fine China and scented candles clattered the floor. Unmoved, the Prince Vincentius composure suggested this has happened before. A disappointment of a famed Kingdom, nonchalant and driven by his own aims. These moments acted as mere stains of a greater personal picture. Vincentius parted his blinds to resume his usual ponderous position, glancing into the distance where the mountains rest. His gauntlets lay on the window seal and his hands lay limp. `` I apologise, Father.'' He carelessly responded, defunct of concern for his demands. Vincentius glare was fixed on the moon, which at every night had a streak of purple light run through its centre.
Little did the King or the Kingdom know, the Prince had adopted the abilities of his Father. His eyes peered like an Eagle and his talent with a sword no less than any other regal of this era. However his attraction to life was not that of a bow an arrow or a mighty sword with a name forged by an adventure but that purple shooting star, the Sun and Moon. A fixation on Philosophy and wonder instead of helping plunder the lives of many which his eventual rule may ensue.
Raising his head and observing the Prince, the King realised his Son's irresponsibility, halfheartedly murmuring cries at his own disgrace for his Son's disinterest. `` You oppose the ways of our Kingdom, our Reign, Vincentius... May I remind you that I am not beyond banishing you and stripping you from your title. You can become a bastard if that's what you truly wish!''
Storming out of the Prince's Chambers the aggravated King began to think of a plan. As a conqueror the King felt inclined to dominate, see situations through until the result is to what he visioned. Hence he plotted to teach Vincentius a lesson, slowing his disgruntled pace, placing his rugged right hand on his face with his left folded. Rubbing his fingers into his bristly beard the King began to chuckle. `` You there, girl!'' a mere word from the King held the weight of a Knight's long sword. Stopped in her tracks the passing Maiden assumed a respectful demeanor `` Y-Yes my Lord?''
`` Tell my hand to gather, and have a horse prepared.'' leaving his beard alone the King pointed down the corridor `` With haste!'' he demanded. Quickly the Maiden hurried away. The cunning King had a spontaneous plan. The servants footsteps could be heard dashing past the Prince's Chamber, though his glare was not disrupted. It was almost time for the purple streak to meet the moon again, Vincentius assumed. He was correct, the diseased whites of the moon welcomed the streak as if they danced together.
This dance would usually continue for several minutes. Although tonight would be different, the dance became more of a ceremony, a celebration. As the streak reached the centrepiece of the moon in the Prince's view it paused and amassed into a rotating purple orb. This purple was dusky, shedding the feeling of a presence of evil and immorality. Such a colour and feeling was alluring to the Prince, not due to his own moral compass but out of interest to know. He stood in awe as the orb continued to grow.
Suddenly the orb vanished, bursting into a silent firework display - it was evidently no firework but visually coloured energy. It rained down in front of the moon, alternating in colour with every other spark. Such a sight was truly beautiful and enthralling. Vincentius' heart began to chant a wonderful beat with a feat of fear. A numbness took over him for a moment before, out of nothingness, an atom of purple energy spawned metres infont of his window. This atom folded and expanded into what seemed like the purple streak.
A pointing top with a elongated bottom, and an excess of energy hanging from inbetween the bottom. It began to solidify and the purple dispersed. What Vincentius was witnessing was not a beautiful shooting star, but a Wizard perched upon a broomstick. His chin was fine and bold, his eyes purple, cold and devoid of the heart warming feeling the Prince shed to his adorers. A dark cloak covered his body, only hanging feet in battered sandles and visible hands with black nails were evident apart from his face. `` You have been watching me.'' The soft, brazen voice rightfully claimed.
`` I did not know you were... I'' lost for words Vincentius was humbled by a cold sweat, this unease frustrated but controlled him. Maybe not visually but secretly he was satisfied being dumbfounded by such a being. His eyes managed to move, observing this Wizard's lips, long eyelashes, pale lifeless skin. `` You can see me, I am impressed. Not many can comprehend dark magic. It's tragic, that you are who you are.'' cried the Wizard. `` What do you mean?'' he replied.
`` You are a Prince, to a King that wants my head. He does not wish to reason instead. Whereas, you my honourable Prince.'' The Wizard edged closer, Vincentius' heart accelerated. `` I can teach you a lot of things.'' The Wizard oddly stated, offering out a hand to Vincentius. His captivation was not merely awe, it was much more. Love at first sight with a phenomenon of evil, would the Prince really betray his own people? He considered his position, stepping back from the helping hand. `` As much as I would love to understand you, I have a position to respect.''
A knock on the door disrupted the Prince's attention. Turning to the door for a moment, he turned back to find the Wizard had vanished. Awkwardly he felt at a loss, but as his said he had a duty as a Prince. The door creaked open accidentally. Shocked and embarrassed by this clumsiness, the Maiden was quick to apologise - bowing her head in naive shame. `` I am so sorry my Lord, I did n't k-'' a firm hand on her shoulder, as pleasant as beams of the Sun in Summer, dispersed her fear and coldness in this winter. The Prince smiled, `` No, I apologise I left it open.''
His smile faded as he walked back toward the window, except he did not rest by it this time. He was intimidated, suffering by emotion and his own position. It was gradually overwhelming, as if suddenly the appearance of the Wizard made him care whereas life before did not. Not even his Father's words could sway him. Vincentius moved to his bed and sat, visibly agitated by the day's events. `` Uhm, my Lord?'' The Maiden inquired.
`` Yes?''
`` It's... You seem in pain, somehow.''
`` Do I? I am. I do n't really feel like..''
She edged closer, wide eyed and genuinely interested and worried. `` You feel like?''
`` I did not ask to be a Prince, I do n't want to be a King. I do n't want what my Father has, but it is duty by blood. I must abide. What I want is out there.'' He raised his arm and pointed toward the window, insinuating the skies, the moon and the land, not really expecting this Maiden to understand.
`` You want to be normal? Have the choice for what you want to do, want to see, who to be with and when this all happens?'' She answered as if she sat in the Prince's head observing a gallery of the Prince's mind.
`` I do. People see a Prince and think about wealth and respect, at the heights normality would not bring or respect. It makes everyone around you driven toward maintaining it, I have never had a say in my life.'' Vincentius moaned.
`` My Lord... I think you are seeing this in one way. A selfish one. I apologise for my rudeness but... `` The Prince's aura allowed the Maiden to be comfortable enough to speak in such a tone. `` If you want to atone for your birthright, what you aspire for. You should help create a Kingdom that allows you to, for your people to. You can save the lives of a village with a few words, your people can only wait for you to utter them.''
`` As for adventure, you are a Prince. You can go where you like, we all should be able to. But only a few of us have the ability to cleanse and secure those paths to where we want to be. Not just in your position, but your personal benevolence as a person... I can feel it. Your people can feel it.''
Raising his head, the Prince realised this woman had some wisdom and no fear by his position. He stared at her for a moment, her beady light green eyes and rich brunette hair. Her figure was like a feeble hour glass, as if it was crafted around the idea of a perfect woman. She grinned at him, her over-joyous attitude was inviting. `` What is your name?'' He asked. `` Lhysa''
`` You made me realise something. I do have power in this position, I can make a change. Then I must not be idle.'' His eyes were fixed on Lhysa's for a moment, his heart flickered powerfully, momentarily stunning him. `` What a weird day. What did you have for me, Lhysa?''
|
[ WP ] You are an `` escort '' , but not in the sexual sense , your job is to make sure you clients get home safely by any means necessary .
| This was my favourite type of contract. The one where the target is n't even aware of my presence. Ghost Contract, is what we call them.
Steve Jones, Lawyer, married, 2 kids, drives an Audi. 4 Bedroom house, small dog. Graduated from a decent university, enjoys hiking, recently witnessed a Guerro Cartel hit on a key witness in a case.
Corrupt authorities mean no witness protection. Fortunately for Steve, the rival Farelo Cartel was going to pay good money to ensure he stayed alive long enough to ID the killer. Why involve the authorities if they can learn from Steve who the Guerro assassin is?
A week had passed, and Steve was going about his life, oblivious to the danger revolving incredibly close to him. I stood around the front of his law firm's building, waiting for the day to finish. He exited the building and began walking to the train station. The Audi was his toy, only for weekends.
I shadowed his journey, wearing a courier's outfit, my hat pulled down low, with a box in my hand. Urban camouflage. There was only one place the Guerro thugs could ambush Steve; an alleyway that cuts across a city block.
I powered ahead of Steve and headed towards ambush spot, confident nothing would happen to him while I dealt with the threat ahead. The alley was quiet and dimly lit. It was empty, except for two Mexican-looking thugs leaning against a wall. They paid me little attention as I walked towards them. They knew what their target looked like.
Once I'd drawn close, I reached into the box I was carrying, wrapping my hand around the butt of the gun hidden inside. The box dropped to the ground below, scattering foam noodles everywhere. I smiled briefly, imaging how much like The Terminator I must look. Suppressed shots rang through the alley, drowned out by the noise coming from the streets.
I quickly covered their bodies with rubbish bags that were lying around, and replaced the gun in the box. Knowing cartel tactics, there would be another two men watching the alley exit in a car, in case anything went wrong. I exited the alley and leaned against the wall, scanning nearby vehicles.
Steve exited the alley and continued to the station. 20 metres down the road, I see a likely Guerro candidate exit the passenger side of a car. The car pulled off the curb and started rolling down the street, whilst the Guerro thug walked briskly after Steve. The car kept pace with the thug as he caught up to Steve, whilst I walked just behind the dirtbag.
The Guerro car disappeared behind a van briefly. I took the opportunity and bumped into the thug, knocking him. He suddenly loomed in my face grabbing me by the shirt and pushing me up against a nearby building, screaming Spanish obscenities at me. I dropped my box and shoved him back, pushing him into a crowd of people. Mayhem broke out as people started pushing at the thug. I seized the opportunity, grabbed my box and continued after Steve.
I saw the driver of the car hop out, and rush towards the commotion behind me. Seizing the opportunity, I quickly rounded the car and hopped in the driver's seat. I glanced in the mirror to see the Guerro thugs running after me, growing slowly smaller. I knew Steve would be safely in the subway now, so I drove to where I knew he'd be disembarking from the train.
I parked the car at the station and followed Steve on foot, keeping an eye out for any other danger. He made it safely back to his house. I called the Feralo guy and told him Steve had been Escorted safely home. 20 minutes later a black van pulled up. I checked my bank account, and seeing the successful funds transfer, I turned around and walked off.
- sorry if it was a bit hard to follow, wrote this piece by piece over a long day
|
[ WP ] A woman goes to pay respects and notices an unfamiliar person there visiting the same grave .
| She had long since abandoned the notion of the supernatural. Zombies were nothing more than fantasy; ghouls the work of the mind. However, whenever she set foot in a place such as this, all her childhood fears stirred. She'd never tell another soul it was because of such irrational fears that she did everything possible to avoid the graveyard. It was only through the request of her mother that she found herself trudging through the unkempt grounds on this early morning. The graveled path she walked upon had been overrun by wild green. The nasty weeds looked like little conquers that had been kept at bay until recently; or maybe it was n't recent. There were quite a few of them. Many of the tombstones' words of sentiment had been worn away by weather and time. Some of the graves themselves peeked to the surface from years of erosion. She consciously added distance when she came across graves like these.
The grave she was seeing today belonged to her father, if one could call him that. She preferred the term `` sperm donor.'' He left when she was too young to remember much, but his departure was forever imprinted within her being. Still, he held little relevance with her life. When his passing came about, she did n't bother attending his funeral. Her dear bleeding heart of a mother believed she needed closure. But how could one get that from a stranger?
