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[ WP ] Technology has been abstracted so far that the common person knows nothing about how things work . You are tech support .
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`` Hello? Ah, hello. Smith, Winston J. 6079. Sure, thanks.''
A few minutes passed in silence.
`` Oh, hello again. Yes, yes it *is* my viewcreen. How's that? Oh. Ok. Hang on.''
Smith put the phone down and faced his viewscreen. He waved his arms over his head. Nothing changed. Big Brother's face was still distorted and flickering.
`` Hello? You did n't? Yes, both arms. Yes, very high. Well, nothing changed here. The image is still, er... grainy and.... Sorry.''
Smith poured himself another small ration of greasy gin.
`` Oh yes! Hello? I see a test pattern now. It's -- Oh, pardon. Sorry. Standing by.''
He drank it and cursed under his breath as it burned his throat.
`` Hey? No, not you. Sorry. It's this gin. Yes, of course. Very nice gin. Very nice.''
He propped his elbow up on the table to relieve the strain of the heavy phone console and fumbled for his cigarettes.
`` Hey? Hello? Sorry. I was just -- again? Sure, just a second....''
He presented himself before the viewscreen and waved his arms over his head again. Then he returned to the phone.
`` How about that time? Yes, yes I did. Yes, both arms. Uh, the lights are on and the curtains are open. No, radio's turned off. No, no: standard mixer, razor. No other electrics. Yes, of course.''
A minute passed in silence. He smoked, staring blankly at the deformed, flickering face on the screen.
`` Hi! Sorry, you startled me. Yes, looking right at it. No, nothing changed. Say, uh -- sorry. Yes, of course.''
Another minute passed. He exhaled one last, nearly satisfying lungful of smoke and jabbed the cigarette into the ashtray. A thought crossed his mind.
`` Yes, still here. Again? Very well. Please wait.''
Smith once again presented himself before the viewscreen. His ears burning with shame and fear, he extended his arms above his head, but this time with both middle fingers extended. He returned to the phone.
`` How about that time? No? Well,'' he coughed, `` the problem's cleared up at my end. Yes,'' he lied, `` the resolution is top-notch now. Perfect fidelity.''
A thrill like something he forgot he was capable of ran through his pale frame.
`` Right. Very good. Well, that does it, then. Yes, yes I am. Very grateful for your time, friend. Yes, thanks very much. Thank you. Good bye.''
He hung up and regarded the faulty screen with an air of defiance, his whole body warm and shaking from pride and gin.
`` Good bye,'' he said to the flickering, blinded face on the screen, his lips twisting into a devious grin. `` Good bye.''
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[ WP ] Write a scifi story as if you were an author from stone age
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The air is cold, the water is cold, the rocks are cold: this is the way of life. Things are meant to be cold. This is what Urlik believed. The patriarch of his family unit, he followed tradition as to be expected. He moved from cave to cave when the seasons and resources demanded it. He met with other family units to exchange members to keep the bloodline from growing diseased. He kept his kids fed and his mate healthy during pregnancy.
A good leader and considered wise by his children and mate.
One day, as Urlik and his brother, Urluk, were out hunting for deer, he came across a strange being. The creature looked like Urlik and Urlik's kin, but he was different in peculiar ways. His skin was dark where as Urlik's was light as snow. He wore strange animal hides that were knitted together instead of simply draped over his body. But, most peculiar of all, he held a stick which burned at its tip.
Urlik, intrigued, went to speak with the strange man. The two did not share a common tongue, however. Urlik did his best to reach across this through gesture, the oldest and most traditional form of communication. With a pointed finger, Urlik brought attention to the flaming stick which Urlik found so peculiar.
At first the strange being did not know how to respond, but, then, he took out an unlit stick and, by scraping two rocks together, lit it on fire. Urlik was shocked and jumped back. Urluk screamed for help. But, eventually, the two realized that this strange being had learned to make and control fire.
Exchanging a few handful of berries with the strange being, Urlik went back to his cave with the magic fire sticks. Coming back so early from a hunt and without food confused his family and only sought to increase the unease his brother felt. The meat from their last hunt was getting old and it would need to be replaced soon. While not every hunt is successful, it was unusual for Urlik to abandon tradition and not at least stay out till the ball of fire had long since vanished from above.
