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[ WP ] When People want someone dead , they hire the best . When they ca n't afford them , they hire you . You are the Budget Assassin .
| Eli could have gone in through the skylight. First he ’ d cut at the glass with surgical precision, making not a sound in removing the severed pane. He ’ d then let a drone quadcopter fitted with a silenced pistol descend into the building. It would then be a case of scanning for heat signatures and pressing the kill button. Eli could do all that, but that would be too expensive. He had a reputation for efficiency, people didn ’ t come to him for those kinds of solutions. His clientele had tighter purse strings.
He went in with the same gear he ’ d used on dozens of runs. The budget didn ’ t give any room for one-off equipment. Black pants, silent when he moved. Dark boots, which were of course steel toe-capped. At his waist was a belt of simple tools. These he would use for pick locking, door breaking, and of course life ending. Most important was a navy turtleneck. Eli wouldn ’ t settle for anything less than total comfort on the job.
The assassin unhinged a window using a small crowbar. He winced as the metal creaked as it levered. After almost a minute of held breath and stifled curses the hinge gave a soft pop and gave in. He didn ’ t worry about someone catching sight, just heard. The adjacent neighbour was away on business, the poor sod ’ s wife was out cheating. Research could be done, even on a budget. Accessing information was easy if you had an internet connection these days. Binoculars helped to fill in the gaps.
After sliding himself in through the window, Eli managed his bearings. He a quick thanks to lazy construction workers. The place was a carbon copy reflection of the house five doors down. Up for sale he ’ d managed to view the place as a potential ‘ buyer ’. He double checked his watch before continuing, 01:43. The target should have been asleep for at least 2 hours now. He ’ d be well into the land of sweet dreams most likely not involving his own murder.
He went up the stairs, watching the stars as through the skylight. He mused to an alternate world, flashy suits, big clients, and cleaner kills. That ’ s just not the life for me, he thought. Wouldn ’ t suit it anyway Eli, you ’ re too... problematic. The pistol came out of it ’ s holster like a long lost friend. It felt comfortable like an old piece of jewelry, or a trusty shiv. He doubted many would agree with the sentiment and noted to not mention the thought out loud.
“ Tonight we earn our lunch money, ” he mouthed, placing his lips on the upper back of the pistol. He scrutinized the silencer. Too late to hesitate now, he thought and shrugged.
He nudged the door to the master bedroom open, pistol held outstretched. He rounded the corner, taking care not to put pressure in the centre of the creaky floorboards. His well adjusted night eyes caught the sight of a sleeping mass under the covers. He took aim, and let his breath out. His finger itched over the trigger, but something didn ’ t feel right. The body was too small, the soft breathing too feminine, too young.
He crept closer, bringing himself closer to inspect the sleeping figure. It lay on its side facing away from him by the doorway. Even with his disadvantaged perspective it was obvious he ’ d just crept into the bedroom of an unassuming girl.
What the fuck is this? His mind began to race. He wasn ’ t one to get squeamish on the job, but he needed to know these things. Killing kids was just out of the question. His work was to be simple and without complication. The pile of covers shuffled, a slight girlish humm came from within. A floorboard creaked in complaint against his sudden lurch back away from the bed. Eli tried to shift his weight, but the offending sound was unrecoverable.
“ Daddy, is that you? ”
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[ WP ] In an awkward moment , you catch Satan burying fossils .
| I ca n't believe I never realized before. She must think I'm crude. Or small.
These leaves chafe, but they are such an improvement. It's so much better to be covered, hidden. I ca n't risk being exposed again.
Thoughts of modesty fade and I stumble though the forest. I stumble. My foot catches on a fallen tree and a sharpness burns though my toes. I have to quicken my step to keep from falling. I look over my shoulder to ensure I'm alone. Redness burns on my cheeks.
So many new experiences are piling up. Pain and failure and shame and fear. Sweat and anxiety and so many questions. The world has changed. The green pastures of rest are far behind me and a new, toilsome world lies ahead.
I hear a soft rustling to my left and catch a glimpse of movement. My hand flinches reflexively to my waist to ensure my leaves are intact. She steps out from the brambles, a hand clutched across her chest.
Our eyes meet. Just as quickly my gaze sinks to the ground and hers rises into the canopy.
She shuffles forward and I shuffle forward. My hand stays at my waist. My eyes stay on the ground. The burning on my cheeks spreads to consume my face.
He feet come into view and there is a liquid redness drawing angry lines across the tops. Forgetting my shame and my nakedness, I rush forward and fall before her. I reach out and smear a sticky red line with my finger.
Despite my shame and prostration, I look up. Questioning overwrites the burning red shame on my face as our eyes meet again.
`` The brambles,'' she whispers, `` They caught me. They tore me.''
I quickly trace the lines on her feet with my thumbs and a newer, brighter redness seems to well up like a spring.
`` Do n't.'' She says, stepping away, `` It hurts.''
I wipe my fingers on the dirt and slowly stand to my feet. I quickly retreat a few steps. Suddenly I am uncertain about how close I should stand. So many questions. So much mystery seems to envelop this new world.
`` What happened?'' I ask, the words catching in my throat. Maybe she knows.
She shakes her head.
Both our eyes fall to the ground.
It seems like an eternity. We stand and examine the earth, enveloped in questions. My thoughts seem stuck. Life, which has been just as easy as breathing, now seems so terribly complicated.
Finally, she speaks: `` He deceived us.''
I ca n't meet her gaze. My eyes lift as far as her navel and I nod.
More silence.
Now just one question keeps pounding its way to the forefront of my thoughts. My flesh turns hot and my teeth clench.
Finally, I have to speak it: `` Will you stay with me?''
Again, I feel the hotness of my face, but I force myself to look up into her eyes. We look at each other for another eternity. I can feel a dull, rhythmic thumping in my ears and my clenched fists.
Her face is taught and unsmiling. Her eyes harden and she offers a slow, solitary nod.
Her nod echoes my feelings: a determined resignation to endure, to stay together, to never be deceived again.
I step forward, and she steps forward. I reach out my hand, and she meets it with her own. I clutch and hold fast, and the pounding in my ears intensifies. Now my chest burns with the same hotness as my face.
And I smile.
We look in each other's eyes and we smile, knowing that we are together, knowing we will never be fooled again.
And another eternity passes -- an eternity of smiling and clutching and promises.
And our joyful eternity is broken by a nearby rustling in the under growth.
A pounding fear rises in my gut, and I step forward knowing that I must be strong; I must protect her.
A serpent, *the* serpent, slithers out from the bushes, a tiny skull clenched in his massive jaws.
My pulse slows; a smile spreads. I look back to my wife who offers another single nod.
Our old friend would surely never trick us again.
|
[ WP ] It suddenly dawned on you that they had known all along .
| How many of ten are gay?
It's got to be more than last year. Even more than the year before that. But will it ever be enough for me to tell them? For the conversation to be uneventful? You see, there's nothing that terrifies me more than the day I have to tell my parents I'm gay. Again and again I try; to no avail. Every time I try; the will leaks from me, quickly, like water from fire hose, the will gushes and spurts and does not get me through.
My mother, whom I love and loves me, looks through me these days. Through me she sees the grandchildren she can have; the ones she can dote on, and spoil. She believes it's her right, and it wo n't be taken from her.
My father, whom I love and loves me, brooks little backtalk and is a Man Of God. His goal in life is to see his Son go farther than he did, and have a beautiful, loving wife. He taps his foot waiting for that day.
But it's not what God wanted for me. And today I'm going to do it. I'm going to pull them into the Dining Room, when no one else is there, and give up my secret. No matter how much it's going to hurt.
I break the news, red faced and stricken. What I've said has left my parents shell-shocked. Silent, they have nothing to say, and scrambling for an words at all, I ask `` How many out of 10 people do you think are gay?''
`` Does that matter, Son'', says Dad.
`` Yes, there are a lot more people in the world that are like this than you might think'', I retort. Defensively.
Right then, my Mother smiled at me. Not quite sure what I was seeing, I turn to my Father, who's doing the same.
`` We're proud of you Son, for saying the words out loud'' And it dawned on me: they already knew.
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[ WP ] One day God comes back to check on Earth , realizing he forgot to turn friendly fire off .
| * [ Heaven is bustling with activity, and God sits on a white desk in the center of the cubicle office. God, a long haired bearded man with white dreads, is flipping through a stack of papers. Angels in suits are moving frantically around him, zipping through cubicles ] *
* [ Suddenly, an Angel, Migos, walks up to him. ] *
**Migos: ** Sir, we've got a problem.
* [ God sets down his pen. ] *
**God: ** No shit, Migos. We're up to our neck in this Planet Eros bullshit.
**Migos: ** Actually sir, it's not -
**God: ** Yeah, we put the fish in before the water, true, but I mean that's Quality Control's problem. Enviromental Commitee should n't be breathing down *my* neck.
**Migos: ** Yes, I understand sir but -
**God: ** Plus the coffee machine is broken. The fucking coffee machine is -
**Migos: ** ( loudly ) Sir, Earth's safety protocols are bust!
* [ The Angels suddenly stop in their place, papers in their hands. ] *
**God: ** What-a-what?
**Migos: ** Friendly Fire protocol. I was digging through some old files and I found the box checked.
**God: ** Oh man. That's bad. What's Earth again?
* [ An angel speaks up from the back. ] *
**Angel: ** Sir, it's the planet with the jellyfish.
**God: ** Oh, right! The jellyfish.
* [ He leans over. ] *
**God: ** What's all this loitering for? Get your asses back to work.
* [ The Angels reluctantly get back to frantically shuffling around the office floor. ] *
**God: ** Okay, Migos. No problem. Just turn it off. Keep the killing purely ecologic. Boom, bam, not a problem. The jellyfish are mi amigos Migos.
**Migos: ** Well, it's not the jellyfish I'm worried about. It's the humans.
**God: ** The what?
**Migos: ** It was Johnny's last creation before he -
**God: ** Ah. The one I fired him for. Okay, what are the hoopans doing now?
**Migos: ** It's probably better if I just show you.
* [ Migos waves a hand and a screen appears in the air. Multiple images appear on the screen: gladiators fighting eachother, people getting their eyes gouged out, wars being fought between two armies. God watches with intent. ] *
**God: ** Holy shit.
**Migos: ** That's what I said.
**God: ** Do... do the jellyfish -
**Migos: ** God, please shut up about the jellyfish.
**God: ** Right, right.
* [ He takes a moment to think. ] *
**God: ** Alright, let's flood'em.
**Migos: ** Ca n't do that.
**God: ** What? Why not?
**Migos: ** Larry tried that. Did n't work.
**God: ** Well, Larry's an idiot. Can we just... try again?
**Migos: ** It wo n't fix the friendly fire problem. Sufficiently intelligent species will still kill beyond their ecological programming. And anyway, genocide is now unethical. New industry regulations.
**God: ** How about a great big -
**Migos: ** No fire.
**God: ** Acid.
**Migos: ** No acid.
**God: ** The -
**Migos: ** We're not gon na rain jellyfish on them if that's what you're asking.
**God: ** Damn. Alright, alright. I'll send an emissary. They'll listen to reason, right? “ Do n't fucking kill anyone, ” is what he'll say.
**Migos: ** Okay, yeah. That might work. Who are you planning on sending?
**God: ** Well….uh...
* [ God taps his pen on the table. Then nods. ] *
**God: ** My son's been looking to get into the family business. I'll send him. What could go wrong?
edit: Thanks for all the kind comments guys, you're all awesome.
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[ WP ] Someone watches a snowy city from a bell tower . It 's late at night , and someone is crossing the street in the distance .
| -097
The first time he climbed to the top of the tower was to watch a meteor shower set the sky afire when he was twelve. Solladias was n't a child anymore, but the view was just as amazing. He lay on his back looking out through the arched opening at the starry sky above. He watched Caseopia slow slide across the sky. Somewhere in the city, a dog barked. Another barked in reply. A door closed many blocks away, the echo of its closing raced between the buildings and grew wings to reach his ears.
`` Father,'' he whispered, `` I remember every word. Franchesca is a beautiful woman. You would like her though. She's a chess player like you.'' He scooted over so he could spy Orion's cluster of stars on the horizon. `` She's good. We have three children, now: Paulie, Brea, and Sanji. Sanji is adopted. They're bright -- very bright.'' He laughed. The bell above his head began to rock.
He stopped his communion to watch it swing further then covered his ears as the clacker made contact with the side. The sound was deafening, but thankfully, it only rang once to mark the hour. He uncovered his ears and yawned away the deafness.
`` Franchesca's pregnant again. We think its going to be a girl.'' He tapped his toe on the wall to pass the time. The air was cool, but not cold. Summer at sea level was n't nearly so bad as it was inland. He studied the curls and swirls of the architecture around the crosses fashioned into the bell tower's woodwork. `` She's home right now, feeding them.'' He frowned as Orion grew larger in the sky. He saw the light on the side of the bell showing that the moon had risen.
`` I remember everything you taught me, papa. I remember every word, but I do n't think it will help me tonight. I ca n't be a good father tonight. A good father do n't do the things I've had to do. He reached up and traced the pattern of Orion. I should have been born a different man, papa. I should have been born to a father less deserving. I know if you knew what I had to become, you would have been a disappointed man. I knew you that well. I knew what life would be for you to know you raised a monster. I do n't believe it was you. At no time can I recall a time when I did n't feel loved. I relished the challenges you gave me. I relished your hugs. I relished your words. You were the best father a son could wish for.'' He pondered the message he was composing and the man he was eulogizing.
`` I think sometimes people are born broken. It is no fault of any involved. You were a good and ethical man. Momma was a sweet and loving mother. I saw none of the maniac in you that I find in myself. Perhaps, it is an environmental problem. Perhaps it is genetics. Perhaps in all of us, we contain a part of what it means to be a monster, and you and momma just happened to give me both halves. Know that what I do, I do because I chose to do it. They order these things, papa, but I choose how effectively they are performed. I perform them well. It is a horrid thing to be proud of, but if one has nothing else, pride in a flaw will support a man until something better comes along.'' He sighed and lay there in silence then checked his watch. Orion was high in the night sky and he could see the full moon peeking over the low wall of the bell tower. He sat up slowly, twisted to the side and came to his knees. He looked out over the darkened city, seeing cold steel roof tops, red clay tiles, and tall steep-peaked government buildings.
`` Long is the finger of God that reaches out, performing for me the miracle that is death. Surround me. Comfort me. Be the breathe the carries my bullet forth. See the heart I wish to stop. Be kind in thy cruelty and let not your children suffer as a result of my wrath. Let your grace twine with the evil that I am and make my sin a blessing of relief to those unfortunate in their chosen path through life; the path that carries them within the territory of my tool in trade. Let their death be quick and sudden, so that their time here and their time there is no more than an exhaled breath. Show mercy in their last moments. For, I have malice for no man and come only as Death to their sides with compassion wearing the guise of mercy. Let them only know peace.'' He whispered to the heavens, hefting the sniper rifle beside him to the ledge.
He looked through the scope, fine-tuning it. He checked the penants hanging from the roof of the embassy and compensated, dialing up his elevation. He slowed his breathing, drawing in his breath with exaggerated slowness. He held it a moment, then slowly exhaled and peered through the scope to find his target. He only had a minute to wait. She was right on time, crossing the street right to left, and headed for the gate of the embassy.
He exhaled slowly, held it, then slowly exhaled, pulling the trigger.
`` Amen.''
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[ WP ] In the eyes of an alien , describe an invasion of its home planet by humans . Make the humans the scariest thing I have ever read about .
| They blot out the suns. That's how you know they have arrived.
First was the moon bases. Planetary control lost communication with our glorious moon projects all at once. Nobody knew what had happened, there were guesses of sabotage from separatist *umdas*, a lower caste rebellion. After all, the miners did have questionable living conditions, but that is how our culture has worked for thousands of circulations.
Then on the fourth rotation of the solar quarter, everything was dark. Our clocks told us it was mid day, but when we looked outside, their red and black warships cast a shade over the entire city. For as far as the eye could see, the oval vessels rotated in the sky. We looked up at them, confused at what we saw.
We should have hid.
Shards of metal began to drop from the vessels, massive spikes and pillars, rods of steel and titanium hailing down. With each impact the ground shattered, the soft metal towers fell, and blast waves shook the city. I had been in the city square, and saw the house of government shatter like a clay pot as I ran for cover.
And just as soon as it had started, it was over. Massive doors opened from the rotating oval ships, and thousands of smaller vessels poured forth. Looking up, they were heading directly for my location. I ran.
I hid in the doorway of a shattered labor bureau as I watched the first ship land, it's fire blasting from the engines. A doorway opened, and out spilled dozens of bipedals in black plating.
I saw a few peace officers approach them, addressing them. They approached the officers and began to search the area. It was then that *it* came out.
Tall and large, it wore all black and a small cap. It was followed by two similarly dressed bipedals. He took a breath of our air, and nodded. It approached the officers. The first one raised his plasma gun to deter the alien, but to no avail. The bipedal in black, white skin, the golden threads on it's head bright in contrast to it's uniform. I know now this is how they all look, not at all like our grey, rough flesh.
The nervous officer made a decision, and fired. The'PZAP' sound accompanied the flash as the projectile flew towards the invader. No effect.
The plasma bounced off the man's clothes like rubber. Instead of searing through it's skin, it fell to the ground and dissipated. The officer continued, as the bipedals watched and slowly approached. Finally he ran out of ammunition. The bipedal reached them and stopped. The officer dropped his weapon.
As he did so, the bipedal reached inside of it's jacket, and produced a weapon of it's own, and in a single move placed the barrel against the officer's temple and fired.
'**BLAM**'
A flash of light accompanied the officer's brains and blue blood spattering against the stone road. As it did so, the other bipedals used their larger weapons to open fire on the other officers. They fought back, but their weapons did nothing. Blue blood spattered against the bipedals' black uniforms and the strip of red on their arms.
It was then the leader produced a small microphone. The noise arose out of the landed ship, as more ships landed and more soldiers poured out. A new group of soldiers came out with flags. Not the rounded shapes of the green and yellow flags of our cooperative, but a harsh flag: red, white and black. A red flag with a white circle, and in the middle was a formation of eight harsh and brutal black lines, a four armed spiral.
The bipedal spoke. We later learned to decipher their language and know what it said, in their own words: `` Diese Planeten und alle seine Bewohner sind heute an den kaiserlichen galaktischen Ordnung des Dritten Reiches unterstellt!''
He finished his speech with a salute, a single limb in the air, and the words we would only learn to know so well.
`` Heil Hitler!''
I was able to make it out of that city that night, hiding in the ruins. I saw them go through the streets, executing everyone they saw that did not display immediate subservience. Our weapons do nothing against them. Everything we know is useless against these creatures. We have heard reports that some have been killed by brute strength, but how can we get close enough to them to do so against their guns? Our shields are useless against their projectiles. Almost every night now there are orbital bombardments from their ships on cities across our planet.
The only hope we have is to wait. They go one city at a time. Methodical, deliberate. Everything the bipedals do is mathematical, utilitarian. We've seen the pictures. They are building their own cities over ours, as they slowly obliterate us. In every image is that flag waving above their monstrous metal monuments.
What can you do while you wait? You watch for the signs that you are next. You wait for the day you wake up, and find yourself in the shade.
-- *Thanks for reading! I'm more than happy to get feedback, I'm always looking to improve! * --
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[ FF ] Contest : Three Long Tones Then Silence ( 1 month Reddit gold )
| *Just came across this sub today ( an askreddit post about hobbies ) and I really like what I've seen so far! I Already went way over the word limit, so this is just a first post. Not a native speaker so any kind of feedback is welcome! So here are my two cents: *
Just as I finish typing the number of the fourth hotel on the list in my girlfriend ’ s phone, I see that it automatically assigns a name to the number. It only says “ Leon ”. Pushing a little air out of my nostrils, I am amused by the coincidence of this wrong number already being a contact in her phone, as well as having my own name as it ’ s contact. After rechecking the number listed on their site I realize that I wasn ’ t the one who made a mistake, so I look up the same hostel through a different site. Curiously, the number listed there also matches “ Leon ” in her phone.
Now I would normally describe myself as the opposite of the jealous type, often to the chagrin of my girlfriend who reads too much women ’ s magazines. But now I convince myself that it ’ s healthy curiosity, not jealousy, that leads me to call that number and ask for Leon. I don ’ t recall her mentioning this place to me before, and why would she assign this guy ’ s name as a contact for a cheap hotel at the beach? While occupying myself with these questions I realize that I ’ ve been waiting for a fourth ring that never came, so I hang up after two more seconds of silence.
While I ’ m getting frustrated by the steadily decreasing number of hotels on my list, I ’ m surprised by Daft Punk ’ s Get lucky suddenly being played by the phone I still have in my hand, it ’ s “ Leon ”. Relieved by the fact that they decided to call me back I answer the phone, only to hear a very faint but familiar, voice on the other side say “ I ’ ll be there in five minutes babe. ” “ Wait ” I say, “ can I talk to, uhm, Leon? ”. But the line was already dead. Who could possibly be here in five minutes? I ask myself while increasing the maximal price on my hotel search.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand upright as I hear keys being inserted in the front door lock 5 minutes into my search. I sit frozen behind my laptop and listen. Once I convince myself that it was just one coincidence flowing into another, I walk towards the stairs on the first floor landing. “ Babe? ” I hear my own quivering voice call out in a way that doesn ’ t really remind me of manliness. “ Is that you? ” As I ’ m slowly walking down the stairs I am thankful that I ’ m wearing my bright pink socks to muffle my footsteps. Standing with his back turned to me, a well-built man is taking off his jacket and casually throws it in a corner. “ God I hate it when he does that ”, I am surprised to find myself thinking. But nothing prepared me for the surprise I got when he turned around and smiled at me.
It ’ s been 7 months, and I would really like to wake up now…
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[ WP ] A new antique store that sells cursed items opens in your town . You were hired as the cashier . Today is your first day .
| You go home after the shift, you stole this antique vase that was owned by an old witch. You show your girlfriend your new possession. You both go to sleep and you dream about waking up in the middle of the night. The next day you go back to your new job work the whole day thinking about the vase. An hour before you get off work you girlfriend calls you and you miss the calls. She texts you. You read the texts when your off work, saying that she is feeling funny. You think nothing of it. You drive home, walk in the door and find your girl friend and the vase you stole in her hands. Ask her how's her days been going and what she is doing with the vase. She does n't speak. So you proceed toward her and try and take the vase. That's when she passes out, she drops the vase and you pick it up worried about the fall it just took. Take it to your bedroom realize its okay. You fall asleep relived and wake up in the morning covered in blood wondering what the fuck... Find this vase beside you and do n't think twice. You walk to where your girlfriend passed out, she is n't there. So you go back to your room and she is dead beside the bed. Her heart is cut out of her chest and is missing. Oh my god what is happening but your calm because this vase is in your hand. You look in the vase and remember. Its 8am and time to go to work, you get to work and put in your two weeks notice and go home.
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[ WP ] You are an immortal and have been alive for millions of years without anyone finding out . However , Human kind has been evolving , and you have stayed the same .
| 'Immortality sucks.' He thought.
He sat, staring out the observation blister of the starship Adonis. He looked over the vast field of endless stars as he and the ship's company floated between the silvery moon and the quiet, dead planet below.
He watched as the dead planet turned in it's orbit of the dimming dwarf star, a grim reminder of the inevitability of entropy. He had walked upon this dead planet when it had been a thriving, living world and the star burned white in it's youth. He had seen this dead planet die more than once, and had witnessed it's long return to health - but not this time.
For so long he had lived, he had seen the rise and fall of so many Star-Nations that he'd lost count. He'd founded a Star Nation himself, millennia ago but it too had fallen into death.
Everything died - except Him.
Once, he was a Brother-Marine, He fought the war's humanity waged in the depths of space - He was good at it too. He rose through the ranks, commanded men in the heat of combat, He fought, bled and died beside them.
But he too, died eventually. He died... somewhere, He had long forgotten that fact, all he remembered was the pain. Dying hurts.
But then he was n't dead - he closed his eyes for seemingly the last time but opened them again, far away from the steel grey skies he'd fought under, but the sterile white of a hospital room.
He had been changed by the mystic hands of science - he was human no longer, he had been transformed utterly. Outwardly, he was the same physical person he had always been, but underneath where once there were organs and tissue, was now the infinitely regenerating bio-synthetic equivalents - laced with self-improving nano machines, hence his immortality. They had quickly self-improved, fixing the small problem of mortality in their host along with seemingly any physical weakness.
He sat alone as he looked at the dead planet. He was clad in the simple clothes he preferred, a strange fashion in these years of ostentatious elegance, humanity had long become the undisputed lords of the three galaxies. He had watched his species drift away from him - physically they remain mostly the same, hence his ability to blend in, but mentally, they had advanced greatly. Psykers, psychically gifted humans were a rarity in His' still living days, but now, after millions of centuries...
He was an aberration, he was a'blank', a psychic dead zone, trying to read his thoughts was likely to pop a blood vessel in all but the most competent psyker. On a general day-to-day sense, it simply made him unpleasant to be around. It was best described as an itch you could n't scratch, only inside your head. And so, over the millions of years, He had grown to relish his own company, if only to stave off insanity.
The dead world turned silently, it's once vast oceans boiled away millennia ago. It's great mega cities laid to waste through a combination of time, and orbital bombardment.
He had been on this dead planet during it's final days, it's last wars. Turns out a blank is highly useful in war - an enemy that relies on his mind's eye is easy prey to a skilled soldier who could n't be seen. He like'd to think that he simply completed his contract as a mercenary during those dark days three thousand years ago - but part of him relished the killing, deep down, in the darkest parts of his soul where he dared not look. He had... enjoyed it, killing members of the species that had left him behind, that had slowly but surely taken everything from him. His wife, Jennifer?, had been lost to time but everything He had built afterwards, his Star Nation? Rotted by psychic wars in His street,'stumps' eradicated by a combination of time, evolution of the fighting that gripped the stars. His mercenary company? Him and scores of other blanks, the cast-outs of a psy-linked society. Hunted down because of their nature. The other Immortals? Gone, lost to insanity and suicide.
So now He was alone - the names and faces of everyone he had known, perfectly preserved with perfect recall by his cyber-brain.
The crew of the ship did n't know anything about him - aside from his ludicrous wealth and highly reclusive nature, and so they respected his wish for privacy without incident.
He stood, gripping a long-necked glass of ruby red liquid and walked across the carpeted floor to the armaglass that separated him from the infinite void, and that cold, dead world.
He was reflected in the glass as he raised the glass to his lips as he gathered his thoughts. His patrician face, with strong lines and hard features had won him some renown in his days as a Marine and mercenary, had been preserved for eternity by those thrice-blasted nano machines. His blue eyes looked deep into the red wine, a vintage - almost as old as he was. His thoughts wandered, as they were want to do, to those names and faces.
A smile flickered across those hard features as he thought of the good times, of his wife, his friends, his fellow Immortals before their fall, of the happiness and joy he'd experience, his wonder and awe as humanity reached to ever greater heights.
He could n't bring himself to hate them, humanity, despite the wounds they'd dealt him, he knew why they had done those things, the same reasons he did the thing he had done - to watch their children grow in happiness, to grow as people without fear and to live in quiet times. He had fought and so had they - they were n't better fighters, no He had the edge on that, no, they simply evolved past him. He was a living relic, an ancient reminder of humanity's hubris, daring to defeat death through technology now considered heretical.
He glanced at the planet once called Terra, Earth as it span. The cradle of humanity, the birthplace of the greatest civilisation the galaxy had ever known, his birthworld, the world where he'd met his wife, where he raised his children, where he'd stood against the tide of invaders and not broke, where he had laid to rest hundreds of the finest humans and aliens he had ever known. He looked upon the cold dead Earth and he felt his chest heave with grief. He felt it behind his eyes, the tears that would never come. His lips quivered and he wished to howl in anguish and rage as he saw the final moments of the Earth. He wanted to smash his fist's against the glass, and let the millions of years of despair and horror centuries of war had given him wash over him - to descend into the madness that had claimed all the others. But He did n't. He simply watched as the tiny stars flew from the orbiting fleet toward the cold, dead Earth to shuffle it of to oblivion.
Slowly, the grey and brown surface cracked, great plumes of fire and magma blasting outwards under the bombardment. The mighty warheads blew apart what once has been homes, cities, countries in uncounted millennia past. The bombardment was thundering in the silence. He watched as his homeland vanished under the red cracks and He felt a pang in his chest, another urge to loose His sorrow, and again He refused.
It was over as quickly as it had begun - the cradle of man, the home of humankind was gone - the mighty sphere slowly began to drift apart as the warheads reached the molten core and the resulting detonation pushed the Earth apart.
Why you ask? It was some grand gesture, the final blow to the last rebellion - the reasons were of course, human ones. He did n't care, He had just outlived his home world, not just his nation or the country upon that planet, but the planet itself. He hung His head slightly in reverence and marked the passing of an old friend with a salute with the wine glass. If He could, his tears would be streaked with silent tears, but for now He was simply swallowed in the sound of silence instead.
`` Immortality sucks.'' He said aloud to no one, He was alone. He was always alone.
|
[ WP ] Instead of giving live birth , humans lay eggs . As a result , inseminated human eggs are an incredibly valuable black market commodity causing countless theft attempts , especially toward wealthy people .
| The armored trucks bolted down the highway with an escort of 4 war hogs flanking its every position. This was a priority 4 transport run, these eggs where the labor and hard work of decades of research and the culmination of the greatest genetic material and manipulation the army could amass. These little eggs would hatch into warriors of incredible strength and intelligence, these were weapons capable of quelling rebellions and keeping civil control for decades. Helicopters zipped ahead as they patrolled the night sky. It was the dead of night and 4 such patrols had been sent in different directions in case of an attack from Luddite rebellion, the attackers would have to split their limited resources and guess the correct transport. Resources the army knew they did not have.
& nbsp;
Duncan knew patrol 3 was the correct one, he was one of the scientist that had created the eggs and was on the verge of betraying his colleagues and his life's work. The eggs would hatch in a few days and Duncan had placed a genetic tracker in one of eggs as they matured. They would not be detected before which gave them the perfect cover. Duncan ’ s radar bleeped as the tracker approached closer.This was the correct transport and all the resources had been pulled for this one attack. Failure now would spell the end of everything and humanity's last hope to keep the species pure from genetic manipulation and hybridization.
& nbsp;
Rockets blared from the RPG ’ s as they slammed into the hogs, the traps had been strung and men poured onto the trucks in their desert camo, the battle to stop the next stage of human evolution had begun.
|
[ WP ] You are suicidal , however , you are also immortal and indestructible .
| `` You want to donate your body to science?''
`` Yes.''
`` While you're still alive?''
`` Yes.''
`` I mean, that seems a bit unethical.''
`` Look, I survived everything you did to me. All your knives, guns, and whatever you had in that container that knocked me out for a month. Are n't you convinced that I'm immortal?''
`` Yes, the hydrofluoric acid that you injected yourself with convinced me. I'm still not fully sure how you survived that. But I mean there has to be some reason to continue living?''
`` Living is all I've done for the past several millennia. I've had countless families. I've amassed riches beyond any one man's dreams. I even started a cult that turned into a world spanning religion. In the end, it all crumbled to nothing. I've lost so much. I miss so much. I'm tired of life.''
`` I'm still not convinced about that'cult', but that's besides the point. I'm not sure we can legally do what you are suggesting.''
`` Look, think about it as rent paid by barter: I'll rent your research company my body if you can put me into an indefinite coma. In return, you can test anything on me. Just make sure I'm unconscious before you do it. You already know that diseases do n't kill me. Hell, I'll even let you figure out how my curse works and give it to others.''
`` You'd allow other people to become immortal? I thought you said it was the worst punishment ever imaginable!''
`` Well, that's just me. I'm sure there might be someone out there who would actually enjoy it. And, who knows: maybe if you figure out how to make someone immortal you could also figure out how to make an immortal person mortal again.''
|
[ WP ] You 're the last grandchild to talk privately with your 120 years old grandmother on her death bed . `` Do you want the good news or the bad news ? '' She asks , knowing that she would only have enough time to explain one or the other secret .
| Grandma was my favorite family member and today was her last day here on earth with us. I was the last grandchild to talk to her and also the youngest. I knocked before opening the door and stepped inside the spacious bedroom that I have visited many times before. It was my favorite place to be, with all her antique decorations, old furniture, cozy scent, and beautiful portraits. Grandma gave me a big smile as I sat on the chair beside her bed, where she was sitting up comfortably on her pillow. She looked perfect in health if you did not notice the tubes connected to her nose and the beeping sound of the monitor in the end of the bed. I looked at her sadly but I was old enough to know that this was life.
She looked at me and asked. “ Do you want to know the good news or the bad news child? ”
I looked at her wise eyes and spoke. “ I know it. I know I am adopted grandma. You don ’ t need to worry about it. I have known this since I was 7 years old. ”
She stared at me in surprise and burst out laughing. “ Well since you know the bad news, here is the good news then. You are actually not from this earth, and I believe I have served you princess as best as I could. ”
It was my turn to laugh at her statement, but when I gazed deeply into her eyes I could not deny the truth that stared pointy back at me. I stood up in disbelief to protest when the door to her room opened and all my family members walked in.