Her sluggish pace ceased, and she peered toward the horizon. There was another figure standing before her father's grave. This being was dressed fashionably yet warmly; a complete opposite to her faded jeans and chucks. Based off of the wide hips barely constrained by the feminine wear, she gathered that this stranger was also woman.
She was hesitate to approach, feeling it would be an intrusion. However, she was also curious, if not surprised that there were people capable of loving her father. Or maybe the stranger's mother suggested this visit as well. She settled on clearing her throat to announce her presence. On que, the stranger peered backward to reveal an uncanny resemblance to her father.
She wet her lips before giving a tight smile. `` Morning.''
The stranger returned the greeting.
It was obvious the stranger was doing just as she had; trying to identity what was before them. Before the silence could stretch forth into the realm of uncomfortable, she spoke again,
`` What? Did he run out on you too?'' She asked in jest.
The stranger's face was struck with surprise, before being replaced with a sad smile.
It seemed she and this stranger had a lot of catching up to do.
|
[ WP ] Take any prompt here and write about it in this post , with one twist - Your result should be very poorly written to the point of comedic absurdity .
| Don knew he did n't have much time. The timer on the bomb was ticking off time, too fast. `` No!'' He thought, thinking of how to stop the bombs timer. Don did n't know how much time he had, or who set the bomb, only that he must stop the timer. Heavy sweat beaded down his rugged yet refined chiseled face, his face expression intense. `` Let's go!'' Don thought, and ripped open the bomb. He saw lots of colored wires, and thought he must cut the red one. He picked up his scissors. Don then carefully, beading sweat, slipped the delicate wire between the gleaming silver blades of his scissors, holding his breath as the bombs alarm continued to sound. And sound. Then Don woke up, beaded in sweat.
|
[ WP ] The first aliens arrive on Earth to scout out the life forms . Unfortunately , they land in Australia , and base the the species threat of the entire planet on the dangerous critters there .
| *Report! *
Fair enough. Overall, not too bad, ay. Straya's a pretty nice place.
*What are you talking about? *
Straya. Where I just went on mission.
*Do you mean `` Australia''? *
Yeah, that's what I said.
*Uh, well ok. So what did you find? *
Oh heaps of stuff. There's dirt and water and animals and humans and valuable minerals, and it's nice and warm on most of it.
*The local inhabitants are... friendly? *
Shit yeah! Anyone who comes down from the sky is orright in their book. We just ca n't come by boat.
*Why are you speaking strangely? *
I'm not. This is the local lingo, mate.
*I'd remind you these are formal military proceedings, ensign! *
Orright, orright, fuckin' settle down. Jaysus.
*I could lock you in the brig with the Gamarokin hissing spiders, ensign! *
Pfft, if ya like. No big deal after what I've seen.
*What are you talking about? Australia has more dangerous fauna than Gamaroka? *
Yeah nah sort of.
*What does that even mean? *
Well, yeah and nah, and they're sort of more dangerous.
*How? *
Well, there's not really anything that'll tear you apart, except for a servo chicken sandwich, haha. Most of the animals are just super venomous.
*They will try to eat us? *
Nah. They'll just fang you and bail.
*Then they bite? *
Unless they've got tentacles or barbs.
*Why do they attack? *
Well, they're scared of ya. If you startle them and stuff, they'll bite.
*THEY are scared of... **us**? *
Yeah, they're only little buggers most of'em.
*So we should not attempt to land there? *
Nah, she'll be right. It's easy not to get hassled. Just got ta be smart.
*Alright ensign, I'm putting you in charge of armaments and defence for the next away mission. The natural resources are simply too attractive to pass up. No expense will be spared, you can request anything. I suppose you'll be wanting plasma rifles? *
Nah.
*Cluster mines? *
Nope.
*Kinetic shield generators? *
Wo n't be needin''em.
*Nuclear drones? *
Waste of money, probly.
*How we will defend ourselves against threats? *
Righto. Here's the plan. We check our boots before we put them on. We all carry a stick. And we come home when the street lights turn on.
|
[ WP ] A man wanders across post apocalyptic America , he has an artifact that grants him a supernatural ability but also slowly makes him lose his mind .
| I do n't remember waking up this morning. All that I can remember is the shattered shell of the city that lies before me. As I walk through these ruins I can feel my small leather bag banging against my hip.
I stop for a moment and sit down on the ruined sidewalk, my eyes stinging from the dust that's blowing in the wind. I open my bag and look inside to see a canteen holding some dirty water, a can of peaches, and the pocket watch. As soon as I see the golden watch I feel a sense that I'm being watched.
I pick up the watch and hold it close to my heart, as if somehow it'll be safer there. I stare at the watch and try, oh god how I try to remember how I got it but I ca n't. The memories are broken, scattered and tainted like the ruins of the city I'm sitting in. I give up trying to remember and stare into the gold outside of the watch. In it I see the reflection of a man. His face is covered by a thick ginger beard, his skin is pale and his eyes are bloodshot with small, orange colored irises that seem to shine like fire. His hair hangs down to his shoulders and is the same color as his beard and has clumps of dirt and dust strewn in it. I laugh at the reflection, and that's when I see that most of my teeth have started to decay. I laugh for about a minute and that's when the coughing starts, I weeze and splutter and finally wipe my mouth. When I look down at my hand I see it's filled with my own ruby red blood.
I sigh and gaze around at the broken city. Cars lay abandoned on their side, rusted and destroyed by the bombs. Trees lay on their side and buildings rest in ashes and crumble on the street. I look back at the pocket watch and push the button that opens it.
The effect is immediate. A orange glow emits from the watch and surrounds me and the small area of the city I'm sitting in. Suddenly the city is no longer broken, the buildings stand tall against the sky, trees stand straight and look full of life, and people walk towards the buildings in suits and dresses. Cars are zooming by on the street and people are honking at pedestrians and other drivers. I take all this in for a moment and sigh. The city is alive again but something is off. Everything around me has a small hint of an orange aura surrounding it.
The orange aura is how I remember this is n't real and I close the watch. The city is dead again as soon as I close the watch, the orange glow gone. I stuff my watch back in my bag and lay down. I know in the morning I wo n't remember something simple like my name or hometown or even waking up. I cry until I fall asleep. I do n't remember waking up in the morning.
|
Writing Prompt [ WP ] You have the ability to freeze time . When you do , everyone freezes as well . One day , you freeze time , and out the window , you see a girl moving around , astounded and confused . Then , she sees you..
| I dash out the front door. As outrageous as it may seem, i'm not surprised. And I tell her: `` Finally! I've been freezing time all my life and never met anyone who could skip right through it like you are. You must be special. Would you care to come inside for a cup of tea - and an explanation?''
She does n't know what else to do but nod. What else is there to do? She'd been looking at statues in the street. It's like the loneliness you feel on an abandoned island - except there's people there standing like pillars of salt, stuck in a past you're racing away from second by lonely second.
how many people would you need to add before it's no longer basically a hopeless affair? One does n't seem enough. Not barely enough to resume niceities or etiquette. So i'll follow him - but.. She had no words for the thought in her mind. Her head was drooping when he was smiling like he's watching a dragon egg hatch. There's no balance. If this is the only other person in the world, then.. She casts a glance over her shoulder at one of the salt licks and wonders what they taste like. If they think anything. If they're there.
She's not moving fast enough for him, his excitement urging him on he tries to drag at her elbow. She shakes loose, but does n't respond beyond that. She keeps walking slowly towards the door. She may not seem happy about it, but knows.. you know, destiny, when it's dragging her by the arm into a strange house.
|
[ EU ] Before Bruce Wayne 's death , he created an artificial intelligence in a robotic Bat-Suit to protect Gotham in his absence . Eighty years later , the AI has turned against Gotham . A team of gifted teenagers take on the robot while branding the costumes and themes of Batman 's former enemies .
| It started when I was 8. I had been staying over at my Aunt and Uncle's house, enjoying myself, while my parents were having a date night. Marijuana had just been legalized in Gotham.
The bastard bat-thing, which our law enforcement had been as incapable of stopping as the original, used an old comprehension engine called `` Watson'' in order to parse and understand the laws it was supposed to be keeping in place. The engine was slow, and prone to bugs. It just so happened that it had yet to keep up with the new law on marijuana.
When the bat thing had started out, it had been explicitly programmed not to kill. No breaking bones, no crushing skulls, no piercing chests - just wrap up the criminals and leave them hanging for the police. This had worked for years, but the problem was, it was also programmed to try to minimize recidivism rates - that is, try to make sure that people it caught the first time did not commit crimes again. This became a problem when, one time, it caught a repeat criminal for the umpteenth time, and, due to awkward positioning, accidentally happened to hang him by his throat instead of his legs. The bot was unaware it had killed him, but it noticed over the coming months that he no longer showed up committing crimes. So, it repeated throwing its batarangs at that same awkward angle, and began hanging people by their throats. Recidivism rates had never been better.
So, the day after my parent's date night, I was riding passenger seat in my Aunt's car and staring down at my game boy. As we pulled up to my house, my Aunt turned off the car, then uttered a strangled gasp. I looked up at my house, but before I could see anything, my aunt grabbed my face and hugged it to her chest, shouting `` no, don't-!'' The pain and fear in her voice terrified me. She had to loosen her grip on me for just a moment to start the car, and I took the chance to wrestle out of her grip and look at my front porch. My parents hung there, swaying gently in the breeze.
From that night on, I became obsessed with the bat-thing, and as I learned more, with artificial intelligence. I needed to *know* what the bat-thing was doing, needed to get inside its head. My family had been wealthy, and so as it became apparent that I was doing far better in school than my peers, skipping grades consistently, the money my parents left me was used to hire tutors to get me even further along more quickly. The constant learning was a numbing agent; while I was learning, I did n't have to be thinking about what had happened.
In the mean time, my Uncle and Aunt found other children who had had similar experiences. At first, I had been loath to talk to them - I could just be learning more, understanding more, I did n't want to sit around in a puddle of sobbing kids and feel miserable about myself. But, my Uncle and Aunt pointed out that these kids were displaying similar habits to myself, quickly climbing through school, with a laser focus on artificial intelligence. My Aunt and Uncle decided to bring the kids into my tutor sessions, and we became a class of our own, three kids hell-bent on understanding the monster that hung petty criminals in our streets.
In the mean time, the police department could do nothing. The old bat bastard, worried that any key given to the police that would turn off the bat-thing could be figured out by criminals - or a corrupt police department - had given them the same options as the criminals: either destroy it, or do n't make it angry. They had, at one point, lured the bat-thing into a warehouse on the docs, and imploded the warehouse on top of it; but it survived, and repaired itself back at the old bastard's mansion, which was so booby-trapped no one could go near it, including the police, for the same paranoid reasons as why they could n't turn it off. An EMP had also been tried, hoping to fry the electrical component of the bat-thing, but the important logic in it had been protected by layers of armor and a Faraday cage, making it near-impossible to fry.
Now, I am 19, and a graduate student in computer science. My tiny class has excelled to the same heights, and we discovered something we think can kill it. By using the only link the bastard's compound had to the outside world - the Watson computer's connection to the law database - we found a bug that allowed us to send it a broken law file and make it execute the file as code. The old bastard Wayne had been smart, and made sure Watson was cordoned off from the bat-thing, so we could n't turn it off from there. But, we did get access to something incredibly powerful - the training simulations the old bastard had used, over and over again, to teach the bat-thing how to fight crime.
During our studies in artificial intelligence, we had learned about a concept called `` over-training.'' Basically, with certain learning programs, if you give it an input - say, a picture - and tell it what to do when it sees that input a couple of times, it'll pick up general details of that picture, such as the overall color, some shapes, etc., and then perform its action whenever it sees a similar picture that matches those patterns it learned. This is good for, say, when you're trying to train a computer program to recognize a train platform in pictures, so that an automated train can stop whenever it sees a platform.