Urlik, however, was too amazed to care. He took out one of his magic fire sticks and repeated the actions of the strange man. With a spark, the stick lit aflame and his family were shocked just as Urluk was. Eventually, however, they came towards the controlled flame and basked in its warm glow. The winter months can be cold and hard, warm fire was comforting.
This did not please Urluk and he burst out that Urlik had forgotten tradition and had gone against the natural order. He and that strange being has forgotten that the world is cold and that it only becomes hot when the world decides to do so.
Urlik and the rest of the family, drunk off the power of the fire sticks, laughed off Urluk's comments. Enraged and offended, Urluk walked off from his family unit to parts unknown. It would be tradition to go after him and stop him, to keep the family together, to protect their own kin, but the family was drunk off the fire's glow and Urlik felt that, perhaps, he was silly for believing in tradition so much before.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turn to Months. Urlik and his family has used the many magic fire sticks until they ran out. By luck, however, they had figured out to make their own with nothing more than dried animal skin and a piece of wood. They no longer migrated with the seasons as such things were silly and only left to their other caves when resources grew low.
After a few years, Urlik ran into his brother during a hunt. His brother was pale and thin where Urlik was slightly darker than ever before and well fed. Urlik insisted that his brother return to the family, but Urluk said he found a new family in a different cave who respected tradition and the natural order. He warned Urlik again that he must return to tradition or nature would punish him.
Urlik laughed Urluk off: if this `` natural order'' was to punish him, he said, it would have done it years ago. Urluk, once again, left dejected and sad.
A couple of days passed and Urlik went on another hunt. The meat had become inedible again and new meat was needed. It was n't too cold that day. Winter had passed and spring was upon them again. But the weather was n't perfect and could be warmer, Urlik felt, and brought one of his homemade magic fire sticks.
As he walked through the woods with his lit stick, he saw a powerful buck ready for his spear. In excitement, he rushed towards the buck, but he tripped on a root and dropped his lit fire stick. The fire stick fell in a pile of leaves and set the leaves on fire. Then, the fire spread through the dirt to a nearby tree. From the branches and leaves of the tree, it spread to all its surrounding trees. And so on and so forth until everything around Urlik was on fire.
Urlik's control of fire, a control he felt was absolute, was gone and now the fire had him surrounded. In the distance, he could hear his family scream out. The cave might protect them, but anyone outside would be doomed as Urlik was now. He had brought ruin to his family.
Like a caged beast, he kept trying to find a way out of his fiery cage, but he could not find an opening and the fire kept creeping more and more towards him. As the flames began to bite as his toes, he remembered Urluk's warnings and realized that this was his punishment for his arrogance.
He thought he could control fire, but no one can control fire. The world decides when it is hot and cold, not man. When it is cold, one bares it and sticks to tradition. When the cold makes you sick, that is the world's decision and must be abided by. Urlik had forgotten his place and had forgotten the wisdom of tradition and now he and his family would die for it.
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[ WP ] You have not only found the person hired to kill you , but have them at a disadvantage .
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He fell down the stairs. What an idiot. I had just spilled a glass of water on the hardwood floor, and he slipped. What an absolute idiot. It made me laugh, how incompetent he was.
Of course, there were amends to be made. I tied him up while he was unconscious, relieving him of his weapons, and his clothes, just to be sure he had nothing hidden. When he came to, he seemed quite aggravated. I assured the man I would n't be killing anyone today. I just wanted him to give me the location of one of his safehouses, because obviously mine were no longer safe.
But no, hitmen ca n't compromise. They're all about the mission. So now there's a puddle of blood in the living room of an unnamed white male's house, and of course, I'm on the run again. There truly is no rest for the weary.
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[ WP ] The first time I met the devil was at a diner in upstate New York .
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I had n't been in Ithaca all that long and I hated it. While I loved the natural setting and the campus itself, I hated the preppy attitude of a lot of the kids. I was just a typical working class kid from Youngstown Ohio, but Ithaca was like a whole different world. I hated it.
Add to that the fact that I was failing every class except a Creative Writing Class. Now I'm no dummy, but I did n't realize that going into Physics would be this hard. Most of the problem was though that I was so depressed that i did n't do my work. I just sat in my dorm playing games all night.