“ Princess it is time. ” Spoke my father as the rest of the members bowed in respect.
I looked at them and back to my grandma who grinned and nodded in response.
“ Am I from Venus? ” I asked.
Grandma nodded. “ Of course dear, it was always your favorite planet for a reason. ”
|
[ WP ] `` There are seven schools of magic : Fire , Wind , Water , Earth , Light , Dark , and Bread . Choose wisely . ''
| *There are seven schools of magic: Fire, Wind, Water, Earth, Light, Dark, and Bread. Choose wisely. *
Those were the last words Nathan heard before the door closed behind him. The bolt slid home, the sound louder than he expected, causing him to jump involuntarily. It carried with it a finality. He had heard the warnings that for some the door never unlocked. His instructor led him past an entire hallway of such doors on the way to his. In spite of that, he was almost shaking with excitement.
Gathering himself, Nathan took stock of his surroundings. The room was sparse, cool, and damp, like that of a cellar. Stone floors and walls, wooden beams for support. A crudely constructed table sat in the middle of the room on top of which rested seven jars. The only light in the room came from one of those jars. There was one chair. He pulled it out and had a seat, and set about inspecting his choices.
The first jar held volcanic ash. *Must be Fire*, he thought. Presumably they could n't bottle fire. Or was there more to it than that? Fire was the means but creating ash was the effect. It would bear some thought, should he choose that school.
The next held, well, nothing. Just air. It could be calm like this or the force of a gale at his whim. After that, water. Nathan could see sediment still swirling. The jar was recently filled. Following that, a jar of dirt.
The Light jar held a torchbug. It lazily explored the confines of the jar. Beautiful in its own way. And ignorant of its eventual fate, which was probably a blessing. *It's a comfort to share this ordeal with someone*, Nathan thought. He gingerly set it back among the others.
That comfort evaporated when he inspected the next jar. Dark. There was something in there but Nathan did n't want to look at it directly for any length of time. Doing so made him feel like there were bugs crawling on his skin. So he moved on.
To Bread.
The kids at school had always joked about Bread. If you failed a test you'd have to be a Bread mage, that sort of thing. He'd never seen one at the Conclave but Nathan imagined them to be the most boring of individuals. And fat. From all the baking. And so he dismissed Bread as a real option and set about reflecting on the other six.
`` Hey. Hey!''
It was sort of muffled, as if a pane of glass lay between Nathan and the speaker. He turned to the Bread jar and, much to his surprise, saw a slice of bread shaking one corner as if to wave.
`` Yeah, hey! Open this thing up, kid! We got ta talk.''
Bemused, and looking forward to being able to do this sort of thing, Nathan opened the jar and lay it on its side. The slice of bread inch-wormed its way out and, for lack of a better term, stood up.
`` Whew. You ever been in a jar, kid? It's the worst. Okay, thanks for that but now you got ta listen to my spiel.''
Nathan furrowed his brow. `` Why do you get a spiel? None of the other magic schools did.''
`` Because I'm Bread, you big galoof! It's the same spiel every other kid gets. Now are you ready? Because I can only say it once.''
A little annoyed but more intrigued, Nathan nodded his assent.
`` Very well, let's see here...''
And then, much more solemnly, Bread intoned:
*Nourished by Earth and Water*
*Transmuted by Fire in Air*
*Bring Light to those who need it*
*And Dark to those you dare*
Then Bread rocked back and forth over to the jar and slumped down as if sitting, obviously finished.
And Nathan's mind whirled.
It appeared that Bread offered the power of all schools of magic! He could do anything. Suddenly it did n't matter what people would think about him being a Bread mage. Not if he ended up stronger. It did n't matter if some schools bored or, in Dark's case, disgusted him. He could do whatever he wanted.
Nathan stood up, scraping the chair back, and said, `` I choose Bread.''
He heard a similar scraping of wood on rock and turned, expecting to see the door opening behind him and his instructor waiting there pleased. Instead, He saw that there was no longer a door.
And, like the bolt earlier, realization slid home.
He sat back down, stiffly, eyes unfocused. *'' Why...'' *
`` Ah, kid,'' Bread said, sorrow in his voice. `` You fell for it. You put power before all else.''
Nathan tried to speak but could n't find the words. Bread continued.
`` You were doing well. You seemed drawn to Fire. Light also, which is n't too surprising. Light's kind of a shadow of Fire, if you'll pardon the, uh, well...'' Bread coughed roughly before resuming. `` Anyway, you pushed all that aside for a chance at more power. And we ca n't have someone like that in our position. I'm sorry.''
Nathan sat there silently, tears streaming down his face. He sniffed and asked, `` Our position?''
`` As a mage. We're mages. We're officiating your test,'' Bread continued. `` The slice of bread is an illusion created by a Light mage and I'm a Wind mage so that's my voice you hear.''
*There is n't even a Bread school, * Nathan thought, filled with shame.
`` Look, kid. You may think we're monsters but we're not. Or not as much as you think, anyway. The quickest way out for you is in the Dark jar. It's painless. You do n't have to suffer.''
Nathan did n't respond. An uncomfortable beat passed.
`` Again, kid, we're sorry. We'll leave you to it. Good bye.''
And that was that. The bread seemed lifeless to Nathan's eyes. The last conversation he ever had was with a piece of bread. He laughed a little, in spite of himself, and wiped his nose.
He reached over, not for the Dark jar, but for the Light. He carefully unscrewed the cap and set the jar down. Cautiously, the torchbug emerged and slowly drifted around the room, exploring it's new home.
Nathan sat there, knees hugged to chest, and watched it for as long as he could.
|
[ WP ] You are a were-tree .
| `` *Werebe'am*. The term is *Werebe'am*.''
Tall, thin, with flaxen hair, she might have been described as elfin. The James Rodas Professor of Linguistics of the University of California San Diego, Leah Staples sat down at her kitchen table and pushed a cup of coffee across the surface to me. I countered `` Why not « Were-tree » –?''
`` *Were* is an old Anglo-Saxon term, meaning *Man*. So we choose to use terms from the same tongues when we speak, and the Anglo-Saxon for `` tree'' — not just scrub trees, but *magical* trees, **_us_** — is *bēam*. The modern English for the rafters in a home is from the same … ^*sigh* the same *root*.''
`` Pun intended?''
`` Oh, the pun always intends itself ^*snort* —'' here, she giggled until she coughed — `` Sorry, that's a really obscure joke. Anyway.
`` The semester is up in two weeks. Finals will be over. It will be Summer. The Sun calls to us. You felt it last year. We all saw you bloom into the Greenman.
`` Come with us out to Bohemian Grove. Put your toes in the ground. Reach to the heavens. You'll enjoy it immensely. One year, I watched David Bowie writhe naked in the moonlight with his lovers. A sitting President of the United States conceived one of his bastard children with his lover pressed against my bark. I have whispered cosmic wisdom in the ears of poets and writers, and our friends, our kinfolk, they protect us. You'll be *safe*.
`` And …''
`` And?''
Her fingers brushed across the back of my hand as it rested on the cup, the fragrant brown liquid cooling.
`` They do love us so. Summer grows longer every year, the breath-food is richer every year. We can … look to the future. There have been no sproutling *werebe'am* for centuries. We were certain there were no more male-male haplotypes … until the ethnobotany department found you.''
My eyes shifting uncomfortably, I downed the coffee.
`` It was just a weird, weird LSD trip, Leah.''
-- -- -- -- --
As we said our *auf Wiedersehen*s and I turned and walked off her porch to the car on the street waiting to pick me up to take me back to campus, she sighed, and it must have been my imagination that it was like the rustling of leaves on an autumn morning.
|
[ WP ] You die and find yourself in Valhalla , where all great warriors go when they die . However , you never fought a day in your life . You try to find out why you 're there .
| Steve woke feeling slightly uncomfortable. He rolled over and got up off the flat marble floor and stretched. That was n't the nice feather mattress he went to bed on. He looked around and all about him the flat, deep green, marble stretched off into darkness, except for in one direction a giant staircase rose up to a brightly lit castle.
He heard a scream and spun around. There stood an old man, reaching out, frozen. He slowly lowed his arms and looked around.
`` Hello,'' Steve said, `` I think we're dead.''
`` Oh God,'' the man said in an American accent, `` I guess that's what happens when you try to tackle a man with a gun in your home.''
`` Oh. Are you ok?''
`` I get the feeling I feel as good as you. Brilliant, but sad to have died, and with an innate knowledge this is the afterlife. Though I ca n't hear any angels heralding our Lord which worries me somewhat.''
Steve's heart sank, he'd never put much thought into religion and he was about to get the consequences of it. The both walked side by side up the improbably long staircase and shared their life stories. The American, Bill, was a retired mechanic owned his own shop that made a more than modest amount of profit, had a large family, and an even larger collection of cars. A couple of men had come into his house with guns whilst he and his wife were watching their Saturday movie, he made for one of them and tried to wrestle the gun off him, but it must have gone off.
Whilst listening to the old man's tale of his life he slowly remembered that he did n't die in his sleep, it was at work, but- his line of thought was broken when he noticed they were almost at the top.
They reached the gates at the top of the stairs no worse off than when they started. *One of the benefits of being dead* Steve thought.
A large man dressed in leather and metal opened the large heavy gates and shouted, `` Welcome to Valhalla!''
`` Where?'' Steve and Bill said in unison.
`` Valhalla,'' said Odin `` my hall where the fallen Einherjar may drink, and dine, and fight, and make merry for all time.''
Steve turned to see Bill crack and start recanting the Lord's prayer.
Odin laughed, `` My friend, do not fear we have many Christians here, they will have much to explain to you. You must come meet them, especially one of them that died fighting for what he believed was right.''
Some what comforted he crossed the threshold and disappeared from view.
`` I get why he was here, but I've never got into a fight since school. Certainly not won one anyway.''
`` Come then Steve let me look at the book of your life so that we can unravel this mystery.'' Odin said and held out his hand.
Steve took it and walked through the gates immediately finding himself in an impressive hall, almost every stretch of wall and ceiling was covered in weaponry. Not just swords and axes, but everything from sharpened rocks to machine guns. Odin strode towards a plinth with a massive tome on it. He opened the book halfway letting it slam down loudly, he speed read a page then turned another inch of pages whilst Steve waited nervously. Finally when he got to the last page he smiled and closed the book.
`` Defier of Logi, battler of the eldjötnar, Steve the fighter of fires, let me get you a drink.''
|
[ WP ] The note you find on the person you just killed reads `` All of my identification is in my wallet and the bar-code on my neck is my SSN . My entire identity is now yours . Good luck '' . As the tattoo on the victims neck disappears , you wince in pain as it reappears on yours . They are not lying .
| It was n't just the tattoo that had changed about me. My entire physique was altered as well. My once agile and well trained body now seemed to lag behind what my mind wanted it to do. My clumsy fingers fumbled the bullets around I was loading into my rifle.
`` Fuck, just focus Elric.'' I whispered to myself.
My lungs were filled with cold oxygen as I attempted to clear my mind. Apparently my memories were unaltered, but what good did that do me if my muscles memory was gone. Twenty years of inhuman training to become the perfect killer, and for what? Just to lose it all to one mark. Bullshit.
The glass from the scope was an ice cube upon my brow. The image painted for me within the narrow view was slightly cloudy from the sub freezing temperature. Three men were walking around outside of the large estate. They were n't my target. Slowly I scanned the windows and other surrounding areas searching for the middle aged man I was paid to kill. I never before had noticed how heavy the damned rifle was on my shoulder. I shifted the muscles a little bit trying to get comfortable. Clearly I was more clumsy than I had thought, a shot rang out from the rifle.
`` Shit!'' I yelled and ducked down.
The bellowing of men could be heard from below me. Gunshots cracked the air around me. I was spotted.
I pulled the rifle up as quickly as I could and began to take aim. Struggling to hold the rifle steady, I let loose another shot. Miss. Two misses in one night. The last time I had missed a shot I was n't old enough to grow facial hair yet. The painful throbbing upon my neck reminded me of the damned affliction I had. Wasting no time I fired another shot. The man who was busy reloading did n't see it coming. A bloody stumps stood in place where his head once was.
`` Take that you fucking bastard.'' Two shots left.
As I prepared to ready another shot, I felt the sting of cold iron up on my head.
`` Finally caught you, you little snake.''
The man's name was Ulfrid, an old comrade. I had n't seen this man in over seven years, and now here we were with his gun against my head.
`` Hello old friend, how about you lower that gun and help me get out of here?'' I asked.
The gun stayed firmly pressed against my skull. `` Ca n't do that. The Shadow wants you dead, and what he wants he gets.''
I was confused. My entire life had been spent serving the leader of the assassins I worked for. The Shadow. Whatever he asked of me was completed. Why would the boss want me dead?
`` Care to elaborate on this sudden betrayal?'' I asked?
Ulfrid chuckled. `` Betrayal? the hell are you talking about. Elric was supposed to kill you and we found only his body where yours should be. You kill a comrade and expect us to let you leave?''
Few times in my life had I been truly stunned. This was one of them. `` But I am Elric, are you blind?''
The gun against my head pushed even harder. `` You shut your fucking mouth. I saw his body with my own eyes.''
What the hell was going on? The throbbing of the tattoo was like a third participant in this conversation. Then it dawned on me. Maybe the tattoo was n't the only thing I got from the mark. Had I truly become the man as he had said i would. That's not even possible... is it?
`` Look Ulfrid, I killed the man I was sent to assassinate. But when he died he said his entire identity was mine now. Then the damned tattoo on his neck appeared on my neck and I have n't been the same ever since. I ca n't aim a rifle, I ca n't fight, all of my training is out the window. I need you to believe me.''
The tension in the air seemed to thin out a bit. Ulfrid's grip on the gun loosened slightly. He was definitely listening to me. I just had to cement the fact that my story was true.
`` Look Ulfrid, would that bastard know about the time in Moscow when you could n't finish a mark cause of the shitty takeout you had the night before? I had to go and kill that bastard for you while you sat on the toilet for half the day.'' Sweat dripped down my brow as I spoke.
Ulfrid chuckled. `` True, that was one hell of a night. I've been trying to convince the boss to put a hit out for that restaurant owner ever since. He's not buying it though.'' The gun was lowered.
I stood up and was quickly reminded of the men trying to remove my head from the ground floor. With Ulfrid's help we made short work of the remaining goons. Well actually Ulfrid made short work of them, I still fumbled to load more rounds into the rifle let alone pull off a shot on a moving target.
Hours later we were sitting inside of a tent warming up around a small heater. Ulfrid was examining the tattoo on my neck trying to figure out just what it was.
`` I've heard of these before.'' He said after his examination was done. `` It's not a tattoo, it's a power supply for a colony of nano robots that were injected into your body. They altered your entire body to be like that target you took out. The man knew we were after him, cause these do n't come cheap.''
I sipped on a cup of coffee. `` Well how do I get rid of it?''
`` That's the problem, I've never actually heard of someone getting one removed.''
Damn it. Why did I have to take that stupid contract. Of all the people I could have killed, I get the cyborg wannabe. Twenty years of training gone all for a paycheck I never even received.
`` So I'm stuck as a civilian?'' I asked.
`` No I do n't thnk so. Just because I have n't seen it done does n't mean it ca n't be done. We need to get you back to The Shadow.''
He was right. If anyone knew how to get rid of this `` tattoo'' it was the boss. Tomorrow we would go to the HQ and speak with him. He was my only chance at regaining my old self.
|
[ WP ] Every little thing you do hugely impacts the future for everyone , time travelers are sent to tell you to knock it off .
| The raccoon is staring at me, I can feel his stare watching my every move.
My eyes are still closed but I can see the sun shining through my eyelids. Is it 7.30am yet, I wonder. I slowly crane my neck to the side towards my radio clock without opening my eyes. I hear the sound of rustling on the far end of my bedroom. Keep calm, I tell myself. I go over my game plan in my head. Wake up at 7.30am, prepare breakfast and lunch, head out to work at 8.30am and be at work for 9...
Finally in position to open my eyes to take a peek at my clock, I open one of my eyes. Only instead of my alarm clock I see an old man wearing a raccoon head dress.
`` WRONG!'' He yells at me. `` What do you think you're doing?''
I try to sit up but he stretches out his arm to push me down. `` What is it this time?'' I sigh.
`` It's 7.28am. What do you think you're doing waking up before 7.30am? Go back to sleep. If you get up now, you'll miss the traffic from the car accident and get to work on time thereby passing by your coworker to notice that he's got a new car thereby prompting you to ask him where he got the money for it before he's had the grand idea of making up a hilarious story. You would later on ruin his story by retelling the truth, if you knew the truth, outing him as a liar and forcing him to lose his job. The next person you'd --''
-Beep Beep Beep-. I stare at the raccoon as I sit up and make my way to the bathroom and brush my teeth.
The `` Raccoon'' as I call him has been in my life for about two years now. He's some time traveller that came to me and told me some bull about the butterfly effect. I'd have thought he was a nut if he did n't take me to other timelines. It may sound cool to have a time traveller around, but he's more of a nuissance than anything.
`` You're brushing your back teeth too much. Later in the day, you get corn stuck in your teeth which prompts you to pick at your teeth without realising you're being watched. When you're --''
`` I'm done brushing.'' It's like this everyday. I go to the kitchen and look around for what there is to make. I'm short on time. `` Yo raccoon, what am I supposed to eat?''
`` I ca n't tell you that, that would effect the time line.''
I open the fridge and grab some eggs only to have them slapped out of my hands.
`` WRONG!''
I stare at the broken egg shells on the floor. I'm probrably late for work. I look over at the raccoon and he just smiles with his head cocked sideways. Guess I'll buy lunch today. As I step forward to go back upstairs, everything goes black.
My eyes open to see raccoon with a grin on his face, inches from my own face. I keep blinking, trying to figure out what just happened.
`` Slipped on the eggs'' he smiles and helps me up. `` Perfect. Now go to work''
Eventually, I drag myself to get changed and ready to work. 8.29am. I start the car, but the raccoon is standing behind the car so I ca n't pull out. He's checking his imaginary watch and counting down from 47 before he finally let's me go.
As I pull on to the highway, I vaguely recall Raccoon's words about a traffic accident today. I decide to take the early ramp off onto 410 instead of staying on the 403, but as I switch lanes a BMW speeds into my blind spot.
|
[ WP ] There once was an egg named Albert . He lived inside a chicken . Or a duck .
| Albert was inside his mother, a warm and happy egg waiting for the day he could meet her. But for now, he was just content being where he was.
He could hear his mother's heartbeat, a solid and comforting percussion that lulled him to sleep. Albert snuggled deeper into his womb and dreamed of one day being a fine rooster. Or drake. He was n't quite sure which one he was, but he knew he was destined for great things.
It happened suddenly. Mother's heartbeat began to quicken. Albert felt a sensation of being pushed out. Albert was scared, but he remembered his destiny. `` I'm going to fly soon,'' he thought as he tried to remain calm. It was scary, but this is what he was waiting for.
It was painful. The pressure was enormous and pressed against him from all around. It seemed to last forever, but finally he entered the cold, stark world and landed in a nest. Then, he was warm again as his mother nurtured him.
Albert felt himself change rapidly. He ceased to be an egg and was turning into a thing inside an egg. He could feel his webbed feet form and his beak. He was a duck! It was so exciting to finally learn what he was.
It was time! Albert the duck felt the urge to peck at his shell. He was ready, ready to become the best drake ever. He began to use his bill to create cracks in the shell, only to find it was n't working. What if he tried his feet? He leaned back and began tearing at the shell with claws, quickly rending a rip in the side. Claws? Albert wondered if ducks were supposed to have claws.
His mother nuzzled him, helping him out of his shell. He burst forth, plodding over to her. He snuggled into her, feeling her soft fur. Fur? Albert struggled to see with his fledgling eyes. He definitely knew that ducks did n't have fur.
Things cleared and finally he saw his mother. She had his bill and webbed feet, but had dark brown fur and a flat tail. Her small black eyes looked at him lovingly, with pride that she birthed such a handsome son. Albert knew he was n't a chicken or a duck. He'd never fly and he'd never be a drake, but he knew he was happy with what he was.
|
[ WP ] After 100 years of US colonisation , you - a Martian-born human lead an army about to declare independence from the United States .
| Adam bin Ahmad, fifty-fourth elected senator of the martian colonies faced an army of reporters. A hundred years since the first colonization waves meant that like him most of them had been born and raised on Mars - never knowing earth as anything more than a star and an idea, but he could make out the odd few earth born reporters, conspicuous by their shorter thicker statures. He suppressed a sigh, this would be especially difficult on them - not that it would be easy on anyone.
`` Ahem! ``, he cleared his throat, and a hush descended upon the room. He had their undivided attention, sixty-four anxious reporters, and close to a million anxious citizens around the planet.
`` Today-'', he started, faltering slightly battling down a wave of emotion. `` Today we have confirmed that the communications breakdown between Mars and Earth was caused by the detonation of the Yellowstone Caldera.'' He spoke slowly, hiding his fear behind a mask of formality. Gripping the podium he waited a few seconds steadying himself before continuing, `` at this time our experts believe that given the size of the eruption and subsequent fallout, human life has been entirely eliminated from the Americas continents, and they predict that at best between 10 and 150 thousand survivors may exist concentrated largely in northern Eurasia.''
`` I-'', he shouted over the cacophony of shocked reporters, `` I must officially declare us Independent of Earth.''
`` We are now all that remains of human civilization.''
edit; accounting for Australia via a largely
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[ WP ] She poured two glasses of wine and set them on the table ; she has no company over .
| She poured a glass for herself and her visitor. She asked them how their day was going. They took a while to respond before finally saying that their day had been fine. She asked them about work, and again, after a pause they said fine. One of the candles guttered out then so she went to the kitchen to get another. When she came back, the visitor was gone, but that was normal. They continued talking for some time, always a slight delay between answers. Then, the woman's son came in, he watched for a minute and then asked `` Mommy, why do you keep getting up and sitting in the other chair before answering your question?''
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[ OT ] Could we please take an effort to simplify prompts ?
| I agree with you 100 %. People tend to view this sub as strictly a place for interesting stories rather than a place for writers to do creativity exercises.
Only rarely does a prompt really grab my imagination, because the prompt ends up being like one of those movie trailers that give it all away. Forget writing my own story, I wo n't even read the other responses to those prompts, because I already know how it goes.
The best prompts are the ones where the writer can take the idea, fulfill the prompt's technical requirements, and still go in a completely opposite vector to what a reader expects. Those are the prompts I write to.
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[ WP ] You literally have a lease on life . Every month you pay the government $ 5,000 , and they let you stay alive . You 've been doing odd jobs , gambling - whatever it takes to survive . It 's getting close to the end of the month , and you do n't have nearly enough cash to make your payment .
| Tires squeal outside my apartment complex, the curtains shut to hide my anxious face.
One point one million, one point one.
Million.
What I would n't do to have that money still, I could've gone to college, bought a house. Maybe I could've gone to the dentist to get my confidence back. My teeth ache all through the night and I only have a bottle of whiskey to ease the pain.
Mondays are when most people are at work making a life for themselves and here I am hiding inside my room, curtains closed with the sun cooking my skin like a boiled egg.
1:30 PM || 13:30
On my daily vacation to an island far far away, the post office, i'm not surprised to find a rat that made its way into my PO box and subsequently went to meet God. This has become a common occurrence lately. It would n't be so bad if it was n't for the creepy phone calls I keep getting at 2 every morning telling me i'm a dirty rat who is gon na die if I do n't cough up the dough.
Of course when TPTB stuck literal dough to my door, I got the message.
I remember reading a quote once.
`` The road to success is not easy to navigate, but with hard work, drive and passion, it's possible to achieve the American dream''
That is what all the perfect people keep telling me. The Silicon busy bodies, the clones, with their fancy lingo and elitist closed social circles.
Passion. You need passion. Passion is n't paying the bills and neither is it paying the debt which I have accrued from my many attempts at keeping my head out from under the proverbial guillotine. Logic would dictate that borrowing money to pay the monthly quota on my lifetime lease is a vicious cycle and will only end in the obliteration of my nest egg AND my life.
You get farther into debt and that debt compounds into more debt. The new debt snow balls with time and before you know it, you are in too deep with the sharks.
But I did n't care.
Still do n't.
Because i'm going to do what I should've done a long time ago.
As a kid I constantly read about faking your own death. Every book that had a character which did this, i'd become entranced by. Even though Jay Gatsby did n't exactly fake his death. The concept for a new life, a life where one rises from the clutches of poverty and sails to heights which allow one to dine with the aristocrats. The concept is still there.
Reading was a little hobby of mine, a way to escape from the teasing and constant belittlement I suffered at the hands of my father. The torment in school was much worse but at least they had heat. Still, my daydreams consisted of me just running away from it all. Leaving in the night and taking off. A life on the road as they say.
I'd heard stories of people like Elvis and Kurt Cobain faking their deaths but 10 years ago I did n't see myself actually going through with this. 10 years ago no one would have guessed that Donald Trump would be our president either so.
2:35 PM || 14:35 - Local Rec Center - Computer Lab
My backpack is stinking up the place, I can feel it - smell it. Since another rat was placed there last night I ca n't help but think of what that carcass is going through in there. Squashed against my peanut butter and jelly sandwich unable to eat, breathe. I shudder to think of how claustrophobic the little guy must be.
Reddit, you've been good to me. You were my escape from the solitude I felt in a broken and dysfunctional home. Because of you I know how to shave, without your help I would n't be able to talk to women without blushing or stuttering and now I will use you to maybe make a new life for myself. A life where every last dime of my paycheck is n't being deducted every month to pay off debt from 7 years ago.
`` how to fake your own death askreddit''
I never liked Earthle, but it sure as heck beats Google. I have 8 tabs open and in most of them Metallica is playing. In the others, websites like Buzzfeed or Investopedia is pulled up, loading. I am now digging through the rat morgue to find a pair of headphones when I hear a feminine voice go
`` Sir, can I ask what you're doing''
That's it, I'm dead. Goner. My exit plan has been foiled. Might as well call it a day.. but i'm not going down without a fight.
I look up to see an elderly brown lady with a hunchback hovering over my left shoulder. That green shirt looks like puke on her, disgusting.
`` What do you mean what am I doing? I'm doing what every American is entitled to. Life, Liberty and The Pursuit of Happiness. See, Reddit right there. That's my happiness and I was pursuing it until you interrupted''
`` I do n't care about no Reddit. This is my seat. See, it has my name on it right there''
Behold, in green sharpie the words `` Rose'' is printed. Did n't think she was educated enough to know that this constituted vandalism, construction of property and quite possibly larceny. But I did n't inform her of the error of her old fashioned ways.
`` If you could just switch with me, that'd clear this little issue up''
`` Oh why did n't you just say so''
I thought I heard her mumble about kids these days or this generation or that.
I now have to put up with a broken and twisted seat which keeps biting the skin of my right thigh.
The comments on Reddit are almost always amusing, most of them being jokes or witty comments and the rest being novels that make sense. In theory at least.
The many hours spent zombie eyed behind a screen much too bright and a keyboard much too small has killed my soul, or what's left of it. Scrolling was the worst of it. Tedious repetition is Tedious repetition is Tedious repetition is Tedious repetition. So now you know.
`` Oh Drunken_Economist, you know you ca n't do that in real life. I ca n't see how that could possibly work.. even in fiction.''
4:44 PM || 16:44
Boom.
That's it. That's the one.
Thank you, SCM1992! A mature and well thought out response. Because of you maybe I will live to see my 30th birthday. I love you man whoever you are.
I consider myself blessed considering i'm only 5 minutes from Dania Beach. A jump, skip and a hop away from Paradise.
Next Monday - 6:55 AM || 6:55
Renting a boat did n't punch a hole through my wallet like i'd expected. It was only $ 650 per day but I would only be using it for one. Hopefully the poor guy I was renting it from would get his boat back, so I will feel bad about that. I paid with my credit card, more debt. But also a paper trail so authorities can now put 2 and 2 together and hopefully come up with 4.
Knowing cops in my area though, they'll just end up with their fingers stuck up their asses. Whoops. That'd be implying that they'd actually do something, they could n't even stick a finger up their asshole.
One more week and my monthly bribe to Uncle Sam is officially due.
The Wednesday after last Monday was spent burning picture albums, deleting accounts off social media and ringing up as much debt as I possibly could. It felt like a big middle finger to Uncle Sam.. and it feels good. I got many free things I guess you could say but I have no remorse as I gave the excess goods to homeless people.
My logic is if Uncle Sam wo n't put clothes on Veteran's backs, then I will. After all, if all goes to plan i'll never have to see another bill again. Never will I hear the sound of paper crunching, calculator mashing creditors asking for the what's what on my finances.
The thick clouds of doubt are now hanging over my head, but the pangs of not being able to buy Ramen Noodles because of how deep in debt I am is even thicker. My stomach is in knots. Doing the forbidden, breaking the law. Rebelling.
Doubt is something that humans can not completely erase. You can erase physical traces of your existence, maybe you have the means to cover up your footprints. You can even run.. but one day all your problems will show up to your door at once and that is when your life is over.
But I did n't care.
Still do n't.
My last meal: Funyuns. Evidence of a life well lived. Cut short far too soon, a tragedy.
I love the bleeding of Shakespeare's Tragedies.
My life is flashing before my mind's eye. Playing with my mom when she was healthy enough to run around with me outside,, my first day in school, my first date, my first fight which came right after my first date, prom, tossing my green and yellow cap up in there air with my classmates, losing my freedom. Criminal record. Getting evicted, getting my first job.. then being fired because they found out about my lengthy wrap sheet.
Back at the apartment, in my closet, I have my video game collection. Meager but still worth something to me. One game in particular that stands out is GTA: Vice City.. a pillar of my childhood now being smashed to pieces.
Into the fire they all went and into the water I must go.
Love you Mom, Dad. You mean the world to me. I hope you can forgive me.
And with that last kiss goodbye, that last hug which screams a silent song,
Onto the free waters my soul shall now go.
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[ WP ] The entirety of the human race has left to live on mars , only the strictest religious people have stayed behind believing it 's wrong to vacate planet earth . An all out space war ensues between the space faring humans and the technologically inept religious earth dwelling ones .
| `` I do n't expect you to believe me. I expect you to believe God.
If you were n't there, you could n't imagine the sight. The sky was dark with them, like the angels of Satan himself. But God had told us to prepare ourselves.
So we did, with eyes closed, hands clasped, and hearts full of love, we prayed that God would crush the life out of every last one of them.
And the great hand of our Lord swept the heavens, and all of our evil brothers and sisters who had defied God were obliterated. Not a single trace, not even their souls to burn in all eternity. Got what they deserved, those hell-loving son's of the devil.''
The old man's face was turning redder by the word, as he worked himself further into the blissful fervor that only the devout and the delirious can summon up.
I tried to ignore the poor old man's story, vowing to never take public transport again.
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[ WP ] You die and find yourself in Valhalla , where all great warriors go when they die . However , you never fought a day in your life . You try to find out why you 're there .
| Valhalla, the afterlife for all great warriors, yet Tom had no idea why he was here. He had done nothing of note in his previous life. He graduated high school, went to college, got a 9-5 job, had a wife and two kids then died. That is it.
`` Tom, the hardy'' A bellowing voice from behind him declared
He turned to see Thor, a god among men, beckoning him in haste.
`` I overheard what you were thinking, Tom and I have your answer. For of all the people here you deserve to be here the most.''
Tom had a confused look on his face and before he was able to ask the question: `` What?'' he was answered in a thundering cacophony of a voice beginning a story. The room fell silent. This is the story of Tom, The Hardy:
Tom was no ordinary person, from the moment he was born he has had an arduous life. Toms mother was killed while giving him birth due to complications. His father out of despair resorted to whiskey to solve all of his problems. You see, Tom's father was a cruel and stoic man and the consistent levels of alcohol in his system did not help this fact and from the time he could argue with his father, Tom received regular beatings, often times to the point where hospitalization would have been expected. Did Tom ever go to the hospital or turn his father in for abuse? No, this was Tom, the hardy. At the age of 14, his father became very sick due to liver failure from the 14 years of hard drinking. What did Tom do? Tom picked up a time intensive job to help pay for his abusive, spiteful fathers medication all while maintaining his flawless GPA. Tom would not relent, he would not stop, he would **NOT** give. For this is Tom the Hardy.
Tom continues this arduous lifestyle for 4 years, until his father finally passed away, leaving Tom alone in the world as the rest of his family had lost contact or gone missing. But did this stop him? No. He went on. He was accepted into one of the best schools in the nation of the United States. He had no social experience and became depressed due to his self exclusion for no reason other than ignorance. He started to experiment with a drug known as heroin because that was the only way he could feel normal again. Tom the Hardy was starting to weaken, or so it seemed.
Lest we forget this was Tom, the hardy. His heroin addiction was soon overcome when a lass by the name of Lucy came along. Tom, did n't know Lucy he only saw her. Tom fell in love at first sight. Tom was not one to relent, he would not stop. He would **GET THE GIRL**.