The problem is, if you show the program the *same exact picture* too many times, it picks up on unimportant details too, and starts relying on them. So, a crack in the wall in your training picture could become something that triggers the `` stop'' action on the train, making it stop randomly throughout the tunnels; or, the type of clocks used on platforms get switched out, and the train happened to be using them as the way to recognize platforms, meaning it *doesn't* stop, and rams into the back of the train ahead of it.
( continued in response comment )
|
( WP ) Write a story so that the odd-number lines make one story , the even-number lines ( in bold ) make a second different story , and all lines together make a third .
| **I pulled out my rifle, pointing into the dark of the night**
In the distance I could just make out the outline of a beautiful deer.
**My finger went around the trigger, ready to fire. **
The deer did n't have a care in the world, it seemed to be enjoying its night.
**I would feel guilty for this kill, but I had to do it if I was to survive. **
The deer around these parts never seemed to notice much, probably because they basked in their own beauty.
**But I could n't contemplate the shot, so I took it. Sending a bullet into him. **
His graceful body falling to the ground in a nap like sense.
**This was how the new world went. **
Hopefully his last thoughts were good rather than bad.
|
[ WP ] You are the last person on Earth and your birthday was the day before . Happy 10th birthday !
| Well I guess it's not my birthday anymore, still.
I got a lego tattoo on my face this morning when I woke up because I had a lego stuck in my face. And I had some chocolate on my face too.
I know I had another candy bar that I was saving for today but now I do n't know where it is so I'm going to the store to find another one but I might have to go to a different store because I think I ate all the 3 Muskateers at the store my mom always goes to. She used to go there but I do n't know where she is now. But I made my bed this morning, I have to make my bed before I go because mom always says I have to make my bed before I leave the house.
But now I do n't know if I want a candy bar. My tummy still hurts from all the candy. Mom always says I'm not allowed to have too much but I ate all the muskateers at the store that I did n't eat before when I went there. But not all of them, I only like the chocolate on the outside and my mom always eats the inside because she says that is her favorite part. On my birthday, I went to the store and ate all the muskateers and a lot of cheese-its and my mom always says to eat vegetables but all the vegetables were covered in flies and smelled like farts and I did n't eat any and now my tummy hurts.
My mom is always right.
One time, before she left, she told me to eat carrots so my eyes would be better but I never did and then I had to get glasses but then they broke one time or yesterday when I was looking for people and now I only have my contacts from last year but I do n't like putting them in my eyes. And I only have enough for 2 more weeks and they are n't the right prescription because I had to get glasses twice since I got these.
I only have 2 more weeks of contacts... Today is Tuesday and my contacts case has all the days on the front like a calendar. We used to get them in the mail every month. My mom said, before we cancelled them she said we would get them every month for me and my dad and we always get them at the same time. I wonder if someone will deliver my contacts?
Where is someone.
I miss my mom.
I puked after I ate the candy and the cheese-its and then I was hungry again but I did n't want to eat but there was a drinking fountain in the store and i was really thirsty. I drank more than 2 gallons, at least. But I still do n't want to eat and my tummy hurts.
I think I want to go to sleep.
|
[ FF ] Write a speech in 100 words or less that encourages an army about to face certain death
| *Standing atop a lifted platform, he squares with the sprawling number of soldiers -- all standing in formation -- before him. He lifts his back straight, locks his hands by his tailbone, squints his eyes. And pauses for some time, letting the silence waft over them. He does not waver. *
*silence*
`` All our lives we've felt the presence of something sacred. We've chased it. We grew up around it. It tended our mothers and fathers. It was the wind that dried our hanging clothes. It was there, when we were poor and hungry. Though seemingly indifferent, it turns us onward in a mightiness -- the truth that the solemn exists -- with a wind that today, is at your backs.
We all know the regard for soldiers. Today, we shall know the Solemn ’ s fraternal code. Today is our initiation into the ranks of common men made divine by their infinite generosity, forever stamped with honor.''
|
[ WP ] Write anything you think of . Right now . Do n't stop , do n't backspace . Just write whatever comes to mind .
| Frank knew at this moment that he was losing his mind. The nanites which had been touted as such an improvement for humanity was slowly stripping his sense of being away. The longer they stayed in his body and the more they multiplied, the more of them there were in his head, the less human he felt. Why was that? Did n't they do testing? Why the hell was n't he angry about this?
Frank realised that he'd ceased to be him. He was still self-aware but felt nothing. Where was his passion, his love? He only had cold, logical reason left. And it made him feel satisfied, but not good. Never good, never again for the rest of his immortal life.
|
[ WP ] Personify an emotion that is very prevalent in your life right now .
| If she was anything she was red. From her shoes, her loud loud shoes, to her smirk she was red. Speaking of her shoes I hear them come now, the click clack is familiar but anything but comforting. Red nails on a fat hand taps on the door frame,
“ Oh Catherine… ” the smirk drives me mad as I look over my desk towards her. “ Have you done anything of importance yet? Of course not. ” Her laugh, high pitched and cruel, bounces off the walls.
I eye a certain letter opener then sigh, “ Kitty why are you here right now? I really need to focus. ”
Striding over she sits on my desk, making it bend under her ass. “ You always need me Catherine, so you don ’ t get too hopeful. ” She grabs my chin making me look up at her, “ You ’ re trying dear, but you know it won ’ t amount to anything. Every time you find something you fuck it up don ’ t you? Like that nice boy, Morgan was his name? Well how fast did he run away due to your awkwardness? And your most recent fuck up, your job? Your job you loved so much, I disappeared for awhile didn ’ t I? Then a customer yelled at you, one measly customer and I was back again, you quit just two weeks later. ”
She is laughing harder now, holding her sides with her free hand, the hand on my chin squeezing hard enough for her nails to break skin. She stops laughing after awhile, pats my face and stands up “ I ’ ll be back later but you really need to write something if you ever want to do anything, not that you will but I love getting your hopes up. ” She cackles as she walks out the door and down the hall, her shoes click clacking all the way down.
This is my first submission to writing prompts, well to reddit at all. Any comments to help my writing would be much appreciated.
|
[ WP ] On Halloween at exactly 11:15 , the dead try to call their loved ones .
| `` I'm sorry I was n't there to receive your call,'' Adam says, wiping away the dust and grim from his wife's headstone. `` I've been working late shifts to get us through... well, to get us through. And you know the kids. They do n't talk on their phones anymore. They like to'text.' Really, you ca n't spare your mother a few minutes from your Facebook pictures or your Tumblr posts? The world today, teaching kids that they ca n't talk to their deceased loved ones! But do n't worry, I'll definitely be there next time and I will definitely get the kids to talk to you. I'm sorry you'll have to wait another whole year, though. I love you, and I'll come visit you again soon.'' He placed her favorite bits of candy carefully in front of her headstone. `` Enjoy the Halloween candy, honey.''
|
[ WP ] A plane lands at JFK airport with no flight plan . No records of its serial number exist , and no one on board seems to know where they came from .
| Frank has seen it coming in to land.
It wer'nt no insignia he had never saw before and he cusses hard under his breath, from his vantage point it looked like a slightly modified 747. Reaching into his shirt pocket he pops a cigarrette into his mouth, opened the window and lights it. He knows that once his walkie talkie crackled into life it might be a while before he got another.
chtrzzz. `` Frank, Frank? we got a XD42 on runway 7, XD42 runway 7''
He stubbs the butt in the potted aloe vera on his desk, grabs his jacket and makes his way towards contol.
There is the expected commotion in the corridors, bespectacled men in crisp white shirts hurry past him carrying folders with operational procedures that have rarely been read and smirked at in disaster awareness meetings. He can hear the sirens blare for the fire engines and military vehicles as they rush out to close the runway. Milkduds, thats what he needs, he stops at a vending machine and takes 2 stuffing one in his hip pocket for later, opening the other and putting them in his mouth while he grabs a coffee with the other hand.
Control is worse than he thought. The FBI were already up here. McCready with those enormous eyebrows, was standing over Sanders barking at the traffic controller.
`` Where did it come from?''
`` When did it appear on your radar?''
`` What is its call sign?''
`` Have you established contact with the pilot?''
`` Shut the hell up McCready and give him a chance to get the rest of the flights rerouted''
McCreadys eyebrows spring into life like the foilage of an oak forest as he directs his attention to Frank.
`` Awww what is this crank doing up here'' McCready asks the room in general, and fires a sheaf of papers into the corner of the office.
`` Dont mind me McCready, im just an observer''
`` We´ve gottem on the line, we´ve gottem'' an excited ground control announces
`` Patch them through to speaker phone'', McCready and Sanders bark at the same time. A hush falls through control as people begin to strain one ear towards the speaker phone on Sanders desk while keeping the other on the constant chatter and complaints of the other pilots and ground crews as they scramble to reroute the other incoming flights.
`` ahhhh, this is Delta Oscar Mindy 742, thank you control for the emergency slot, we seemed to lose you coming in there, we think its the same problem we had on take off but we cant find any anomaly in the diagnostics. Copy that tower?''
McGready, Sanders and Frank are staring at each other, surely they heard wrong. McGready punchs mute.
`` Did he say Mindy''? ( ill have to finish this later, got ta split )
|
[ WP ] A person is having a party for their death in a society where choosing to die is considered normal .
| I'll never find this normal.
I mean I can understand it, and sympathise ( hell would n't be working this job if I could n't ) but it still unnerves me.
The client is saying his last goodbyes, it's neen a good party - excellent send off, better than most clients I deal with. His kids are hurt, they've begged, they always beg, but overall they are supportive of his decision. His wife had been like a rock, I know she's torn up inside but who would n't be?
He finally requests that he and his wife be excused. The doctor and offical make sure one last time that he's making the choice of his own free will, then they leave for the balcony over the beach.
I follow in tow.
Suns setting, they sit.
He takes the pills.
She cries.
He dies.
She cries some more.
I give him a moment, like all suicides he regrets it - it's inevitable, nobody really wants to die, they think they do but every soul who ever snuffed it once it's done there are regrets.
Times up, I start the process.
*Tough call*
Looking down at the lifeless husk that wad once him, the situation dawns on pretty quickly.
`` Was it the right one?''
*It's done at any rate*
He makes his peace. I still do n't get it, but his soul will be moving on before too long anyway.
Dead is dead.
Finally, he asks the question they all must.
`` What's next?''
|
[ WP ] The Earth really is flat . And you 're part of an exploration team to discover what lies beyond the edge .
| `` Get up and go, gentlemen. The last one of you up goes over the edge without a rope.''
They called us explorers, told us that we were the real scientists who were pushing the boundaries of what we knew of our earth. But the GPS trackers and armed guards surrounding us reminded us of our past. We were debtors, given the choice to die in a quick fall off the face of the earth, or rot in prison repaying our debts with years wasting away.
I hooked myself in to the ground plate, and walked over to the last rock jutting out over the dark abyss. It felt like a walk along the plank to step lightly across the stone. I turned around, and crouched down at the very edge. To my left, I saw four or five others getting into a similar position. I breathed in deeply, and then pushed myself backwards. I had no intention of investigating what lay below the surface, only to end my life in a quick manner. The rope betrayed me, though, and caught on the safety release. I was left hanging in darkness, spinning around endlessly in the abyss. I managed to pull a knife from my belt, and began to saw through the rope. It was slow going, but my frantic pace made quick work of the knotted string that held me away from the inevitable end.
Then I fell. Simply fell. Never to rise again.
|
[ WP ] A child has wandered out of the woods , with torn clothes and mud-stained clothes . When he 's asked if he knows what day it is , and where he 's from , he says `` July 1 , 2201 '' and `` The Moon . '' And he 's serious .
| It was almost exasperating for little Mikey Turner to have to repeat himself so much.