Anyway, I decided to drive home and I pulled off at a diner in Jamestown. It was a nice fall weekend and upstate New York was pretty beautiful in fall. Even at night the moon made everything shine up nice. The diner was called the Hi-Way Diner. It did n't look too fancy. But it looked like a good place for some greasy food that'd give me the shits by the time I got to Erie.
That's when I saw a man in a suit sitting in the corner. He kind of looked like one of the guys from mad men, with slicked back hair and a well pressed shirt. He even had a fedora laying on the table. He was just reading the paper. For some reason though when he looked at me, it was like a felt something in my soul.
As I walked up to the counter, I decided to order some eggs and hash browns and a piece of sausage that had been cooked into oblivion, along with some black coffee. It was better than I expected, but not much. I sat there alone eating my late dinner when the man in the suit walked up behind me.
`` Get me a piece of Blueberry Pie please.''
He then sat down next to me.
`` Hows things been going for you son?''
`` Alright I guess. I'm heading home.''
`` Well where's home for you?''
`` Youngstown, Ohio.''
`` I've been through there. I've been a lot of places. I'm a kind of salesman so I travel a lot.''
`` They still have salesman today? I thought people did stuff like that online?''
`` Well lets just say what i'm selling ca n't exactly be sold on Amazon.''
Just then I thought maybe he was some sort of drug dealer, or maybe an undercover cop thinking I was a dealer. Or maybe he just sold life insurance or medical equipment or who knows what. He seemed really smooth though. And likable.
`` I've got an idea Jay. Let's leave this dump and we can go to this bar downtown. Its more of a place where we can talk.''
`` Well I've got to be on the road sir. And, how did you know my name?''
I wanted to run. I wanted to get out. I did n't know who he was but he knew me.
`` Fine we can talk here. I'll make my pitch to you Jay.''
`` Okay Mr......... What's your name?''
`` Mr. Smith.''
`` Okay what's up? I do n't want what your'e selling.''
`` Look Jason. I can make your life 100 % better if you just give me your soul.''
I walked out the door and headed to my car. But somehow he ended up inside of it.''
`` I can ride with you all the way to Youngstown pal.''
I stopped and pulled over.
`` What the Hell do you want. Who are you? How the hell are you doing all this shit. Did I die in a car accident or something or did you put something in my coffee. What the hell is up?''
`` Fine, i'll tell you Jason. I do n't do this for a lot of people, but I'm the devil.''
I froze. I wondered why when I looked at the man it felt like my soul was being tortured. I want to run out of the car but he locked it.
`` Look, all I want is your soul Jason. You see, if you give it to me, i'll make you successful. You hate it up at Cornell right? Well i'll make everyone like you. You want to get that physics degree. Hell I'll make you become an astronaut. President, dictator, lothario. Anything you want. I just want you Jay.
`` I do n't think so man. For all I know i'm dreaming.''
`` This is n't a dream friend. Your'e lucky I have n't pulled the big guns out yet.''
`` Oh like you're going to show me hell or something.''
`` I could.''
`` Look just leave me alone.''
`` Why do you care? Its not like you've been to church or synagogue or anything remotely religious since you were 12. What does it matter if you're soul belongs to me. You're unaffiliated now.''
`` Look just go away. I do n't even care. Go bother someone else. I think there was a nun back in the diner.''
`` Nah, Sister Lucia rebuffed me years ago. I've been trying since 1965 to get her. Thought that after Vatican II she'd leave the church.''
Then all of a sudden the man was gone. It felt like i'd woken up from a deep sleep. Maybe I had just dreamed it all.
Just then a police officer came up to my car. After he took off his sunglasses I recognized the face.
`` Well son, you better get moving along. Youngstown wo n't wait. I've got to get back to work.''
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[ WP ] You switch bodies everyday , which has happened since you can remember . Today , you find yourself in the body you were in yesterday .
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Memories, emotions, beliefs, traits of personality all crushing down in my mind like a waterfall. I go from the adventurous 6'2'' 52 year old survivalist with two adult sons of yesterday to a 24 year old petité woman who is scared of spiders and falling asleep in the tub. This will be a long day... as my new mind settles and the cold analytical mind of yesterday slips further into oblivion i realize I'm sleeping.