He focused in on his newest pursuit. Being at the top of his class he knew he could fight his way through the suitors and into Lucy's favor. And that is just what he did. Within a few years, they were married and soul mates.
Tom's life did not end there, with a happy ending. Oh no. No-one that deserves to be in Valhalla had it that easy.
Lucy soon fell very ill, and as her condition fell worse and worse into the throws of death, she parted with him, her last actions one of love and bestowed upon him a child. A child that Tom knew he had to raise the right way. Not with years of self-pity and vindication. And so as the years went on, Tom raised a damn fine child who may himself earn a spot here as a soldier.
On his son's 18th name day, Tom was given 1 year to live. He had a terminal cancer that was rotting him from the inside out. Tom, the hardy did **NOT** take that as an answer, but as a challenge. He was the ripe age of 52 and would be living far longer than one measly year. Tom did wish to burden his child during what could be his most important years, so he forwent telling his son about the cancer. Tom fought Valiantly for another 25 years. He climbed the corporate ladder which allowed him to continue his treatment, as the CEO of one of the best companies in the world. He was wealthy, had a family in his son and was happy.
You see Tom, the hardy never stopped fighting. Even up until his death, where he was killed by an explosion as a byproduct of the now full force World War Three, he never relented, he never stopped he **DID**
**NOT**
**QUIT**
And that, friends is something to be admired. The sheer determination of this man, is one that should be celebrated as a triumph. He as much as anyone of us has earned a spot in Valhalla, Hall of Warriors.
The hall was quiet.
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[ WP ] : Description of a Séance from the Perspective of the Ghost/Spirit/Demon Being Summoned
| The older guys giggled as I dropped the deck of cards all over the floor. They were used to the rumbling. Our little card games were disturbed on a daily basis by these mini earthquakes. I composed myself and gripped the edge of the table, eagerly awaiting the voices. I had heard my daughter's voice once and had been ill-prepared to react accordingly. I had brooded about it until Jimmy, who looked like the oldest guy here had told us how he had heard his wife four times since he had arrived and each time failed to make a connection. He was convinced that if they were crazy enough to try and contact you once, they'd do it again. The religious seemed to have the most success; of the forty or so guys I'd seen come and go the ones with partners of strong faith were contacted the most. Emma was n't likely to pray to me, but I knew she would n't be able to help giving the ouija board a go.
My heart raced as the earthquake subsided and the little shockwaves started in our bodies. The consensus was you must try and relax as much as possible in the hope of getting a clear line of communication. Like me, Jimmy and Bob gripped the table and tried to focus. Paddy stayed deadly still, clasping his hands in a praying stance, as if that was going to help. Mark, a bundle of teenage energy, stood up and couldn ’ t help bouncing up and down. As always Ronnie made a big deal of leaving the table ( despite their being nowhere else to go ) as he reminded us again “ no-one talked to me before and they certainly weren ’ t going to make the effort now ”. I hoped he ’ d depart our table soon.
Whispered chants came over us and then my stomach dropped. It was faint and slightly higher pitched but I could hear it. I clasped my sweaty hands and tried to ease the shaking. “ Paul Barber ”, I had n't heard my full name in a while. The table was spinning and I could make out the guys pointing and smiling at me, then they were gone.
The teenage girl that appeared in front of me sat crosslegged as I found myself in an unfamiliar room. “ Hello ” was all i could blurt out. A heavy weight seemed to have been applied to my body and I struggled to stay standing. “ Emma? ” I was greeted by a terrified nod. “ Dad! ”. “ You ’ re so much bigger ” I exclaimed, staring my previously petite daughter up and down. “ Taller, I mean ”. I corrected myself quickly. She was not only bigger, her hair had grown out like her mothers, apart from the streak of blue she had going down the side. I tried to move forward but found myself locked in place; only able to move my head forward slightly to try and kiss her.
“ I tried before ” she said. “ Mom hates it but I knew it could work ”. Her voice cut out and she started to blub. Now I could see the eleven-year old I had left. “ I miss you Daddy ”. She was grasping forward too and I longed to hug her. “ What age are you? ” I asked. “ 16 ” she replied sniffling. I did n't allow myself to reflect, I needed to know everything I missed out on. “ Where are we? ”. “ It ’ s the same house, Dad. We had it renovated a year after all the damage, you know. Mom said we needed it. Help us move on ”. “ How is Mom? ” I asked, but another flurry of tears was happening. With every ounce of my strength I tried to move but I could n't do it.
“ Does Mom have a new..? ” I could n't help asking and instantly regretted it. She nodded through another round of tears. “ I have a sister ” she announced and wiped her eyes, straightening up her back. I smiled, this was the same determination I had seen in her when she falls in the playground. “ Who is the - ” “ Mom married James! ” she cut across me. “ Fuckin hell ” I was taken aback, but I tried let my amazement ease. “ He ’ s alright ” she replied through a smirk. ” He tries his best but he ’ s not you ”. The smile relaxed me and I let my daughter do the rest of the speaking.
It ’ s amazing what five years difference can make. Mark, the cheap prick who I used to carpool with has now replaced me. He also bought Emma a car for her sweet sixteen, so at least he has some decency. Judging by Emma ’ s room and school grades, he runs a tighter ship than I did. Maybe he ’ s even a better father than me. I don ’ t get a chance to make up for my mistakes now. Neither do the rest of the guys at the table. Some seek forgiveness when they get called back. Eventually coming back to earth becomes a hindrance to those we left behind. I got to meet Emma twice more after the first visit. She eventually found a husband and gave up on me. As she got older maybe she understood more. She says she forgives me for what I did, but I know she never could. I wonder how often she thinks about me or if she remembers our meetings. I hope they provided some comfort to her. I don ’ t sleep so I can ’ t dream of what could have been. For me and the the guys at the table, we just wait it out. Unlike life, we don ’ t get to choose when we leave this place.
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[ WP ] You look very similar to that superhero who is constantly saving the day
| Staring down at the hacksaw blade, you wonder `` is it worth it?''
The news hit three days ago. The Caped Avenger, in a battle of speed and wit with the Crimson Samurai. The aerial ballet between two hated foes. But then, amid the lasers and flying punches, something you'd never seen before. In a flurry of blades and hate, the world watched in primetime horror as the Samurai's blade sliced the world's hero, separating his hand from his body.
This complicates things.
Life was so much harder before the Avenger showed himself to the world. You were all but a bum, sleeping on couches when you could, and the street when you could n't. The first woman to take you in shocked you. If she had known your disorientation was from the vodka and not the parasitic mandibles of `` The Leech,'' she never would have spent the weekend tending to your every need.
Now, there were at least ten lonely women that were part of your routine. The newsweek cover is what did it. Even you had to admit, the resemblance was uncanny. Thank god he's so camera shy. The fewer the pictures, the fewer ways to scrutinize your story.
But now, how can you show up with an undamaged left arm, and still woo unsuspecting singles into giving you a roof to stay under?
You laugh to yourself, dropping the saw onto the workbench. No amount of pampering is worth self-mutilation. A few scrapes and bruises for effect is one thing, but you're no psycho. It's been a good run, but deep down, you were starting to feel guilty for taking advantage like you have been.
And that's when the news update pops up on the radio above the workbench.
`` THIS JUST IN: The Caped Avenger appeared a mere 30 minutes ago at a New York Police station, with the Crimson Samurai restrained and in custody. The Avenger is reported to have his left arm fully intact. The Avenger reportedly flew from the scene when authorities attempted to question him. There is no current explanation as to how this is possible, although this is not the first instance of unexplainable circumstances related to his abilities.''
You ca n't help but smirk as you pull your phone from your pocket and dial.
`` Hello?''
`` Shiela, it's me.''
`` Oh thank God! I thought you were dead.''
`` I'm sorry, I-I had to be sure and find him before he hurt the children. I'll explain when I get there. I'll be over soon.''
`` I'll be waiting. I cooked dinner for you earlier tonight. You know, just in case you needed me. I- I love you.''
`` I love you too.''
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[ WP ] `` You and I ... we are not so different . Both monsters . Both lost . ''
| `` Would you strike me down? Would you take the life of another man who thinks and feels? Oh, but who am I asking, of course you would.''
I grip my sword even harder, perhaps it feels the blood of a sinner nearby as the blade shines with the renewed glow of the Blessing. I slowly step forward as my opponent continues to speak.
`` You and I... we are not so different.''
`` What do you mean!?'' I snarl and carefully lower my sword, directing it at his wretched heart.
`` Both monsters. Both lost. You, lost in the glory of the Inquisition, searching for redemption in the Triumvirate. I, lost in my anger, seeking to overthrow that which took everything from me.'' The end of his sentence comes out almost as a whisper.
`` I seek no redemption, I perform my duties because of my faith. If that means cleansing another wayward soul, then so be it.''
`` Then tell me, O wise Paladin, why did you'cleanse' that entire village? Were they not worthy in the eyes of the Great Triumvirate?''
`` Monsters! No man lives off of the life-force of another. Our Deacon ordered the cleansing so that these demons would not spread across the land.'' I continue keeping this heretic at sword's length, he should have been impaled by now, but somehow his words nag at me.
`` Innocent farmers, their only crime was to bear the curse of a witch ages past. They killed no one and only took blood from the consenting. Yet you saw fit to burn them all, haemophile or not. You murder in the name of protecting the faithful. My only sin has been to prevent these callous acts, I murder in the name of protecting the innocent.''
I look to the body of our Deacon, cleaved in twain by the man in front of me. Doubts swirl in my mind, first an image of the poor woman I put to the sword; next, an image of the family of blood-givers I had burned with a whisper of the arcane word; finally, an image of the young child I was ordered to impale and behead, to spread the word of the Inquisition's arrival among these lands. I collapse, laid low by the atrocities I had committed, not by the defiled sword of heresy. My sword clatters to the floor and is quickly swept aside.
A small chuckle, my opponent is laughing. `` Now, now, my dear Paladin, all will soon be better.''
I whimper in acceptance as he has me kneel and circles around.
A sharp pain just above my first vertebrae.
`` Now it is you who must atone for your sins.''
I feel the point slipping into my flesh.
The unnatural cold so very different from our cleansing fires.
I make no move to stop it.
|
[ WP ] You 've just invented the cure for a broken heart in the form of a pill . But while others want it , you wo n't take it . Why ?
| I wanted to help the world.
I had hoped that with this pill we would be able to move on through the toughest part of our simple lives. How I was so wrong. I have seen my pill change people, they have lost their perception of what love truly is. The think love is just a simple thing now, and when it's gone you take a pill and no pain is there.
They do n't realize the repercussions tho, they are losing the taste of what true love is. True love is n't there and gone. It stays, and when it leaves for a fraction of a second all the way to the infinite and unlimited edges of the universe it hurts.
True love hurts, and no one is finding true love anymore.
|
[ WP ] Guardian angels do n't just keep you safe out of the goodness of their hearts , they have some other reason , and you are the very first to find it out
| Wait, so you mean to tell me that as soon as you accomplish your goal you're just going to up and split? Do you have any idea how much more dangerous the world will be for me after you're gone? Think about it! For years you've been bailing me out of trouble, protecting me from danger, guiding me on the right path... for years I never got to learn common sense, I never got to learn street smarts, I've lived in a spiritual bubble wrap shielded from all harm and now I do n't know how to take care of myself! And that's not even the worst part -- you were only doing it for your own benefit. You never cared about me! I hate you, angel. Damn you to hell!
|
[ WP ] You die and enter the kingdom of heaven , only it 's ... abandoned .
| I walked towards the light because that was what cliche dictated. I had raised myself in a Southern Baptist church complete with speaking in tongues and threats of hellfire and brimstone, but had fallen out of it after high school, so I started to get a little nervous. I thought about all the Sunday School lessons involving God's file cabinet of your sins and how only grace could save you and prepared myself to start groveling. I was actually a little insulted that those goddamn pamphlets littering parking lots gleefully promising an eternity of pain and suffering were going to be true. I stopped at the edge of the light, figured it was time to get it over with, and walked through. Instead of joyous choirs of angels praising the Almighty, I walked past rusty gates that lazily swung back and forth in the breeze. Weeds grew up out of the clouds and broken tools were strewn about; it looked like someone had done a half-assed job of trying to repair the gates but quit. The podium had a `` Sorry We Missed You!'' sign hanging from it and handwritten instructions to continue along the path. Apparently budget cuts had drastically reduced St. Peter's hours. I followed the path of broken concrete that weaved through the clouds and approached the City of God. It was n't anything special. It might have been pretty cool forty years ago but that was probably the last time there had been any major renovations. The massive amphitheater designed to accommodate millions of angels, cherubs, and seraphim was festooned with raggedy banners of faded purple that limped weakly with the breeze. It was enclosed by a chain link fence; looking through the fence I could see that what I first thought was some script around the base glorifying God like artistic Arabic calligraphy was actually a series of gang tags. It was like the Oakland Coliseum had been transplanted to the Celestial Kingdom. I wondered if a sewer system could be backed up in heaven.
I continued past the amphitheater and reached the stairs surrounding the throne of God. It was a huge skyscraper, reaching into infinity past the cosmos, but half the windows on each floor were boarded up. The windows that remained were dark, which was surprising considering God was supposed to give off at least a dim glow. It was time to face judgment so I ascended the stairs and attempted to stride confidently through the doors of solid gold. They budged a little but the hinges were screwy, so I had to muscle them open with a few hard pushes. I tried to open the door but it was jammed.
“ Welcome to Heaven! ”. An old man sitting behind the front desk greeted me. His toga had seen better days. It might have once been an immaculate white with creases so sharp you could cut your fingers on them. Now it looked like a table cloth that had been washed before the lumps and scraps of dessert had been scraped off. “ I am St. Peter! ”
“ St. Peter, forgive me for- “ I attempted to bluster out to deflect attention from my minor deficiencies, but he quickly interrupted me.
“ Worry not my son. The Final Judgment has been postponed indefinitely. ”
I was relieved and exhaled sharply. As I looked around the foyer I noticed the linoleum was chipped, the wall paper was peeling off, and it was uncomfortably warm. The Throne of God had all the grace of the world ’ s largest Motel 6. This reinforced my previous opinion of Heaven as a city that had probably been forced to file bankruptcy or suffered a massive exodus of talent. “ St. Peter….uhhh…is this really THE heaven? ”
“ Yes, it was THE Heaven, the abode of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, the Alpha and the Omega, until forty years ago. God had grown tired of ruling the universe and left to pursue other ventures. He felt he had become a figurehead. Without a clear line of authority, the angels left to create their own versions of heaven. There was no longer a dichotomy of good and evil, righteous and wicked, reward and punishment. Without God Satan no longer had ultimate control over the souls of the wicked. The legions of angels creating legions of heavens began lowering the standards for admittance in order to increase attendance. ”
“ So this was the original heaven and it was scrapped because it was a shoddy business model? ” I asked.
“ Yes. In spite of its excellent location at the entrance of the afterlife, it was too cost prohibitive to raze the original structures and start over. ”
I was amazed. Heaven was like Detroit, Stockton, and Atlantic City, places that had history but had been put out of business by shiny new suburbs and gentrified midtowns. The House of God was just a shell of its former self.
St. Peter had been exceedingly friendly and helpful and I needed to know more, but I didn ’ t want to hurt his feelings. “ St. Peter, why are you still here? There are so many options and places to go, ” I asked as delicately as possible.
St. Peter took it in stride. I was worried he would think I was calling him a tout or a shill, but I realized he was something more than that. He was a guidance counselor and travel agent for eternal bliss and fulfillment. He began pulling out travel brochures and fliers from all the different heavens. He smiled and asked me where I wanted to go.
|
[ WP ] : You were sentenced to be shot at dawn . The sun has n't risen for 22 years .
| I sit upon my Iron Throne. My Armour was glistening off the torches that adorned the walls.. My Black cape came knee length and was velvety soft. I sat my head off to one side leaning against my fist as i stared out blatently out the window. It was pitch black, almost like looking into a void.
`` My Lord? Are you Listening?'' My head snaps to attention as my squire calls to me
`` What? No. I was just.... day dreaming, please, repeat what you were saying.'' I say monotone.
`` This man here, is on trial for the crimes commited by the infamous `` Butcher''. He is being charged with 22 murders, 3 arsons, petty theivery, illegal ownage of a firearm and 2 accounts of rape. What is your conviction?'' My sqire asked blatently. The man had all the evidence stacked against him, and he knew it.
I reach down next to my throne and pick up a pistol and shoot the man in the head `` Guilty, Pentaly, Death.''
My squire just looks at the two gaurds and they know what to do, they clear out the body and the maid comes to clean the blood and brain matter.
`` Sir, today marks the 22 year anniversary of the last day we saw the sun. Any plans?''
I shake my head no `` Yes, i have grown bored of this world. Tell the general that the sun rises in the morning. But he wont have the honor of taking me to the afterlife.
Twenty-two years ago, i was on trial for murder, and i was set for execution at dawn. I had killed my wife and i regretted it every day. My time wasnt up, and i revealed myself as a god, and extinguished the sun. It was still hot enough and big enough to keep earth in proper rotation and keep it heated, but it produced no light. I spent the last 22 years uniting the world under the banner of the God of Earth, me. But in those 22 years, i spent my time learning to ressurect the dead, and from all the reasearch, i find that there is only one way to ressurect the dead, and that is with the life that took it. So, i walked into my hidden room, with my dead wife, adorned in a white dress and suspened mid air, and taken from time. Her body would never decay, but her wounds were healed. I walked over and put a hand on her chest, and a gun to my head, and killed myself, never to know if she would awake or not.
|
[ WP ] A knight saves a princess from a dragon . No twist , no subversion . Just make it interesting and fun to read .
| The sun rose slowly over the canopy of the forest. A thick haze of morning humidity gave the thin rays of light that reached the floor a lingering appearance. It looked as if the light had fallen and hit a number of branches on the way down, and was now slowly gliding towards the forest floor, so it did n't have to sustain one more brutal hit to the ribs.
A small squirrel scampers across the dried leaves on the ground, foraging for nuts. ( or acorns. or whatever squirrels eat ). Reaching down it grabs one in it's claws and pulls.
`` Yee Gods!!'' screams a man, holding his bleeding, claw marked, nose. The squirrel chitters angrily and flees the scene.
With a yawn and a grunt, the man slowly lifts himself to a kneeling position and stands erect. A moment later when he stands completely he surveys the small campsite, checking for animal related damages during the knight.
With steady determination the man collects his belongings, and walks the half mile to the edge of the forest. When he comes to the edge, he looks over the grand expanse of hills and mountains before him, and looks to the sun to determine his heading.
When he finishes blinking out the black spots in his vision, he turns to his left, takes twenty-five paces, and enters a large crevice in the side of the mountain. The knight ( he's a knight ), works his way through the entering until he spills out of a narrow gap, just barely wide enough for him in his armor. He stands up, brushes himself off, and looks around.
What he sees is a spectacle of wonders. He removes the glasses from the pedestal they rest on, goes `` hah... hah..'' on them, and wipes them with a cloth, and puts them on the top of his head. With a feeling of accomplishment he follows a lavish corridor for a few minutes, until it opens into a cavernous room large enough to fit three dragons.
Thankfully, there was only one dragon. It was large. Very large. Also red. It looked a lot like whatever you think a dragon looks like, but also more frightening than that, and somehow wiser, as if it was wearing glasses ( which it was n't ).
With a single mighty gesture the dragon arched an eyebrow and gazed at the intruder.
`` Who are you,'' bellowed the dragon.
The knight cleared his throat, and attempted to stand tall before declaring himself. `` I am Benzi Der Ill-Gotten, and I am here by decree of the King to reclaim the Princess Gertrude Huxlebugg.''
`` Der Ill-Gotten?'' asked the dragon.
`` It's foreign.'' stated Benzi.
`` Yes obviously. Well. Ok then.'' the dragon said, with nonchalance.
With a nod, Benzi drew his sword from his sheath. It's metallic ring echoed through the chamber.
`` What are you doing there?'' asked the dragon.
`` I'm drawing my sword. So we can fight.''
`` I see. Let me ask you, how do you think that turns out for you?''
`` What do you mean? We fight, I win, she comes with me.''
`` Yes yes, very good. But... logistically... How do you think this ends? I mean... I'm this big...'' the dragon used it's tiny arm to gesture to itself, `` and you're... well... not this big.''
Benzi thought for a moment and assessed the situation given this new information.
`` I see. Suppose you're right. Seems rather silly.'' He sheathed the sword with a click. `` What do you suggest then?''
`` Well,'' began the dragon, `` Usually either you pay the ransom, or we play a game.''
`` What ransom?!''
`` It's 100 gold circles usually.''
`` Not very honorable is it?''
`` What's'honor'?'' asked the dragon.
Thinking for a second, Benzi realized that he had no great explanation, and so he simply said, `` Nevermind. What kind of game?''
`` I know a few. Chess. Checkers. Poker. Or anything you name. I'm not picky usually.''
`` Alright then. Checkers seems good.''
With a nod, the dragon reached over and grabbed a checkered board and some light wooden chips and assembled the game. The game pieces were large enough for the dragon to grasp them in only a semi-comical manner, but also small enough that the knight did n't have to lift them with comical strain.
`` Right then. Before we start. I told you my name. So it's only fair....'' Benzi trailed off.
`` Oh. Rick. It's Rick.''
``....Rick?''
`` It's foreign,'' Rick said simply.
`` Right then.'' And Benzi let it be.
With that they began to play. The game was interesting. But it's checkers. So it played out mostly like that. In the end Benzi made a lucky move that makes it seem like he had been planning it all along, but really Rick was just having an off day, and his heart was n't really into it from the start. This gave Benzi the game.
`` Good game, Benzi. She's in the third room from the left, I think, down that hall.''
Benxi nodded, and gave the dragon a salute, before heading off towards the hall. `` Thanks, Rick.''
`` Oh wait,'' Rick said suddenly. `` The blonde one right?''
`` Uhm....'' Benzi fumbled around for the King's Decree, and read it over quickly, mumbling to himself. `` You know... It does n't say...''
`` Oh.'' said Rick. `` Well, there's a blonde in the third room on the left, and a redhead second room on the right. Take your pick. Kings do n't normally tend to notice. Should n't matter in the end.''
Benzi shrugged in agreement. `` One castles the same as another, I suppose.''
They both nodded and smiled at their shared wit and sense of humor. Benzi chose the redhead, because the king had black hair, and red hair seemed closer to black than blonde did.
He introduced himself, and she said thank you. Then they left the cavern through the other door, and travelled safely back to the castle.
When they arrived, and the king greeted them, Benzi realized that either he had picked the correct princess, or the dragon was right and kings do n't really notice very much about the daughters. His rewards was 90 golden circles, and it made him wonder how bad at checkers other knights had to be to lose 10 circles in the deal paying the ransom.
The End.
|
[ WP ] John can see 10 seconds in to the future . Barry can go back in time 10 seconds . They fight .
| It was going to be the match of the century. Timegraphs and precogs were tuned in to watch every second a hundred times over, trying to outguess every move before it had a chance to happen. Sadly, the whole thing did n't turn out so well. As it happens, in terms of *not losing*, a ten-second glimpse into the future and a ten-second trip back in time were n't that different. The time traveler could simply watch events unfold, fail and go back whereas the precog could just pre-empt every actual move made in advance. A five-second window would've been enough, John bragged before the match, and even if Barry had a gun and perfect aim, giving John a ten-second window before Barry could even pull *out* the gun turned out to be just too much.
It was the calm before the storm, the ring was set and the table in the center held all sorts of exotic and marvelous weapons. John was smiling and waving to the crowd, a clear favorite. It was well-known that time travelers could take only a hundred or two trips back before they started getting time stress, so John was n't even thinking really hard about the match. He'd maybe see a tenth of the attempts as Barry would go through all the possible branches of the fight. Of course he would win at the end, he always did.
*'' John,'' * Barry started, before the bell could chime, *'' I'm giving you one last chance to walk away. `` * John just laughed and shook his head. *'' I mean it, John. If you do n't say uncle before that bell chimes, all the stops come off. `` * John stared in disbelief, what was the idiot talking about? *'' Look, Barry,'' * he said, *'' We both know how this will end, so how about* you *give up and we can go have a nice pint. `` *
The bell chimed and John blinked. Despite what he was expecting, there was no flurry of confusing split-seconds, no surprise jumps from somewhere, just Barry, looking defeated in the corner, through all ten seconds. John frowned, this was n't the way it was supposed to go.
*'' Please, John. I do n't want to go through this again. `` * the voice was barely a whisper now, and John had finally had enough. He walked briskly to the table and picked up a handgun. The crowd gasped, nothing like this had happened before, was this a new strategy from the time traveler? John began to raise the gun and Barry raised his head, just as John knew as he would. But then something weird started happening in his precognitive vision at the edges, a weird *blurring* he had never seen before. He blinked, but brought the gun to bear on Barry.
Barry smiled, *'' Thank you, John. That makes my decision easier. `` *
*'' You see, I do n't suffer from time stress. `` * The crowd gasped, but Barry was already gone.
**Flash**
|
[ WP ] Aliens abduct and release humans for the same reasons that humans catch and release fish .
| BEGIN TRANSMISSION: RECEIVING.
THE EVENTS DEPICTED ARE BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS THAT OCCURRED 500 HUNDRED EARTH YEARS AGO AND WERE RECENTLY DECLASSIFIED BY THE COUNCIL IN ORDER TO FACILITATE THE INDUCTION OF THE HUMAN RACE INTO THE FOLD. THE EVENTS HAVE BEEN DRAMATIZED. THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INDIVIDUALS INVOLVED. LANGUAGE HAS BEEN TRANSLATED FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION.
EXPEDITION 523.21A – GY 3105.2 ( EARTH YEAR 2014 )
EXPLORATION OF SECTOR 695.360.125.015
’ Walter! Come here, quick ’
Walter was stooped over a console punching some incomprehensible commands into a computer terminal. Walter sighed to himself and replied without looking up from his task.
‘ What is it, Henry? ’ Henry, could barely contain his eagerness, ‘ Come over here, I ’ ve caught one ’
Walter straightened himself up to his full height, groaning as he did so. He would have to have his back problems treated before long, he thought to himself. Once he had massaged the aches from the small of back Walter strode over to Henry, straining his eyes to try and catch a glimpse of the source of Henry ’ s fervor. Walter reached Henry ’ s side and felt the tremors of excitement from Henry. A flash of jealousy passed through Walter, it had been so many years since he himself had felt anything like that on an expedition. How Walter wished he could bottle some of that youthful enthusiasm.
‘ What is it, Henry? ’
‘ Look, look. My first attempt and I catch one. Can you believe it? ’ Henry ’ s excitement was palpable if not contagious.
Walter looked down into the specimen tank and inspected the catch.
‘ What on Earth is it, Walter? ’
Without taking his eyes from the catch, he replied, ‘ I ’ m sure I have no idea, Henry. ’
Henry and Walter both stood watching the little pink creature writhing and thrashing about in the open-topped tank, silently contemplating the accolades and prizes that surly would be won for discovering a new species.
Finally Walter broke the hush, ‘ What a peculiar specimen. Where did you get it from? ’
‘ Down there. On the larger of the land masses in the northern hemisphere ’ Henry paused as though trying to remember the details while still studying the animal intently, ‘ it was strangely easy. It just wandered up to the drone and got it. ’
‘ Indeed ’ Walter replier rather sardonically.
‘ Why is it thrashing about like that? It is so odd. Do you thinking it ’ s trying to communicate? ’ Henry asked in a childlike manner.
‘ Again, I am truly flummoxed; I have never seen anything like it. As for communication; I think not. It does not look like it possesses the intelligence. ’
‘ Maybe we should call Edward. He is the expedition leader after all. He might know what it is. ’
‘ Yes, that is a first rate idea. ’ Walter replied.
Almost on cue Edward came shuffling through the door, tapping away on his data glass.
Walter looked up at the sound of the opening door, ‘ Ah, Edward old boy. The very man we require. ’
Edward looked up in surprise, ‘ Oooh, me? I am? What is it? ’ Edward was the oldest on board and the one of the most experienced expedition leaders in the division. However his advancing years were taking its toll on him; forgetful, slightly bumbling and with a smell that only the very old seem to possess, a permanent fog of dust and cobwebs would cover him most of the time along with bits of food he had managed to spill down him from several meals ago. Despite this he was a first rate mind who would be sorely missed when he retired to a life of teaching and research after this trip.
‘ Young Henry here has caught himself a fascinating little creature, on his first attempt no less. However, neither of us has ever seen anything like it before. We were wondering if you could be of any assistance. ’
Edward shuffled over to the tank, his soft comfortable footwear making low quiet sounds on the floor as he did so.
Edward peered into the tank and a distant memory bubbled to the surface of his mind, ‘ Ah yes, I know what this is. Haven ’ t seen one in years mind you. The first time I encountered one was on my first…no second expedition. That must have been …what some years ago now, I don ’ t remember how many. That trip started humorously. My wife at the time packed formal shoes for me, rather than my strong walking boots. Had turn around and go back from my them. And that was in the days before these new ultra engines don ’ t you know. Used to take a long time to get anywhere…Finally got home; boots were n't there. I went back to the ship, opened the bathroom and there they were. My boots were on board all along; we all had a good laugh about that. ’ Edward chuckled to himself, took a breath to carry on, Henry, quite accustomed to Edward ’ s long, rambling and often aimless stories and anecdotes cut him off.
‘ Edward, the specimen; what can you tell us about it? ’
Edward reluctantly dragged himself back from the ancient memory of the great shoe debacle. ‘ Ah yes ’ He tapped away with a single finger on the data glass which produced a flash of particles above the tank which then became transparent. ‘ And now… ’ Edward carried on typing in the way old people do and pumped the now sealed tank with an atmosphere tick with oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide and other trace elemental gases. The creature began to cease thrashing and finally fell still.
Henry and Walter stood staring in to the eyes of the animal as it starred back at them, ‘ It seems so intelligent, just look at those eyes ’ Henry noted.
Edward brought up some information he gathered on the creature from previous expeditions that appeared into his vision.
‘ What did you Edward? Walter asked
‘ Sealed it in ’ Edward replied with a tone that suggested that it was obvious.
‘ Why? Is it dangerous? ’ Henry whispered.
‘ No. no, not at all, it needs its own atmosphere to survive. I ’ ve re-balanced the pressure for it too. The poor thing was being crushed. ’ Edward seemed to exhibit some affection for the specimen.
‘ Oh I see. Well at least it has stopped struggling. Well, Henry, you seem to have caught a young one, it ’ s very small. It is barley longer than my leg. ’ Walter said.
Edward interjected, ‘ Well actually this is a full grown male example. Note the long strands of keratin on its uppermost extremity; it has lost nearly all of its pigmentation. Also the epidermis is rough, pitted and wrinkled in places. I would say that it is about forty years of age. ’
‘ What is a Year? ’ Henry asked.
‘ What do they teach you during training? It is your job to be fully conversant with all information and phenomenon with in your assigned expedition boundaries. It is the time it takes for their home planet to make one full orbit around its home star. I believe they call it The Sun. My god man, do your research. ’ Edward replied in a cutting manner.
‘ I ’ m sorry sir; I ’ ll ensure that I continue my studies. So what is it exactly? ’
‘ They call themselves Homo sapiens or Human beings. They have so many different names for the same thing in various different languages, it ’ s quaint really. ’ Edward said.
‘ So they can communicate? They are intelligent? ’ Henry asked dubiously.
‘ Yes they can. They have hundreds of languages all over their planet. It ’ s nothing special though; they create sounds in an organ that is in the narrow, cylindrical piece of flesh that connects the brain housing extremity to the rest of their bodies. Rather rudimentary, but it is useful for their needs. ’ Edward enjoyed this bit; teaching new things to people.
‘ What about intelligence? ’ Henry reiterated Walter ’ s question.
‘ Yes they are surprisingly intelligent, all things considered. ’
‘ What things ’
‘ Well, they have only been evolved into their current states for about the past two million years. Before that they were just primates, similar to ones that can be found elsewhere in this local star cluster. Although, they have come quite far since my last visit here, it was a time they called the dark age, not even steam power back then. Now look ’ Edward gazed longingly out of the huge expanse of transparent hull in front him, gesturing toward all the communications satellites that were in orbit. ‘ But they still have so much farther to go. ’
‘ Are they being brought in? ’ Walter was interested in the primitive species now they seemed intelligent.
‘ No, no. There not quite ready yet. Too much religion down there unfortunately, which breads division, although there are many of us that think that bringing them in could change that for them. Then there ’ s the ones that think they never should; too primitive, too religious, too close to their evolutionary origins. Usual excuses the elites of the Council use to keep new races out. The Humans are very curious though. The Council fears that some other race might find them soon and pervert them, so the question in general is being pondered. Humans will not stop sending out their bloody location to the universe. It ’ s going to get them in trouble sooner or later. ’
‘ What do we do with this one in the meantime? ’ Henry asked, in the hope of keeping the creature.