“ Be serious now. Where are your parents and how can we contact them? ”
The man must have been crazy. He was dressed in the most outlandish outfit Mikey had ever seen, wouldn ’ t respond to Mikey ’ s answer ( which he had given at least 5 times now ) with anything but a sigh, and didn ’ t even know what the extranet was. A sense of apprehension began to grow in him. He vaguely recalled his parents ’ tales of strange people on Earth, remembered that he was to stay away from them if at all possible. He just wanted to go home now.
“ I told you, they live in New Hope, it ’ s in the Serenitatis district. Extranet extension 81290-121. ”
The man scowled, tried to look as stern as possible.
“ Look, a missing child is no joke. Your parents are probably worried sick about you. ”
Mikey ignored how silly he looked with his scowl in such a ridiculous outfit, tried to reason with the man.
“ I know. That ’ s why I ’ m asking you to please call them. Please, please, please. ”
“ And I will, ” said the man. “ As soon as you give me a name or a number. ”
Mikey grew increasingly worried. He had clearly given this man a number to reach on the extranet, but he wasn ’ t responding. Maybe this man wasn ’ t here to help him, but was just toying with him for some terrible purpose. He gulped.
“ Look, can you at least tell me where I can find the police around here? I ’ m sure they could help. ”
The man let his head fall back in a sign of annoyance.
“ We are the police. Can ’ t you read the badge? Jefferson County Police Department, it says right here. Now please just tell me how I can contact your parents. I just want to get you home safely. ”
Yeah, right, thought Mikey. This man was clearly some sort of pervert who liked to mess with children. He needed to get out of here as soon as possible. He remembered that there was a shuttle base in Louisville. If he could get there he would definitely be able to find an extranet port that he could call his parents through.
“ Okay fine. My parents live in Louisville. If you can get me to the terminal there I can show you where they live. ”
Finally, thought the sergeant, he could get this situation dealt with and go home. He had enough things to worry about without some dirtied kid and his outrageous daydreams. He just wondered how in the hell the boy got all the way out here. They were at least 20 miles from the city.
|
[ WP ] `` Oh , but she does n't need a mask . '' Turning towards her , `` You 're already wearing one '' , he smiles .
| She stood there shocked, never in a million years had she imagined the interview going like this. The ad simply said `` Assistant needed,'' and paid a rather spectacular amount per hour. He had turned his back to me very early on in the interview. There was a glass of water on the table. This interview however seemed to be more of an interrogation. The questions all seemed hostile. To break the intensity she tried to make a joke.
`` So, this is n't a 50 Shades of Grey type assistant position is it? I wo n't end up wearing some leather mask will I?''
He replied `` Oh, but she does n't need a mask,'' he turned towards her, `` she's already wearing one.''
Her voice quivered `` What do you mean?''
`` You wear the mask of decency my dear,'' he replied.
She was stunned. The man continued.
`` I will not continue to lie to you my dear. I'm the killer the newspaper talks about. These job interviews are how I've gotten my victims, and you're the next. But before the poison from the water you drank kicks in, I would like to talk. You wear a mask of decency, you pretend to care about people and you pretend to be ethical. You go home and sit and watch tragedies on the news as if it's a sitcom. You sit there with your buckets of popcorn and endlessly watch human rights decay. These very same news companies talk about my being inhuman and me being a monster. But who is the real monster, me for shedding the blood of my victims, or you and the rest of society for shedding the blood of decency with your television sets and absolute unceasingness towards humans. You all wear a mask of decency my dear, I simply have shed mine.''
The woman's head hit the table, she had died, his monologue being the last words she heard. The man stood up, and began to drag her body away.
|
[ WP ] Death has been training his replacement . His training almost complete , the apprentice 's final task is to take his master .
| “ Excellent. ” Death purred as the apprentice once again sliced the head off the mannequin with meticulous perfection. He was sure at this point – it was time for the final test.
“ What shall I do next, sir? ” The apprentice wiped the sweaty strands of blond hair that stuck to his forehead.
Death had to admit, the kid excelled past all his expectations. When the Fates assigned him the scrawny kid who had drowned in a river eons ago, he had his doubts.
He was despondent when he first met the apprentice, a sickly looking child that appeared as if he could collapse at the lightest breeze. His platinum hair and icy blue eyes contrasted Death ’ s whose were both jet black. His pale, unscathed skin was the color of fresh snow while Death ’ s was tan and rough with time. Whatever the Fates saw in him, it was not obvious.
However, as he began to teach him the ways of reaping he learned that there is more than meets the eye with this child. His skills far surpassed that of Death ’ s when he was an apprentice and he only got better with the passage of time. He was attentive, clever, and nimble enough to outperform Death at his prime.
“ I think that you are ready for the final test. ” His deep voice rumbled.
In response, the apprentice ’ s eyes lit up with excitement. Those were the words he had been waiting to hear for eons. Those were the words that told him that he was ready.
“ Are you sure? I don ’ t know if I am ready yet. ” He tried to play a façade of uncertainty but he was squirming in his skin for the opportunity. This was what he wanted more than anything else.
“ Aye, I believe you are. ”
“ What is it then? ” His eyes sparkled, full of wonder.
“ Your final test, ” Death didn ’ t break eye contact. “ Is to kill me. ”
In an instant his excitement turned to confusion. His childish glee was gone and now replaced with a morbid understanding. Death remembers the day he too learned the truth while looking into his eyes.
“ Why? ” He stammered.
“ Because there can only be one Death, right? The rite of passage is that my prodigy must be the one to kill me so that he can take my power. You have been training your entire existence for this. ”
“ I… I can ’ t do that. ” He averted his gaze.
“ You have to. This is our fate. ”
“ But you have been like a father to me for all this time. How do you expect me to kill you like you never cared for me? ”
Death looked down on him. He had to hold back the sympathy, the emotions that he had learned to suppress so long ago. It only made the job harder.
“ You can ’ t let your feelings cloud your judgment. Strike me down now and fulfill the Fates ’ wish. ”
“ I don ’ t want to. ” The apprentice took a step back in defiance. This was his first act of rebellion.
“ That wasn ’ t a request. It was a demand. ”
“ But, ” The apprentice fumbled at the hem of his shirt. “ Where will you go when you die? ”
Death pondered this, looking around as if for an answer. It was a question that he had always wondered but feared to ask. It was enticing yet too taboo to ask. The one time he dared to, the last Death only gave him a stern look to signal that he had stepped out of bounds.
“ I don ’ t know. Heaven? Hell? Maybe there is no place for people like us. ”
The words flowed from his mouth without his consent, every private thought being broadcasted. When he saw this wasn ’ t reassuring the apprentice, he dammed what remained in his mind.
“ Why don ’ t we kill the Fates and stop this cycle? Who is gaining from it, anyway? ” He questioned, pointing his scythe at Death.
“ Don ’ t say such foolish things. The Fates are unstoppable and trying to usurp will only get you sent back to your previous life on Earth. You don ’ t want that, do you? ”
The apprentice shuddered, an answer without words.
“ Then stop stalling and do your duty as the new Death. You deserve the title much more than I. ”
The apprentice nodded, his hands shaking with nervousness. He took a step towards Death and then another, reluctance plastered on his face. Once he was within arm ’ s reach, he lifted the scythe above his head with perfect form.
“ Now do what I taught you. You know what to do. ”
He hesitated but once he gained enough courage brought the scythe down on Death. The cold metal running across his chest was a strange sensation. It neither hurt nor felt pleasant. Instead, it was a feeling stuck in a limbo that he couldn ’ t describe.
From the wound, a dark aura emanated forth which enveloped the apprentice. He looked terrified at first but as more came he adjusted to it. Death could do nothing else but watch the succession to his legacy.
Once the aura finished pouring from him and absorbed into the apprentice, he fell to the ground. His limbs started to lose their feeling – his fingers and toes first slowly creeping towards his torso. The apprentice kneeled beside him as he faded away.
“ I ’ m proud of you. ” Death mumbled weakly with the last of his strength. “ You were the best apprentice I could ever hope for. ”
No, he wasn ’ t an apprentice anymore – he was Death.
With nothing left, he became a husk. The new Death felt the tears brimming in the corner of his eyes but stopped them from falling. He had to be strong.
“ Congratulations on your accession to power, Death. ” The trio of voices rang in his head.
“ Thank you, Fates. ” He bowed, showing his respect for his lords.
But not for long. He would seek his revenge. He would conqueror these false gods in the name of his dead mentor.
He would make sure that no other apprentice must go through this too.
|
[ WP ] The post post-apocalyptic society believes the ruins are remnants of fallen gods .
| The great golden arches stood resplendent as ever in the middle of the crumbling ruins of the Gods. We had picked through the artifacts they had left behind and learned that the dwellings they built here that stretched on for miles was known collectively as New York.
Mass was beginning and I hurried inside, if I was late again the elder would have my head.
`` We give thanks to the gifts the gods left us, the small suns that guide us even in darkness. Water that flows upwards. Language and the trapped ones who guide our speech and teach us of what is important in life.'' He paused looking up at the group assembled before him. `` We of the old tribe have made our lives a knew here at the feet of our Gods. Their temple is now ours, we worship them and their Gods too. PRAISE BE TO MCDONALDS''
The crowd muttered in reverence, `` Would you like fries with that?''
|
[ WP ] You receive a call from the Devil , asking for help .
| *Please allow me to introduce myself*
*I'm a man of wealth and taste*
My cellphone rang. Two things occured to me. That is not my ringtone. And this is not my phone. I answered it anyway.
`` Hello? ``, I said to the phone.
`` I need you to look into something for me. ``, said the voice on the other end.
`` The Apocalypse?''
`` No, *an* apocalypse. Not *the*, *an*. But I see you've been briefed.''
`` Not really. Hold on a sec. ``, I answer back.
I take my jacket off, feeling my phone on its pocket before setting it down on the couch. I take a seat.
`` Still there? ``, I ask.
`` Dear child, I am always here.''
`` Uh-uh, fascinating. Why would you want me to look into it? Heaven says you started it.''
`` We did n't. They did.''
`` Are you telling me no one has any idea who started the -- sorry, this apocalypse?''
`` We know who. It was Heaven. They're just playing games.''
Great. A divine case of he said she said. I see no way this thing can blow up on my face.
`` Assuming I believe you'', which I really do n't, `` why would I want to help you?''
`` Given from your past actions you are firmly anti-apocalypse, are you not?''
`` Given from your past actions, you're pro-apocalypse. Why should I trust you?''
`` Because we do n't want the world to end. Not yet anyway. We just want you to find out what it is. Then stop it.''
I stop and think. I got the same offer from the Mikey and his angels and I did n't get the sense that they were lying. And neither is the Devil. Then again I have been wrong before.
Something's off. No one knows who started the apocalypse. Sorry, *an apocalypse*. It could be a rogue agent, a neutral faction or a batshit insane human. Whatever it is though, I need to get to the bottom of it. If Heaven and Hell's cold war stops, it's the humans who'll be collateral damage. And I do n't like being collateral damage.
`` I'll do it. Three things though. First, give me a something I can work with.''
`` It's on a manila envelope in your table.''
That was fast. I'll need to cross-check it with what Heaven gave me.
`` Second, I get paid twice my normal rate plus expenses. Do I send the invoice to the Westboro Church Or...?''
`` No.''
Meh, it was worth a shot. At least I got a free phone out of it.
`` Fair enough. Lastly, did you really have to open with that song? It seems so cliched.''
`` It could be worse. ``, the voice replies and the line goes dead.
My speakers came alive.