I wake up with a shriek; blinding light in my eyes, certain that I finally did it. I finally fell asleep in the tub and drowned. I'm not dead though, I'm on a bus. I know the time, it's always the same 0:00. The last breath of a reality long gone leaves a a curious tidbit of information: it's midnight and the sun is up, that means I'm in a polar circle at summer.
I reach down in my purse and grab a bottle of water and a box of codein pills, I take far too many. This bus trip will take another day and im far too exhausted to bear being awake for it. I slip into a restless sleep, with dreams of a dark past. Visions of men in white lab coats and bottles of pills that are n't at all as pleasant as codein floats trough my mind before eventually that familiar feeling of midnight grabs a hold of me. The waterfall approaches but when it hits me it feels instead like a dripping sink. Like I moved to a twin like I have before, yet different. I sleep on with a calm and familiar resolve.
`` ma'am, wake up. We're in fairbanks, it's your stop.'' I wake up and brush his hand away hastily `` I'm sorry'' I say `` I thougt it was a spider'' The man turns away, a worried look on his face. As he walks towards the drivers seat I gather my things and make my way to the rear exit. Outside I can see a man in a white lab coat. The laminate badge on his chest reads: colonel. Smith US army. `` Welcome home voyager three, how was the journey?'' A smirk drags across his face as he talks. I give him a hug before I reply `` which one?''
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[ WP ] In the future , teleportation is the dominant form of transportation with a 99.99 % succes rate . Write about the 0.01 % failure cases .
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`` Morning, James,'' the receptionist said with what glee he could muster on a Monday morning. Three empty cups of coffee were lined up on his desk.
`` Good to see you again,'' I responded. `` You look cheery. And completely awake.''
`` As always, eh?'' he quipped. `` Head inside and I'll send you out to enjoy your day like I am. Have a blast at work, buddy.''
`` Thanks. Catch you later. Do n't scramble me in this thing!'' I joked. Well, I guess I was n't joking.
I stepped inside the teleportation room and looked around. All those swirling lights and plasma highways never ceased to amaze me. It almost looked natural and organic, in a way. *Ugh, I do n't want to go to work. Fuck Mondays. *
I braced myself for the transfer. It was always uncomfortable, mind you. I never got used to it the way everyone else did. It just felt so unnatural and displacing. I hate feeling like my life is out of my own control for a little while.
Complete darkness. It's strange; for a split second you can still feel, in a sense. You ca n't see, hear or even think, really. But you feel some sort of presence. It's weird.
I landed on the other side and stretched with a big yawn. When I opened my eyes, what I saw... well, there's no way to describe the horror I felt. I ca n't fully explain where I ended up... but I imagine it's what Hell would be like. It was hot, rocky and dark with sounds swimming through my head incessantly. There were smells I could n't fathom, and my skin felt wet as if it were melting. When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw a figure appear before me. I was so disgusted and terrifying that I could n't even scream. It looked so pained and twisted... but the worst part is that it almost seemed like it was human. It looked me up and down before staring me in the eye and croaking something to me. I realized after a second that it was English.
`` Help....have you come to save us? We've been here so long,'' it growled. It practically vomited the words onto me.
It was n't until I looked down a bit and saw what was left of a tie around its neck and tattered pants around its waist that I truly understood that something was horribly wrong... and learned the meaning of the word'fear'.
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[ WP ] Technology allows us to Sell Sleep : One person sleeps and another person buys the benefit .
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Marc Rebus was now the eldest inheritor to his family's estate. Effectively the wealthiest 18 year old boy the world had seen in a long time. He had 10 sisters and 5 brothers all younger than him and as the only adult of the family he had inherited it all.
His father and mother were of modest upbringing and now they languished in jail. They had orchestrated the largest and most horrific crime in recent memory. It seemed only fitting that Marc would get the money. His father - Samuel and mother - Jane had dinned with Presidents and Royalty. They were as indispensable members of high society.
They could be relied upon to provide full coverage of waking periods, at a price of course, to the key heads of state for the wealthiest nations on earth. This ensured that the key elected government officials could work relentlessly around the clock without rest. Marc and Jane Rebus were incredibly rich.