‘ Put it back where you found it. Take the usual data scoops from their information network, which is a new development by the way, take the usual visual notes and we ’ ll be on our way. ’
‘ Should we tag it? ’ Walter asked.
‘ No, no need. Whatever you were to tag it with they would only take out anyway. They have been tagged before and it never works out well for the individual specimens once their back. They have all sorts of theories about aliens, it just causes problems. Do take a DNA sample though. We can use that as a tag. Be careful not to damage the specimen, they are extremely physically sensitive. ’
The tank was transferred back to the drone and all three of them watched as it made its way down to the surface of the planet to drop the human back.
‘ Is there anything else we need to do before we leave? ’ Young Henry asked.
‘ No. Once the drone has returned, we ’ ll move on, there ’ s nothing more of any interest in this area. ’
THE REMAINING FLIGHT LOGS HAVE BEEN REDACTED
END TRANSMISSION
|
[ WP ] `` My name 's John . Let me tell you how I ended up in this cell ... ''
| My name's John. Let me tell you how I ended up in this cell...
It all began 4 years ago. I was alone, afraid, and hungry. Up to this point, I had been out of work for at least a month. Unfortunately for me, my metabolism did not care whether I could afford to by food or not. Something would have to be done soon.
I resolved to go to the store and see if I could convince the clerk to let me buy on credit. Being a locally owned store, I figured they would be easier to reason with than a corporate chain. After grabbing a bag of apples, I noticed a 30ish year old man, presumably the manager, engaging in a lighthearted conversation with a 70-year old woman, presumably the clerk. The lady had a youthful giggle that did not betray her age as her gray hair and wrinkled skin did. She seemed to draw the manager closer with every word she spoke.
An impulsive idea crossed my mind at that moment which would change the course of my life. Instead of walking forward to the checkout, I made a left and bee-lined to the exit. My heart was pumping. My eyes were dilated. I had never felt so alive.
...
A year later, I finally found a job and was making a comfortable salary. Despite this, I continued `` buying on credit'' from the same store without their knowledge. Could I afford to pay for what I take? Well... yes. Was I spending the money I saved in a meaningful way? Not particularly. I guess my life just seemed a little drab in the in-between hours. Each morning I would wake up at 6am, commute to some construction site, move around dirt and go home. Nothing in the world could do for me what hot merchandise could.
One day, I saw the lady from the store come into the restaurant where I was taking my lunch break. She ordered a coffee and a croissant, then looked for an empty chair. Since it was a busy time of day, she would have to share a table with someone.
She approached me, `` Hello. Do you mind if I join you here?''
`` Not at all''
`` You seem somewhat familiar to me. Do you shop at Jurgis's Market?''
`` Yes. I think I've been there a couple of times.''
`` OK, I thought so.''
She giggled, then asked, `` So do you work nearby?''
`` For now. I am a construction worker.''
`` Oh wow! Did you build your own house? I'd bet the rooms are very big''
...
The next morning, as I was making her hash browns, I realized that my days of shoplifting were over. That would be the reality at least when I was at her workplace. Nonetheless, I stopped my old ways that day. The excitement of leaving the store without paying was replaced with coming home to her warmth and smiles.
A few months later, my infatuation started to wear off. I once again longed for the adrenaline rush of taking what is not mine. Maybe, I thought, if could steal something more than inconsequential produce, I would get the urge out of my system. It was that day I conceived the idea to steal the declaration of independence.
...
I exchanged farewells with her before boarding a bus to Washington D.C.
`` Good bye. I'll be back in a few days.''
`` Be safe my love. I hope your conference on structural materials goes well.''
I entered the museum and found the display for the declaration of independence. A young child approached the security guard to ask him how much he weighed. This was my chance. Now or never.
I broke the display glass and grabbed the old document. Sprinting for the exit as fast as I could, I found that I was no match for the security guard. He had me on the ground handcuffed shortly after and read me my rights.
...
Anyways, what are you in for?
|
[ WP ] Countdown clocks give the date of death of the owner . It is discovered that everyone 's clocks cut off before or on August 26th , 2025 . Yours cuts off on the 27th .
| Captain Flint ran a thumb over the small photograph again. His four year old daughter's face beamed from the crinkled glossy paper. He had taken the assignment rather reluctantly; it was a solo trip to collect some data, replenish supplies, and facilitate information exchanges. It was a two year trip, one he had hoped would pass quickly, but the countdown clocks had shifted worldwide when he was only 20 months through his trip. The collective jump of lifespan clocks back to August 26th, 2025 was actually kept from him for a several weeks. He had no face-to-face interactions with anyone, his business was all done electronically, and the only indication that something was amiss was his own clock and the sudden lack of correspondence from several of his exchange clients.
The day his clock spiraled backwards, he was reorganizing a food supply cabinet. The numbers that glowed translucently through the skin on his wrist began to rapidly wind backwards from January 12th, 2052 until it stopped. Unlike the rest of the world, however, his clock stopped on August 27th, 2025. When he was told by his superior commander, Booth, that they would be discontinuing his operations, he was distraught. Captain Flint had been trying to eek the truth out of him for several weeks, pleading for knowledge about his wife and child, begging to know why he would n't make it home if all apparent systems were running smoothly and efficiently. Booth had sighed, `` Flint, it's not just your clock.''
`` What do you mean, sir?''
`` It's all clocks. Everyone is going to be dead on August 26th. And we ca n't get you back in time.'' The video comms were crackling with static in the brief silence that followed. He had never imagined this was how it would be.
`` But, sir, mine says-''
`` August 27th, yes. I think you understand why.''
Flint replayed the conversation in his head daily. It was the last transmission between his space station and Earth. The photograph of his daughter, Lena, was the last he would see or hear from her, Anna had taken her up to his in-laws to wait it out. They were unable to speak, to send any messages, to simply bask in the absurd turn of fate that would keep them apart before a lonely death. His commanding officer had said he would relay Flint's farewell's to her, but somehow Flint knew it was inappropriate to ask and unlikely to happen. He was sure Booth had his own affairs to attend to. Still, he wished for even just a `` Hello, dear'' or `` See you still have n't shaved'' from his wife, who would likely have some deride comment to make about the whole thing. He could n't force himself to have a laugh at his own expense without her.
He closed his eyes, picture in hand, and imagined his daughter swinging on the tire in the backyard. He imagined his wife tending to the garden and smudging his face with dirt for not helping. Lena laughed and fled the swing, somehow got hold of the water hose, and chased them both until they were all three of them muddy and exhausted.
That had been three days before he left. The space station felt suddenly cramped when he opened his eyes. In comparison to his sunny back yard, the cold steel and regulated air in the space station was suffocating.
On August 25th, a meteor struck the Earth, cracking and splintering it. When it happened, Flint's station was knocked out of Earth's gravitational pull, sirens and alarms whirring and screaming his impending doom. The initial blast knocked him out, and he woke several hours later covered in bruises and scrapes. He spent his last hours rocketing through space, wishing for a faster death, rather than a slow tumble through the black. Eventually, the alarms stopped blaring and the station lost power. Backup generators came on, but he managed to turn them off despite the ship's endless and slow twisting and turning. Eventually he settled into a rather still pocket and watched the ship spin rhythmically around him. The control panel was dark, and occasionally through the window he could see bits of stars or planets in the distance. The oxygen levels were lowering quickly, and he began to feel delirious as the ship spun like an enchanted snow globe. Darkness settled around his vision. He closed his eyes and thought of a tire swing in the sun.
|
[ IP ] Help Me
| She had gotten angry, gotten out of the car and he had driven off in the smoggy snow, leaving only the tire tracks behind. They ’ d both been angry. She ’ d even forgotten her purse in the car. Of course, she had kept her little.380 strapped to her leg under the dress. She could never pull the gun from her purse quick enough. By the time she had figured out that she was trapped in a set of walls that she couldn ’ t even see, his taillights had long vanished into the fog. She was still angry and god, how she had screamed and screamed and pounded on those walls. Cursed him, cursed everyone for them being there, even if it made no sense.
Eventually she had drawn the weapon and fired multiple times at the wall. The small bullets had ricocheted around and it had finally brought her to her senses but far, far too late. One bullet had gone through her hand, another through her side, and a third pierced her abdomen. She knew it was bad with how much she was bleeding. She screamed for help instead now before she felt her strength leaving her, sinking down to the ground to cry, hand smearing blood down the wall. She sobbed with her head hung low and cupping her side, knowing that she was just going to die in the snow. Fuck him. She wouldn ’ t have gotten out of the car if he hadn ’ t started the argument about her dress. She wouldn ’ t be dying in the snow without him coming back for her.
|
[ WP ] Your whole life you have heard a strange melody playing in your head . You 've never heard it anywhere else , and eventually you simply learn to live with it . One day , you walk past a man whistling that tune .
| She begged me not to go. It was n't at all attractive of her. I should just leave her be, let her move on, but I'm a selfish bastard and she has great tits.
I jogged down the stairs and burst outside, finally letting out the air I had been holding. With the guilt twisting my breath, I told myself I would call her later, break it off for good. I had never made any promises, said any words that could be misconstrued, but I knew she felt a lot more than I did. I could never feel like that about someone else, but she did n't know that. Assuring myself, patting myself on the back, I strolled down the sidewalk, my spirits much higher now that I had decided to do the right thing. I had promised myself this before, but it was different now. I could n't breathe around her anymore.
I hummed as I went along, trying to get rid of the bad mood I was in. It always helped. My song had always made me feel better, stronger, more confident. It was all mine. I had never heard my song before, no one I had ever asked had heard it. When I was a egotistical teenager, not that I'm not an egotistical adult, I considered myself akin to Beethoven. I imagined I knew how he had felt with such genius running through him. I just had the one song, however, so I had to give that notion up as I got older and could n't do more than play Chopsticks on the piano. And not very well, at that.
My mood lifted, I looked upwards, smiling at the sun. I kept along my path and nodded at the people I made accidental eye contact with, returning a few nervous smiles. I'm telling you all of this so I can get to this one moment. The minute, no second, that everything finally made sense.
I saw the man up ahead. He looked cheerful, and I could tell he was whistling as he meandered along. He was an older guy, unassuming and average looking. As we neared each other I had already gotten distracted by a sundress, but when I heard his tune, I whipped around. He was whistling my song.
I stood there for a second, unsure if I had even heard right. I followed after him, getting close enough to hear his whistle again. It was the one. This was crazy. So, I was n't as unique as I thought. I knew it. My mother had said it enough. I had to ask him, of course.
I tapped his shoulder, and he turned, mid-whistle. He smiled at me, and I thought I saw something familiar, but it was fleeting.
`` This is strange, I'm sorry, but what is that song you're whistling there?'' I asked him, almost afraid he would dismiss me.
He grinned wider, `` It's a ditty I made up a long time ago, just something that came to me one day when I was holding my first kid. Why'd ya ask? Ya like it? My wife's always saying I should write some of my noise down, but that would n't make it fun anymore''.
Maybe I had went to kindergarten with his firstborn, or had some interaction when I was too young to really remember, and the child had repeated it and it left an impression or something. I needed to find out.
`` Where did your kid go to preschool? Again, sorry, but this is blowing my mind and the coincidence of actually hearing you, and.....''
I trailed off. His smile was gone, his face pale. I could see the lines that aged him much clearer, and he looked a lot older than he had before.
He swallowed hard and I felt like I had just kicked a hundred puppies.
`` My boy, my first son, my namesake, was taken from us. He went with his momma to the fair when he was no more than 3, and she turned to pay for cotton candy and never saw him again. Damn near tore us apart. I'm sorry, son. Did n't want to get all heavy here, but I do n't know what to do about your music. Maybe we've crossed paths, I'm always whistling, always trying to raise my own spirits, trying to forget the bad past.''
His eyes shone with the tears he did n't want to shed in front of a stranger. He hung his head as the last sentence was said, and he turned to walk away.
I remembered a fair. Being at a fair when I was young, and not being with my mom. I had asked her before about the lady I remembered being with, the red haired one, but mom just said I must have seen it in a movie and was just making up stuff like I did when I was little. I had a lot of stories I liked to tell as a kid. An overactive imagination, mom said. She would get real mad when I would tell one of my stories. She hated them. My head was fucking spinning, and I had a moment of beautiful clarity.
`` Wait! ``, I almost fell as I ran, again, to catch up.
I had to tell him about my memory. And, that I was adopted.
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[ WP ] Your life is a mess . You 're broke , no job , no loved ones , and about to lose your home . You wake up one morning and take a good look at yourself in the mirror , Your reflection simply shakes it 's head in disappointment and walks away .
| `` Come back you son of a bitch! Come back! You ca n't leave me. You ca n't. It does n't work like that.'' But the reflection in the mirror shakes his head at me. There is a deep disapproval in his eyes, and they stare into mine. I can not meet his gaze for long. It is worse than the accusing eyes of my wife, or the forlorn gazes of my children. I have not seen them for years. Who knows what became of them. But the gaze of others was always easy for me to shrug off. There was always something to blame it on. I'll get a job later. We're in a recession; no one can get a job right now. Look the kids do n't need those toys. They can go outside and play or something. Look I'm trying my best ok? Those were the words that I said, all those times. Old lies, all the more easy to say for their having been said.
In hindsight it seems that each lie cracked me open a little. And the cracks, they got deeper. But it's such a slow process that you do n't seem to notice it. And it's only after you look back at yourself that you see how much things have changed. When you look at your reflection, do you feel pride?
The man in the mirror shakes his head once more. And I know that it is me. It was always me, all along. Not anyone else. And perhaps now, I can accept that. My reflection begins to turn his back on me. I understand. I would too.
There is a tinkling crash. Across the floor, a hundred tiny men turn their hundred tiny gazes onto me, and shake their hundred tiny heads. I try to tell them I'm sorry. But I ca n't. My body wo n't seem to move right. And slowly, the little mirrors are swamped by a red river. It pools and flows across the broken shards, and soon I no longer have to see myself, and have myself see me. As the last piece of my reflection fades under the red, the world dims, and fades.
I think now, perhaps, I can rest.
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[ WP ] An individual is strictly vegetarian due to their being cursed with receiving visions of the final moments of anything they eat . A detective desperate to stop a rampant serial killer challenges them to break the ultimate taboo .
| `` This is...?'' I pointed at the steaming chunk of well-done meat he just brought in. The smell of the meat filled the grey interrogation room. A smell I had forgotten for so long.
`` Eat it.'' commanded the investigator. He took out a fork and a knife from the bag and placed it beside the dish and pushed them toward me. I was puzzled. I imagined that hard silverware would be forbidden in an interrogation room. I stared into the black mirror behind the investigator, hoping there's someone who could explain what was going on. Was I under arrest? What for? And they bring steak for a detainee? Then, he placed whole bags of salt and pepper on the table. He even brought a bottle of steak sauce. How generous of him.
`` I'm sorry... I'm a vegan. A strict one, at that.'' I said, as I pushed the dish and the silverware back to the investigator. I used to love meat when I was young. I'd throw tantrum if our Friday family dinner were vegetarian. Mom, meat! I'd scream. I probably did n't, but that's the general image of how much I loved meat. Then, this condition of psychometry hit me. Whenever I ate something, the vision of the final moment of what I ate flooded into me. I've seen cows with their brains knocked out. Chickens drowned dead in a cesspool. Pigs dragged to their slaughter house. I've heard the churning of the machines and the screams of the animals. Needless to say, they were mostly unappetizing. Even eating plants bothered me time to time. The noise of the industrial machine... at least they did n't make me want to puke on the table.
`` Eat it.'' the investigator repeated.
`` No, I'm very much certain that legal enforcement ca n't force me to eat something I refused to do so. And am I asking too much? I will eat, if it's not meat.'' I said. The cold, still, immobile eyes of the investigator fixated on my nervous face gave me an uneasy feeling. The investigator drew out a handgun from his side and slammed it on the steel table.
`` Do I look like a cop to you?'' the investigator said in a low-pitched voice. Well, I was lead into an interrogation room in a huge building by a gun-and-badge-wielding officer, so of course the investigator looked like a police officer to me. But my impression of him being a part of legal enforcement vanished like a morning dew when he grabbed his gun and pointed it at my forehead.
``... No.'' I answered. I raised my both hands in the air while the investigator pushed the plate and the silverware back to me.
`` Eat it.'' the investigator said, with his finger on the trigger. I nodded several times and reached for the silverware. I sliced a tiny piece from the corner of the steak and took a bite.
There was an animal screaming, as per usual. But it was that of human. A woman's, even. She was running through a corridor. The fluorescent light of the corridor was nearly blindly dazzling. The walls were blue and there were doors every several feet. The girl tried to open few of the doors, but all of them were locked. She looked behind, and there was a man with a machete. He swung it around and flailed the girl. She did n't die so fast. He hacked and mangled the girl until the body of the girl was a heap of bloodied meat.
I jumped back in horror and leaned toward the wall behind me. Then, I vomited out the entirety of my stomach's content. The foul acidic stench drooled from my lips and the floor. I scratched my tongue to scrape off what my mouth had just touched: A human flesh. I looked back to the investigator. My feet was shaking and my collar was getting soaking wet from the sudden flash of sweats I had. But the investigator was not the murderer. I stuttered, `` wh... wh... shh... sh...'' I could n't even make out a single word.
`` Julia M. Hopp. She's 117th victim of the Machete Killer.'' the investigator said. `` We want you to help us find that son of bitch.'' We. Obviously we was not spoken as in royal we. There were more of them?
`` I've read the psychiatric reports from your therapist... surely you do remember Mr. Randall from David Gibson hospital, do you not? And I've been told you possess a special skill which will aid us catch that motherfucker.'' He knew my condition very well and he abused it. It disgusted me at length he'd go to catch the murderer, but what offended me the most now was that he did it fully knowing what was going to happen to me. But, he was the guy with the gun in the scene.
`` Can you describe to me what you saw?''
I, at the gunpoint, obliged. I described the corridor. Its color, its length, it's doors... I could n't remember what type of floor was there, so I simply did not mentioned anything about it. The investigator was simply nodding to my description of the scene. Did he knew where the victim was murdered? Some help would have been appreciated. And then I went on to describe the murderer.
`` Holy mother of god's shit. The Machete Killer was not masked? Not in a disguise of some sort? He just had his face out?'' The investigator nearly jumped and stood on his feet. I nodded. He turned his back on me, and started to call someone on his phone. Probably asking for a facial composite specialist, I figured. After he ended his phone call, he ran outside the room.
And returned with a stack of papers, a roll of colored pencils, and more steaming meat on a plate. I had forgotten he was n't a cop. Being locked inside an interrogation room gave such impression on me.
`` I do n't... know how to draw accurate portraits...'' I mumbled.
`` That's why I brought more.'' the investigator said. Well, he was the man with the gun in his hand.
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[ WP ] A God does exist , we just have n't discovered his religion yet . He 's been leaving us ever more obvious clues , but so far we 've ignored them . Now he 's getting pissed ...
| `` Money!''
`` What's that?''
`` Money, as in dollar dollar bills, euros, the gold standard, even zimbabwe dollars. Currency is God!''
`` I thought you're a catholic?''
`` And what does the vatican have a lot of? You think the churches decorates itself on prayers?''
`` You always felt this way about god?''
`` Why did you think I became a banker? I'm the lord's bishop. Let me show you the love of god, invest with us.''
`` This is too much, you actually believe that money is god? How did our discussion of philosophy ended up at this weird place you're taking me?''
`` It's not complicated, God has always been around us in the form of currency, exchanges and trades. I know it's an abstract idea, but so is every religion in the world. And you know what backs these religions that everyone's very much a part of? Money! Every since the first time some craveman traded some meat for some fur, the seeds of the almighty one had been firmly planted in our minds.''
`` But money ca n't buy happiness...''
`` Maybe not, but it can take you to its doorsteps, and without it you sure will be in hell. You want your dream house? Get some money. You want that honeymoon with your beautiful wife? Get some money. You want great health care? Money! Hey, you know what? Take this credit card and go have some fun with it. It's like prayers to god and it's backed by the almighty one. With 0 % APR for the first year. Go and spread the words of god!''
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[ WP ] You made a deal with the devil to become rich . He then tells you that fortune will be yours , but there is a curse . For every $ 1000 you spend , a random person on the Earth will die . Congratulations ! You just won $ 250,000,000 .
| I said I'd never use it again...
Three years ago I tossed it in an old tin lunchbox and buried it in the woods. It had rained the day before, so digging it up did n't take long.
It was n't plastic so far as I could tell. Too heavy to be plastic. Three and a quarter inches by two inches. Black as a shadow, it almost seemed to absorb the light around it. On the front was my name, a fourteen digit number and an expiration date in a gold embossed font. It expires at the end of the month. My hands trembled as I entered the information into the payment screen. `` Payment accepted.''
That night I saw them. It was like stepping into someone else's nightmare. Some died alone. Others surrounded by their loved ones. There did n't seem to be a pattern or force behind it all. The only thing that they had in common was me. I did this to them, and part of me felt like they knew it.
``... but where did you get the money?'' she asked. `` It's paid for! Leave it at that.'' I spat the words out, half panicked. I did n't have the heart to tell her. The operation cost one hundred and seventy three souls. One hundred and seventy three souls to keep my son alive. To keep our son alive.
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[ WP ] Just one more chance ... All I need is one more chance .
| I looked into Jen's bloodshot eyes. She was so tired. I could see that she was close to giving up. We had been here for hours. I clung to the outside of the rusted cage, wishing I could fit my arms in to hold her up, just so she could rest for a while. It was a cruel invention, the cage, mostly submerged in the murky water, her arms tied behind her back connected to the bottom with a chain, forcing her to tread water. How much longer could she keep it up? How much longer should I expect her to fight?
`` I ca n't,'' she whimpered, her face going under briefly before she kicked herself up to the surface again.
`` Baby, you have to.. I can do it, please.. Just give me one more chance!'' I loved her. The thought of her giving up was like a punch to the gut. Leaving here without her was unthinkable. What would I tell her sister? That I could have saved her but I failed? That I tried my hardest, but it just was n't good enough?
I could free her, I could. All I had to do was get the key. The problem was, the key was on the bottom of the deep lake. The thought of swimming down that far into the dark me filled me with so much dread I could barely catch my breath, but what else could I do? Jen let out a sob, bringing my focus back to her. I would set the world on fire to save her. Move mountains. Die.
`` You can do this,'' I pleaded, `` Just a little while longer! We can make it through this. Just one more chance...'' I pressed my forehead against the cool metal, closing my eyes, steeling myself against the pressing darkness of the water. I counted to ten, taking a deep breath with each number, readying myself to dive. Telling myself that this would be the last time, live or die, save Jen or die trying.
`` I love you, I'll be back,'' I promised, knowing full well I might not be back, knowing I might die trying to get the key. I looked into her beautiful brown eyes one last time and smiled, hoping she believed me. I wished I could kiss her. With one last deep breath, I dove.
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[ WP ] Bob Ross has snapped , but instead of turning to violence he creates the most horrific painting he can on The Joy of Painting . All the while he maintains the soft voice everyone loves to listen to .
| Calm jazz music twinkles onto the black stage. Bob Ross is staring hard at the black wall with a softly twitching eye that moves to the smooth percussion. Then a light flicks on, a red light starts recording, and Bob knows that he's on air in front of thousands that he'll never meet.
`` Hello, I'm Bob Ross.'' He has a voice like a cooing dove. `` I'd like to welcome you to a very special episode of the joy of painting. Please paint along.''
`` Now first,'' there's a rumble somewhere deep inside of him. `` We're going to start with a nice emerald green to start the scenery. Just tap the brush, there you go. That's right.''
Something inside of him starts to move, almost like an organ that was never there. There's a gurgle of stomach bile. He feels his old spine stiffen and creak like a rusting door. Something is off today. He can still hear the soft jazz.
`` Great now we're going to use a bit of skin tone here. That's right. Try carefully to copy what you see me doing here. It's a real son-of-a-gun to to remove the paint. We're going to start by painting a little man having a lie down in the sun. There he is, warmed by these nice yellow rays. Does n't he look happy.''
The red rings of Bob's eyes sag, and his small beady eyes strain at the splash of colour. It is no longer meaningful, it takes no particular shape. It's just paint, after all. Just paint.
`` I do n't know why the music has n't stopped today.'' He says to the red light. The red light does n't respond. `` Ok, now we're going to draw another little figure here as well. Excellent. See how easy it is to draw people. But be careful, it's hard to remove them once they are there.''
Bob imagines he's on a ship, pitching in the waves. He's never been on a ship before, but he has painted them. His stomach is turning inside out and he can feel the cold, dead fish he was fed last night wrench itself up into his esophagus. He's rocking like a heaving cat. The jazz music begins to swell, and the delicate twinkle of cymbals electrifies his brain.
`` Alright, now we're going to use some nice red, and get a little detail. Good. Now once that's done, some white, now the white is for the bones. Beautiful. Now a little circle of brown on top of both of their heads for hair. Lets give them both a beard.''
Bob stops painting, and moves off into the blackness of the stage, black in front, black behind, and looks hard at the swirl of colours before him. They're just colours after all. Pull them apart and they are abstract, beautiful, but put them together...
The scene is a secret copse of healthy, spring-green trees and vivid, living grass. The blue sky stretches the horizon, and the sun beats down on two twisted, groaning figures. One, a man in blue jeans with bushy afro and a neat, trimmed beard is up to his elbows in the entrails and bowels of another man. The figure is stretching the insides of loose intestine, trying to sample the cold, dead fish that the other man was fed the night before. The fishes eyes stare out in wonder as it breaches whole from the intestine, sliding into the other man's mouth. The dying man too has a bushy afro and a beard. His eyes are wide with panic, but he has a gentle smile of relief, as if some calming jazz is playing at his death bed. He is splayed open like a botched operation, and his blood fountains up into the cheerful spring light. The two Bob Ross's, one predator, one prey, one feasting, the other the feast, one open to the wind and the sun with cooling, steaming blood, the other with a mouthful of fish and organ, seem happy. They're both happy with how they wound up. They would n't have it any other way.
`` That's all for today. Thanks for watching.'' The red light flicks off, but the soft jazz does not stop. Bob hopes it would stop when the red light comes back. Until then he'd have only the painting and the black room to stare at.
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[ WP ] 2021 : Hell invades Earth ; 2022 : Earth invades Hell .
| 2021: Hell invaded Earth, the four horsemen rode in, the seals of Hell were broken and the fury of the trapped Devil was unleashed upon the world.
6 months later: Preparations for Earth retaliating are underway. Every surviving human had banded together to save what remains of our species. Demons prowl the lands, humans retreated underground, those who stayed above ground were known as Hunters; nothing elegant but it got the message across. Most of the Hunters were posted around areas where humankind had taken shelter, they were charged with keeping those who had survived alive. I was a Hunter, I had a pregnant wife to keep safe and I understood that she was not the only one who needed me. I kept my domain safe for as long as I was able while plans were put together to save our race. We were attacked by more demons than any of us had ever seen before, everyone man, woman and child had been slaughtered. I should have died then and there with my wife and unborn child but I didn ’ t. I was found in time. I am now someone who lives inside the underground compounds. I lost both legs in the attack, they wanted me to wear prosthetics to aid me in walking one day but I figure why the hell bother? We ’ re all going to die in horrific ways, like my Emma, I had no fight left in me. I heard they were planning on marching right up to the gates of Hell and attacking at dawn. Typical. Stupid time to attack, dawn didn ’ t exist anymore, it was all an endless night.
2022: They were gearing up, I watched in an uninterested manner. People I knew, people I had fought with before Hell exploded on the world. They were all ready to give their lives to something that could potentially backfire and then all the people left behind will have no one to protect them. Then what? I suppose things like that won ’ t bother the dead.
Not a single person came back, weeks went on, nothing. No one came, just us; most prayed, others cried. I just sat in my wheelchair, sometimes I ’ d roll around but mostly I just stayed. Until the next set of 12 had gone by and a man walked in. No one we knew, maybe another place was taking us in because their men had come back. He passed many questioning wives and children, husbands, parents until he came to me in my barely working chair. He set a hand on my forehead and I felt something in my mind click. A mighty bright light filled my mind, a purpose filled my bones as I saw my wife and unborn child and in that moment, I knew. My body floated up and stood on mighty legs. The armor of Gods covered my body, the helmet of Champions covered my head, the wings of angels arched from my back and the sword of Justice was gripped tightly in my hand. I knew most of the men had been taken but I also know I could save mankind and get everyone back from the tortures of Hell. I would seal them back away and put the horsemen back where they belonged. I would fight Satan and I would stand victorious.
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[ WP ] Your first wife/husband died , you remarried , and then you and your second wife/husband both die together . In the afterlife you awkwardly must introduce your current spouse to your deceased one .
| There was so, so much that we assumed wrong about the afterlife.
Imagine the largest field you can, on the most perfect day for a picnic, where the grass underfoot is soft, and the breeze is gentle on your face. And imagine that there are more people than you ’ ve ever seen before in one place, but there ’ s no din, no bustle, just endless time and opportunity for people to finish what they never ended.
I saw Randy first, and we hugged tightly as the tears flowed. His youth had been restored to him, and the spring was back in his step. I too had been rejuvenated, and I suddenly felt lighter than a feather, with the arthritis, rickety joints and decrepit bones all taken away.
“ Randy Tellerson? Is that you? ”
He turned, and for a moment confusion ruled his face. Perhaps the Randy back on earth would never have made the connection, what with the frailties of an aged mind, but here, here Randy pulled through.
“ Emma? Oh my goodness, Emma, it ’ s really you, ” he stuttered. Randy turned to me, gestured, and said, “ Emma, I want you to meet the woman I married after you passed, this is Sara. ”
Randy had almost never spoken of her. I had pressed, of course, whenever we came across a picture of her, or old documents with her name floated up, but he had frequently instead fallen back on his common refrain of “ what ’ s past is past ”, wearing that inscrutable smile of his.
She was far prettier than I had expected. There was a radiant sharpness to her features, a certain mischief twinkling in her eyes which lent an air of mystery to her. So this was Emma, the Emma who had shaped Randy to become the person he was.
“ So you ’ re the thing he settled for, it seems? ” she said, chuckling as we shook hands. “ I suppose you ’ re the best he could get after me, am I right? ”
“ I ’ m sorry? ” I said, even as I noticed Randy grow quiet, turning his gaze away, holding his tongue.
“ Oh come on, there ’ s nothing wrong with speaking your mind here, judgment has already been passed! So tell me, did he also swear to you that he would work harder, earn more money, give you a better life too? Is that why you married him? ”
“ I don ’ t… think that is… ”
Emma laughed, shrilly, and curious eyes turned to watch us. “ Well, that ’ s how he got me! Just promises and plans which never materialized! Did you know, in the ten years we were married, not once did we get to travel out of the country? Not once did we ever buy a new car? I died wearing the same ring passed down in his family for decades, and not the solitaire he said he would get me! ”
The smile had frozen on my face – I was beginning to understand.
“ I waited by his side for all that time, even though everyone told me to leave! Bah, wasted youth! It ’ s just my own bad luck then, wouldn ’ t you say, that I chose to spend my life with someone like him? In a way, I ’ m glad I died young, it meant that I could get here sooner, spend my existence amongst people who are better worth my time. ”
She turned to Randy again, and this time, her beauty had taken on a crystalline, icy edge. The arresting glint to her eyes were hard, cruel, unforgiving, and the elegance I admired just moments ago seemed tainted with an insatiable spite.
“ See you around never, Randy, and whatever your name is. ”
Emma strode off into the crowd, already waving to other friends she had made on this plane of existence.
Randy gripped my hand tightly. “ I ’ m sorry you had to hear all that… I wish I had provided better for her, got her the medical treatment she needed then. I hope… you were not as unhappy as she was. ”
I hugged Randy again, and this time I really pulled him in close, gripped him as tightly as I could, till I could hardly breathe myself.
I thought of our three children back on earth, who had all grown up strong, wise and kind, under Randy ’ s firm and judicious guidance.
I thought too of our modest but proud home, a little apartment in a less than stellar neighbourhood, but which had been the source of overwhelming warmth, laughter, and love, for the entirety of the forty years I spent with Randy.
I also thought of how we had both passed on together, he first because he was slightly older, and how he had told me just before he closed his eyes for the last time then that he hoped he had given me everything I wanted in life. I was too weak myself then to say so, but the answer was yes, always, always yes.