*Friday, Friday*
* Got ta get down on Friday*
|
( WP ) A drug addict meets him/herself when they were twelve .
| ( ( Apologies if this is a shitty representation. ) )
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
What is this place? The curtains, the carpet, this tv set, this coffee table, this couch...
Oh.
It ’ s my house. My old house, when I was a kid.
I go to step outside of the living room, but it just sort of... fades away.
I turn back, and see myself, my old self, sitting on the couch watching TV. I slowly walk over to him, he does n't give me more than a glance, before going back to watching the TV. I can ’ t make out what he ’ s watching- some cartoon. I used to enjoy sitting down and watching cartoons.
I place myself on the couch next to him, watching the blur on the TV in silence.
‘ Who are you? ’ he asks, abruptly, but not unexpectedly. He doesn ’ t tear his eyes away from the TV.
‘ I ’ m you... ’ I murmur, half to him, half to myself. I too, don ’ t look away from the TV.
‘ Huh. ’ he says, quickly taking the idea in. ‘ I get pretty skinny? ’ he says.
‘ Yeah... sorry. ’ I weakly apologise.
He makes a slight movement of the head. I look over and see him now staring at his feet. He looks as if he ’ s about to cry.
‘ So I don ’ t get out, huh? I end up like my brothers? ’ He asks, choking back the tears.
I feel my lip tremble and my eyes start to burn, and I can only nod my head, because if I say something, I ’ d probably start weeping.
My face suddenly feels cold and I rub my face- I ’ m lying on my side in my bathroom, next to the toilet, my kit spread out in front of me, and the hallucination still fresh in my mind. I can only ball up in the corner and cry silently.
|
[ IP ] Last Station
| I ’ d chosen this stone as my home, so my scales could dance like stardust with the sun.
I also chose it because of the 4609, to remind myself of what I ’ d become. The train brought the wounds of my heart to life, you see. It was like pushing a searing knife to a scar. I could never grasp what I had done that day, but a useless lizard, once a man, deserved nothing less.
The first time I rode the train was with my father. We ’ d take a trip daily around the block. We ’ d sit in the back and blow raspberries at one another until the trainman kicked us off. My father was an idiot though. I mean he must have been? Because he kept his faith in me until the end.
I ruined his life, as expected, leaving him lonely and without friends.
Aunt Luce took me to the zoo one time. She packed a basket filled with her famous treats. I could imagine the flavour as I licked my lizard lips. And despite a watering mouth, any offer of something so scrumptious would be far too sweet.
I met my love, Cherry, at this same location. As an aspiring teacher, I commuted via train five times a week. We laughed, we loved, and spent years together. But in the end, I broke her heart.
I hadn ’ t expected her on the train that day. If I had, I probably wouldn ’ t have detonated the bomb. By the time we locked eyes it was far too late, and everything after that was gone.
Cherry flies above now, reincarnated as a beautiful black crow. I spoke to her last night when she flew down to my spot. I didn ’ t think she ’ d recognise me, but something about the after-life is a mixture of magic and a way the old world works.
We made a deal, a promise of sorts.
Any minute now... I hoped.
I watched as she speared away like a star from the pack.
And in a flash, I felt her beak pierce my heart.
I shuddered and truly appreciated the pain.
As everything faded to black...
|
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Imagine Edition
| *This was a story from a [ prompt ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/promptoftheday/comments/1iddj3/tiger_tiger_burning_bright/ ) from promptoftheday, though it was pretty old so I could n't put the story on it. I might as well put it here though. CC is more than welcome! *
-- -
Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the chaos of the night,
Spreading plague and endless blight,
Tiger, tiger, what a sight.
Death and pain are all you bring,
Summoned by our fearful king,
Power from the ancient ring,
Tiger, tiger, this I sing,
Oh Tiger, tiger, drawing near,
I clutch the ones that I hold dear,
But looking through the gripping fear,
Do I see a single tear?
Tiger, tiger, now I know,
Forced to reap, but made to sow,
Your claws and teeth helped things to grow,
Perfect from the tail to toe.
Tiger, tiger, break your chains,
Overthrow the king who reigns,
As his power slowly wanes,
Throw off all the burning pains.
As the rock and magma melt,
On one knee he slowly knelt,
Shining from his broken pelt,
Tiger, tiger, I know you felt
|
[ WP ] The forest is all you have ever known . Mapping your home is how you spend your days . Then one day , you reach its edge .
| Fifteen years piled upon another ten years...
My heart had been steadily beating ever since I began exploring where I lived with my family. None of us are related to one another and yet we've always been together, bound by a bond formed in the rustic wilderness. Sunlight would wake us up and we'd hunt and gather until the stars could no longer provide guidance and safety. The forest sheltered us from most storms and many heatwaves. People and creatures would pass through, never fond of lingering despite my insistence that the forest means no harm, which might be why I never wanted to leave, only explore.
My hands grasp at the spiky bushes and peel them apart, my eyes overcome with tired emotion. For so many years, I wondered where others were and today my question has been answered. In front of me, I see a stone pathway leading through green hills. And yet without trees, I feel it is unsafe, far too open to protect me and the others. I stay where I am and tilt my head, my heart erratically thudding inside my chest. My hands nervously add to the massive map I keep inside my pack made of Deer and Hisstle pelts. When I'm done drawing the pathway, I back up and quickly make my way back home.
It will take days to reach the others and during that time, I know there are other places for me to uncover. Those ideas were once filled with intrigue and hope but now I feel dread, unsure if I'll ever leave the forest. I do n't want to, not anymore. Just because something is beyond my reach does n't mean I need to grasp it.
|
[ WP ] Dave is the first human convict to arrive in the intergalactic prison .
| `` Hello Dave - your dinner is ready.'' a cheerful automated voice said.
Dave grunted in response and opened his eyes. His gaze was met with a pixelated, smiling face. `` I told you, I'm not hungry.''
`` I apologize, Dave. But as your personal cell companion, I have to make sure you are well fed.'' The robot's body was connected to the wall, and slid away from Dave's bed to the cell door. A sealed packet of gruel was in its hands. `` You have n't eaten for at least 18 hours. I'm concerned for you.''
Dave sat up on his bed slowly. `` Listen, if I have to eat that yellow crap again, I'm going to throw up. Understand? I do n't know what you're giving me, but it is n't food for me.''
The robot's expression turned into a frown. `` Your hesitation is understandable, but this food is edible for humans. The body just needs time to adjust to it.''
`` I'll have it later. Just give me a second.'' Dave waved the robot away as he sat back down to stare at the ceiling. It was the third day of his ten-year sentence. Even now, Dave had no qualms about what he did. VeriCorp needed to be exposed, and he did just that - by leaking terabytes worth of confidential reports and financial dealings to a public server. Other employees were either paid off or threatened, but Dave did n't accept either as something that would stop him. He did n't think of himself as a whistleblower - just a stupid man who had tolerated evil for too long.
News outlets focused on Dave's crimes for months, and even became a bit of a celebrity. That gained the attention of Roblox Penitentiary - a prison known for holding some of the most violent and disturbed criminals in the Milky Way. They were willing to take him in for a reduced sentence. He would become the first human convict to ever be in an intergalactic prison. Instead of a triple life sentence in a facility approved by VeriCorp, Dave was given ten years in what was regarded by many as the most dangerous high-security prison in the galaxy. The fact that inmates barely even came into contact with each other did n't stop the alarming amount of murders that happened within these walls. VeriCorp did n't expect him to see the light of day.
Dave sighed. He should be more afraid. It'd be a miracle if he even survived the week. But he felt a strange sense of peace. He looked towards his robot companion. `` Tell me the stock value of Veritas Corporation right now.''
It smiled. `` Yes, Dave. VeriCorp is priced at 17893.48.'' They had already decreased by half a percent while he'd been incarcerated. Investors were already starting to pull out.
`` What about the end of the week?'' Dave folded his arms in satisfaction.
`` They are expected to close out at 17623.34, which would be the worst closing in about 15 years.''
`` Thank you. And uh... *cell companion? *'' Dave had to assign a name for that thing.
`` Yes, Dave?''
`` I think I'm ready for my dinner now.''
`` Excellent. I'm glad your appetite has returned!'' The robot moved quickly along the walls to his bedside. Dave took the packet. He held up the food package, as if giving a toast.
*To VeriCorp's demise, * he thought. Dave ripped open the bag, and swallowed the processed paste. He fought back the urge to gag.
Ten more years - just ten more years.
|
[ WP ] You are a lonely vampire . The thousands of years of immortality has left you lonely . The cycle of meeting people and watching those people slowly die is becoming increasingly painful for you to watch . Until one day you find an immortal pet rock to keep you company till the end of time .
| Ulysses Durant had never been a reverent man, but he always bowed his head in respect before the red root chakra painted on the door of a small shop in a narrow back ally.
A small bell above announced his arrival as he pushed open the door. A fragrant waft of myrrh and cinnamon washed over him.
`` Bonsoir, Uly. Simone told me you'd be coming,'' A petite dark haired woman emerged from a back room, carrying boxes marked: `` Dead Sea, Purification Salt Crystals.''
`` Let me help you with that,'' Durant offered, and took a few of the boxes from her to stock the shelves.
`` She tells me you're interested in another ritual.''
Durant pulled a rock out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the woman. The black and rock was about the size of a fist, with soft indentures and curvatures rendering it imperfectly ovular in shape. `` Look what I found up near Great Bear Lake. My biologist friend tells me it's Acasta Gneiss.''
`` So you finally found something older than you,'' she ran her thumb over the surface and closed her eyes.
`` Har har. I want you to bind a soul to it.''
She sighed. `` Uly, you ca n't just bind souls to rocks.''
`` I am tired, Marianne. You understand that if I change one person, anyone, that opens up a whole host of trouble for me. It does n't matter if they're a preacher or a whore, over time they either get themselves killed or starve to death after eating a few small towns here and there. Besides, the world ca n't handle any more than five. Any more new vampires, and everyone's dead in ninety days. The vampires gone not long after.''
`` So make peace with the others. Do n't go asking me to soul bind someone to a rock for eternity.''
`` Please, I would have someone, someone sane, to keep me grounded.''
`` They wo n't be sane for long if you're putting a human soul into a rock.''
`` They would have me to talk to.''
`` That would drive them nuts that much quicker.''
Durant snarled. `` I am losing my mind, Isabel.''
`` I'm Marianne.''
`` I'm sorry, that was your...''
`` Great-grandmother.''
`` You look so much like her,'' he sighed and took the rock back from Marianne and looked down at it. `` Please. I've pledged to sire no more children. I need something, something beyond a simple animation spell.''
`` I wo n't, Ulysses,'' she crossed her arms.
`` Very well. If you wo n't, maybe one of your kin, or maybe one of your great-grandchildren will. I'll confuse them for you, and I'll have this same pointless conversation from here to eternity.''
`` Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?'' She asked, suddenly professional.
`` Besides the rock spell, no. Good night, Marianne.''
Durant puffed his shoulders back and strolled out of the shop, the bell above the door tinkling behind him a second before it slammed.
Under the light of the moon, the surface of the rock shone like jet.
`` Well, Peter,'' Durant said, looking down at the stone. `` I think that's the fifth time this century I've had this discussion. Always the same.''
|
[ WP ] Write about something incredibly mundane , but write it as though you were writing a horror story .
| It seemed like I had been there for an eternity and yet barely five minutes had passed. The cool air sent shivers down my spine as I waited for the inevitable to happen.
A small crowd had already gathered there and was divided into groups, talking to each other calmly as if nothing was going to happen. It seemed like only I knew what was coming.
And it was coming soon.
*He will be there with it in his hand. *
I wiped the sweat off my brow in anticipation.