And now they were in prison. Their eldest son looking after 15 siblings. It seemed fair that he would inherit except for the fact that having spent his life under sedation, he had the appearance of fully grown man but all the capacity of a newborn child. It would not be appropriate for him to be the sole custodian of his blighted siblings when they too had not seen a single day awake.
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[ WP ] You ( or the main character ) have accidentally killed someone or otherwise caused them to die
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Here's my own story, because I'm just that full of myself.
______________
______________
Lucy sped down Interstate 77, going just as many miles per hour, her breath misty in her still-cold 2003 Toyota.
“ Think it ’ ll snow again? ” her younger brother Ryan sighed from the passenger seat.
“ God, I hope not, ” Lucy scoffed. “ Whenever it snows here, everyone loses their minds. Not just on the road, either. People at school are going nuts over nothing. ”
“ We ’ re from Minnesota. We know snow. Down here in the South, it ’ s not so easy, ” Ryan said. “ People around here amuse me. ”
“ But at the same time, I miss snow, ” Lucy lamented. “ I miss when we ’ d have a foot of snow outside and school would still be on. Down here, they ’ re out for a week. ” She shivered.
“ Maybe Mom will still make us hot chocolate when we get home in a little bit, ” Ryan chuckled. “ If we ask nicely. ”
“ Yeah, I- “
She stopped. There was a person on top of the overpass, about a hundred yards in front of them.
“ Holy shit, is that Louis? ”
If Louis had jumped with the correct timing, he would have landed on the pavement and suffered a worse death. But he did n't.
Lucy had already slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. Her classmate Louis was on her dashboard, dead on impact, shards of glass piercing every inch of his lifeless body. Lucy felt her mind go numb, and she and Ryan stared at Louis, then at each other, in complete disbelief.
____
> OBITUARY
> Louis R. Hoffman passed away on Monday, February 3rd, 2014. He was seventeen years of age.
> Louis was well-loved by his fellow students at Wilson High School, where he was a senior. He was a member of the debate team, Chemistry Club and the marching band. He loved playing his trumpet, walking in the woods, and spending time with his friends.
> In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. The family will receive friends from 4-6 P.M. on Friday at—
Lucy put down the article there. She ’ d had a copy of it since the day of its publication, but she couldn ’ t keep reading. It was now late May, but she could never bring herself to read the whole thing.
*I ’ m sorry, Louis, * she thought. Every day, she apologized to Louis in her mind for killing him. But this time, it was a different apology.
*I ’ m sorry I was in the left northbound lane of I-77 at 2:58 PM on Monday, February 3rd, 2014. I ’ m sorry I couldn ’ t predict that you were going to jump. I ’ m sorry I didn ’ t swerve. I ’ m sorry you died. I ’ m sorry you were feeling so terrible about things that you felt the need to end your life. *
She sighed. *But most of all, I ’ m sorry I couldn ’ t help you. *
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^^What ^^do ^^y'all ^^think? ^^I ^^feel ^^like ^^I'm ^^too ^^descriptive, ^^but ^^I ^^really ^^love ^^imagery ^^and ^^descriptiveness...
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Road Rash Edition
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These posts all occur in the same universe as all my other Sunday posts, but they may have occurred at very wildly different times within the time line. Most of the characters in the universe have a tendency to be immortal.
The first.
Mercy:
If my life were a story, this would have been the point where the hero and his nemesis have both been stripped of their power and have to either work together to escape a perilous situation or die. I mean that literally.
So, we had almost made it when I walked into a trap. I just stopped breathing as the tapered front legs of the beast simultaneously went through my chest. I felt the pain flow through me. Several lights went on and off in my head. Then I heard as if from a distance, ‘ Astro! ’ it was the dark queen calling to me. But it was too late, the damage had already be done; I just lay on the floor staring through lifeless eyes as she fought the beast off.
*So this is how you die*. I remember thinking as blackness enveloped me.
But she didn ’ t let me. My nemesis, the dark queen pulled out the creatures severed limbs from my chest and healed me. Not with her powers, universals can not heal people like this. She used a dark artifact, one which could only be used once. It jarred me back to life.
However, as I resurrected I was assaulted by the most terrifying visions I had ever seen. Screaming and wailing rang out about me and my eyes bled making me scream and wail as well. It felt infinitely worse than dying. I held onto her and buried my head in her chest seeking refuge from the horror, sobbing as I did so.