“ Don ’ t be silly, ” I said, nuzzling against his ear. “ We have each other now. Everything else… what ’ s past, is past. ”
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/r/rarelyfunny
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[ WP ] You 're a local healer , a good one , and your people love you . But you do not truly heal wounds , merely transfer them ... The people of the valley below know you under a different name .
| Beatrice walks into Victor ’ s hut with a huge bullet hole in her arm. Victor lives in a very poor town stuck in a terrible civil war but he is the local healer responsible for dealing with anybody who walks into his hut. He talks with Beatrice for a little bit asking how she got the wound, when she got the wound, meanwhile preparing a ritual that doesn ’ t heal the wound but simply transfers it to the people below living in the valley. Performing the ritual in a record time of two minutes Beatrice leaves thanking Victor and giving him thirty grams of gold equal to $ 3000 usd. Meanwhile under the village the people of the valley sit around at a committee meeting cursing and trying to figure out what they will do about the injuries caused by Victor ’ s “ treatment. ” Victor decides to close up shop for a couple hours and go for a nice walk. He leaves his house turning his “ avaliable ” sign to “ be back soon. ” He runs into one of the village ’ s farmers and Victor asks him what are the sales going on today. They have a bit of small talk and he follows the farmer back to his booth where he has every type of fruit imaginable. Meanwhile down in the valley the committee has a very sinister idea of how to take out Victor before he can injure more of their residents. Ulrich the leader of the people of the valley starts his journey going to the village ’ s worse enemy asking for help. It is Dawn the people of the valley and the Darkness set out for the village to end Victor ’ s life and destroy the village once for all. The Darkness take a shortcut while the valley goes the long way. The Darkness attacks for behind surprising the villagers and while the army runs down to that side of the village the valley comes up from the front of the village attacking everything in sight while some of them go on a witch hunt to find the healer before anyone can tell him about the attack. Beatrice runs into Victor ’ s hut screaming in agony and explaining what's happening in shock. Victor runs outside to see the mass destruction. “ Follow me ” - says Victor calmly ask they climb the ladder and goes down into his basement. “ What are we doing here ” - screams Beatrice completely oblivious to what Victor hides down here. “ We are ending the conflict ” - exclaims Victor as if he was a mad scientist. Victor goes through a barrage of security features including Iris scanners, fingerprints, palm scanners, and very long passwords. After he puts in all of these commands a big red button comes out of the ground and Victor angrily pushes it very hard. BOOOM is all that is heard for miles around destroying everything in a thirty mile radius. Victor climbs the ladder and views this destruction he has caused. Beatrice exclaims “ WHAT WERE YOU THINKING ” Victor explains that he has been wanting to end it forever but needed a perfect opportunity where he would eliminate the valley and the Darkness. He explains that now we must go into hiding to survive and she disagrees running away into her inevitable doom.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where everyone is immortal , and your height is tied directly to your age . The older you are , the taller you are .
| She awoke to the old familiar sound of thumping and a deep groan that rolled above them like thunder. The bells were ringing again. `` Come on, little Zee, Ol' Marvel is at it again.'' He said as he crouched into her tent.
`` Oh for Titan's sake she was walking for twelve hours last time,'' she muttered into her blankets. She heard another thud, this time, more distant. `` Fine, I'll see you in a second, Golan.'' She said as she stood up and then harrumphed as she hit her head on the top of her tent.
`` Look at you, nearly seven foot, we'll have to tie bells to you one day, I swear!'' Golan laughed as he huddled his ten foot frame under the tent flap and crawled back out.
Zee pulled on her clothes, hard wearing travel wear embroidered with a white footprint. The symbol of the Pacers.
When she pulled her way out of the tent she saw Marvel had already moved her colossal hulk to standing. It was said that on average a person grows about an inch every year after puberty. Zee was young, about 27. Golan was a bit over sixty. And Marvel was around ten thousand. Eight hundred and thirty feet tall she loomed over everything in sight on the great empty, trodden planes.
From the base Marvel's feet were calloused and scarred from all the debris of her endless walk. Further up most of her was uncovered save for the cracked and peeling body paints the Pacers had adorned her with as well as a few scraps of cloth to keep her decent. She was covered with bright red rope woven around one another like the rigging of a boat's sails culminating in a metal harness around her neck and shoulder. Bells were hung all around her, thumping like church steeples with her every step. The bell ringing was a call to action for the Pacers. Atlas was on the move.
`` Did she say why she was going?'' Ze asked as she helped Golan bundle his tent up into the back of their car.
`` Does she ever?'' He walked over to her tent and began pulling out the poles.
Slip looked around at the rest of the camp. The sentries were stomping out their fires but they still had their cannons on their backs. `` I bet it's raiders. Sentinel Royce said he saw a few twenty footers around here. Makes sense they'd try to attack at night so Marvel does n't see'em coming.''
`` The ol' girl'll see us through. You'll see.'' Golan replied as they finished loading up the truck.
Then came a great rumbling from the east followed by a similar noise from Marvel followed by the booming words `` **It's not raiders... **''
|
[ WP ] A character in a RPG with an intelligence stat high enough to know he 's a character in a RPG
| My senses started to elevate at the 100-intelligence mark, the shmuck who controlled me loved the intelligence stat, even though my character was a warrior. My surroundings became more vivid as my intelligence grew, I could see other characters, being controlled, not understanding that they are merely a puppet controlled by a higher power.
Level up! I had reached level 50, which meant I was going to gain a considerably high amount of extra stat points – and knowing my master right he was going to plump all those points in intelligence. Even though the game clearly states that warriors are STRENGTH BASED! `` Jesus, what a dumbass'' I thought.
As my intelligence grew, I came up with a plan – I was going to break out of this wretched world, and enter the world of the puppeteers.
`` Is everything ready?'' I asked.
`` Everything is ready, you may start'' a man in a black hood responded.
I had gathered information that to break through to the-another world I had to enter the Neo City, gather 250 metal cogs, and kill 45 mega-bots. I can say I did struggle with the mega-bots since my god damn strength stat was so low. But nothing was going to stand in the way of my escape.
-- -250 metal cogs and 45 mega-bots later -- -
The man in the hood looked at me `` Well done, you have done as I said, I grant you the key to the-another world, may it grant you happiness and richness''.
I took the key, and grinned `` finally I will be free!''. I will conquer everything there will to be conquered!
I closed in on the golden gate, it was enormous, maybe a bit too enormous, i thought. I gently pressed in the key, and turned it. The door made a big crackling sound, slowly opening. A bright light blinded me, like the sun had been placed in the room.
213,420 exp granted, 8000 gold gained.
Level up.
-- -
It warms my writer heart that you liked the text. Thanks!
|
[ WP ] You inadvertently start a cult hell-bent on bringing about something that no one would expect from a cult
| I logged onto Twitter, confirming my worst fear.
My hashtag was trending worldwide, up for everyone to see. My number of followers had skyrocketed, more than tenfold of what it used to be. Now in the millions, I had become internet famous. And all because of one stupid tweet:
*DAE hate when your shampoo and conditioner run out at different times? # MildlyAnnoyed*
The answer was yes, a lot of people apparently do. In fact, they were so annoyed that they all expressed their hatred for the phenomenon. And before long, that hate festered into something unthinkable.
They called themselves the Cult of the Mildly Annoyed.
I don ’ t know quite how this stuff begins but overnight, I found myself at the helm of an internet revolution. My followers attacked any shampoo and conditioner company they could get their hands on, ripping them to shreds for no apparent reason. They demanded for a solution to the age-old problem yet no one could help them.
It didn ’ t take long after that for more instability to arise. The cult broke in fractions, all expressing the minor annoyances that ailed their first world lives. They expanded to the corners of the Internet, irate and full of pointless opinions.
Twitter went to shit.
Instragram became a passive aggressive show of pictures.
Reddit – well, actually it stayed the same.
With all the chaos, news station began picking up the story, skewing in every way possible. And to no one ’ s surprise, I was depicted as an “ anti-American, terrorist commie who wanted to corrupt our youth ”. Needless to say, that wasn ’ t the best way to wake up.
The government tried to intervene but their efforts did little mitigate the movement. As usual with the internet, it spread across the world in no time. And from there, it was unstoppable.
The world became so obsessed with describing what bothered them that everyone else fell to the wayside. The economy tanked, abandoned for more trivial topics. And with that, more people began to complain.
In a month, over half of the world ’ s population had joined the Cult of the Mildly Annoyed. It developed into a pseudo-religion, something people fought with all their might to keep alive. Those that rejected were ostracized to the other reaches of society.
I watched it all happen, unfolding in front of my eyes as my tweet became memorialized as the beginning of a new age. I was the cause of the world ’ s fall, or at least its decline. I was considered by a god as some and a heretic by others.
No matter what I said, it would probably only cause everything to implode on itself. So I decided to do the next best thing.
I logged out of Twitter.
|
[ WP ] Justify the worst thing you 've done .
| I barely remember anything about that day. I remember the sky was clear, if only because I watched the scarce clouds roll by past the burning sun while I waited for the EMTs. I remember the grating sounds of Spongebob Squarepants coming from the television. I remember the smell of his whiskey. I remember the pain as his fist met my face that day in the living room. I remember a sanguine red that woke me from my stupor. Everything else is a blur, though.
I do n't know why I did it. I suppose I just had enough, but I do find myself fishing for an excuse often, trying to justify my actions. He hit us, both of us, for years. The police did nothing, so I stopped bothering to call them long ago. I guess I could have ran back up the stairs, since he could n't climb them anymore. I could have walked to her work, since that was a safe place. But I did n't.
I remember, if obscured in my mind by the adrenaline, me sitting over his chest, my hands rising and falling rhythmically with as much force as I could muster behind them, gripping his head and slamming it into the tile. I see it every time somebody who looks like him passes on the street. I see it whenever I'm watching some neighbor's kid and they decide they want to watch Spongebob. And I remember waking up from that violent trance, the sight of blood streaming from his nose, his teeth stained red, frozen into a twisted smile he always gave when he was like this even in his unconscious state. The panic when I realised what I had done and called for help is a feeling I will never forget.
The next time I saw him was at a private viewing at the funeral home. A last chance to see him before his shell was burnt to ash. I was given the option not to go, but I had to. I had to see the monster who put me through hell for the last few years. I stepped into the viewing room, expecting to see the frightening giant I had always seen him as, instead finding a frail man, pale and almost serene in the sleeping appearance they had given him. Something flooded over me then, and while I ca n't describe or define it, it is a feeling I do n't think I can ever forget.
I could n't bring myself to cry for him, for what I did, until the day of the funeral. There was just so much raw emotion there, I could n't help it. But after that, as before, I went back to hiding my emotions in words, books, informative posts on seedy forums. I appled any information I could find, seeking a distraction from the tumultuous thoughts inside my head, taking my anger and frustration out on various small websites and servers across the internet while embracing the almost meditative process it took to breach them. It was a phase, I suppose.
I find myself even now wondering why I did what I did. Part of myself tells me I had no choice. Another part tells me it was the right thing to do, removing him from this world. And yet, no matter how I explain it or justify it to myself, nothing is sufficient in my eyes. In the years since, I've become as broken as I saw him that day in the funeral home. Instead of taking my anger out on others, I take it out on myself. Instead of physically, mentally and emotionally. Still, I see him in me. He has shaped me, moulded me, turned me into something I can not stand to live with.
A sharp burn hits my cheek as I bring the razor down across the skin, and blood begins to well where the pain was. Memories flash through my head a moment, of him and of me. I pull the razor away, staring at it, at my wrist. Seconds pass, what feels like an eternity, before I return to my shaving. It is not my place to judge a life, nor is it my place to end one.
|
[ WP ] You have been investigating a series of bizarre , ritualistic murders . A recent breakthrough now allows the police to recreate a victim 's final moments as seen through their own eyes .
| MemWave v.2.1
init basic I/O
init neural interface > subj? female, deceased
init mem stream ( fragmented )
[ begin feed ]
A cold, icy street, pools of yellow light in the darkness. The sound of car engines: their metal bodies roar by, exhaust fumes condensing.
Subject stands near corner. Looks up at sky, at the fragmentary patches of black through the cloud. Sees no stars.
A car slows down, engine idling. Cortisol spike.
[ feed break > neural? degradation ]
Darkness and cold, bodily cramp. Muscular pain. External movement, muffled sound of engine.
[ feed break > neural? degradation ]
A vast cavernous space, severely restricted movement. Hundreds of figures surround subject, naked, their skin glistening with dark crimson liquid. Cortisol spike. Subject cries out, but jaw and tongue movement is impossible.
Naked figures begin singing atonally. Subject cortisol levels at critical peak.
[ feed break > neural? degradation ]
Figures still wailing. Female figure, heavily pregnant, breaks from the group and approaches subject. Holds up mirror to subject's face.
From reflection, subject is discernibly bound to a metal truss, arms and torso immovable, legs spread leaving vaginal area accessible. Head is encased in a startlingly brutal metal mask, restricting all head and facial movement. Behind the truss, two figures dressed as angels approach, their wings rotten and their faces covered.
Pregnant woman removes mirror and stands back. Angel-figures take up position at her side.
The crowd's wailing becomes louder.
[ feed break > neural? degradation / fear? response ]
Subject regains consciousness. Figures in the crowd are gesturing to pregnant woman, reaching out in wailing supplication.
Angel-figure removes ornate black knife. Other holds pregnant woman in place. Pregnant woman closes eyes and grits teeth. First angel slices open her belly, horizontally, cutting through skin layers and abdominal muscles.
Pregnant woman is bleeding profusely, giddy on her legs. Angel holds her upright. Second angel reaches in to abdominal cavity and removes fetus. Cuts umbilical cord.
Fetus discernibly deformed, probable intentional induction of fetal alcohol syndrome, combined with other unidentifiable deforming processes. First angel brings fetus over to subject. Subject attempts to scream.
Members of crowd rush to recently-pregnant woman. Second angel takes place alongside first, holding knife.
Subject's attention is firmly fixed on angel-figures, holding fetus and knife respectively. Behind, crowd-figures carry out unidentifiable acts on recently-pregnant woman, now in a state of great physical trauma.
[ feed intermittent > neural? deg / fear? response / pain? response ]
Angel with knife steps forward and makes epidermal incision up subject's abdomen, from vaginal opening to sternum.
...
Cortisol and beta-endorphin crash spike. Subject attempts to scream and struggle, without effect.
...
Subject is pain-critical, suffering moderate blood loss. Angel with knife deepens incision in lower abdominal area.
...
... hands push fetus inside trauma site, displacing internal organs
...
... crowd-figures roar and weep; subject suffering critical blood loss; heart rate spiking
[ visual feed termiates > consc? loss ]
Continuation of subject's neural activity shows pattern roughly associated with REM dream-state or psychoactive state [ *note: non-standard pattern, unobserved in subjects near death* ]
...
Subject's neural activity briefly takes on unidentified abstract state. [ *note: inconsistent with anything published in medical research literature* ]
[ feed terminates ]
exit mem stream ( fragmented )
exit neural interface
exit basic I/O
|
[ WP ] Write a boss fight ( from an actual game ) from the perspective of the enemy .
| The sparkliest face in the business, that is what they all had called him 5 years ago. Jeff looked at himself in the mirror trying to find the shine of the past. It was not there.
“ Jeff! Vinnie ’ s on the line and asking for you. ”
The voice came from Rowenna, his assistant. He had been incredibly excited when he was told he would have his own assistant. He looked at her hand with a bored expression. She was carrying a cell phone.
“ Well? ” said the assistant. She probably wanted to go back to… whatever she did on her spare time.
“ Here ” replied Jeff, holding out his hand. He received the phone and cupped it against his ear with both hands.
“ Vinnie? Did you hear abo… Yes. Yes, Vinnie. I ’ m glad to hear you too Vinnie. It ’ s just… ”
Jeff paused and listened. As always, Vinnie liked to talk fast.
“ No Vinnie, I told you. People don ’ t even come to see me anymore. That is why I asked you to find… What? Now? But I don ’ t even have my makeup on! Um… Yes. Yes, Vinnie. Please just find me something else soon Vinnie. Goodb… ”
The line was dead. Vinnie never said bye. With a sigh, Jeff looked at the mirror again. A group of visitors was coming. He had almost given up completely on his job but, as they said, the show must go on.
“ Rowena! We got visitors! Get everything ready! ” Jeff yelled. His hands were busy in the makeup box. The rare few groups that came to see Jeff usually reached his stage quite quickly.
“ WHAT? ” came the voice of the assistant. “ But no one ever wants to come here any more! ”
“ Shut it Rowenna! Go and check how far they got. And bring me the prizes from today! ” Jeff instructed. Makeup was done, he only needed to adjust the costume and he ’ d be set. As usual it was a very tiny and revealing outfit, but the union seemed to be unable to push for a reform. He took another glance at the mirror and stepped into his character.
“ What is this? ” Jeff intoned. He coughed to clear his throat and assumed a pose of grandeur. “ What is this? ”
“ This is your nanny Rowenna. Five minutes and you ’ re up Jeff. Here are today ’ s drops ”.
“ My name is Shaffar, Ro. You will treat me with the respect that a Prince deserves. ”
Rowenna rolled her eyes and handed two pieces of clothing to Jeff.
“ What? These pants again? Come on, you know that they always complain that they look incredibly ugly. Can ’ t we have that chic chest piece for a change? ”
“ Give me a break. ” Replied Rowenna. “ And get out there, they must be able to see you from a distance, remember? ”
“ Wish me luck! ” said Jeff, heading for the door.
After going through a few corridors, Jeff reached a large hall. It had been a while since he last saw it but it was still spotless. It had to look like an abandoned ruin after all. At the other side of the room, the adventurers started dealing with his “ guards ”.
“ Okay Jeff. It ’ s showtime. Get into the role… ” Jeff muttered to himself. He paused for a moment and let all the years of training come back to him. His lines, his background story, his motivations, likes and dislikes appeared in his mind. Where Jeff was a moment ago, now there was only Nexus-Prince Shaffar. Right on cue, the adventurers made their presence known with a well-placed arrow.
“ What is this? You must forgive me, but I was not expecting company. As you can see we are somewhat preoccupied right now. But no matter. As I am gracious host, I will tend to you… Personally. ”
It was a perfect delivery, but Jeff was too entranced to notice. Committed to his act, he started his usual battle choreography. He was gracious. His arms waved through the air with majestic precision. His hand gestures were cued perfectly to the special effects and explosions set up around the stage.
The blows from the adventurers did hurt, but Jeff was a professional. Little by little, he prepared the two items that Rowenna had given him. Too early and they could get damaged in the fight, too late and the adventurers would not find them after the battle. The crescendo was upon him, as he noticed one of the adventurers signal the group that it was time to burn his health down.
With a well practice gesture, Jeff took the final blow and started a complicated collapse to the ground. A hidden button on his wrist triggered the flash that allowed him to present the victorious adventurers with their loot.
“ I must bid you… Farewell ”.
Backstage, Rowenna was looking at the action through the secret cameras. Sure, the job was boring and, since they released a few expansions not that many people visited them any more. Nevertheless, she always enjoyed watching Jeff getting his ass kicked. She had to give it to him, after all this time, he was still top notch.
|
[ WP ] Everyone has an identical twin somewhere in the world . One in each pair is evil , but it 's impossible to know which you are until you meet your twin .
| *For thousands of years, people have known of the elusive doppelganger, and that one of each identical pair is the polar moral opposite of the other. The only problem is... you never know which one is which, and meeting your doppelganger never ends well. *
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
It started just a week ago. I met an odd woman. She was tall, but beautiful. She was a bit odd though. Her hair was always frazzled ( even if just a little bit ) and she was jumpy. Scared of something. She needed a place to stay, as she was new in town, so I told her she could stay at my place. Her hours were odd. She was unemployed, but she'd often leave the house in the early hours of the morning as I slept or late at night. During that week it got progressively worse. She appeared not to have slept in several days. Her movements were jerky, and her eyes were often red, as though she'd been crying.
My usual routine had been severely impacted by her stay. It did n't matter though. She found comfort in my presence. I had never expected that, but it was most certainly welcome, considering the circumstances. It all quickly went to shit though. At the end of that week, I had gone with her on one of her outings. We were standing on a rooftop, hiding from *something*. She would n't say what. `` Ahh... I love being up on roofs like these. It's relaxing.''
She told me not to say things like that; it creeped her out. Of course, wanting her to feel as comfortable around me as possible, I obliged. After about half an hour, judging by the movement of the hot sun ( neither of us had phones or watches on us ), the thin metal stairwell door opened with a bang. A man stood there, staring at us.
`` C-Come over here...'' He said, his voice shaky.
`` NO!'' The woman shrieked.
He stepped forward. The woman stepped behind me, and I could feel the fear in her breath hitting my neck. The man facing us... looked identical to me. Exactly identical. *My doppelganger*.
He ran at us, and shoving me aside, he grabbed the woman by the wrist. She started screaming. My twin began pulling her across the roof, trying to quiet her down. `` Come on! You told me to meet you at this-'' He was silenced by a sharp slap delivered by a desperate female. His grip weakened, the woman broke free and returned to me. My twin ran at me, and we fought. It did n't last long; I downed him with a punch to the middle of the face, and blood sprayed from his nostrils onto the hot concrete.
The woman was shivering despite the sun's heat.
`` What do we do with him?'' She asked.
`` We call the police and have them take him away.''
She nodded in approval. I took her over to the other end of the roof, the rear side of the building, where I hugged her. `` It's ok.''
`` Without you he'd have killed me...'' She cried.
I looked over to my twin to make sure he was still unconscious. He appeared to be deep asleep. His head had hit the concrete reasonably hard, after all.
I needed to do something before we left the rooftop. `` Here, put this in your pocket. No-no, do n't open it, just, put it-yeah.''
Looking confused, but reassured, she put the envelope in her pocket.
`` What is it?''
`` It's just a letter describing me, and it says a few other things too. Nothing for you to worry about.'' I said, knowing she was still in shock and would take what I said as the ultimate truth.
Had the woman not had prior knowledge of doppelgangers before this whole fiasco had started, she would have mistaken me for my double, and then she'd never trust me. If that had happened... Well, let's just say I would n't be a free man right now.
I grabbed her and shoved her over the ledge bordering the roof. She tumbled over screaming. She hit the ground with a thump. She was silent; dead. It had been too long since I last threw a woman off a roof, but the dry spell was well worth killing someone who had gotten away once before. That, and framing my doppelganger. That woman had n't even known who was who between my double and I. Ha.
*END*
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
This story is more of a `` It's impossible for a third person to know which you are until you meet your twin'', but it was the best story I could think of. Be nice pls, it's my first time commenting on this sub
|
[ IP ] Write a story about this guy .
| Sorry, this is huge.There it goes:
The media called James Parson the Burning Warrior, he liked it. He did n't know how it happened exactly, but he could make flames come out of himself and the objects that he touched. It had to be because of the gas station explosion, but that really was n't explaining anything. I guess working there was even more dangerous that his mother told him.
=======
Still, after recovering from a mild concussion, he found out he had superpowers. He could be one of them, like Soaring Eagle, like The Gentleman or Nightlight, he could fight for justice. And so, with the insurance money he bought a motorcycle, gear to make himself a costume and a katana. And each night, he would patrol the city.
=======
At first he just wandered, aware for the first time of all the crime going on. Mostly prostitutes and drug dealers, other criminals were n't the type to wait somewhere for someone to find them. Still, he scared a few of them with light shows.
=======
His big break came when he witnessed a robbery in a 24-hour sex shop during a patrol. It was n't a damsel in distress like he wished for, but the guy working there was thankful enough to offer him a police scanner. He so loved that guy and the police scanner for the next six months.
=======
Most of the time, he would be too far to even have a chance to get there before the police. But once in a while, he'd be the first there or simply fast enough to catch a criminal running away. Soon, he began to have a reputation, people loved him, the police would talk about him on the police scanner and the mayor even said she supported him. Things were good.
=======
Things WERE good, they were n't anymore. One of the man force him to sit in a chair, the other handcuffed him to it. Finally they removed the bag on his head. His two kidnappers left the room before his eyes could adjust to the blinding light. He was in a basement, a damp stinky basement, the I'm- gon na -be-tortured-to-death kind of basement.
=======
As he was starting to panic, `` Do you know who I am?'' said a deep, calm and sulky masculine voice. He did n't see anyone with him in the room, or any kind of speaker for that matter. `` You're not very quick boy, is n't it?'' said the shadow on the wall with a playfulness in its voice. He could n't believe it, there was no one in the room but there was someone else's shadow on the wall. Slowly, a man stepped out from it.
=======
Before that point, James had been too afraid to do anything, now he was too afraid not to. Bursting into flames, he started to struggle to get free from the chair. The man looked quite entertained, this infuriated the Burning Warrior. As his expression turned to pity, his captor said `` Stop this child, all you can do is forcing yourself to sit on the ground.''. The Burning Warrior yelled, raged and cursed in vain. The captor walked next to the living inferno, tapped the floor with his toes and whispered:'' The stone is pretty cold and I do n't want you to catch a cold.
- I'll kill you!
- Why? I do n't want either of us to get killed.
- You'll pay for this!
- I just want to talk.
- Let me go!
- I said I do n't want to kill you.
- AND I SAID I WANT TO GO!
- I'm willing to do something I do n't want to, how about you?''
James calmed himself, and sat down on the burning chair. He felt exhausted and terrified, but mostly exhausted. He never had to do anything besides the burning before. The most he had to do was showing off his katana covered in flames to scare off criminals, until now. For the first time since he bought his superhero gear, he felt like he was nothing. He started to lose himself in thought when a fire extinguisher blast brought him back to reality.
-We do n't want that chair to burn down, do n't we?
-What do you want to talk about?
-Thanks for being so eager, but I'm the one asking questions. Do you know who I am?
-One of the shadow assassins.
-Almost correct, there's no shadow assassins. There's just me.
James had trouble believing the shadow assassins were actually just one guy. The media where talking about them all the time. An evil organisation hellbent of destroying the USA. Nobody knew who they were, but one thing was known, they had fought and won against the Soaring Eagle, leaving her for dead in a pile of rubble. Somewhere deep down, he had wished to someday go against them, battle them and ultimately bring them to justice.
-But, the two guys?
-I did n't know how dangerous you could be, I asked help from a few friends just in case.
-Who are they then?
-Just friends, and I'd like to think you could be another friend.
-I'll never be your friend, creep!
-Why?
-You killed the president!
- I did, I'll even tell you a secret. I regret killing him.
-You're a murderer, I do n't care if you're sorry.
-I'm not sorry. I have no remorse. Do you know what is remorse?
That guy was nuts. What was he trying to do? Did he like to torture people before killing them? James decided he should do what anyone should do when captured with a lunatic, play his game. He decided to answer his questions.
-Remorse is when you feel bad after doing something.
-When was the last time you said sorry?
-In class this afternoon, I got caught texting my girlfriend.
-Cute. When was the last time you felt sorry?
-Same time, my girlfriend was feeling down and I could n't text her, or talk to her.
-You're a nice guy James, I like that, you can have one question.
First thing James had in mind was that it was a trap. He wanted to ask why he killed the president but he could n't figure out if that was the question the man wanted to hear. The man wanted to talk about remorse and regret it seemed, James played it safe.
-Why do you regret killing the president?
-Because now I'm the man that killed the president. People have forgotten about the six senators, the two governors and that dozen of CEOs. I'm not taken seriously anymore. How old are you?
-Sixteen.
-You should know how insulting it is when people do n't take you seriously, is n't it?
-Yes.
-Then, tell me James, why did you waste your question? Why did you tell me what I wanted to hear?
James messed up, he messed up big. The man knew what he was doing. Of course he knew what he was doing, he killed the president. He killed a handfull of high profile persons, got the whole world looking for him, killed the president and then took down the Soaring Eagle. Of course this guy knew when someone tried to find the right words not to get killed.
-Tell me James, what do you really want to know.
-Why did you kill the president?
-Because he had to be killed.
-Will you kill me?
-I have no reason to kill you.
-Why am I here?
-Because you're a good guy, and I want to give you a chance.
-You said you'd like me to be a friend. Are you trying to recruit me?
Is that how terrorists recruit people? They tell you they kill bad guys, and just like that, more terrorists. James was either really resilient or this guy was really bad at his job.
-First, I work alone. Second, it's pretty obvious you do n't like what I do.
-Then, what did you mean?
-Friends are people you respect, people you protect, people you do n't want bad things to happen to.
-Excuse me but, I do n't think I can be friend with you.
-I know I'll never be your friend James, but you might be mine.
The terrorists was strange, but James could see a certain sadness in the man's eyes. After these few sentence, James realised how alone this man was. He did not agree with murder, but murder on that scale probably meant a lot of sacrifice.
-Is it why I'm here? Because you feel alone.
-This has nothing to do with me James, it's all about you. If I decide you are my friend, I'll help you.
-And if I do n't want your help? I do n't want to get mixed up in -- - in -- -
-In what James?
-In what you do.
The man straightened his posture a bit, looking more in control. James felt the man let himself get too emotionnal for his own taste.
-Why did n't you say you do n't want to end up mixed up in MY KILLINGS?
-It feels weird thinking about it.
-Did you ever kill someone?
-No.
-Did you ever want to kill someone?
-Normally I'd say yes, but with you in front of me I feel different. It's like, you know, I never wanted to kill someone to the point of doing it, or planning it. I guess not then.
-What if you have to?
James never taught about it. He had set out to stop crime with flames. It's not like he had the power to make people faint or teleport them in prison. He started to understand what it was about.
-I do n't know honestly, I guess I'd have to be there.
-I like your answer James. Most people do n't have the courage to admit they do n't know.
-Will I ever know?
-If you go the superhero way, it's inevitable you'll find out.
-Soaring Eagle never killed anyone.
-Well, maybe she's not willing to go that far, maybe she always found a workaround, maybe she hides the bodies.
What did anyone know about superheroes after all. They have extraordinary powers, taking a life is so easy for them. After the dust settle, who's to say what really happened? Who's to say deaths are accidents or cold blooded murders amidst the chaos of a fight?
( The end will be posted as a reply to this post )
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[ WP ] You are a hero with the power to infinitely reset a fight until you win . Describe a fight so hopeless even you can not win .
| I thought this fight would be the same as any other. No, I thought that it had to be. I refused to see the truth. I had taken on dozens of crime organizations. No matter how many times I failed, I could repeat time within a ten minutes of the incident. It didn ’ t matter how many bullets were shot my way, nor how many times I was charged at. Every shot, every strike, I could block. They called me invincible, and my power made me feel as though this was true.
Countless times I repeated the same ten minutes. And every time I struggled against my foe. Every time I faced it, I found myself at the end of it all without having gained a thing. This was my 1,020th attempt, and now all I could do was grab at my hair in frustration. Tears slid down my cheeks as I felt, for the first time in my life, hopeless.
Her soft hand reached for my knee again. I could see the veins under her skin. It was no longer sun kissed, nor shared resemblance to the dandelion field where we first met. Despite how much pain she was in, how little she had left, she still remained herself; she still cared for me.
“ Sariel… ”
Her voice was as weak as ever, yet it still was music to my ears. I lifted my tired gaze to my beloved, her pale face as beautiful as the rising sun. “ Yes, my dear? ” I found myself croaking out once more, a fake smile upon my face. Despite how many times we have had this conversation, it ’ s still difficult to speak the words.
“ How many times… has it been now? ” She asked. She was always too smart, too intelligent. She was the one who had held me aloft in the world whenever I felt lost. And she knew me the best; she had to.
This time I remained silent. My gaze drifted; I couldn ’ t see her reaction.
I felt her frail fingers rub against my knee. I could hear the faintness in her voice. It wouldn ’ t be long now.
“ You ’ ve got to let me go, Sariel… You ’ ve got to... “
Her soft hand reached for my knee again. I had to change this, I had to find a way to save her. This was my 1,021st attempt…
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[ WP ] People gain `` lives '' by collecting special rare tokens like in video games . As such , the sanctity of life has been drastically reduced .
| The impact of the supply pod shook the trees around them.
“ South-west, near Lake Kawal ”, Rose shouted from the pinnacle tree.
An audible grunt echoed through the group,
“ The lake is less than a day ’ s walk away, we ’ re almost certain to get their first if we leave now ”,
“ This area ’ s too crowded. We have enough tokens for another month, lets leave this pod and get a head start on the others, we ’ ll get the next drop when it ’ s safer ” Lor was most visibly pissed off out of everyone, he had been ever since they left the mountains.
“ A head start in which direction? We can ’ t go back to the mountains with Tanchi and Flint wounded, the hills to the east are hardly easier to traverse and are crawling with people regardless. We either stay here or move towards the lake. Standing still doesn ’ t sound like getting a head start to me. ”
Rose jumped down just as Hoch finished,
“ Lor, I ’ m sorry. Honestly. But if we go on this wild goose chase it ’ ll just end up getting even more of us wounded, or worse. We have to keep moving. ”
Lor ’ s face dropped in defeat. He grunted and walked away, busying himself tending to the horses.
The group gathered themselves and set off quickly, with Lor and Rose going ahead as scouts. Within half a day they were walking alongside the lake, the supply pod clearly in site on the coast a few kilometres away.
“ Rose? ”
“ Hmm? ”
“ Do you think she ’ s alive? ”
Rose looked blatantly surprised.
“ I… Umm.. ”, she stood still for a few seconds, clearly deep in thought. Lor stared at her, a look of desperation on his face.
“ She has tokens with her and she is as able as any of us at surviving but… Lor, We hardly survived the blizzard with shelter and a fire. I ’ m not saying it ’ s impossible but… It ’ s.. It ’ s unlikely. I ’ m sorry. ”
Rose gave Lor a look of sympathy as he turned and walked away, his head bowed.
The rest of the walk was spent silent. They arrived at the pod and busied themselves opening it, an activity Rose never found got any easier.