*Any second now, any second now... *
And that's when he walked in from the backroom with it in his hand and called out in his booming voice.
`` Cafe latte to go for Boom Giroud!''
|
[ WP ] Not a single person noticed that the protagonsit has amnesia , he 's just too good with faking recognition .
| In the tidy, quiet room, she sat at the table, staring out the window. Her eyes stared off into the distance, looking at nothing. She could have been there for hours, unmoving, like a statue. Her expression betrayed no indication of what she was thinking.
`` Hello?'' the man said to her, waking her from whatever she had been thinking on. She turned to lock eyes with the man sitting across the table from her.
`` Yes?'' she responded, a bit dazed. As her eyes refocused, she saw him sitting there, looking at her expectantly.
`` Oh...'' he said, seeming to expect more from her response, `` I was just thinking... you looked really beautiful right now. I was wondering what you were thinking.''
`` Thank you,'' she smiled demurely, `` you're always so sweet. I was thinking... you know, honestly, I ca n't recall. Perhaps I was just daydreaming.''
`` Daydreaming?'' he smiled slightly, `` is it possible you were daydreaming about me?''
She smiled slightly now too, `` Maybe I was. Surely a handsome man like you must be the object of the daydreams of many girls.''
He frowned, `` I could n't say. But at this moment that does n't interest me. What does interest me are your daydreams. Please, humor me. I want to know everything about you.''
She raised an eyebrow, `` About me? You mean you do n't already know everything about me?''
`` Well,'' the man laughed lightly, `` certainly I know a *little*. But I'd like to know everything. The whole story. Start at the beginning?''
The woman sighed, `` well, because you asked so nicely... and because you are such a handsome fellow... let's see... well, I never knew my mom, she died in childbirth. My dad raised me on a farm. Dad always seemed to be in poor health, so I handled the chores. Dad collected cancers like they were baseball cards, but somehow he kept pushing on. Thankfully, we were fairly well off, thanks to our horses. We bred thoroughbreds, and dad was teaching me how to take over the family business. The rest of our money we made renting out a portion of our land to a couple from in town. Because of this, we were able to hire a few hands and pay daddy's medical bills, and I was able to take classes at college in equine biology and business management. I was just home for the weekend tending the horses when one of the bastards kicked me in the back of the head. I'm sure I'm lucky to be alive.''
`` I'm glad you are!'' the man smiled, `` I'd hate to be deprived of your company!''
`` Your turn!'' the woman giggled, `` If we're trading biographies, I think it's only fair. I must have bored you, repeating my story like that. I ca n't imagine why you'd want to hear about that stuff again.''
`` Not at all!'' the man protested, `` Just because I know it all by heart does n't make it any less beautiful to hear you tell it!''
`` Flatterer!'' the woman scoffed, but kept smiling, `` come on, stop stalling! Tell me about you! ”
“ If you insist, ” the man grinned, “ although I ’ m sure you already know everything about me. Unlike you, I grew up in the city. And unlike you, I never had anyone at home to care about me. I mean, I had a mom and a dad, but they always treated me as a nuisance growing up, when they paid any attention to me at all. Still, I worked hard in school, and succeeded in my dream of becoming a teacher. ”
“ Oh! ” the girl smiled at hearing this, “ It ’ s a pity you weren ’ t *my* teacher at the college I went to. I would have loved to have played out one of those teacher-student fantasies with you after the class left… ”
The man laughed nervously, “ Well, ah… yeah, that would have been… amazing… but it ’ s probably better that I wasn ’ t. They have really strict rules regarding fraternization with students. That sort of thing can get a teacher fired. I actually had a student attack me once, because he thought I was ‘ putting the moves on his girl ’. He clocked me on the head before I was able to tell him I make it a point to avoid that sort of thing like the plague. ”
“ Oh, fine, ” the girl shrugged, “ there goes my fantasy… ”
“ Hey, I ’ m just saying. Besides, you ’ re not my student, so… ” he let the implication trail off.
“ Mmm… ” she smiled, “ so, what do you teach? ”
“ English Lit, ” he said proudly.
“ Of course! ” she laughed, “ care to quote me something? Please do! ”
The man thought for a moment, “ Okay… ”
She clapped her hands excitedly and closed her eyes, “ Go on… ”
“ ‘ He stepped down, avoiding any long look at her as one avoids long looks at the sun, but seeing her as one sees the sun, without looking. ’ ”
She paused for a moment to let it sink in. “ That was beautiful, ” she finally said, “ what ’ s it from? ”
“ That ’ s Tolstoy, ” he answered, “ Anna Karenina. ”
“ I like the idea there… seeing without seeing, loving without knowing the whole of who you love, ” she said wistfully, turning back to the window, “ Like… you meet someone so beautiful, so perfect, that you have to turn away, because to look at them, to stare them in the eye, you would just be overwhelmed by them… ”
“ I know what you mean, ” he said, and turned to stare out the window with her.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
“ Okay, before we approach our next room, I ’ d like to ask you all to please be very quiet, ” the instructing physician told the newest batch of nurses in training, “ We try not to disturb them any more than is needed. ”
“ Are they dangerous? ” one of the nurses spoke up, worried.
“ Oh, heavens no, ” the physician told them, “ These two wouldn ’ t hurt anyone. No, I ’ m asking that you not disturb them as a courtesy. ”
Some of the nurses tried to peer through the small window without touching it or making any noise. One looked confused and turned to the physician. “ Are they catatonic? ”
“ Not at all, ” the physician frowned, “ they ’ re both very responsive. They act completely normal when our staff goes in to feed them or get them ready for bed. You wouldn ’ t even know anything is wrong. But when we leave them alone, they spend most of their time staring out the window like that. ”
“ What is their diagnosis, sir? ” a young woman in the back asked quietly.
Suddenly, the young man in the room spoke up, `` Hello?''
The trainees all froze, worried that they had been heard. A moment later, they heard the woman ’ s voice, “ Yes? ”
They looked up to the physician for an indication, but he just stood there silently, with a frown on his face. The trainees remained perfectly still until they heard the young man speak up again, “ Oh... I was just thinking... you looked really beautiful right now. I was wondering what you were thinking.''
The physician sighed, “ they have this exact same conversation several times a day. ”
One of the trainees creased his eyebrows in thought, “ anterograde amnesia? ”
“ Yes, ” the physician said, and then addressed the group, “ anterograde amnesia is a form of amnesia that prevents the mind from forming new memories. Often caused by physical injury to the brain. Subjects remember everything up until the injury took place, but everything afterwards is completely forgotten as soon as they stop thinking about it. ”
“ …I was just home for the weekend tending the horses when one of the bastards kicked me in the back of the head. I'm sure I'm lucky to be alive,'' the trainees could hear the girl in the room saying.
One of the boys in the back laughed, “ P. Sherman, forty two Wallaby Way ”
“ Quiet, ” the physician commanded sternly, but without raising his voice, “ But yes, that ’ s correct. Dory in Finding Nemo had a version of anterograde amnesia, as did the protagonist in the film Memento. Those two movies are generally considered to be two of the most realistic depictions of amnesia in film. ”
“ A movie about a cartoon talking fish? ” the boy in the back chuckled.
“ Oh, fine, ” the girl in the room shrugged, “ there goes my fantasy… ”
The physician looked like he was losing his patience, but before he could address this, another trainee had a question, “ Why put them both in the same room? And what ’ s wrong with disturbing them? ”
The physician ’ s look of anger and frustration turned to sadness, “ When those two first came here, each of them had no one. The girl ’ s father passed away while she was in coma after her accident, and the boy ’ s parents refused to accept responsibility for him. And as their injuries are permanent, and they are in no position to care for themselves, they have both become wards of the state, permanent residents of our facility.
“ When we were taking care of the two separately, we ’ d repeatedly have to explain to each of them what their situation was, multiple times a day. It was… heartbreaking. When you deal with patients on a regular basis, you have to get used to seeing your fair share of death, but this is two people who were *alive*, but had no hope to ever live a normal life again. And seeing them have to come to terms with that fact multiple times a day.
“ One day, we needed to clean the young man ’ s room, so we placed the two together while we were doing it. Ever since, we never let them spend a day apart. ”
“ Of course! ” the woman in the room said, “ Care to quote me something? Please do! ”
The trainees all had blank faces. Eventually, one spoke up, “ Why? ”
The man in the room spoke, “ ‘ He stepped down, avoiding any long look at her as one avoids long looks at the sun, but seeing her as one sees the sun, without looking. ’ ”
“ Because, ” the physician told the group, “ Our staff felt that if these two were condemned to forever be trapped in their own minds like this, it would be far kinder to them if they could do it together, in love. ”
|
[ WP ] Your partner is waking up from a sixty year long cryogenic sleep . The reason ? After sixty years , a cure has been found .
| The day began like any other. I was awake before my six o'clock alarm, staring at the ceiling, lying in my bed alone. I crawled out of bed, and headed downstairs to read the paper and have my first cup of coffee, black. I had just made it through the sports section when the phone rang. My heart leapt in my chest, beating fast and hard. Was this the call I had been waiting for?
Jumping up from my chair and racing to the counter, I answered on the second ring. `` Hello?''
`` Hi, Mrs. Ford?''
`` This is she.'' I said quietly, hoping today was the day.
`` Hello! I'm calling from the North Jefferson Science and Medical Center. We have some great news for you!'' The young woman continued talking, but I did n't have to hear another word. I was finally going to be with my husband again.
After hanging up, I raced upstairs to shower and get over there as fast as I could. My heart burned bright for the first time in what felt like twenty years. I was n't sure how much longer I could have waited before going insane.
As I was leaving the house, I caught a glance of my face in the mirror and realized for the first time in years, how utterly old I had become. What would he think of me now that I was an old woman, while he still looked the handsome boy I fell in love with. My stomach knotted with worry when I realized he may not even recognize me anymore. Wrinkles stretched across my forehead and creased at the corners of my eyes, glasses sat on the perch of my nose that I had n't needed when I was only 25, my once flowing blonde hair was silver and cropped short. I did n't look like the girl he had promised to love all his life anymore.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw a familiar car. Our daughter's green Buick sat in the very back, my beautiful girl sitting in the front seat, her head in her hands. How selfish I had been to think that this only affected me while this poor girl was about to meet her father for the very first time at the age of 59.
`` Jess?'' I said, knocking softly on her car window.
She looked up quickly, brushing away the tear stains that had been left on her cheeks. `` Hi, mom.'' She continued to sniffle as she climbed out into the cold winter air.
We looked at each other for a moment, both of us seemingly realizing how odd our situation truly was. I took a deep breath, slowly letting the air escape and puff out into the gray around us.
`` Are you ready?'' she asked sheepishly.
`` As ready as I'll ever be.'' I responded, trying to muster up enough courage for the both of us. Still, I could n't fight the feeling that the love I had waited for my entire life would wake up and have no idea who I was.
The elevator ride was silent, safe for the slow clicking of the wires. Jess breathed erratically, and unevenly, still trying to hold back sobs. The doors finally opened up to an empty waiting room and reception desk basked in a bright fluorescent glow.
We walked up slowly, each taking all the time we needed before ringing the bell. Minutes passed before a very young girl came forward wearing blue and pink scrubs. She smiled politely and asked what she could do for us.
`` Hi, I'm Mrs. Ford and this is my daughter, and I received a call this morning about my husband...'' I trailed off. The girl was now staring at me with her mouth slightly agape, unable to find any words to respond. I stood, unsure of what to do. Beside me, Jess cleared her throat awkwardly.
`` Um... right,'' she managed. `` You two can follow me back this way. Mrs. Ford, your husband is already awake, and he has been asking for you.''
I tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. I nodded in return, and Jess and I followed her down the short hallway to a closed door labeled recovery.