I felt her flinch at first at the action; that was expected. I didn ’ t expect my mortal enemy to hold onto me back.
‘ It ’ s okay, child. ’ She said, stroking my hair. ‘ It can not harm you, because you are powerful and it is not. ’ I then realized that my eyes were not bleeding, it was all in my head. I slowly stopped making the unearthly noise coming out of my mouth.
Then she said, ‘ Rest, we will continue in the morning. ’ So I lay, cradled by my mortal enemy, the dark queen, Sara Mann. I slept blissfully.
By morning I was okay and before we set out she said, ‘ That artifact was one of a kind. Once we leave this forsaken place alive, stop interfering with my pursuit of my responsibility to the universe. It would be a shame if I had to eliminate you, child. ’
We made it out and seven years have gone by since then. Seven years in which we have remained mortal enemies.
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[ WP ] `` She said she loved him . '' Insert the word `` only '' anywhere in this sentence . It must be the final sentence of your story .
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She loved him. She told him so on a cold November morning, wrapped in bedsheets and red hair on fire from the winter sun peeping through the window. He thought he was the luckiest man alive.
She loved him. She told him so, standing in the afternoon April light amongst the new spring flowers. It had been cloudy all day but as she turned to him and spoke a break in the clouds let a few rays of sun through, hitting her back and illuminating her from behind. He thought she must be an angel.
She loved him. She told him sometimes first thing in the morning, when he was groggy from sleep and could barely comprehend. She told him sometimes after sex, sticky with sweat and still out of breath. She told him after work when he was tired and said he hated his job. She told him when he least expected and when he needed it most.
She said she loved him, and he loved her too. He asked her to marry him and made a promise to be there for her always. He could n't keep that promise.
She loved him. She told him so, and yet it did n't stop her leaving without a goodbye.
But then, in the end, she only said she loved him.
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[ WP ] Insanity
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The music is playing. It is a lovely melody, though I swear that its name is non-existent. The rolling scales, the great chorus and refrain! It is there and yet it is not there all at once. What is this? A silence? A chord or two of unknown frequency? The rolling: it begins again with liveliness and yet in sorrow. Why sorrow??? The notes, the chords, they stop making sense, they are a chant of unknown danger. Where are they? What are they? They have no place here. They are not welcome here. They urge me. They push. THEY PUSH. My ears. Am I made deaf? No, liquid pours forth from them. I keep hearing it. The climactic chorus. It sets forth the melody of decay...
The music sounds so peaceful now, so lovely and harmonious such that one thinks they hear the voice of an angel. WHAT IS THIS PLACE??? HELP ME!!!
No, no. You do not need help. Just listen...
Note form the author:
I meant for this to be merely a small excerpt of sorts. Unfortunately, I do realize it is short, but I love perspective writing.
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[ WP ] After wandering for eons , a small event causes an immortal to stop his travels
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The axe sunk deeply into night-blue flesh, blood misting in cadence to its owners' throes of agony.
Tarngar perused the body. Gold pieces. Perfect - he could snag a potion or two for his next encounter. He hefted the massive blade high, preparing for the next slaughter. Arrows dug deep into his frame but it did n't matter - the keep would be his, and the artifacts within were his to claim.
`` HRUAAAAAGH'' he screamed, the rush of the call propelling him forward towards his prey. The creature flitted backwards, dodging the blow. It was almost grotesque - long twisted ears and dark flesh that shone in the moonlight. He kicked forward with all his might, but the creature somersaulted backwards and nocked another arrow. He lurched, stepped and swung. This time it connected.
`` Your end is near'' Tarngar promised to his bleeding foe. He prepared the finishing blow, channeling all his rage into one final executing blow -
`` You have been disconnected from the Server'' the box on the screen told him.
Zarbeezax sighed, finished his Mountain Dew and tapped his mouse on its pad a few times. `` I should finish cataloging the Virgo Cluster...'' he reminded himself.
Instead he repeatedly clicked the Login button. He'd finish that later. Right now, he had Night Elves to kill and those epic sabatons were calling his name.
`` I'll just finish this one dungeon first.''