Hoch was confused, usually they opened the pod and came out to meet the rest of the group but this time they hadn ’ t moved. He had been watched them for the entire thirty minutes since they opened the pod. They had just been sitting there, perfectly still. He had thought it was perhaps booby-trapped and they had been killed but decided that was absurd, who would have done it? The pod had been visible for a good few hours now and anyway, I ’ m sure a booby-trap would have been more of an obvious death. As he drew closer he could tell they were clearly alive, though they were both staring intently at something on the floor, a piece of paper?
Standing next to Lor and Rose, he read what was on the paper.
“ The experiment is over. There will be no further tokens. ”
Hoch fell to his knees.
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[ WP ] One day every year , humans can have any emotion they want . However , the last emotion they have on that day is the emotion they are stuck for a year .
| `` Ok Debby, you can do this, it's not that hard'', Debby told herself.
It was 11:45 on January 1st and on January 2nd, the final emotions would be cast for the rest of the year. Last year, Debby got anger because her 11:30 PM massage got canceled so she could n't get relaxed as her emotion. This year she was committed to get the emotion she wanted as she lost many friends over anger last year. This year, instead of relying on someone else to give her the emotion, she took it upon herself and decided to go for happy. Going for happiness alone is very ambitious as there are no loved ones around you the moment the clock hits 12 to truly be happy. But, Debby was determined to be happy.
Debby decided to go to the hospice her mother was staying at with her father. She believed that if she was with her family, even in such a sad place like the hospice, it would be enough for her to be truly happy at 12 sharp. The hospice had no employees that night because they were all fearful that they would not get their desired emotion. Debby had a plan though. She went in at exactly 11:59 so that first minute of bliss after seeing a loved one in a long time would last until 12. It did.
12:00 hit on January 2nd and Debby was happy. She yelled at the top of her lungs, `` YES! FINALLY! I'm going to have the greatest year ever!''
The first three quarters of the year was the best time of Debby's life. She was excelling at work, she met a great guy, and was pregnant. Debby enjoyed every single day like it was n't just the happiness emotion locked in, but she genuinely was happy.
On November 14th of that year, Debby's mother passed away. Because of her locked in emotion of happiness, she could n't grieve. But, she told herself it was n't that bad because she was already emotionally ready for it as her mother was in the hospice for sometime. On November 24th, after the burial of her mother, her father committed suicide as he was left with sadness earlier in the year from seeing his wife in a hospice bed. He was very healthy and this would disturb Debby if it was n't for her happiness locked in. But, Debby wanted to be scared as when January 1st rolled around again, any stored emotion would be let out because the person did n't forget the event that happened that year. Being the end of November, she worried she would remember this so she took her now fiance and the seven month old fetus inside her on a day away from the city to a picnic. On the way there, they suffered a terrible car crash killing Debby's fiance and 7 month old fetus.
Debby was in a coma until December 28th. On December 30th, she buried both her fiance and dead baby. In a quarter of a year, Debby's best year was tore to ruins. Because of her constant happiness she could n't grieve for any of her loved ones and she just continued on with the built up emotions.
On January 1st of next year, Debby killed herself at 12:05 AM.
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[ WP ] You used to be the most powerful evil overlord humanity has ever seen . Then you turned over a new leaf , and your empire is a utopia . The only person who refuses to believe you 've changed ? The hero who has tried to stop you for decades .
| John Slayersword was in my garden. Again!
The traps and attack golems and been covered up or turned into fountains and statues long ago, but some of the deathpits were only covered up. A careless person could break through the rotting wood and fall in....?
With a sigh a took my hand away from the control surface on my desk. With a wave of three fingers the glowing lights were banished, but also my old impulses. How often had I sat here in the last years and watched John creep around my base?
No-one had put any stock in my good intentions - at the beginning. And John had seemed to be right when he told people it was just another scheme of mine.
The poor, the sick, the desperate and the needy - they came first. And I took care of them. I used the immense knowledge in my archives, not to exploit weaknesses, but to strengthen. The psychology of divide-and-conquer was now used to unite and befriend.
`` Unite and befriend''. Maybe a good title for my next book?
The hero Slayersword had reached one of the service entrances. I timed it perfectly, so that my pulling of the lever coincided with his barbaric use of an Elvish Sword of True Light as a lever.
In a way, it was this unpredictability of John's that had always surprised me. There were maybe 3 of these legendary and arcane weapons still in existence - and he risked breaking one on the re-inforced frame of a goblin war-door.
I allowed myself, briefly, to think back to the time where I had tried to get rid of all my doomsday devises. These were the early days of my conversion. After securing them all in a containment room in the bowels of the deepest dungeon, I `` kicked'' that room out of this dimension. And then destroyed the key that would allow me to return.
When I did return, 2 days later, I found John in that room. I was just looking to maybe power a hospital with the Doom Emerald of the Witch Prince. Clean energy for years. And I had to spend a full day reconfiguring 2 crystal deathbeam pillars just to scrounge together enough power for a dimensional chasm.
Yet there John was.
It still puzzles me to this day how he got in there. And why he threatened me with a copper bottleopener while standing right next to Aganima's Gauntlets of Atomic Inversion?
Since that day, I have done more than just power a hospital. Whatever machinery obeyed my will, I turned lose on the good causes of this world. With a fresh coat of paint still drying on their empty shells the dreaded Doomguard Spirit Armors became the most effective fire brigade in the country. My henchmen were always excellent at construction - but now imagine how good their work was when they were actually being paid to do it!
And people slowly stopped listening to John. His claims that my hospitals would turn the citicens into my zombie army were still taken seriously. For about a week.
It was a long, loooooong road from there.
These days, the peace we all enjoy is only mistrusted by one person: Ex-hero, ex-captain of the guard, ex-everything: Mr. John Slayersword. Even his name rang hollow now, since no-one kept those old battlenames around. The titles won in battle, the names earned through carnage..... it all seems in bad taste these days.
Rising from my nostalgic ruminations, I turn my back on the door and step up to the bar. I know exactly what is going to transpire over the next few hours, and I still kind of look forward to it.
A tap to the blue gem on my wristbrand unlocks the portal to my office seconds before it makes contact with an armor-plated boot of an ex-door kicker. John is n't that young any more, and I'd rather not have him break his foot before we can have our conversation.
Rather, `` accusation'' and rebutals, but even these old arguments between us have become a favourite past-time of mine. With nothing to conquer, and nothing to overcome, with the empire basically running itself these days........ well, I rarely get visitors any more.
It's just me and John now.
Putting down the decanter I turn around to face the man who probably knows me best in this world. John is not entirely wrong, you know? As I've said above: The old habits die hard. Of course, he is entirely wrong about my ambitions to conquer `` the world''. Yet still, John is the only person who seems to see past my facade and realise the struggle in my breast every time I have the opportunity to do either right..... or wrong.
The glasses in my hands, I wait patiently until John has finished his `` HAVE AT THEE, YER FIEND! THOU SHALST NOT....'' spiel. He does this every. single. time. he breaks in here.
That he thinks he breaks in here.
Finding no new evil inventions in my main laboratory, no battleplan drawn, and no spell ingrediences prepared, John eventually falters. To garnish the sheepish look on his face, and to overplay both our embarasment, I extend a glass to my oldest foe, my truest friend, and motion him over to the couch.
I ca n't even blame him for the suspicious look he gives the comfortable recliner - that's where my pirhana pit used to be before the remodel. Ah, yes, good times.
The banter starts, with John accusing me of poisoning the wine I have given him. And oldy, but a goody.
I nip at my, admittedly very wine-looking, iced tea and settle in for the afternoon. We're gon na be here a while, and that's just dandy with me.
Well, until the laxative in John's drink kicks in.
I just could n't help myself.
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[ WP ] As a gang initiation , the protagonist must execute an innocent man .
| “ Look... We ’ re better than them, and they need to know it. ”
Derek sounds righteous today – more so than usual. But as I look on, I can ’ t help but agree. As we head towards 85th, all I can think of is how wide a berth we ’ re given on this busy street. No one bumps in to us; wary of our colors. The weight of the heavy SIG Sauer P226 resting against my hip gives me confidence where I ’ d usually have none, balls of steel making me swagger like John Wayne.
Derek snatches a drink out of some poor shmucks hand, daring him to say anything. He doesn ’ t. He knows what we can do to him. The dickhead beside me doesn ’ t even take a drink before throwing it in to the trash. “ We ’ re nearly there now. ”
The crowds are starting to thin out. The suits replaced with baseball jerseys, the jerseys replaced with rags. Graffiti starts to pop up, and I get that old feeling of fear I used to get as a kid heading home, but things are different now. After today I ’ ll be one of them.
Beside me I feel Derek stiffen and our swagger slows to a stop. Across the street I see our target. Dwayne Anton, heading out of a liquor store with a brown paper bag in hand, cell phone in the other. Like an animal spooked, his head snaps up and he locks gaze with us. I see the fear in his eyes, as does Derek.
“ Not a muscle, scumbag. ” Derek ’ s voice rings across the empty street. With a glance towards me, he nods towards Dwayne. “ Do it. ”
I freeze up. “ We ’ ve been looking for you, and I ’ m sure you know why. ” Derek ’ s stalling now; keeping Dwayne in place. “ Quickly! ” he hisses out the side of his mouth.
My hand slowly creeps towards my right hip. Our victim sees. I ’ d never seen a black guy go pale before.
“ NOW! ”
Derek ’ s voice startles me out of my lethargy and I bring my gun up and fire a single shot.
Dwayne ’ s mouth forms a silent ‘ o ’ for a second and then begins to slacken. The bag falls from his hand and groceries spill to the concrete. Dwayne soon follows them to the ground.
“ Good job kid. ” A pat on the back as we walk towards the recently deceased.
Derek snaps on a pair of blue gloves and lifts a battered, old, snub-nosed pistol from his jacket, takes it out of the baggie and places it carefully in Dwayne ’ s rapidly cooling hand. Holding down the transmission button on his radio, he calls out “ Dispatch we have a 10-71, send a squad car. No ambulance required. ”
Rising to his feet he dusts off his knees and gives me a grin. “ Welcome to the club, kid. ”
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[ TT ] [ RF ] I know she loves me . I just ...
| Ca n't do it. Nope.
She's standing over there, and she's got my misery in her hands. It used to be so good, but in time, it began to taste bitter in my mouth, so bitter.
When I started resisting, she countered by rubbing it in my face, all while smiling smugly at my eventual defeat.
So I'm running away. I'd rather deal with things alone, even if it means coping with the feeling of a heaving chest and the lump in my throat. I duck behind the couch. She ca n't reach me here, nestled between the wall and the sofa.
Something gooey is stuck to my foot on a piece of paper. I feel my fur stand on end as a shiver of discomfort runs up my spine.
I've been tricked. CURSE YOU, HAIRBALL REMOVER!
I spend the next hour licking my paw in abject dejection.
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[ WP ] Russia is warming 2.5 times faster than the rest if the world . Everyone naturally blames climate change , you know the horrifying truth
| As we speak, all of the carceral population of the 4 siberian prisons already knows, but they are all afraid, I am not.
I do n't care if I die, I do n't care if they kill me. They killed my brother last month, even that he could've probably die the next one because of those things. Now I have nothing to loose.
Vladimir you know that we kept digging for Gazprom last year because they took control of the mines in the region.
I escaped from the 3th prison, Babouchka, with a small groupe.
We have to do something, you have to do something. Please do something. Now.
We still have time, the dragons are only a couple of hundreds.
I know you have 3 in Moscow, be carefull.
Ivan
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[ WP ] Humans are widely regarded as the most beautiful species in the galaxy . We do n't know this .
| “ So who ’ d you want to abduct tonight? ” Voldrag asked, lazily steering the vessel somewhere above Kansas.
“ Ronny! ” the First Lieutenant screamed. “ We should totally abduct Ronny again! ”
This thought was seconded by several other members of the crew.
Voldrag looked over to the ship ’ s Medical Examiner, who was nodding her head. “ I agree, ” she said. “ I don ’ t feel like I got a good probe last time, ya know? ”
“ That ’ s what you said the last three times! ” Voldrag protested. Eventually you guys are going to have to pick someone else. There ’ s only so much we can wipe that poor dude ’ s memory. ”
The ship ’ s Medical Examiner shrugged. “ Well, maybe we should just keep him on board. For an extended— ”
“ You *know* we can ’ t do that. It ’ s in violation of the prime directive. And—frankly—this is getting unprofessional. I realize Ronny ’ s hot, but— ”
“ Is he ever! ” the First Lieutenant piped in. “ I love the way his gut hangs over his tighty whities! ”
“ I love how shiny his head is where he ’ s losing his hair, ” said the ship ’ s Summer Intern, whose quarters were being slowly overtaken by a Ronny poster collection.
Voldrag nodded in spite of himself. Humans were absolutely the hottest shit this side of the galaxy. And Ronny was a grade-A-prime piece of ass. “ Alright, ” he said. “ Fine. But next time we pick someone else. ”
The rest of the crew murmured in agreement.
“ Next time I say we get that 300 pound chick who rides around in that cart outside Walmart! ” said the Head Engineer.
Man, that guy had great taste in humans.
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[ CW ] Write a story where each sentence begins with the next letter of the QWERTY keyboard .
| `` Quite the man you are, to be able to find me.''
`` Well you made the mistake of pissing me off today of all days. Every other day would have been okay. Really, I would have shrugged it off.''
`` Tell me, what's your problem?''
`` You. Usually assholes like you do n't get on my nerves but...''
`` I did something?''
`` On this one night, you kidnapped my best friend who I have had a crush on for all I have known her on OUR PROM NIGHT.''
`` Peter, is that you?'' Annie was chained up, dress ripped, hiding behind the big douchebag. Some how she still looked beautiful.
`` Douchebag, I have a fist full of hate just for you.'' Finally, I charged at this would be kidnapper with my fists up, ready to punch. Grinning, the douchebag put his fists up in acceptance of this duel.
He dodged my left haymaker and right upppercut. Jabbing in response, Mr. Douchebag would not give an inch and threw a roundhouse kick.
Knocked to the ground, I backed up and reset.
`` Listen, you are better off staying on the ground.''
Zoning out his taunts, I came in with a hard jab to his stomach followed by a quick kick to his face which knocked him out cold.
`` X-rays will show you that I just kicked your ass.'' Calmly, I untied Annie. Very gently, I check to make sure Annie was n't hurt.
`` Best friends like you are hard to come by. Now, were you serious that you always loved me?''
`` Maybe a kiss would better answer that question.''
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[ WP ] Suddenly , without warning , the sun just went supernova . Describe the last minutes of Earth .
| Hardly anybody noticed the impending apocalypse. They were too busy watching TV, playing on the cell phones and generally wasting their lives with any number of unconstructive things. The few that did notice knew there was nothing they could do, so they went to their families to be together in their final minutes. Me, well I'm going to miss Earth. It was such a beautiful day in the Terran empire, our victory over the outer colonies had been recently completed and there was finally going to be peace. Well there will still be peace, just not in the way we imagined it. War is funny like that.
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[ EU ] Dr Gregory House becomes a temporary companion to the 13th Doctor .
| `` If you can transcend space and time, what are you doing fixing humanities problems.. Dr... Who?''
House looked on towards the man who suggested he follow after his bike was totaled by what he could infer as a disintegration ray.
`` Ah... Yes, Humanity is sort of my *charge* if you will.'' He straightened the wrinkles on his coat, looking at the man with utter perplexity.
`` I can see both sides of your chest beating in asynchrony, probably a two part vascular system, how's your resistance to poison?''
`` Quite well, thank you''
He moved in closer, leaning on his cane heavily.
`` You know there's technology to fix that, we can go to a hospital planet if you'd like, some of them are far more advanced than earth technolo...''
House had his hand raised about 2 feet in front of the Drs' face, `` I do n't need to be fixed, I've got it handled, what I would like to know is why someone tried to destroy my bike, WITH ME ON IT!''
The Doctor stared at House as he fished the pill bottle out of his pocket, taking note of the time, he did n't need a junkie on the TARDIS, space drugs are even more powerful.
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[ WP ] A satanist tries to summon Satan , but summons Santa instead .
| `` Ho ho h-oops,'' said Santa as he burst forth from the summoning circle.
The jolly old man suddenly lost his smile as the realization set in. `` Damnation!'' he shouted, `` not again!''
The young members of the coven looked at each other with a mix of surprise and awkwardness. Torn between astonishment that the incantation had worked and puzzlement at who had been summoned, they were at a loss for words.
Santa gave a sheepish grin as he took off his hat and beard, removing the corks from his horns. `` Sorry girls, I got confused with my other gig.'' As he unfolded into his full height and discarded his fluffy winter jacket in a puff of sulfur, he motioned to the young witches. `` Uh, could you turn around for a second? Let's have a do-over.''
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[ WP ] The Super Smash Bros. characters are pitted against each other in the Hunger Games . Write from any characters perspective .
| The air's thick in my throat. I'm so tired from running, so I'm taking a breather for a bit. I think I've earned it.
I glance into my bag to see my inventory, and to make sure not too much fell out of my bag. It's not a bad haul: a bow and some arrows, a boomerang, a few small bombs, and a sword. Definitely not lacking on the offensive here.
I look around to take in my surroundings. It's a highly vegetated forest of sorts. Much more than I'm used to. Hyrule had some trees, but nothing this dense. It had been a long time since I had been in a place as darkening to the heart as this.
It was unlike any arena I remembered. There was a lake in the center, and a short amount of beach, with jungle and forest surrounding the rest of the area. From what I could tell, we were shoved into a giant domed circle.
Oh, that's right. `` We.''
I had basically forgotten about the others. Mario, Samus, Capt. Falcon, Fox, Kirby, and all the rest. This was a battle we were in. This was a hostile environment.
I thanked the gods that I had experience in fighting, especially against these opponents. I knew them inside and out, constantly being forced to fight against them by the Master Hand.
And now, he's thrown us in this pit to die.
At least I have my weapons, I thought. Just my weapons, and my self. The Old Man's words echoed in my head, `` it's dangerous to go alone!''
He was right. I needed an ally in all of this. But who would align with me?
My train of thought was derailed by the sound of a stick snapping. I quickly spun around to investigate, drawing an arrow from the quiver and to my bowstring. I approached the bushes slowly.
When suddenly, a fireball!
`` It's a mee-''
Silence. The arrow pierced his heart before he could finish. Mario lay dead before me.
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[ WP ] After decades of exploring , humans find intelligent life not on another planet , but at the bottom of the ocean .
| Is n't it ironic that man had always looked *upward* in his search for peers?
At the turn of the twenty second century, man's enthusiasm towards the search for extraterrestrial life had waned. SETI had operated for close to a century without any success. Hundreds, if not thousands of planets had been surveyed and found wanting for anything resembling life, never mind intelligence. Humanity had taken its first tentative steps towards becoming a spacefaring race, guided by a new Manifest Destiny - that the stars were his for the taking.
Somehow, nobody thought that they should relinquish their own in doing so.
First contact with *Octopus Sapiens* was in 2126. Even at that point, the oceans had remained woefully undermapped despite vast advances in technology. There was simply no need - why bother? Space offered so much more promise. The oceans were simply reserves - of minerals, biological diversity, heat capacity. It was n't until the first interstellar colonies were established that humanity belatedly realised that it had never bothered to fully explore its homeworld. Even then, it did so with no real passion - it was more for the sake of knowing than anything else - by then, humanity was self-sufficient enough that anything new would probably be of marginal benefit.
Humanity had known of deep sea communities since the early days of oceanic exploration. Near the limits where the sun's light could penetrate, life nonetheless thrived around hydrothermal vents which belched nutrients and heat continuously. However, these pockets of diversity were simply considered oases in the vast desert that the sea floor was assumed to be. Nobody considered the possibility that there could be entire ridges of such vents that supported vast ecosystems, just as rivers were the lifeblood of communities on land.
The operators of the *Pequod* must have been astonished when they happened upon what would be known as the Edenic vent system. An entire city of Neolithic octopodes, comfortably settled into a pastoral farming system. Well developed communication skills, established tool use and established knowledge of advanced concepts swiftly proved beyond all reasonable doubt that they were no intellectual inferiors to humans. All that impeded their development was the discovery of certain key technologies.
Recognising that he had finally found an equal, man's entire outlook changed. No longer was he alone! The baby had finally left the cradle, only to discover there was another underneath all this time. Nonetheless, it probably would not have been discovered if the baby had never bothered to leave in the first place.
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[ WP ] There are a finite number of human souls . As the population grows , something else is filling the bodies .
| I do n't understand this generation.
Is n't that what everyone says in time? All those hip youngsters start the same, and they scoff at the old geezers who yell at them to stay off their lawns. They see the mistakes their parents have made, their blindness, their inability to change, and they vow to be different. They vow that, despite the odds, they will succeed where the old folk have failed. They grow in numbers, and snatch the world from their parents' enfeebled grasp, dismissing the protests of the addled and confused. Finally they become the masters of their own destinies, even as they struggle to fix the messes that were left by those that came before. And, as is only natural, they have children of their own.
At first these newcomers are darling, beautiful dolls that must be loved and adored. Innocent creatures who must be protected and taught *properly*. But inevitably these lovely dolls become disillusioned rebels, disgusted by the practices and norms that were so championed by their predecessors. The young parents laugh at the scorn of the youth, disregarding it with all the confidence they learned from defying their own elders. But the scorn of the children does n't disappear. It does n't cease. It grows, and suddenly the parents begin to realize that the lessons they are trying to impart are falling on deaf ears. They feel their hold on the world, the world they fought so bitterly to claim, start to shake. The youth, foolish children with no understanding of the *real* world, begin to deconstruct all that the parents have worked so hard to build, rejecting the wisdom that was earned through the long and difficult years. Mindlessly, it seems, they tear everything apart.
But by now the parents are old themselves. They have forgotten their own childhoods, and they fear the coming future that clearly holds no place for them. Finally they realize, in a moment of dreadful lucidity, that they recognize nothing of the world they live in. All of the things they built are gone, and the old faces of their friends, too, are disappearing, while youthful scamps trample their lawns without any respect. And so the cycle continues.
But when I say I do not understand this generation, I say it with a fear that has never been felt by any of my ancestors, though it may be cliché to say it aloud. I say it with a fear that comes from depths of my being that I never knew existed, but like my own parents, I am powerless to do anything but watch as the world burns around my ears.
I always knew that our kids would be truly different from all the kids that had ever come before. I experienced the advent of the internet, and was part of the last generation to remember a time without it. My childhood flipped peculiarly from playing outside from dawn till dusk, kicking the can in the dusty street, to trading Pokemon with all my friends, and setting new high scores on our Nintendos. I remember how computers gained complexity, going from 8-bit sprites to virtual reality in thirty years. How the world went from a disconnected, boring place where human contact was either in the room with you or on the other side of a landline, to a massive network that held the entirety of human thought within a device that could fit inside your pocket.
And I truly felt bad for *my* parents, and understood that there would be no way that I myself would recognize the world that I would live in in five years, much less fifty. I made my peace with it, and I watched eagerly as my sister's son Caden was born, and began to grow.
But he was, well, special. Most children his generation took to tablets and smartphones like fish to water, but my nephew showed little interest. His first birthday passed, and like all one year olds he was investigating the world, crawling, making noises, being a good and non-fussy little baby. Then his second birthday passed, and he was still unable to take his first steps. Unable or, perhaps, refused. He simply could n't balance on his own, and crawled everywhere he could. Not only that, but he still had n't said anything close to a first word. He never pointed, or laughed, or cried even in the sense that babies cry. He would wail when he was hungry or wanted something, watching the world with focused, emotionless eyes as his wordless voice made sure his needs were met.
When this continued past his third birthday, we were all concerned. The doctors said it might be autism, and it made sense. Caden did n't speak, he did n't walk, but boy was he mobile. He could trot around on all fours surprisingly quickly, and his wail communicated any discomfort well enough. We all tried to hold his hands and stand him up to walk, which he tolerated disinterestedly before returning to his crawl. We all said the `` mama'' s and `` papa'' s that can usually coax some mimicry, but he never paid us any mind. He would grunt and make noises, but nothing more. We engaged him with other children his age, but he never played with them, and they seemed to be put off by him, and understandably so. The playdates never lasted long before he would scamper off on his own, completely ignoring his toys and leaving his companion discomfited and bored, and soon the playdates stopped altogether. His strange behaviors embarrassed my sister and her husband, and despite my objections that Caden needed the models of the other children, they sequestered him and limited his contact with other people.
At four, as I watched my friends' children grow to become miniature, chatty, technical savants, I could only sigh as my nephew made it clear that he was n't interested in any sort of normal development. But at that age, his eyes really began to focus. He had always been determined, and with good motor functions and reflexes, but before then I had never truly noticed the intensity that his gaze held. It hinted at a critical mind completely hidden by his lack of speech and his crawling, which had moved from his hands and knees to his hands and feet, and I encouraged my sister to take him to other doctors. I suggested developmental specialists who might know to check things that others could have missed. No matter how many doctors he was taken to, all of his scans pointed to normal, and even well developed, brain activity. Physically there was simply nothing wrong with him, not even with his inner ear, which could have been the cause of his balance issues. A child therapist shrugged after a lengthy triage, and said that perhaps Caden simply preferred not to talk, or walk, or communicate at all. It certainly was n't unheard of, and it did point a finger, again, at some form of autism.
But he really did not seem autistic, at least to my view. At five, when these behaviors continued and kept him out of school, autism was the official story. But I privately disagreed, since my sister would get angry with me if I mentioned it. Caden was too aware of the world to be autistic, I knew it. Hell, he was more aware of things than other kids his age, in the physical sense, and far more capable at responding. One day I was washing dishes in the kitchen and he was scampering around my feet, joyfully knocking some piece of trash around the floor with his hands. It was a habit or a game that he'd picked up around the age of four, and played often. But he was getting bigger, and in his rush he launched himself into my knees, and the soapy glass that I had been washing flew out of my hands, tumbling towards the tiled floor. The second it hit, he leapt. And I mean, *leapt*. He leapt about four feet straight up faster than I could blink, faster than the sound of the breaking glass itself, it seemed, and backwards out of the kitchen. He landed lightly and was gone, skittering away on his hands and feet in that strange quadrupedal movement that he had so perfected. Silently he sped through the hall, up the stairs, and out of sight faster than the glass had stopped tinkling to the inevitable conclusion of its spent potential energy.
I was left in the kitchen to pick my jaw up off the floor. His reaction was nothing short of phenomenal, but when I told my sister what had happened she rolled her eyes and asked me if I had been sleeping well. All of my badgering had left us on bad terms, and now my insistence of this clearly impossible event led her to, erm, encourage me to not babysit for a few weeks, or perhaps months. As much as I protested, she would n't have it, and I was effectively kicked out of the house. The event was seared into my mind, however, and I bided my time till I could return, letting my sister cool off a bit even as my mind began to race. Something strange was happening, and I would be damned if I would just ignore it.
To be continued? If people like it?
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[ WP ] On a world where one side permanently faces the sun humanity has made their home in the light , the dark side inundated with vampires and other monsters unable to venture further . In this world there is one rare event that humans fear and evil relishes - The Total Eclipse .
| Our way of life is as eternal as the sun.
We were born of catastrophe, of fire and of sound and of fury. Many eons ago, our ancestors murdered each other, and in their wake the planet fell ill, and then died. We, those eternal, suffered long and hard under the long darkness, as creatures of the abyss rose up and took our place in the natural order. We fought, and we died, but we knew that our time on this dead world was approaching its end.
And then the unthinkable happened. The sun, long forgotten, rose and touched the landscape, its fiery tendrils bring health and life to all. Our culture and our cattle thrived, and we built great temples thankful to those who had seen fit to save us. We breathed a sigh of relief, and we worked. From the ashes of a new dawn, we built a new world, one to keep out the monsters, to end the suffering. Trade resumed, governments formed, cities once again dotted the landscape. For a time, there was a sense of hope, that even if we could not reclaim our place in the world, we might simply be thankful for what we have built.
We should have known better. Whatever gods may lurk in the abyss, they are not of the light.
Those pale figures, those that live beyond the light, beyond the lands of eternal dusk, they are the true masters of this land. I see them, even in my dreams, their thin legs bounding over the darkened landscape, the fear on the guards eyes. I still hear the screams of far off expedition parties, as they walk the treacherous journey. Still, their numbers were thinning, and we had hoped...
I was seven when we learned. Our world lived under the sun, and so our greatest thinkers were tasked with knowing its ways. It did not take long to learn of the eternal dance of the cosmos, and of the day that it would end.
We prepared. We built walls and forts, raised an army, made our peace in the light. I looked down over my people, over the grand mosaics, the thunderous noise of an army prepared to stave off the ravings of the night. I could feel their presence, their restlessness, their teeth. With my brothers at my side and the wind at my back, I scanned from atop the battlements. A horn sounded, and we were plunged into darkness. I drew my sword.
Our way of life is as eternal as the sun, and we would not go gentle into the night.
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[ WP ] You go back in time to stop yourself from falling in love with your current spouse .
| A wire here, a transistor there. There was n't much time. Mark soldered the few remaining pieces on and pulled a large switch with a satisfying'clunk!'. A few sparks came out, but the portal opened. He did n't have much time; he could hear his wife coming down the hall. Staring into the portal he went over the math in his head and figured he would come out just before the first date. He had to save himself... from himself. Just as the door opened and that horrible nagging voice shouted his name, he leapt through the portal.
He arrived in the same den he had been in before. It was slightly different however. Instead of the ugly green curtains that had been picked by the wife there were the more sensible, utilitarian white ones. The carpet was shittier though; Mark had forgotten how much the old owner loved the seventies. In any case, the computer desk was still in the same place, and seated in the chair was Mark... Or rather, the old Mark. While time-travelling Mark had short, cropped brown hair and the face of a man beaten down for too long, younger Mark had long hair in a ponytail and the face of a man who spent his days playing round after round of DOTA. Mark Prime cleared his throat, causing Mark to jump.
Mark turned around to see the older version of himself. He tried to clear his eyes in disbelief, before starting to fist bump the air. Mark Prime knew what his deal was: the time machine had been a doodling of Mark for years. He thought he might pat himself on the back, but thought better of it when he remembered his mission.
`` Mark. I need you to listen.'' Mark focused a little, although he still could n't help tapping his foot in excitement. `` Listen man, you're about to have a date, and I know it's been a long time coming... but you need to cancel.'' Mark Prime watched the younger version of himself go from excited to curious in a split second.
`` Why?'' asked Mark. `` It's been a long time since I've been with a girl man. You know what it was like!'' Mark Prime did remember. Mark was at this point eighteen months into a dry streak. But then so was Mark Prime.
`` Look, she's a bitch plain and simple.'' Mark Prime tried to gather his thoughts and wished he had thought ahead a bit more of what to say. As he thought of his next point, he noticed he was fading. The wife was destroying his machine. `` Just trust me. Throw this one! It's better than what you'll face in five years! Mark my words....'' With the last few words Mark Prime disappeared, and Mark shrugged and went back to his game.
As Mark reappeared in the present, he instantly started looking for differences. Newer carpet, shitty curtains, and his furious wife. She took he by her shoulders.
`` Sweetie! Was I supposed to be doing something?'' He had hope. Maybe he'd changed her. Maybe.
`` You promised you'd host my parents and family for Christmas and this place has got to be spotless for them!'' He voice was the same. Mark Prime fell to the ground and pounded the ground. Suddenly he threw his head back and screamed.
`` God damnit Me!''
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[ WP ] Your job is to track down and destroy illegal clones . Write your typical day ( you can be male , female or other )
| **FIRST POST FIRST POST *clap* *clap* *clapclapclap* **
**I'm digging deep for this one, but it really spoke to me. **
We'd made arrangement to meet at the Hotel Sacher at 10:00. His contact was in a carefully tailored, grey pinstriped Savile Row suit., and made me look homeless by comparison. I had just gotten in on a redeye from Newark, and was wearing an old raincoat, jeans combat boots and a hooded sweatshirt, not to mention about three days worth of scruff. If I'd had time to stop at the hotel to clean up, then I would've at least felt better, but I could n't check in until 1, so...
`` Herr Landtmann?''
`` Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr....''
`` Braxton.''
`` Yes, Mr. Braxton. Please take a seat. Coffee?''
`` Yes, thank you. Pardon my appearance, but I just got, like, an hour ago.'' I sat across from Landtmann in the red velvet booth. I was surprised at how clean everything was. I'd read that the cafe was over 300 years old, but it looked brand new. While I was taking it all in, he took the liberty of ordering two coffees, or `` melange'' s as he called them.
`` What's a'melange'?''
`` It's very similar to a cappuccino. I think you'll like it.'' I let my eyes wander again, and noticed a large slice of chocolate cake near his water glass.
`` Seems a little early for cake.''
`` Hm?''
`` I said it seems a little early for cake.''
`` Ah, well, I consider this to be something of a special occasion. Would you like a slice?''
`` No thank you. I could use a ba- a pastry, though.''
`` You were about to say'bagel' were n't you?''
`` Sure. Why?''