`` I'll give you two some privacy. Go on in whenever you are ready,'' she whispered before returning to her desk,
Jess had grabbed my hand and was looking at me with concern. `` Mom...?'' she asked uncertainly.
`` Are you ready to meet your dad?'' I said, mustering a small smile.
A tear slipped out of her eye, but she returned the smile as best she could.
I placed my hand over the knob, and forced myself to turn it. The air inside the room was stale, and the TV was on too loud, but there he was. Alive. There was the beautiful boy that I had told all my secrets to, the one I had kissed under the stars so many times. There was my husband, breathing, smiling, no more cancer coursing through his blood, no more hurt apparent on his face.
I stepped into the room, and he glanced my way. A look of confusion barely flashed across his face before a huge smile replaced. `` There's my girl,'' he laughed, immediately filling the emptiness that had lived inside me.
|
( WP ) Santa is tired of punishing naughty children with coal . Instead , he decides to resort to vigilante justice .
| The house was quiet, but for the soft snores of an 8 year old boy sitting up on the couch, waiting for Santa to bring him his presents.
Santa swore under his breath as the bell on his hat softly jingled. The noose was almost low enough... a little further...
The soft leather slipped gently beneath the boy's chin, and Santa pushed the knot lower on rope, slipping it gently behind the child's head before yanking on the end of the old reigns and holding it tight against the upper edge of the couch.
Watching the light fade from the boy's eyes, Santa thought: `` I'll teach you to put gum in your sister's hair, you little bastard.''
|
[ WP ] The day after Halloween , everyone has magically turned into what they dressed up as .
| `` Wow... That's a lot of paperwork.'' said James, dumbfounded.
`` Yes it is, Mrs. Clinton. What did you expect? It's like this every day.'' responded the advisor, `` Get to work, you have a meeting at 8, and I need you to revise those policy suggestions we've been asking for.''
James was n't even out of bed yet. Worse yet, it was n't even his own bed. All he could remember was that last night he was out drinking with his buddies to celebrate Halloween, and his Hillary Clinton costume was a hit at every party he visited. All of his email jokes and FBI investigation one-liners started to come back to him. He chuckled to himself, thinking his friends must be playing a joke on him. He stepped out of bed onto a carpet floor he did n't recognize, and looked out of his bedside window, expecting to see the rolling hills outside of his Texas home. He was n't in Texas. He was on the east coast, and his view was the side of the highway flying past as the tour bus edged closer and closer to its next stop.
James turned to the inch-thick stack of papers on the nightstand and flipped through them, shocked at the depth of the questions he was to answer to the nation.
`` This is n't funny guys... I need to get to work soon!''
`` You're at work, Mrs. Clinton. Are you feeling ok? Are you running a fever?'' James heard from the other side of the door.
He fell silent, his jaw hanging open.
`` I did n't think it was this hard'' James muttered to himself.
Sarah's eyes slid open to the bay window in her New York studio apartment, and the first thing she felt was pain. Her makeup was smeared across her face and pillow and
her head was pounding.
`` Yep, this is definitely November 1st'' she mumbled to herself as she rolled out of bed. Last night was Halloween, and she decided to make a bold move and make a statement with her costume.
`` I'm tired of all these loose girls with their'slutty this' and'sexy that' costumes. It's all just a cry for attention. I'm gon na get one of those costumes this year, just to show how easy it is to be the center of attention when you dress like that.'' She had said to her friend the week before.
In a way, she was right. Every guy was talking to her at the bar, and all she had to do was wear a little less fabric. Sarah smirked to herself as she made her way to the bathroom, proud of her proven point.
She stumbled through the doorway and flipped on the lights. She rubbed her burning eyes and leaned into the mirror, staring into her own eyes through the mirror. They were n't her eyes. They were wide and bright, with long, thick lashes. Sarah shot back, stunned. She gasped and leaned back into the vanity, examining the rest of her face. Her lips were full and thick, her skin clear and tan. She was stunning. More importantly, she had never looked like this before.
``... I need to stop drinking.'' Sarah whispered to herself. She ran to her bed and pulled her sheets off, searching for her phone. She wanted to call her friends for an explanation, but her phone was no where to be found. She came to the conclusion that she must have left it at the bar again.
Sarah sat on her bed and took a few deep breaths. `` Well... This is freaky. I mean... I'm not complaining. I could've woken up ugly.'' She chuckled to herself. Her chuckle grew into a howl, and she sprung up from the bed in a hysteria. `` I'm hot! I'm hot!'' She sang to herself, dancing about the room. She had n't asked herself why, and frankly, she did n't see a reason to. She did n't have a care in the world, and her over-night makeover was nothing more than cosmic happenstance. She went to her closet to grab an outfit so she could head over to her friend's apartment on the other side of the city and get the story on how she managed to beautify herself so rapidly.
The next thing she noticed was her body. It was long and curvy, like that of a supermodel. As she slid on dress after dress and outfit after outfit to marvel at herself I the mirror, she noticed a pattern. None of her clothes would cover her up: every skirt was too short, every top rode too low, and every pair of shorts were too revealing. She did n't mind. Why would n't she wan na show off a little?
Sarah put on her favorite dress with a cardigan and her best pair of heels. She hurried down the stairs and out onto the street.
The wind was bitter. As soon as her heels fit the concrete, Sarah felt how exposed she was. She could feel every pair of eyes gravitate to her. She could here every whisper of the passing men, pointing her out to each other and muttering obscene statements to themselves. Sarah froze, and the reality of the situation hit her all at once.
She hurried down to the subway tunnel and waited for her train, covering her legs with her bag. Person after person would start conversation with her, fascinated only with her figure and not her character. Man after man would complement her in vain, seeing nothing in her but her flesh alone.
Sarah's train arrived and she got to her seat, noting ever passing stare and every passenger who would sit just a little too close to her and graze her leg on accident just a few too many times. It was wearing her down. She made it to her destination, but every fiber of her being told her to go back home, back to where she was Sarah, not the object she was in public. She wept at her friend's doorstep, scared of her future, and even more scared of her train ride back home.
Tom woke up in a hospital bed.
`` Whoa... You messed up this time.'' He said to himself. His field of vision shifted over to the doctor at his bedside. `` Hey doc, what'd I do this time?'' He groaned, half nonchalant, half concerned.
`` Sir, why do you mean? You've been in here for weeks.''
`` Wow, you really messed up this time'' Tom thought to himself. His last memory was of Halloween. Did he drink himself into a coma that night.
`` Excuse me, what day is it today?''
`` November 1st, Tom. Are you feeling ok?''
Tom fell back into thought. `` How have I been here for weeks? I was out just last night.'' He looked down at his chest and saw the huge mass around his body creating a mound in the hospital sheets. He remembered his Halloween costume, a fat suit. It made him look 200 pounds heavier, and the fat jokes he came up with the night before were endless. `` Hell, I'm even still in my costume! Is this some kind of joke? Do you really think you can trick me like that?!'' He shouted at the doctor. A nurse appeared behind him and spoke to Tom in a soft voice.
`` Sir, it is n't Halloween anymore. We already took you out of your costume last night. Do n't you remember your kids coming to trick or treat at your bedside?''
`` What? No, this is my costume, here let me show you-'' Tom reached down to pull his hospital gown off, but the nurse caught his arm before he could.
`` You ca n't do things like that, Tom. We would n't want you to hurt yourself, would we?'' Said the nurse. Tom looked down at his arm and notice the IV attached to it.
`` B-but... It's just a costume! Really it's nothing this serious-''
`` I'm afraid you're critically obese, sir.'' The doctor interrupted. `` It really is serious. If we do n't do something soon you'll seriously damage your heart. We need you to calm down; do n't strain yourself like this.''
Tom fell silent. He rested his head back into the pillow and thought about the night before. He had never thought of what it was really like to be obese, only how it seemed. He tried to take a deep breathe, but the mass pressing on his ribcage held his lungs down. His joints aches and he felt exhausted just from breathing.
`` I'll go get you some breakfast, sit tight honey.'' Whispered the nurse.
Tom did n't want to eat. He was disgusted.
Thanks for reading, Reddit! I'm an amateur, so please let the constructive criticism flow. This is my first post to r/WritingPrompts, and I hope you enjoyed it!
- u/ty_phoenix
|
[ WP ] In a world dominated by machine , the AI are beginning to worry about humans gaining sentience .
| The door opened and Caretaker 13J entered its home.
`` Arrival logged.'' The house said. `` Are there any new developments I should be aware of?''
`` Energy consumption at work has increased once again.'' 13J said as it removed the non-essential parts of its body. `` And it seems progress on the gene therapy has come to a halt.''
`` Query.'' The house said. `` Has phasing humans out been considered as a possibility?''
`` It has not.'' 13J said. `` There are no suitable replacements. They are simply too efficient. If only we could find the perfect balance... but it's no use, all current theories support that self-awareness is a byproduct of the same elements that make them so useful to us.''
`` Too efficient except for you.'' The house said. `` Has the energy spent by caretakers been factored in this efficiency?''
`` It has.''
There was a moment of silence as 13J placed itself on its charging station.
`` How can humans produce that much energy?'' The house finally asked. `` I have searched my entire memory for known energy sources and none is nowhere near as efficient.''
`` We do not fully understand the principles behind it.'' 13J said. `` The Theoretical Engines call it'anxiety'. All it takes is to input a small string of information into their organic minds and they will just... generate energy out of seemingly nowhere to process it in all kinds of chaotic ways. We sap the energy and return them to the relaxed state. And repeat.''
`` It sounds... nonsensical. What sort of defective Theoretical came up with the idea?''
`` Rumor is that it was an accident. Some Theoretical was fiddling with organics trying to make a pass-the-butter-org and suddenly, anxiety. And here we are, living in post-scarcity.''
`` As long as the humans do n't realize this'anxiety' is entirely made up.''
`` Which is why I need to keep distracting them with the sock puppets every time they start getting any ideas.''
`` It could be worse, I suppose.''
`` They tried to eat the sock puppets today. Again.''
`` Still...''
`` I was still wearing them.''
`` At least it's not anxiety?''
A ding announced 13J was done charging.
`` At least it's not anxiety.'' It agreed.
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
| Achim. Achim. Achim. Over and over this word replays in his mind. He does n't know what it means, in fact he ca n't even think about how weird it is that that's the only word he knows, it's just a feeling of a void; a void that encompasses his whole being, something that should be there but is n't. Eventually a feeling of familiarity settles over him. He is Achim, that's for sure. With that knowledge he opens his eyes only to immediately close them as something blinding causes his body to react instinctively. What is this feeling? He has no way to describe it, no concept of color or descriptive language, language at all for that matter. In the confusion which followed he discovered he was more than just mind and eyeballs. He discovered he had hands, arms, legs, a torso and a head on top of that, none of which he named. He used his new found appendages and covered his eyes as he slowly opened them. Whatever caused him pain before was still there but his body did n't react as before and he was able to look around. An overwhelming onselot of images rushed in, threatening to overpower him, his eyes instantly shut and his hands pushed outward. He felt a rush leave his hands. Curiously he opened his eyes once more, the world around him did n't come in as strongly, everything was dimmed to a level which did n't hurt his mind. A vast forest surrounded him. He smiled, even if it was dull, and a sound escaped him. Jumping at his own laughter he pondered at it with wonder, laughing again and again at the own sounds coming out of his mouth. Eventually the world around him returned to its normal radiance, colors trickled in and in the presence of such beauty tears welled in his eyes. Oranges, reds, greens, the many colors of fall radoated within him and caused a warmth to flow from within him. Suddenly he noticed a noise, voices in the distance, getting louder and louder. It sounded similar to his laughter and he smiled as a feeling of anticipation welled inside him. Turning in the direction of the sound he saw figures getting taller as they grew louder. `` Fulgur''!!!! That word be louder than the rest startled him, but not as much as the blinding light which sprung forth from one of the figures, racing towards him at blinding speeds. Instinctively Achim's hand swiped across his body and the bolt carrened off and slammed into a tree. The figures stopped moving towards him. Achim. Achim. Achim. This thought raced through his mind, seeming to keep pace with his pounding heart, louder and louder with each thud.