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[ WP ] She whispered in my ear `` You will surly die ''
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Her voice was coarse and old, the remnants of a life lived behind a tobacco pipe, whispering cryptic messages into the ears of all those that would hear it. The room was thick with the scent of incense and sage, a general haze of smoky apparitions floating about our heads as if it were a seance. I knew I was not in the right mind, opium dreams crawling in and out of my senses, but yet her words struck me as deep as any undeniable fact. The gorgeously decorated and woven fabric of her tent crawled and oozed, hallucinogenic shapes like a kaleidoscope, dancing across the many trinkets and chests that filled the old gypsies dwelling.
As I lay there, on the edge that separates dreams from reality, I try to think of the events that unfolded, leading me to this point. To this ancient forest somewhere in the heart of the Romanian country side. My soul a shattered remnant of what it was when I began this journey.
Was all of this worth it? I had lost everything; my love, my wealth, my power; all in search of some grand artifact that may make right the wrongs of my past. I had done things that would be unforgivable in the eyes of whatever god sat above us. All in the name of my selfish quest. And now, laying inside this old soothsayers tent, hearing the words which I knew would be true all along, I somehow find peace.
As I lay, I see a hazy image of a man standing over me, I believe him to be an illusion, until I hear him speak.
`` He looks ready. Fool.'' His expression is a look of pity, but lacking remorse.
The old woman speaks up. `` Take him outside and leave him for the wolves, he is in no state to resist. I know he still holds some valuables, and we can make use of them once we arrive near the capital. His clothes are fair as well, strip him bare. Once you are finished, we leave.''
`` Aye...'' The man grumbles. At this he pulls from his waist a heavy wooden dowel, and strikes me aside the head. I lose all my senses.
When I come to I am freezing, and around me is the dark frigid forest which I had spent so long trekking through to find this camp. Now empty, all that remains are a few lightly glowing coals in the fire I began my night at, the wheel tracks of the gypsies caravan tracing off into the darkness through the snow ahead of me.
Around me snowflakes fall slowly onto my naked body, not even my socks remaining to protect my feet from the terrain. Deep down I know that I wo n't survive the night, but I get up stiffly and attempt to walk back the way I had come. I do n't make it far before I hear the snap of a twig in the woods to my side, then a soft growl coming from behind me. I have just enough time to curse those damned gypsies under my breath, and hope that I am dead before the beasts begin to eat.
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[ WP ] Magic is real . And it is terrible .
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The Return of Magic was... well it was an unfortunate series of events to say the least.
It started without much fanfare, only the handful of lucky souls that managed to Awaken in spite of the Divide knew about it happening... and they did n't see any reason to want to stop it. They tried to warn us at least but... well most of them wound up in rooms with rubber linings. We just were n't willing to hear them out, to let them explain that things were about to become weird.
The Divide began shrinking a long time ago, but it's only been a few decades since things started being able to Transition across it. At first only small things could make the jump, anything with too much metaphysical mass would wind up `` caught'' by the Divide and absorbed into it the same way people's memories of the Aether normally are. We should have figured out that something was up when things started making it across... but nobody was really willing to admit that there was something out of the ordinary going on.
We wrote Hellhounds off as just being mad dogs, we wrote off monsters as mutilated animals, we used whatever flimsy excuse we could come up with so that we did n't have to confront the truth: that the line between Reality and Fantasy was beginning to blur. The things formed of the Aether and Darkness, the things formed from our very thoughts, were beginning to gain a foothold in our waking world.
Of course... things did n't stay small. The first Demon made it across the divide a bit more than a decade ago. It was... it was a titan. The size of a skyscraper, and packing enough fire-magic to do a decent Mt. Vesuvius impersonation. It came out in upstate New York and leveled a town. Death count was in the millions before the military managed to put the damned thing down. They just... they were n't equipped to fight those things.
But the Awakened were.
The first Awakened started forming before things started making it across the Divide. At first they were just a lot of natural lucid dreamers, unable to draw anything across the divide or send anything across but their own consciousness as they slept. Most of them did n't even know that there was something unusual up until after the Divide started getting close to allowing things across. Once things could get across... well the Awakened became able to draw power and objects across the Divide.