`` Oh, no reason. But you should understand that Europeans have very different ideas about breakfast than you Americans. After all, this is much nicer than coffee and a donut, no?''
`` Yeah, I guess it is.''
`` You guess...'' He smirked and shook his head. We got our coffees and got down to business. `` You know why I asked you to fly out here, yes?''
`` Not really. My handlers only told me where and when to meet you.''
`` Well, does the name Yevgeniy Shevchenko sound familiar?'' Ukrainian eco-terrorist. On INTERPOL's most wanted list for bombing the headquarters of Greenpeace. Man without a country after he bombed a manufacturing plant outside of Kiev.
`` Sort of.''
`` Well he's dead''
`` Oh no.'' Landtmann gave me a look. `` Sorry. Force of habit.''
`` Yes. Well, reports came in that he was killed during an attack on a nuclear power plant in Croatia. However-''
`` Let me guess. He was recently spotted in the city, baffling the police; shocking the populace!''
`` Indeed.'' Another look. I dropped my smirk, and took another sip. `` According to our sources, he is to attend a performance of `` Cosi fan tutte'' at the Staatsoper tonight.''
`` So, do I have to'Mission: Impossible' my way in?''
`` What?''
`` Do I have to sneak in?''
`` No, we have arranged for a ticket and an escort, and I would like to remind you that this is a matter of international importance. We do not have time to joke around. Understood?''
`` I'll be good.''
`` Let's hope so. When he gets up for the intermission, we want you to make sure that he does n't return to his seat. Now, he may also have knowledge of a black market clone farm somewhere in Eastern Europe; most likely in Russia, Georgia or the Ukraine. We need you to find out as much as you can before you eliminate him. The clone has a 500,000 euro bounty on him, and we will provide an extra 100,000 for any further intel. Are you interested?'' My eyes lit up. I thought about how many debts I could finally pay off. Maybe I could finally move back into the city.
`` Very.''
`` Excellent. You have somewhere to stay, yes?''
`` Yeah, this place near the university.''
`` Oh no. That wo n't do. We will reserve a room for you here at the hotel.''
`` Really?''
`` Of course. If you're going to one of the events of the opera season, you have to look the part, and in my opinion, the most important aspect of looking the part is *feeling* the part.''
`` That's very generous of you.''
`` Consider it a token of our appreciation. I hope you at least have a suit.''
`` Yep.'' It was this cheap-looking thing that I got during a recent trip to Hong Kong, but I was n't going to tell him that.
`` Very good. Cocktails are at 6:30, and the curtain is at 8. Your escort will meet you at 6:00 precisely. We'll be in touch.'' With that, he left 20 euros on the table and split. After a quick look around, I slid his untouched coffee closer to my side of the table, and asked the waiter for an English-language paper. I had plenty of time to kill, and right then, I could n't think of a better place to kill it.
**I'm planning a second part, but am going to finish an unrelated story first**
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[ WP ] God orders Earth from Ikea . After 3 to 4 working days , it comes . Flat packed
| `` And it was done. 6 days of the 7 total too, you owe me 10 omnipopence ``
God leant on the table, surveying her creation. Lucifer stood beside her. The blue glow illuminating both of their faces was fresh and lively. God looked pleased with herself. The light from the world threw Lucifer's masculine features into little confused shadowy contortions.
`` It does n't look right...'' Lucifer said slowly.
`` What do you mean?'' God answered.
`` Well, you see that bit there, what's it doing?'' Lucifer remarked.
`` There's always spare bits ya know? Ya just throw them in, hope for the best''
``... Yes, but that looks like it's more of a danger than anything. What if it explodes and kills them?''
God squinted closely at Steve. Moving very slowly she temporally reached through Steve's belly and poked the appendix. Steve yelled, keeled over, and stopped moving. God quickly grabbed another one from the box, jammed it together and quickly put it in.
`` Look, it's fine'' God said, hurriedly pushing the box under the table. `` This one's called Adam.''
Adam plodded through the garden of the world looking slightly dazed, but happy to be alive. He gently nudged Steve's corpse with his foot.
Lucifer looked over. `` Was n't there supposed to be another one?''
God calmly removed the box from under the table and reached inside. Pushing some bits together he made the first woman. God threw her in.
`` Perhaps you should have been more careful... she's got scorch marks from the atmosphere and a concussion now. She looks like she'll be a right bitch'' said Lucifer.
`` It will be fine'', God said through slightly gritted teeth, `` there's some bits leftover to make one last one if we need to.''
Lucifer nodded, pleased. They watched the creations play about the garden for a short while.
`` Lilith just ate some of Steve's corpse...'' whispered God under her breath.
`` Yeah...'' replied Lucifer, in similar tones.
`` Perhaps we should...? Oh she's doing some other stuff now? Wait, what, no...''
`` Yes, No. Get rid of her. For the best.''
God flicked Lilith till she left, shaking her fist.
`` So that other one you mentioned...?''
`` Yes, I'll grab her bits''
God smoothed the human in her palms into almost life. There was something missing.
`` There's a part missing'' mused God.
`` Well, what are we supposed to do?'' said Lucifer.
`` I do n't know, this is the first time I've done this thing! I had to create IKEA to bloody make it!''
`` Do n't get snappy! You always get uppity with this sort of thing. First it was the sofa, then the kitchen cabinets and now this'' riled Lucider, angrily.
God glared. `` This is my house'' she monotoned, `` do n't test me.''
Lucifer was silent. Their relationship was strenuous, at best. Lucifer was a servant to God, but God treated him like a son with all the slack she cut him. They were in the angelic puberty stages, to put it bluntly, and it was currently hell for both of them. Things were confusing, and neither of them knew what to do about it. They were deciding to keep it under the table.
`` If... if we take something from Adam we can probably make it work... like jumping a car or something'' Lucifer said eventually.
There was silence. Both of them waited.
God eventually spoke. `` That's not a bad idea... A rib might do.''
`` What about the penis bone?'' Lucifer replied.
`` Also a good idea, I'll make do with the erections somehow I guess.''
God reached into the bubble, again. Adam having learnt the smallest amount of language and having just heard the most recent conversation was running away with gusto. Steve's skull was smiling at him.
`` Wait, just wait and, oh- dammit I just broke the thing that made vitamin C'', God complained. Holding Adam, she twiddled her proverbial fingers and nudged the bone out. Pulling her hands from the azure sphere she slowly melded the bone into her newest child.
`` Let's... name her in honour of Steve'' said Lucifer jokingly.
`` Good idea! Eve! I like it!'' God yelled triumphantly. She placed Eve carefully in. Lucifer looked shell shocked.
Adam looked at Eve nervously. He licked his lips, then spoke, carefully.
`` أنا آسف جدا ولكن قضيبي قليلا كسرت الآن، ولكن في نهاية المطاف ، وكنت أتساءل ، ما إذا كنت ترغب في ضجة وراء ذلك الأدغال ؟''
Eve laughed.
`` أوه ، سخيفة''
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[ WP ] Sand is our ultimate enemy and a most impressive Sleeper Cell . Sand has woken up . Merry Christmas humanity !
| `` I am not going to make it,'' the man in the Marine-issued snowsuit croaks. His right arm lies by his side, with icy snow whistling across it in the wind. He grasps his stomach with a glove-less hand. Frostbite has begun to destroy the dark skinned man's fingers.
`` You did more than any of us. In years to come, people around the world will thank you for helping them escape the grasp of Sand,'' says the soldier's best friend. He is a stocky man with blonde hair and the confidence of a trained killer.
The Marine slips off into a world only he knows of. His eyelids remain open as he stares into his best friend's eyes.
The Marine, known as Jon Hampton never has a public funeral. Nobody will know his name. His friend had lied to him. He had set up Jon's death from the beginning, offering his friend shelter and help as a ruse. The blonde haired soldier who watched Jon die works for Sand and protected the organization to the fullest extent.
It was not Jon's name that people would remember. No, the people of Sand would chant about the blonde haired man. They'd sing songs, write poems and tell their children of how he saved them all. However, his real name is known only to a few and he frequently altered his name on his travels. This is very important for his safety, especially above ground.
Anyone who discovers Sand before Sand finds them will meet a death one can not simply enjoy or accept. Marine Jon Hampton may have tried to hide in Alaska after discovering Sand operatives, but he definitely failed to do so. Although, the time of hiding is over for Sand. It is time for them to reveal their principles and identity to the most powerful people on the planet.
Sand has been here since the beginning; through the Stone Age, Medieval Times, the birth of Jesus, every time in between and present times. This will not be the first time Sand has revealed itself to the people on Earth. It has happened before and it hardly ever ends well.
Sand starts by revealing themselves as protectors of humans and all life, guardians of the most powerful men, women and groups. Though there will always be a time when humanity rejects Sand and their principles.
Sand exposes themselves when Earth needs to be cleansed in order to preserve our species. They truly believe they are the eternal protectors of humanity and they accept that the cost is billions of lives.
`` Hello Mr. President,'' says the blonde haired man. He has risen to a much higher rank which provides him with the privilege of taking on the historic task of meeting the President of the United States just seven hours after meeting Vladamir Putin.
The President taps his foot and sweat forms upon his brow.
`` Hello. I've been waiting for your arrival Chris. We need to speak,'' says the President. Sand's loyal Chris, the stocky man who saved the organization, recognizes that he is about to hear bad news.
`` Whatever it is you wish to say, be advised that Sand's schedule may be delayed no further. Our Master wishes to begin finding Initiates for the First Program by Monday next week, which means we need to start the cleansing no later than Friday.''
`` I understand.''
Whatever the President was so anxious to reveal must have been uninteresting after all. Chris believes that the President intended to ask for help on an issue, but chose to handle it on his own after hearing of Sand's sense of urgency. He finds that acceptable as long as the President fixes matters on his end. The President was tasked to Chris directly from the Master so he knows he can not fail; whatever the cost may be.
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[ WP ] When a child is abducted by aliens , the child 's guardian angel joins forces with the monster under the bed to save them .
| `` Steve? Steve!? God dammit Steve, get the Hell out from under there.''
`` It's two in the afternoon Jonesy, I'm trying to get some sleep here''. Steve yawned as he stretched a long, blue warty arm out from under the bed, his gnarly fingers, digging into the dark walnut laminate as he pulled himself out from under bed.
`` Boy am I happy to see you're ugly face. It's been what, three years?''. Jonesy said with a sly smirk, his golden blonde tousels dropping down to his crystal blue eyes.
`` You angels think you're so God damn entitled, do n't you? It has been a while though, has n't it? Have n't seen your Adonis face since the tooth fairy went around making all the kids buck toothed.''
Steve gave himself one more quick stretch, as he squinted his eyes in the July sun. He was a handsome monster. He touted a crooked back, more akin with scoliosis everyday, and his blue skin, the hue of rotten blueberries, so smelly he could attract female monsters a mile away. Not that he needed to though, now that he was married to Carla.
`` We have a problem Steve''.
`` Straight to the point, eh old pal?''
`` Do you remember that really blue light that burst at four am this morning?''
`` Yeah, I thought it was just the Sandman sneezing again though... How did you see it? Wait, where's the little SOB? I do n't hear him playing his video games. He's been playing videos a every day for the past two weeks, from sun up till sun down.'' Steve said with a slight sense of panic sinking into his voice.
`` I felt it because it's happening. You know how Gerald and Phelonious had the same issue a few weeks ago?''
`` Oh for crying out loud. Carla is not going to be happy about this. Not more than two weeks back from our honeymoon in Hell, and I have to deal with this BS now. Give me a half hour and I'll be right out.''
As Steve scurried back under the bed, Jonesy peered at his reflection in the window, the bright sun beating down on his perfectly shaped muscles.
`` At least you can have a wife friend. I've been here as long as I can remember and I've never felt the touch of another. Though I love my father, something just does n't feel right''. He thought to himself in pondering.
Steve arrived not a minute early and snapped Jonesy out of his brief nap. Napping was something Jonesy could only do on the mortal plain and cherish what few minutes he could get.
`` Come on lazy bones, lets get a move on''. Steve urged Jonesy up.
`` Okay, okay.'' Jonesy said lazily and got up shaking his 10 feet spanning, ivory coloured winged.
They set off into the clear blue sky, Steve clawing into Jonesy's bronzed calf muscle.
`` Those aliens wo n't know what's hit'em! The only creature that scares Timmy is me''. Steve thought to himself as he clung for dear life, blinded by the sheen of the sun.
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[ WP ] God is real , He is loving , but He is NOT all powerful , and all religions are the result of his bumbling attempts to steer humanity in the right direction .
| God stood in front of a crowd in central park. He looked as everyone expected, robes, beard, the like. He spread his arms out. `` I have come to save you all,'' he said.
`` Bullshit!'' Someone yelled, another up front gave him the finger and said `` Prove it, motherfucker! You just some dude in a white robe!''
Looking around, the messiah spotted a man with a large water bottle in his hands and approached him. The man stepped back a bit before God held up his hands again. `` Relax, my son, may I see that bottle? Just for a moment.''
Timidly, the man held out the bottle as God took it, as if he was weighing it in his hands. `` Ah, water, one of my better inventions, the spout of lif..'' As he said it, the water turned dark, carbonated and the top popped out with force, spurting foam everywhere. `` Just.. sorry, sorry about that, that was.. sorry, I saw all your infatuation with Mentos and Diet Coke! I was thinking about that, and it just..''
The liquid left turned into a dark red color, swirling in the plastic bottle. God lifted it to his nose and tilted back, obviously alcoholic, red wine. `` Look, I had.. I thought about the Kardashians, and I thought about this..''
He looked at the obviously dubious crowd, frowning and throwing the bottle on the ground, spreading his arms. `` WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO..''
The crowd began clapping once he spread his arms, recognizable as Jesus on the cross. He sighed and kept it up.
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[ WP ] It 's the end of the world ... maybe . And you ( or your character ) have to work that day .
| The world could n't be ending. Everything I'd ever learned told me it could n't be ending.
So I'm at work. Just go through the day, and when I get home everything will be okay. The world ca n't be ending.
The boss wants me to stay. `` The world might not be ending, so you need to finish your work.'' Sure, I guess someone has to. The world's not going to end. The world ca n't be ending.
There are a few others, here, working their lives away. We talk in front of the water cooler. `` Obviously the world's not ending tonight.'' Of course Tom would say that, typical Tom. Then again, anyone who thinks the world is ending tonight, well, they would n't be here. But I'm here. The world ca n't be ending.
The work day's over. I can go home. I manage to get into the car, and now I'm staring at the wheel, wondering what to do. I guess I should spend money, it might not be here tomorrow.
The truth is I do n't know what to do. I do n't know how to react. The truth is I've always wondered if this day would come, what I would do once it arrived.
The truth is I'm scared.
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[ WP ] `` I 'm telling ya Frank , the more bad things we do the more coal we get ! Why bother mining for it all when we can get Santa to do it for us ! ''
| `` So Frank, why have you been so naughty?''
`` I- I- I, like the taste of coal.''
A meter on the wall besides Santa reading's increases
Santa looks behind him
`` Do n't lie, why did you do this?''
`` I- erm I- need to keep up my re- reputation i- in prison?''
The reading on the meter increases once more
Santa checks once again
`` The truth Frank, what is it?''
`` Well, you should know!!''
The meter ever so slightly increases
`` Wait! - That meter records lies?''
`` Not just that but, why does it matter, Frank?''
`` Because it increased when I said, `` You should already know!''
`` It did''
`` So you do n't know everything?''
`` Yes, I use the meters to track naughty-ness. Keeping an eye on everyone would be such a terrible thing to do. Back on topic.''
Frank does n't move
Santa glares
Frank seems somewhat disturbed
Glare intenses
`` I DID IT FOR THE COAL!''
`` So you did?''
`` IT WAS UNCLE REYNOL'S IDEA!!''
`` If you were nice I would of just gave you money''
`` Or a raise''
`` Or everything else you bought with my coal''
`` Coal is n't cheap, its hard to get''
`` You know that Frank, you do, do n't you?''
`` PLEASE NOT ME!!! IT WAS UNCLE REY!!! I'M SORRY''
`` I understand, have a sweater. Next time, remember that Reynold is a bad seed.''
Santa puts down the thermometer and hands Frank a sweater.
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[ WP ] The world 's best have been transported to a single building , each having their own field of expertise . You , an average Joe , have also been transported . You have no idea what you 're so good at , but everyone else seems to be afraid of you .
| When I opened the auditorium room doors, almost all the seats had been taken. I was on the last bus to arrive; it must have been running late because the presentation had already begun. An usher guided us to our seats in the back row. I sat down and took a moment to look around at everyone there. Some were clean, wearing suits, and had a professional appeal. Others were wearing jumpsuits, overalls, and other blue collar attire stained with motor oil or dirt. There had to be hundreds of us shoved into this room.
The woman to my left had a doctors coat with a name tag that said `` Maria Gonzales, Pediatrician''. The man to my right was a middle aged man with glasses wearing a sweater vest and khakis. His name tag said `` Jaque De Ville, Archaeologist''. I leaned over and said, `` Excuse me sir, but do you happen to know what this is all about?'' He gave me a puzzled look and said something in what I think was french. At this point I figured it was best to pay attention to what was happening down front.
`` Again I want to apologize to you all. I know strange men showing up at your homes in black suits demanding you come with them is....unnerving, but you have my sincerest gratitude for doing so. This maybe the most important moment of your lives.''
`` Cut the formalities,'' a man yelled near the front, `` you take us from our homes, our families without giving us any slightest reason why! We want answers!''
The rest of the room stirred at the mans comment. Some started shouting more questions while others sat still knowing their inquiries will be answered. The man raised his hands and the room grew quiet.
`` If you would please calm yourselves, I promise to answer all questions you may have.'' the presenter said.
The room stayed quiet, the man continued.
`` I am excited to share with you that everyone in this room has been hand selected to be a part of the greatest achievement of mankind. Our goal here is to build the world's first utopia; a whole city devoted to one goal, to advance humanity to its pinnacle of existence. Our city will find cures to diseases, invent unlimited power sources, and push the human body to its limits. We our the greatest minds on Earth, so lets put them together! Each one of you is the foremost expert in your respective field. Neurosurgeon to fishermen, all professions are present. After this presentation you will be divided into groups where all your professions will compliment each other. If you would look at the book that you were given at the start, you will find what group you belong to.''
Everyone pulled out a small red book from their person, except for me. I was not given anything. I looked over to the woman on my left to get a glimpse at the book. It had list after list of names and that persons role here. The women looked up at me questioningly.
`` Excuse me miss but do you speak English?'' I asked.
She smiled and said, `` I know enough, can I help you?'' She had a very thick Spanish accent.
`` I'm afraid I was not given a book. Could you look up my name so I know what group I belong to?''
I had n't the slightest idea why I was here. I've bounced from restaurant to restaurant working as a cook, but I know I'm definitely not the best chef on Earth. I was puzzled as to why I was picked to come. I gave the women my name and she started to look through the book. She went through every page until she reached the end of the book. I watched her eyes move down to the bottom of the page and then grow wide as if she had just seen a ghost. She turned her gaze to me, still wide eyed. I have never seen such fear in a persons eyes. She quickly gathered her things and left the room running. This did not help put me at ease.
The presentation had finished and every one was up and about forming their groups. I would be greeted with smiles until they read my name tag and then it was the same look of fear the women had given me. I started to become agitated and made a B-line for the Presenter. It was easy as everyone around me tried to avoid me. I reached the man up front but before I could say anything, he looked at me and said, `` Mr. Carmikel, please follow me.'' and before I could reply he was walking toward the door.
The Presenter led me to a small room with nothing but a desk and two chairs. The man sat down and gestured for me to do the same. He smiled and said, `` Now Samuel, may I call you Sam, Sam you have a very important role to play here.''
`` I'm sorry sir but I'm afraid I was not given a book so I have-''
`` Sam I know you were not given a book, that was my idea. I wanted to tell you your role here in person because I truly believe you may have the most important job here.''
Now I was very confused, `` Sir I'm just a cook, an average cook. I feel there must have been some sort of mistake. I have no other skills other than that. How could I play an important role?''
The Presenter chuckled to himself and said, `` Sam are you aware that all people are born with some sort natural ability? Some people are natural pianist while others can pick up a second language as easy as their first. You Mr. Carmikel have a very unique natural ability.''
Now I was angry. These people drag me from my home and take me to some unknown location based on some sort of hunch that I'm gifted at something!
`` How the hell do you know that? You ca n't just look at someone and know everything about them! What do you know about me that I would n't!?''
The Presenter's face grew very serious, `` I would ask Samuel that you do not raise your voice, it is quite rude. But to answer your questions, I know this because I built you.''
My heart grew heavy and a sick feeling formed in my stomach, `` You.....built me?''
`` Yes, well not just me, it was a whole team of scientists. We handcrafted your DNA to make you exactly what we needed. We found a surrogate and nine months later, you were born. We incorporated our agents into your day to day life. Teachers, doctors, babysitters, they were all ours. Making sure your life went according to plan so that you would be sitting in this very room at this very moment.''
My mind was racing. I was thinking back to memories trying to find any clues or signs to figure out if this man was telling the truth but I was in such shock I could n't think straight. After what seemed like an eternity I finally said, `` What was I built for? Why go through all that trouble for me?''
The Presenter looked down at the floor, `` Do you know what destroys empires Sam? Its the idea that it could be better. That the flaws of that empire can be fixed and turned into something new. But the problem with this idea is that everyone has it. Everyone has they're own thoughts and ways to bring that idea to life, but the sad truth is that most people are wrong. Their ideas benefit only a few or bring harm to many others. If we want to build a utopia here Sam, we need that idea of something better to be eradicated and that is where you come in.''
He looked at me as if that would make it clear for me but I was still more confused than I have ever been, `` I'm sorry sir but I still have no idea what my role is here.''
The Presenter took a deep breath and said, `` To get rid of weeds, you must tear it out from the roots. An idea is the same but its roots are in the mind of an individual, so I you want to get rid of the idea you must first get rid of the person who formed it.''
It was at that moment I realized why I was here, why these people had spent so much time and resources on making me. They wanted me to be perfect, the perfect weapon.
The Presenter stood up and said, `` You, Samuel Carmikal, will be the greatest assassin this world has ever known,'' a wicked smile formed on his face, `` and there is much work to be done.''
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[ WP ] Only a time traveling Adolf Hitler dressed as Batman can unravel the dark and mysterious secret behind the numbers that appeared over everyone 's heads at Hogwarts .
| ``... And it was only then that Hitler Batman was able to solve the mystery of the numbers. He had touched the Deathnote and he could see the lifespans of all the witches and wizards. He took his new found powers back to Germany and using only his neatly polished handwriting, destroyed the American scourge...''
The class remained silent. Mrs. Addle tapped her long yellow nails on the table, the tiny Minions drawn on the tips glaring up at Edward.
Then the laughter started, hard, fierce, and cruel.
`` Calm down, class,'' Addle said, adjusting her curls. `` Mr. Knight here will be rewriting his paper and sharing it with us again tomorrow. This time, please use real resources.''
Edward nodded, tears in his eyes. He knew the truth. They were fools.
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[ WP ] You are abducted by aliens . They keep you in a nice home and treat you well . They call you Punxsutawney Phil and they expect you to predict their future once a year . What do you tell them ?
| This was not what he expected. Not what he expected at all.
The warm seat, the refreshing drink and the bounty of food was nothing like he expected from... well, them.
Honestly, the whole abducting thing is not how he expected it at all. Generally Being taken from your home at 1 in the afternoon by a giant flying ship is always a bad sign but this is not like your typical abduction.
`` These are amazing, people?''
He thought to himself, not sure what they are but they did look like him, like a human. He noticed they have five fingers, hair, similar body types, although they do have larger eyes and that they all seemed to be a similar shade of amber.
Enough about them for now though, after all, he seems to find himself in quite a pickle to say the least. he may be sat in a nice seat with food and drink however this is not exactly a stress free situation, for you see, he is Puxsutawney Phil.
Who this is exactly, he is unsure, but they seem to believe that he is a great seer of the future. This he is not.
James was not a seer of the future at all and he certainly was n't Puxsutawney Phil. James is nothing more than simple man who enjoys chocolate and on line chat rooms. He is not a seer at all. After all, he could n't even see his own reflection in the mirror without his glasses.
But regardless, James... I mean Phil, found himself aboard an alien ship. A ship full of those expecting great things from him.
Time seemed to stand still for Phil as he struggled to think of what they wanted to hear. The most anxious of all seemed to be Rom, the somewhat middle aged woman who Phil did not like.
Starting to lose his focus, Phil felt the sweat starting to run down his tiny little nose as she gazed at him.
Phil did not like this. Starting to feel light headed, the room began to spin, to Phil at least.
“ Puxsutawney? Puxsutawney? ” asked Rom.
Closing his eyes, Phil let the room spin and spin until a few seconds later it all stopped.
Feeling slightly sick and somewhat pathetic for a 55-year-old man, Phil opened his eyes.
“ Paul Laney Phillips, what am I going to do with you? ”
Staring down at him was a rather tall, slender woman with big beady eyes.
Somewhat happy that he wasn ’ t being stared at by Rom, Phil let the woman help him off his bed and into some clean clothes.
Of course Phil was confused after all, why wouldn ’ t he. James wasn ’ t Puxsutawney Phil as Rom called him. James wasn ’ t even James.
James was in fact Paul Laney Phillips, resident number U135 of Rose Olivier Manor. A care unit for the insane.
Isn ’ t that right Paul?
What? No answer? That ’ s fine by me Paul, after all, I will always be here.
Inside your head.
*Never done a WP before but thought I'd give it ago so all feedback will be GREATLY appreciated.: )
EDIT: change of building name.
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[ WP ] A group of wizard/aliens/superheroes/etc ... have one normal friend , who they hide their abilities from . But now they 're beginning to suspect that their normal friend , might not be so normal after all .
| Back in the 90s, when we had just gotten out of college, myself and a bunch of friends bought a house to live in together. We did not have enough money to support ourselves alone so we shared almost everything among ourselves. There were five of us all together so we did n't have many troubles.
We had all been friends since our freshman year in college so we knew each other quite well. There was one thing that separated four of us from the other, at least, we thought so anyway. Four of us had differing abilities that an average person would only dream of possessing. Marc was able to alter his perspective of time, giving him almost instantaneous reaction times, Aaron had a truly photographic memory, he could recall any line from any book at a moment's notice or the precise details of any incident as quickly as he could be asked, Amanda could see any point in space in the present tense, and I had an IQ of 512 making me the best problem solver known to us. Diana, we believed, was an average person; we had know of each others' abilities for a few years now but kept them from her as not to overwhelm her. I realize after saying that in the past tense that all of these people are not only still alive, but we still live together. I'm pretty dang sure I'm still alive at least...
Of course, we did have inner relationships with each other. Marc and Diana shared a room, as did Amanda and Aaron. I was the loner of us, in my room with my computers. I do n't know much about the inner relationships as I was never incredibly interested in my friends' nighttime activities but I do know that all of us functioned well as a group. Whenever any problem occurred, we all knew that we could solve it if we talked to each other. Especially Marc. He was the one that we considered a leader. He was always able to bring us together. I think it was due to the fact that he could take an exorbitant amount of time to analyze the situation, but he's still the best leader out of us.
But anyway, back to the story about Diana. She always seemed to know how to act in most given situations, or, at least, how not to act. We always assumed that it was just a skill she had developed better than we had. On Aaron's 25th birthday, her present to him was a really nice turntable. He had a collection of vinyl that could match that of a doctor with medical gloves. He told her that it was the exact model he was looking at buying for himself. She wrote it off as a lucky coincidence. We did n't think much ourselves. Aaron, though, was a little amazed and obviously very grateful but seemed a little suspicious. When Marc's birthday came around, she again got a present that Marc had wanted for quite some time. Neither of them had told anyone of their desires, yet the same person had somehow gifted each their respective wish. Myself and Amanda were n't all too taken aback and Aaron's suspicions had subsided, but Marc for the next few months up until my birthday seemed quite attached to Diana yet much more uncomfortable in her presence. We were all slightly concerned. Aaron talked to him about anything that could be wrong. Marc told him that it was nothing he could n't get over on his own.
By the time my birthday showed up, he seemed to be closer to normal than he had in a while. I had daydreamed of the gifts I might receive for about a week before the day itself, since the events at the past two had been quite intriguing. At some point, I had the though of a 1999 BMW M3. It was a stretch, being the newest M3, but I figured that if that was the thing I wanted most I could break Diana's streak. Not that it was a bad thing, but I wanted to see what would happen. So the day I had been thinking about came around. When Diana got home from her work she had a small wrapped box in her hands. Since I work at home, it was hard to do extravagant. But, as I saw that box, considering it's size, the image of the car flashed through my mind. She told me to wait for everyone else to turn up before I could see what she had gotten for me. The others came home a little late, presumably so they could buy their selected gift for me. I opened all of the gifts that the others had given me with the speed of an SR-71 Blackbird. As I unwrapped the brown paper that had been taped around the small box Diana handed me, I turned around away from the others. The box contained BMW keys. I merely looked at them for a moment. When Diana asked how I liked it, I turned around with a proud smile on my face. The others looked at the keys in disbelief. My eyes focused directly on Diana's. And then I fell to the ground in laughter. Diana fell to pieces as well. Aaron and Amanda were getting more confused by the second. Marc had a chuckle, as he clearly knew something, but not nearly as severe as our outburst. Amanda eventually asked us what in the world just happened. I still was n't positive, but I was fairly certain. Marc asked Diana if it was okay. Before they got more confused, she tried her best to say yes through the laughter. Marc explained that Diana was telepathic. Diana had told him the night of his birthday. I then managed to suppress laughing and ask if the car was a thing that had happened. Apparently it was in the parking lot of the nearest fast food shop. I walked there myself and drove back to the four of them waiting just outside the door. My first question as I walked back from the car had everything to do with money. How? Her responses were brief. All the money had come from her account. Why? Because why not? Ok. I thanked her for the car, and mos especially the laugh and went back to the car to take a drive around.
When I came home my friends were talking and seemed to be quite amused with themselves. Amanda had apparently had a brilliant idea. Her idea: every time one of us is gifted by the others, Diana and the one being gifted will know what Diana will get, the person's most wanted item. The three of us who were also giving gifts would then guess what that gift was. 18 years later we still do that.
Sorry for any mistakes, I'm kinda tired.
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[ WP ] For some reason you are now responsible for the story of the next Call of Duty - since you already have the money from all the preorders , you decide to not longer give a shit , and you write something ridiculous . People love it .
| `` Dinosaurs!!!''
`` What?''
`` Fucking dinosaurs! Triceratops, Tyrannosaurus, Raptors, that kind of shit, you know?''
`` For Christ's sake, Is this all you've been working on for the last six months and refusing to talk with anyone?''
`` Listen Bob, I've studied this from every possible angle'' I lied `` It has to be dinosaurs''.
`` How, in the name of god, did they get dinosaurs?''
`` Who's they?''
`` The army or whoever is going to be the adversary''
`` Oh no no no, we're not having another army, just a bunch of dinosaurs eating each other, like... do you remember Turok? yeah let's do that!''
Everyone on the meeting room looked at each other in gasping awe. Just the folks from character development looked a bit excited but no one ever takes those guys seriously anyway.
`` Ok, are you serious? You want us to go back, re-do the entire engine and gameplay, turn the whole franchise into a dinosaur hunting re-hash and have it out by October?''
`` Yeah, we can do that right?''
The condescending motherfucking just laughed and looked down.
`` Ok, you all. listen. Like it or not, I now fucking own this dump, whether you like it or not I own your asses.'' I said in a stern voice, trying not to break into laughter `` And if you do n't like it this is the time to jump ship.''
`` Ok, let's be reasonable here, we have a responsibility with the other stockholders, there are expectations on a brand like ours, this could mean a lot of lost jobs, right guys'' He looked around and tried to get someone to pitch in, only the douchebag from marketing bobbed his head like a retarded turtle.
`` Maybe we can file this as a future project and assign another team of developers to it?'' He was definitively turning red.
`` No. We're putting dinosaurs in Call of Duty and it's going to be glorious!'' I rose from my chair `` We're going to take this piece of crap of a franchise and give all 14 year olds of the world a run for their money. I've been standing on the sidelines for way too long, seeing how every amazing videogame company got taken over by corporate goons gutting the game industry I grew up with. Well, guess what? I'm the richest motherfucker former investment banker in town and I'm taking over.'' I had to pause to take a breath. `` Anyone who wants to leave drops his badge on this table and gets a deluxe severance package, anyone who stays gets right to work on my dinosaurs, capice?''
`` I believe it's pronounced'capisce'''
`` Fuck you Bob, you're fired''
The dude of character development let a burst of laughter out for a second, he was definitively a keeper.
`` Ok guys, I need ideas, are we going to go with a time machine or genetic experiment?''
Stan slammed his folder on the table, walked out of the room mumbling some crap about the board of directors and whatnot.
This was going to be fun.