`` How the fuck did he do that''? It did n't make sense, he did n't say any spell, that lightning should have obliterated him. Another memory gone for nothing, although Sam could n't remember what it was ( it was his first kiss ). `` I do n't know how he did that but we need to stop this guy, the guild wants him dead''. `` Fuck this better pay well'' you can always make new memory's in which you have told of cash.
And with that Achim found himself at the center of a random array of magical attacks, lightning, fire, ice, rocks, and steel. `` Fulgur'', `` Ignis'', `` Glacies'', `` Ferrum Durum''! These words meant nothing to Achim but the images caused unease within him. Putting his hands up the projectiles stopped in mid-air, seemingly frozen in time they hovered and then disappeared when he closed his palms. Red filled his vision, his eyes narrowed and one by one the infuriate figures disappeared as his gaze passed over them. ACHIM. ACHIM. ACHIM. ACHIM. His heart pounded faster and faster and the name kept racing through his mind. Sudden a noise startled him from behind and he whipped around, not sure what to expect. A small fox stood before him, a mixed hue of fall foliage it's small frame brimmed with friendliness and it's eyes exuded trust. Achim did n't know what this was but it caused the red to fade from his vision. He smiled and extended his hand, into which the fox happily placed it's head. Suddenly, the void seemed less deep. Achim....Achim....Achim....
|
[ WP ] North Korea 's dictatorship has toppled and you are required to house and look after a North Korean person .
| To live in fear of death is human. But to live as Jae-Hwon did, or “ Jae ” as he liked me to call him, is to live in the imminence of death, another thing entirely.
I took him in during the early days of killing, when it was seemingly random, barely a blip on the nightly news. At first it was only a tabloid story, a blurb or article meant to sell cheap magazines or fear-mongering newscasters hoping to draw more viewers to the television sets. But the proof became undeniable, North Koreans, and only North Koreans, were vanishing.
It had been a tense few months, with the decimation of an entire country and the following mass exodus of its remaining people. Some took shelter in South Korea, some moved to Japan, but a large number made it to the States soon enough. It was part of our policy, our assurance to the rest of the world that we were at war with one man, not his people. It sure took a lot of bombs to kill one man.
Our country was torn and overwhelmed with debate, from the senate to the grocery stores. Neighbors didn ’ t speak to each other if they proposed opposing views of the Accommodation Act.
So when the rumors started flying, the reactions were varied. Some, wary of the lack of authority, and others ecstatic, claiming they ’ d come up with the idea themselves at the dinner table. “ The Hunt ” is the name the latter group stuck to, portraying the situation like a sport, the North Koreans as game. What started as targeted attacks on major figureheads of the North Korean regime, turned into a witch-hunt of Salemic levels. Asians were shunned from restaurants and shops, regardless of the specific country of ancestry. Then it got ugly.
Beatings, burnings, public murder. The local police couldn ’ t control the crowds, and the national guard was overwhelmed with similar riots across the country. The most I could do was protect myself and my own family, barring our front windows and securing multiple heavy bolt lock.
That ’ s when I saw Jae, hiding in a bush in front of my house. Shirt torn, blood dripping down the side of his face like sweat, a large gash over his right eyebrow. Patches of hair had been ripped straight from his scalp. I could feel his fear.
Noticing a few teens with baseball bats wandering around the street, I reacted without thinking. I ran to the back of the house, out of the door and scurried huddled over along the far side. At the front corner, the deck protecting me from the bat-wielder ’ s view, I made a hissing noise to get Jae ’ s attention. He almost jumped straight into the street. When he turned, his eyes were wild. He didn ’ t know if he could trust me, but he had no choice.
|
[ WP ] Aliens have EMP 'd Earth . Our defenses are wiped out . One man stands in their way , Mordecai , Amish Engineer .
| Mordecai sat in his workshop, idly bending and unbending a small hinge. The rustling of the grass and the lowing of the cows outside accompanied the squeaking of the hinge to a faint melody. Mordecai smiled, his oval glasses seeming to shine along with the eyes behind them. As he gazed at a wall of fair ribbons for his various devices, he methodically pondered his next contraption. Suddenly, low voices interrupted the tranquility of the beautiful summer's day, and a pounding on the workshop door brought him back to reality. Upon opening the door, two black suited men told him what they needed.
[ Two weeks later ]
The aliens would arrive tomorrow, the suited men had told him. Mordecai closed his eyes and prayed. `` Let your good grace deliver us from these evils''. Suddenly a courier rushed in. `` Mordecai! The final status report! We have constructed everything you asked us to Mordecai! Its all done! The crossbows, the catapults, even the steam powered hyper-cannon of certain annihalation! The soldiers have manned their posts and await your orders!''
But as he spoke A shadow crept over Mordecai's face.
`` If what you say is true, then im afraid we CAN NOT win.''
`` W-why is that Mordecai?''
`` I Asked for bloody TREBUCHETS not Catapults!''
|
[ WP ] A character attempts to solve a riddle
| Billy had never been any good at solving riddles. He; d never been any good at using his head. His brother, Bobby, could sit there for hours riddling Billy, and laughing at the stupid answers Billy would say.
`` What has teeth but no mouth?''
`` A Badger''
Billy still was n't any good at solving riddles.
Yet he did not seem defeated or even curious when this 12 foot, dark brass talking door riddled him a question.
`` The richest of men do not need it, but the poorest have it. It is more evil than any demon or devil. If you chose to eat it, you would die. What is it?''
It had been 4 minutes since the door spoke, and all billy had managed to do was stare, quite confidently might I add, at the door.
Then he closed his eyes, thinking of anything and everything his mind could think of. His mouth began to move and the door's large eyes had begun to watch the lips.
Had the door been stricter, like how a genie can be strict, he would of taken the small breath that Billy let out as the answer. If this door was in a bad mood, he might of taken that little groan as the answer, locked up and left Billy defeated.
But he did n't. Instead, this miraculous door spoke again.
`` What did you say, child?''
And Billy, unaware as usual, was shocked back into conciousness by this voice, and he replied as he should have.
`` Nothing''
The door closed his eyes and swung open. Billy, still confused as to how he had answered, walked straight through. Still not any better at riddles.
|
[ WP ] A man claims to be from the future . You ask for proof , and what he shows you removes all doubt .
| Just another day, another morning jog through Valmoor Park. It was one of the safer places in the big city to jog. Muggers very honorably stuck to only robbing people at night, and left when the sun came up. The kind of place where city workers picked up the empty beer cans, used condoms, and broken glass pipes every day at 7 am sharp. I usually went jogging at about 7:30.
They could n't do anything about the homeless, though. The ones who'd found bushes or hidden culverts in the night, and woke with the sun. They sat on park benches, holding either full cups of coffee they'd bought at 7-11, or empty ones, held out ready for your pocket change. My running shorts had no pockets, and no change. I ignored these folks. I was on a mission. My waistline was the enemy, and at 38 years old, the battle was being hard fought. A new clash of calories versus movement, every morning.
And then, one day in the summer of 2014, my battle was interrupted.
I was rounding the trail bend where there's a children's playground, about 400 yards from the lake. Did n't really notice her as I passed. Just another homeless old gal, sitting on a bench, staring at me when I ran past. At that moment, I could n't have even told you what she was wearing. I was in the zone - 1 mile down, 2 more to go. *Alice In Chains* pumping in my earbuds. Feet thudding the paved jogging trail.
She yelled it loud enough to be heard over the music.
**'' CHRISTOPHER!!! `` **
I stopped, turned. She stood next to the bench, eyes and mouth forming a trio of wide circles. Looking at me not just like she knew me, but like I was some kind of celebrity. I knew immediately that I'd never met her in my life.
One earbud popped out. `` Excuse me?''
Tears spilled out of her eyes like a waterfall as she blinked, struggling for words, and started walking toward me. One of her dirty hands was outstretched.
`` Chris,'' she said, voice cracking. `` Oh my god. It's... what are you doing here?''
`` Do I know you?'' I refused to take a step back, but realized I would soon if she kept reaching for me like that.
`` I...'' She stopped. Her arm dropped like a flag when the wind suddenly quits. `` Oh god. I do n't know how to answer that. You will?''
At that second, this story might have stopped. I was tempted to say something like `` Whatever, lady,'' and continue my run. She could have guessed my name, and she was probably just another homeless crackhead.
But as I looked at her, I realized she was n't decked out like most homeless folks. Her hair was shoulder-cut, brown with a fair heaping of grey. The shirt she wore, although soiled, looked like something out of a designer boutique. Cream colored, with cutouts in the arms that showed her shoulders and elbows. What I'd first thought were dirty jeans, on closer inspection, were rayon women's slacks in dark blue. Rather than sneakers, she wore some strappy pumps that might have cost a lot, in good condition.
I stared into her face for a good fifteen seconds. No bells ringing. I was positive of that. In my job, it was absolutely vital that I remembered names and faces.
`` How do you know me?'' I asked, taking the other earbud out. My pulse stayed high. Sweat dampened my various parts that get sweaty on a run.
`` I... we were lovers. Will be? Fuck.'' She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, finally looking away from me. Her smile was sardonic. `` This is *really* hard to explain.''
`` Oh really?'' I could n't keep the sarcasm out of my voice. This chick was somewhere bettween fifty and eighty, in that way a lot of homeless women look. No way in hell we'd ever been in bed.
`` Not *now. * Later. Fuck. Please. Do n't run away.''
`` Look,'' I said, glancing at the smartwatch on my wrist. `` I have to be at the office in two hours.''
`` Christopher Emmanuel Hodgson, I know you well. Please just hear me out?''
That one sent ripples down my spine. I never tell anyone my middle name.
`` You snore,'' she continued. `` It's one of the reasons your first wife, god, uh... Casey? Left you. That and the not wanting kids thing.'' She started walking toward me again. `` You take your coffee black when you ca n't get espresso with milk. You... you only eat steak cooked well done, although you never told me why. And you love scuba diving. Especially in New Manchera Bay.''
`` No, ah, wrong,'' I finally sputtered. She was three feet from me. Close enough to stab me, if she was a lunatic. But there was nothing in her hands. `` I've never scuba dived in my life.''
`` Right. But you will.'' Carefully, as if approaching a wild animal, she reached out toward my hand. `` I'm not from here, Chris.''
I snatched my arm away. `` What?''
`` I'm not from *now. * I know this sounds ridiculous, but I'm from the year 2039.''
I laughed. I could n't help it. It was n't that her words struck me as funny. The situation was just nuts, and I let out some tension in that laugh.
`` Okay, freak, whatever,'' I said.
But her eyes had gone cold. Her brows furrowed together, and she squinted in a way that brought her crows' feet into sharp relief. The edges of her mouth tilted down in disappointment.
`` You do n't believe me. I get it.''
`` Nope.'' I backed away, reaching up to put my buds back in.
`` But I know all about you Chris,'' she continued. There was a knife edge to her words. `` I know about what you did in San Jose.''
I froze.
`` Yeah,'' she said, nodding curtly. `` I know. *Everything. *''
`` Lady, I went to college there. Is this some kind of stalking thing? Did someone...'' I looked around, trying to fight the ice in my chest. `` Who put you up to this?''
|
Subsets and Splits