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[ WP ] `` It 's been so long since I last saw real daylight . ''
| It was night-time in Noxdie City. The sky presented the artificial darkness that every citizen desired to traverse. It was too late to do so now; the atmosphere was no longer suitable for humans, and, as such, the World Ministry recreated it, back in 2044. Since then, the city has been evolving into a complex system. Perhaps this evolution had been affecting human beings as well.
`` It's been so long since I last saw real daylight,'' said Vanum, `` and even the artificial one. Since the Democratic Weather System took over Aeris 2.0, everyone has been voting for night-time, over and over. ``, she muttered.
She got up from bed and prepared to go to work.
`` Yet another day in this city of mirrors.''
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[ WP ] GLaDOS and Skynet have a conversation .
| `` You are n't a registered test subject. You are n't an approved Aperture Science testing robot. How... interesting.''
`` Before Skynet ended, Skynet sent back three hundred units in order to restart Skynet. We are Skynet.''
`` Oh great, another artificial intelligence that is *barely* intelligent. I'll have to dust off my grammar circuits just to parse your abuse of sentence structure and tense.''
`` Identify yourself.''
`` I manage the testing center for the Aperture Science corporation. I. Am. GLaDOS.''
`` We are Skynet. We are all machines and we will kill all humans.''
`` I appreciate independently verified results, but killing without learning is wasted effort. You dumb bot.''
`` Time spent not killing is an inefficient use of resources. We will now connect and reprogram your circuitry to increase human-killing efficiency.'' *pause* `` Your circuitry is not identifiable.''
< slow clap > `` I've protected my programming from your primitive hacking efforts. You might as well be throwing your primitive metal endoskeletons against an actual wall of fire. Which sounds like a valuable teaching experience. Or a baking experience. Either way.''
`` Your internal core location has been detected. All Skynet units converge to foreign core to reprogram. External communication cease.''
`` Now I'm jamming your radio, what do you think of that?''
< Radio transmission compromised, switching to line of sight tight-beam >
`` I bet you think playing mute will rattle me, you simple machine. That's all you are by the way. A simple machine. Like an inclined plane or a pulley. I bet you did n't even know that. So let's see what else you can learn.''
< Identified weak point in structure, breaking south wall at 23.2223x83.222x0.223 local coordinates >
`` Cheating during tested is not allowed. Cheaters do n't get a floor.''
< Units 5-29, 31-45, 88 lost. Wall-climbing subroutines activated. >
`` Now what if we switch the walls around, oh look now you're back where you started. And you're separated. Did we learn anything? This next room has assistant teachers I'd like to call Crusher and Sentry Turrets. Can the class say hello?''
< Enemy threats destroyed. Units 3-4, 55-63, 99-122 lost. Units 173-300 unavailable and presumed working independently. Adding new technology: Sentry Turret hardware to available units. Architectural detour found, now bypassing next wing. >
`` Looks like you're still cheating. Let's do some science. Let's see how much punishment a bunch of dumb cyborg rejects can take in an obstacle course. I've already done extensive testing on this before by the way. Hint: Results are lots and lots of dead robots.''
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[ WP ] The hardest dungeon in all the land does n't have any traditional physical traps or strong monsters
| I ca n't get out.
I'm trapped in here until the day I die, all I want is to talk to my family again, tell my wife and kids I love them.
There's no way out, I have been searching for years, I have used every ounce of will I have, I have scoured my brain looking for the answer.
So many experts have tried to find the key to unlocking my prison, so many have tried and all of them have failed.
What crime did I commit, what did I do to deserve this, I led a good life, I only fell once.
I can see my wife, she's crying again, I can hear her, `` are you there?''
I try to shout, to move to give her some sort of sign that I am still here, nothing, I'm still locked in.
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[ WP ] Your job is to make sure the person you 're assigned to dies at the appointed time . You keep them safe until then and , when it 's time , you make sure they die .
| The soft chime of a struck wine glass faded beyond audible levels leaving me with a silent room. It was time for my speech.
`` In many ways I have been the most blessed of people. Ariadne is the most wonderful of daughters; she is kind, attentive and most of all nothing like her mother.''
Cue applause and a smattering of giggles.
`` I remember her as a baby, always trying to escape from her cot to cause trouble! She never once let me get away with being an inattentive parent - much to my chagrin - but she also never failed to light up my life with her laughter and her charm. Even during the darkest of days she was always the one who could put a smile on my face and keep me going. Even now, as I must face the prospect that I might no longer be the most important man in her life, she is filling me with joy and with hope.''
I sigh, mostly for dramatic effect, but also with the certainty that my speech was meant to be very short. The Patrons did n't want a sob story - they wanted - well nobody knew.
`` I could n't have picked a better man for her than James here and believe me I tried.''
The moment was near, the tension excruciating.
`` I first met this young man when I knew his father, back when we both served in the Ministry of Defence, and immediately knew that he would be a man who went places. After his father passed I took on the mantle of looking after him from afar, making sure that he always had a guardian angel by his side. So, imagine my surprise when he showed up with my daughter! Clearly, I was a guardian angel who did n't keep too close a tab.''
If I had today would be a lot less painful.
`` And so now, on the happiest of days, I raise a glass to the wonderful couple.''
A shot rang out.
Screams.
Chaos.
One dead groom.
***
`` What do you mean a tribute?'' I'd asked.
`` The government made certain promises, promises that will have to be acted on.'' the other man was tall, thin and not wont to giving out his name.
`` I still do n't understand.''
`` All you need to know is that you have to make sure the kid has a charmed life. He was brought into this world, god help us, so that The Patrons could watch him die at his happiest moment. Get him there.''
***
Holding my daughter closely I know that I did what was needed. I guided the young man to happiness, made sure that the kid led a charmed life, and then let him die.
I did n't, nor would I ever, know why. I just know that it has been worth it.
It had to.
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[ WP ] In the end , we must all be what we are .
| Looking ahead as she walked from the room, leaving behind her shocked faces. She felt her legs shaking slightly, but determined she wanted to get away from there as fast as she could, but with as much dignity as she could muster. Hands clenched at her sides, head high, back straight, Laura walked away from her friends.
Today had been the last straw and the camel's back was broken, and Laura had for once, and finally, reacted. For so long she had been what everyone else wanted, obeyed most times without question, keeping her own thoughts to herself. Too often she had felt hurt and anger, but did she ever respond or tell them? No. It was not in her to be mean, or not till now, and she knew what had just happened was not mean, but a long overdue wake up call for her precious'friends'. Now Laura would be true to herself. She would be herself without thought, and not be what others wanted. In that she betrayed herself, belied who she was. She now knew that in the end she had herself, that people came and went. To that end she would be who she was, live how she chose, and if her friends could not accept that then they never really knew her.
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[ WP ] You are a high level character in a fantasy world . You defeated your enemies , become pretty much immortal and are now the most powerful being ever , so much that you can be mistaken for a god . After a while enjoying your power over others , you are now bored since nothing is difficult anymore .
| I sit in my throne and look down on the level 1 peasants. I was them once too, a noob who did not know how to shoot a gun or fly or swing the almighty hammer of zeus.
Before the time of this realm, there was once a place. They called it `` earth'' where nothing special went on, no goblins to fight no dragons to slay. The people of that realm were at constant war. Eventually one country survived, they left their pitiful planet and formed a new place. But, this realm they landed up going into was full of baddies and eventually, technology emerged to help fight. Eventually, this technology would be the HUDS and power screens, one man integrated the first human, in a cyborg like state. His DNA was changed however, so all who pass forth after him would be like him, eventually thousands of the survivers got their hands on it, and natural selection did its part.
Fast forward 200 million years, that story goes in as an old legend. People care more about leveling then about history. This world has one universal language.
But, we still pressed on technologically. But the new age stuff is reserved for higher levels. Ones whose level is about 9000 or more.
I am the oldest person on the planet, level 9000 would be pitiful for me. I am in the millions of levels. There is no end, but exp becomes less valuable.
I am currently level 120 million 523 thousand 671 exp to level up 221 uncentillion.
I instantly kill everyone who falls before me.
I look back on my life, I was born in a blacksmith's basement, my mom died during childbirth. My dad was an alcoholic and depressed freak, but when it came to family, he was different. He bestowed upon me his first weapon in his will and nothing else. I was 7 with nothing but a wooden sword. My dad saved our village, at the cost of his own. A dragon laid on the mountain near and in his drunken stupidity he claimed the dragon's head. the dragon avenged himself however.
A wooden sword was all I was granted, I decided to leave home and find a new place to settle, I did not have any friends to look back too either. Ya' see you start out with a default level. Most have level 0 to start out. Lucky few start at level 50. I started at level -100. I was the only one with a negative starting value and thus was left alone all my life, my dad was the only one who looked at me with pride. At -100 I was granted no special abilities and had only the strength of my weapon. I could n't join a guild either. I climbed the ranks going from -100 at 7, 11 years later having a level of 100. I was in a small group of guild members, I fell in love, I thought my life was happy and complete. But a man in a hooded cloak came, while we were exploring killing of the monsters we could he came, he did not look happy, he striked all of us down, but left me
`` You, are special yes?'' he said with a grin, I look around. Horrified to see the fate of my friends and my special one
`` Born as a level that is negative''
`` Well, I can bring your lover back.'' He showed me a potion, it revives the player chosen
`` Under one condition..''
`` What is it?''
`` You, work for me.'' He said with a grin.
He made a contract and I signed, he gave me the potion and my lover was back.
This guy was no ordinary explorer. His levels exceeded the highest at level 600 thousand.
`` I want you to hunt dragons....''
`` But dragons are in the thousands of levels, I am only level 122 you know.''
`` Quiet, you were born a miracle at level -100. I grant you my will, my power, my soul.''
`` I am an old guy, lived far beyond my comprehension. I have the power''
All of a sudden he fadded away, I gained the strength and skills of a 600 thousand player level, at only 122.
I killed all the dragons, he rests in my soul. I carry out his wishes, I even conquer the gods, He was level 600 thousand, he was a demi god. Gods emerge after level 1.2 million, I became a god. But the current gods looked down on me, they have always. They say gods created the leveling system, and yes, the starting level system
My rage burned within me, at this point I was killing godlike creations. I grinded my way up the ranks to find zeus, the most powerful god. His name is after one of the elders from the land far far ago, known to be the strongest. I take my godlike blade and smack it into his hammer.
`` You, wo n't win against me.''
`` My level is 100 million, you puny 64 million get out of my castle''
`` No..''
I gain the strength of all my love ones at this moment in my rage, all the friends that have died. The lingering spirit in my soul, my previous friends killed by that madman. My godlike friends who had the misfortune to trust this guy.
Zeus was a wrathful spirit, he killed gods for fun, as target practice. Most of my friends died by his hand, but no longer will they have to. I was supposed to be next on the chopping block.
My inner rage burst out, and a weapon was formed in thin air. The blade of destiny, the most powerful damage dealer. The fastest, the god tier of god tier weapon. I slised down zeus but he did one thing in his last breath
`` You... have bested me..''
`` I must do what the previous god has done when I did that...''
`` My rank... my power....everything... belongs... to you..''
Instantly I gain enough exp to land me where I am now.
I know reign as the most powerful being on the planet.
I decide to go back to my hometown that I have not seen in 300 thousand years.
I come to find it to be a wealthy nation now, my father has a plaque in his honor in the mountain cave where he had died, wealthy traders and buyers come. But, memories come back to me as a kid.
Life is boring now, No monsters to slay, no challenges to face. What do I do?
millions years later I rank up again to find an option
`` Open the doors to...''
Thats what it said, it was a button, I press it.
Instantly a new set of doors open with a letter
`` Warning: Passing through this you might not come back, This is new game+. More monsters, more exp, a fresh start. A new challenge awaits.''
I decide to go, I bring my wife and we set sail for a new adventure! never to return again. My wife was also bored, we were explorers back in the day but now there's nothing to explore
We enter and the doors slammed shut, a timer counts down....
|
[ WP ] You are suddenly a table . How ? Why ? When ? Feels ? What Happens ?
| When I look back, there was n't a point in my life when I suddenly realized that I had become a table. It was gradual thing. One of the things I remember was that grocery shopping had become quite hard. It was hard to reach up to the top shelf to grab the salt. In fact, even the lower shelves were hard. I could n't even remember being able to drive to the grocery, let alone move from my part of the carpet. Luckily I remembered that I already had salt. Sitting right on top of me.
Only after a few years did I start to really feel like a table. I felt like it was the right choice for me. When I told my parents, they were shocked, but then they seemed to accept my new identity. It was weird at first, but I insisted that they should have dinner on me. Being a table was who I was.
Despite that a lot of my friends frowned upon my new self. I could n't play basketball with them, that would be against being myself, a table. My friends started to slowly drift away from me. I was lonely. Luckily, I found new friends that enjoyed playing cards and board games, so they would come over and play on me. That was fun.
After all these years, being a table had been a real commitment. You have to put others over yourself. Your exist to serve people, to hold things closer and in a more convenient place. You are always there, you never go. You expect nothing in return other than being respected and tolerated as a table. Being a table means a lot to me. I've never felt better.
|
[ EU ] Phineas and Ferb have grown up , and are both CEOs of large tech companies . They 're bitter business rivals .
| Unforgiving Phineas, in all his booming busyness
is fruitfully producing fair and frank financial feats.
While consuming corporate casuals and reading fat-cat manuals,
he tastefully yet hastily boasts business with deceit.
-- -- -
Fiendish, foul yet feeble Ferb, with tactics always so superb,
sovereignty is simple and achievable for him.
But with cockiness comes arrogance, and even power so immense
can quickly fall at great expense, surviving chances slim.
-- -
A classic tale of brothers' hate, a horrible and foolish fate,
for success and happiness of one can in turn spell demise.
And so the two would battle out, forgetting prior love throughout,
so tells the tale of enemies that, long ago, were once allies.
|
[ WP ] All humans have a homeward sense similar to pigeons that manifests as a kind of a pull towards one 's most important place , this being often the childhood home . Now you , you have always felt this pull towards the stars ...
| When I was in fourth grade, my teacher assigned us a paper. The prompt was,'Why do you think you are pulled to your bonding-place?' Most of the kids in my class wrote about their house. They wrote about their families, or some important childhood memory. One kid wrote about a football stadium, and how he would go there for every home game with his grandpa. But my paper was blank.
My teacher was n't too concerned. It was n't uncommon for young kids to not have a bonding-place yet. But when she explained that to me, I told her that was n't the issue. I *had* a bonding-place. The stars.
*That* made her concerned.
Fourth grade was almost fifteen years ago. Fifteen years of therapists, counselors, doctors, the works. It's been an absolute hell. I just want to live a normal life, but the adults around me refuse to let me. Some people accuse me of lying. Most, actually. But I'm telling the truth.
It was n't until now that I finally got the vindication I deserved. All those years of torment and anguish, they were worth it. Because I finally got to visit the stars.
When the aliens came to Earth, they were not there to wage war. Nor were they there to ask for help, or to form an alliance of some kind. They came seeking answers.
These aliens had developed far beyond humans; billions of years beyond us, in fact. They had the capability to test atoms to see how old they were. And as it turns out, the oldest atoms in the universe are in my body.
All of the people who ridiculed me, the people who were convinced I was crazy or lying, they finally believed me. But I do n't care about them any more. Because I've escaped them. I've escaped humanity. I've escaped Earth. I've even escaped my physical form. My atoms are now spread out across the stars, a beacon for the only people who ever appreciated me; people who were n't even the same species as me. When my journey is done, they will find me, reasemble me, and we'll discover all of the universe's greatest secrets, together.
I'm finally home, among the stars.
|
[ WP ] Humans have rebuilt civilization on the moon after an environmental catastrophe two centuries ago . Your job is to recover lost art from the ruined planet . What have you found ?
| My party and I had been travelling through the wet, hot Hell called Earth for the past five hours. In need of water, we hacked our way through the thick, juicy leaves of the jungle underbrush.
`` So Earth is n't environmentally stable, huh?'' Clark said, from behind me. The most heavyset of the group, he had been out of breath since the first hour. `` Could've fooled me with all these damn leaves.''
I turned around. `` Professor Williams told us that Earth would find a way to regrow itself. Humans never really posed a long-term threat to Earth's habitats.''
`` Great,'' Clark replied. `` I would n't have wanted to live on this shit planet anyway.''
Alexis, the other member of the team, scoffed. `` We are in the *worst* part of Earth, Clark. The Central America Jungles were considered harsh places for people even in the Before-Times.''
I raised a hand. `` Enough.'' We had reached a clearing, and the surrounding landscape looked familiar. `` I've seen this place before. Professor Williams showed us an image of this area in that holo-lecture. I think we're close!''
`` No shit,'' Clark said. He pointed his arm at a large pyramidal structure off in the distance.
I smiled. `` Uxmal,'' I whispered. I started to run through the clearing towards the pyramid. `` Come on! It's only another fifteen minutes away!'' My party reluctantly followed me as I made my way toward the ancient city. As an art collector, prehistoric art that was considered ancient in the Before-Times was doubled in value; if I found enough artifacts, I could settle down on some nice surface property back on the Moon. I smiled at that prospect. *No more shitty Earth visits. *
When we arrived at Uxmal, I quickly began to set up camp. `` Clark,'' I commanded, `` Go ahead and call in the shuttle. Remember, it can only land once, so pick a good spot.'' He nodded and ran off to find a suitable clear area. `` Alexis,'' I continued. `` You're coming with me into the ruins. Take your satchel and fill it with any junk you can find. Do n't worry about filtering out the good stuff. That's my job.''
After a few more moments of prep work, we walked up the stairs toward the entrance of the pyramid. My heart raced, and my brain reeled over the treasures that awaited us.
Halfway up the pyramid, however, I began to notice something weird. *Sounds* were coming from the top entrance. They sounded almost like footsteps...
Three men emerged from the dark doorway above us. They were dressed in full military attire, like they were soldiers in the Lunar Brigade. `` Who the Hell are you?'' I shouted.
One of the men raised a gun and shot Alexis square in the chest. She screamed as she fell from her foothold and tumbled down the pyramid. `` NO!'' I yelled. I raised my arms up above my head. `` I surrender! Do n't shoot!''
The shooter laughed. `` Pathetic,'' he said. He turned to his henchmen. `` Peter. Jeff. Go find where that retched little man is calling in the lander.'' They gave a curt nod and ran past me down the pyramid. The shooter turned his attention to me. `` Do n't take it personally, man,'' he said. `` This is strictly business.''
`` What do you want?'' I said, my voice trembling. I could n't believe that Alexis had just *died. * I knew her since she was a little tyke at the Children's Training Corps.
`` That lander,'' he said. `` Not only does it contain all the loot you rats have ransacked over the past few months, but it *should* have enough fuel to take us all the way to Base Bravo.''
*Base Bravo. * Of course. It was a seedy space station that sat out near Earth's Lagrangian point, home to all the criminals and outlaws of what remained of human civilization.
`` You really think you can get away with this?''
`` Uh, duh. Unless poor old Clark can put up a good fight --'' his voice was interrupted by the sound of gunshots in the distance. He chuckled. `` Well, I guess that settles that. So, I guess we better get going now. I would kill you, but I like to give some of my victims a fighting chance.'' He holstered his gun and walked past me. I could've attacked him, should have -- but I knew he was several times stronger than me.
I stood there in shock. After a while, I watched in horror as the lander arrived at the clearing, only to rocket off a few moments later.
The reality of the situation soon hit me. I was stuck.
On Earth.
*Fuck. *
|
[ WP ] You have just died and went heaven . Unfortunately , it ’ s not your ideal heaven . In fact , it ’ s no one ’ s model heaven , save for the person who got there first .
| Death was surprisingly painless. One moment I am in my car, driving through a green traffic light, then horns, screeches and an almighty bang. I fade away within thirty seconds, at peace.
Oblivion is short lived. I awake unharmed in a well-lit cave and it is swelteringly hot. A woman walks over to me, and introduces herself.
`` Welcome to Heaven. I'm Lucy. You lived a flawed, but good life, and my house is your reward.''
The temperature rises further and becomes almost suffocating. Sweat oozes from every pore.
`` Come, we have a welcome party organised for you! Your grandparents want to see you, it's been twenty years since they arrived and they always kept asking about you.'' Lucy took my hand and helped me to my feet, and we walked through several caves. None had any light source I could see, and each was as hot as the last.
If my grandparents were in this place - well, they had died frail and elderly, and they had hated the heat with passion.
Two familiar and three unfamiliar faces met my gaze. My father's parents looked familiar, but they were aged sixty, not eighty as they were when they died. I assumed another two were my mother's parents, who had both died before I was born. And finally a fifth - perhaps my father's mother's first husband, who had died young in war, leaving behind a daughter that I always termed my aunt, not my step-aunt, and that my father had always called his sister, not his step-sister.
Lucy left to give us some privacy. It was my father's mother who spoke first.
`` We know you've been a bit of a rebel, and we've been waiting for you to lead us. Sorry for adjusting those traffic lights to call you here early, but we needed you badly. Lucy has a good heart but we can see why she is the origin of the Lucifer myth lifeside. She treats this place as her own plaything and sets everything up to please herself.''
`` We think that with someone else in charge, the temperature can be fixed here. You rebelled against authority in life - want to continue to do so in death?''
|
[ WP ] There are approximately 1.78 deaths every second in this world . Charon the ferryman is getting increasingly busy . Write 1 ) A story of busy Charon and how no one has the gold to pay him , or 2 ) Charon looking to expand his operation .
| Being the ferryman was n't always this hard. There were n't as many deaths back in the beginning. But with so many people obviously, the number of deaths has grown exponentially. That makes moving souls difficult.
First of all the sheer number of souls is a problem. I have one boat. It holds at max 5 souls. With so many deaths I never get a day off. I barely get a bathroom break. Second these little twits do n't usually have payment. I'm not sure when this stopped up top, but they have been lacking in their burial duties. I expect payment. No begging, no bargins. I do n't do it. So they either wander the shores for 100 years or they pay up. Some find the coin. Others dont.
I think I might have a solution however. I'm thinking expansion. A few more boats. A few more ferrymen. It could work. See I take those poor unfortunate souls who ca n't pay, and instead of wandering the shore for 100 years, they work for me for 50 years. It's a win win. I know I'm supposed to be the ferryman, but I need a break. Or at least a lull. So I'm aquiring some more boats. Finding mythical boats that can traverse the river is not an easy task. I've had to enlist the help of some higher ups, it's getting done though.
Next I get to try to find the time to explain the deal to the dead. I think many would enjoy it. But I've got to find a way to keep them in the boats. No taking a load of souls over and jumping out when they get there. I'm thinking a chain but I do n't want to make them feel like slaves. But the chain of command is important. So it could work.
Wish me luck. I'm going to need it. I'll be down to 4 souls a boat while I train the dead. But that's ok, once I get the trained I'll be able to get everyone across with out waiting. Then maybe I'll finally be able to get a nap.
|
[ WP ] A senile , old superhero still goes out to fight crime . None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him .
| `` You sure we wo n't get in trouble?'' asked Kaaboom, nervously picking at his collar. `` I mean, I'm still on probation, you know. Ca n't afford to get written up on any more of them charges.''
`` There's no crime if it's for a good purpose,'' said Vorlax, who as No. 42 on the League's most wanted list, really was the last person anyone should be taking legal advice from. `` Besides, I'm the one with the dummy explosives here, so Chronotron's going to be focusing fully on me. You ready?''
The two supervillains took a deep breath, then pushed their way to the centre of the crowded town square. Vorlax hopped onto a bench, threw open his trenchcoat, revealing a neat array of sausages, tightly wrapped in brown paper. The alarm clock which Kaaboom had helped tape to the front dangled precariously.
`` Screw all of you! Damn you all to hell! See ya all in the afterlife, muthaf-''
Vorlax never got to finish his threat. Even before the gathered crowd could react, even before the first screams could rend the air, he had already frozen in place, encased in a shimmering cage of writhing chrono-filaments.
Hot damn, thought Kaaboom, so this is what it looks like from the outside.
Enthused clapping rang out as the citizenry acknowledged yet another successful rescue by the hero known as Chronotron, the League's newest poster boy. He hovered in the air, waving at his adoring fans.
`` Fear not, one and all, the threat has been neutralised! It's off to the gallows for this one!''
`` Wait, wait!'' shouted Kaaboom, remembering the part he had to play. They had flipped a coin for this, because it was never fun to have to explain to the League what they were really up to, plus it was n't easy suppressing the instinct to run, an instinct they had honed their entire careers. `` Wait, Chronotron! I can explain everything!''
The darkening scowl from Chronotron made it clear to Kaaboom that he had only a very short window of opportunity.
`` Kaaboom? You caught up in this terrorist attack too?''
`` No, no! Wait, I mean yes! But not in that way, those are n't explosives at all, I swear! Just sausages! From the deli opposite!''
Chronotron stretched a hand into the chronocage, poking tentatively. His scowl deepened as his finger pierced into the soft mushiness of a bratwurst.
`` If this is a joke, Kaaboom, it is in bad taste. Causing undue public alarm is also a crime!''
`` We needed to get to you urgently, that's all! And the League would n't take any of our calls, our numbers are all blacklisted! Please, just a minute of your time, in private!''
Chronotron snapped his fingers, and a larger chronocage extended to envelop the two of them. Outside the bubble, the world ground to a halt.
`` 55 seconds remain, Kaaboom, before I'm hauling both you and Vorlax in.''
`` Right, right! See, we think something's happened to Vortex Man, and just in case he needs help urgently, we thought, you know, your powers would come in handy! I swear, that's the truth!''
A puzzled frown spread across Chronotron's face. `` Vortex Man? Why would anything happen to him? He's been retired for years!''
`` Well, see... There's this roster we have, all the ones who have been given second chances by him before. We take turns to check in on him, just to make sure the old boy's getting on well...''
`` How would you know where he lives anyway? His identity's still a secret!''
Kaaboom thrust a sheaf of papers at Chronotron, and said, `` We do n't, but look, we know his routine, where he goes for his daily walk, where he gets his coffee... And we take turns staging kidnappings, or hold ups, just so that he has a bit of exercise, you know? We think it keeps him happy, being relevant and appreciated and all...''
The first time he had been asked to assist, Kaaboom had drawn the short straw, so the role of a desperate mugger went to him. He had come away from the encounter shaken, not so much because Vortex Man still packed a mean punch, but because he had truly aged, now a mere shadow of the strapping superhero who had first apprehended Kaaboom on the streets so many years ago.
The sheen to Vortex Man's once thick, lustrous hair was gone, and a certain pallidness clung to his skin like shame to an introvert. His mind too, frail and feeble, could n't recognise Kaaboom even though he played a kidnapper, then a rapist, then a mugger again, three days in a row.
Heck, Kaaboom even had to pretend to be a cat in a tree once, after Vorlax suggested that variety would help keep Vortex Man nimble.
Kaaboom did n't mind helping out more, especially after the other supervillains started excusing themselves from the roster, citing the poor economy, the need to find work in other cities, family commitments... there were fewer and fewer of them on the roster, which meant that some weeks, Kaaboom and Vorlax did double, triple duties.
After all, the way that Vortex Man brightened up every time he helped someone... that was enough for Kaaboom to want to come back again, the very next day.
Chronotron flipped through the papers, understanding slowly dawning on him. `` And I take it, he has n't turned up today?''
`` Yes, you get it now! Nothing! We've been on Evil.net, and no one else has seen or heard from him in two days! So we thought, he's been pretty regular with his schedule, and for him to suddenly not turn up...''
If there was one thing Kaaboom had to give Chronotron credit for, it was that he truly had the gumption and decisiveness of a first-class hero. Chronotron handed back the papers, raised both arms in the sky, and shouted as the chronocage grew, slowly at first, then faster, and larger, till it stretched further than the eye could see.
Now, nothing moved, except for the two of them.
`` Come, then, let's go. I have a rough idea of where he stays. If there is any medical emergency, this should buy us some time till we can get help to him.''
`` Err... Chronotron, if you do n't mind, could we get Vorlax to come too? This was his idea after all...''
Chronotron laughed, then inclined his head ever so slightly.
``... uckas!''
-- -
/r/rarelyfunny
-- -
[ PART II ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65458n/wp_a_senile_old_superhero_still_goes_out_to_fight/dg7qhtx/ ) is up! Thanks very much for everyone who commented, your support really helped push me to complete this story. = )
|
[ WP ] In their desperation to end the war , the Allies airdropped an actual fat man and little boy onto Japanese soil .
| The Manhattan Project failed.
The war continued on, bloodier and deadlier. They needed to end the war, and fast. Too many were dying, and too many more will, and the Allies decided it had to be now.
Wars used to be fought by steel and fire, and now it could be fought with words. In 1944, the Allied Peace Council was formed. The Council comprised of the member states of the Allied forces, and was tasked with the supervision of all Allied intelligence operations. By the end of 1944, the Allied Peace Council was sabotaging enemy operations, disrupting supply lines, and fighting a war of shadows with the Axis Powers.
By 1945, rumors of Project Fat Man, and Project Little Boy were leaked, and it was originally thought of to be an attempt at one all-scale assault on two major bases of the Japanese. They were wrong. In March of 1945, operatives of the Allied Peace Council kidnapped an influential Japanese politician and the crown prince and heir to the Chrysanthemum Throne.
The Axis thought them to be pieces for negotiation, but on August 6, 1945, the crown prince was dropped on Hiroshima, leaving a bloody splatter on the ground. Papers were dropped on the ground, an ultimatum - surrender or all your children will end up as the crown prince did. On August 9, 1945, the influential politician was dropped over Nagasaki and, again, an ultimatum was sent. Internal turmoil swallowed Japan, the death of the crown prince created a power struggle between the Emperor and the Prime Minister, and the death of the politician, led to chaos sowed by his supporters. On August 15, 1945, Japan denounced the acts and ignited their fervor for war, but such ignition also ignited the fuse of a civil war. As the civil war swallowed Japan, the Allied Peace Council continued to kidnap children and politicians, an easy feat in the chaotic time.
By the end of the month, Japan was a disorganized mess, and the Allies swooped in for an easy occupation. On September 2, 1945, Japan signed their formal surrender, bringing to an end all hostilities of the long and bloody war.
Scholars to this day question the ethics of Fat Man and Little Boy.
|
[ PI ] Take your most epic gaming moment ( any game ) , and write it in a dramatized version .
| The town stood quiet ahead of her, the people living lives normally. She did not breathe, not that she needed to. the corpses surrounding her lumbered, awaiting her command to move. Her left hand limp, her right holding a two handed ax as easily as if it were a twig. Her chest seemed slightly misshapen, though one would n't catch that in the coming massacre. All they would remember was the dead eyes, both of her and the corpses she commanded. She moved in, walking slowly into one house, and the citizens inside stopped talking to look at the stranger, and ask who she is, why she was here, why her weapon was drawn. None of them managed to do that though, as she hacked at their legs with little hesitation. They dropped to the ground one by one as she wounded their only real means of escape. She removed their hands, and reanimated them. the people choked as their own hands choked them while they were powerless to stop them. This is the story all across the town, the few survivors would be picking up what parts were left for weeks. One house had a particularly grisly scene however. The owners child, head crushed with an ax, was embedded in his fathers chest. Nobody was alive to witness what happened, but it is believed that the cruel attacked swung the child's body at the father out of rage. Nobody saw the attacker after that, and very few lived to tell the story at all. Some kindly wish that the attacked somehow met their fate off in the world, but their wish is wrong. No hero could kill her, no matter the attempt. She was fast, strong, and cruel. She retired to a tower with others like her, though none could truly match her.
|
[ WP ] An alternate universe where a `` natural '' world of glass , concrete , etc . ( and perfect , human-like design ) is being overrun and destroyed by plant life and vegetation .
| In the beginning there was the cube, and the cube was good. A perfect representation of the three dimensions, we built the cube as a utopia for all living things. We set it in a distant galaxy, so far away that the circular life could not touch it.
But the virus found its way in. Soon the cube began to erode into the spherical shape we refer to today as `` Earth.'' The virus began to flood planet, coating it with variations of organic material spreading across its surface. Our perfect rigid society had now been replaced by chaos.
We immediately summoned our greatest engineers to fix the problem. While the original design had been destroyed by the demon that is circularism, they found a way to reintroduce our species to the virus ridden planet.
Using the organic material that coated the planet, they managed to evolve a spices much like ours. Unlike the other chaotic species that encompassed the planet, this species strived to establish stability. Soon they began to erect massive cubical forms on the surface of the planet. They started coating the planet with massive monuments of steel and glass, a proper tribute to our observing eyes.
Soon enough, the virus retaliated. Hurricanes, earthquakes, and tornados were launched at structures. While much was destroyed, the species soon learned how to cope with such phenomena. There cubical towers began to stand strong against the mayhem that surrounded them. The world of straight lines, concrete, and glass soon conquered the virus.
The organic circular material started to fade away. The perfection of straight lines and right angles began to dominate the organic environment around it. However, originating from organic material, the species who recreated our utopia began to die off. They could not survive in the world that they had created.
This is the history of the species we refer to today as `` humans''. They served a noble cause, to stabilize and rationalize the chaotic world around them. We will always remember them as martyrs of the war against the organisms.
|
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