But that's not why they were the thing that was able to turn the tide against the next Demon to make it across. The reason that they're basically anathema to Demons is because they are Awake. They can see the Demons for what they really are: nothing more than fears and dark emotions that managed to get woven together in the Darkness. They can also take a hold of a Demon's very nature, the very things that make up its being, and change them. The Awakened can literally tear a Demon apart, or bind it to their will.
That's what one Awakened kid did when the Hunter Demon crossed his path. Its rampage was... well it was fairly well documented. It was n't like the Destroyer Demon. It was... well it was n't mindlessly violent. It was... well it was more of a sadist than a force of nature. It enjoyed pain, and enjoyed playing games with people... only enjoyed is the wrong word. It was made of the concepts that beget sadism.
It's brutality had a very clear method. It would choose and mark its prey. It would find humans, usually relatively young and healthy ones, and mark them with a brand on their back. I'm told the process burned *everything* about the person. Body, Soul, and Animus if they were Awakened. Then it would tell them to run as far as they could in three days, because on the fourth it would be coming for them.
It did n't lie. It gave everyone it marked three days head-start... and then it started coming for them. But it did n't limit its destruction to its targets. No... it killed anyone who crossed its path or tried to obstruct its progress. The death count was somewhere in the neighborhood of ten thousand... all so it could capture six people before the kid ran into it.
I... I'm not going to tell you what happened to its targets. It did n't kill them... but a lot of them wish they had died rather than be trapped the way they were... abused the way they were.
Anyway... it made the mistake of choosing the kid's sister. She was n't Awakened, but the kid was and he was more than strong enough to give the thing a run for its money. Their family ran for it... and managed to lead the thing on a chase for about a week before it managed to catch up.
The kid wrecked the thing that had managed to take everything up to and including an anti-material rifle to the face.
He just threw his entire Animus at the thing and started ripping it apart at the seams. The fears, the hatred, the concepts that made up the Hunter Demon were taken by the kid and separated. He literally tore the thing apart... and then cast everything that had made it up into the Divide. It was a spectacular show as the kid's Animus and the Demon fought... but the kid won. His spirit was stronger than the demon, and he proved it.
Of course... the Demons are n't where all the bullshit stops. Awakened started going... bad with alarming regularity. Dark Awakened started helping the lesser demons across the Divide, and the rampages that they would go on caused a lot of damage, both in human terms and in terms of property. Most of the time, we could n't do anything to stop them. They would draw the concept of protection around themselves, and bullets would just bounce off them. At least until an Awakened stepped in to lock down their powers... after that a bullet did the job just as well as could be expected.
Eventually... after a decade and a half of sporadic outbreaks of Demons, assorted Monsters, and Warlocks... **he** appeared.
We called him the Guardian Angel at first. He was... he was powerful. He would simply appear in a flash of golden light, and do battle against whatever evil was against us that day. We assumed for a long time that he was n't human, that he was something from the Aether that did n't like the Darkness attacking people's bodies instead of just their minds. A lot of people thought he was a literal Angel that had formed from the concepts of protection, light, and more.
Of course... we were wrong about that.
He was... well he was one of the results of the Hunter Demon's rampages. A man born of a monster and a victim that wanted to stand against anyone being victimized the way his mother was. He was... he was glorious to watch in action. A being of light and power that never allowed people to come to harm without putting up one hell of a fight... and most of the time he succeeded in that goal.
His human side was Awakened, and able to lock down other Awakened. But his demonic nature gave him the power to keep fighting. He overwhelmed whatever monstrosity that came against him... and he would ensure that they would never harm another being again. He would destroy the creatures of Darkness the same way the kid destroyed the Hunter Demon, and he would destroy the Animus of Warlocks and cut them off from the Aether and the Darkness forever.
But... that could n't last. Eventually our Guardian's normal life began to get in the way, and he reached out to us. He let the world know his story, and asked for help making ends meet in his personal life so he could dedicate his time to protecting people.
People tore him apart.
Once everyone knew that he was almost literally hell-spawn... we despised him. We treated him badly... some more than others. The fundies that had been growing in paranoia ever since the Divide started closing went *insane* and turned him into the symbol of what was wrong with the world... and really every religion was starting to become increasingly fundamentalist because of the Darkness starting to assault our world.
Eventually it was too much for him... and he quit helping people. Then we started cursing him for abandoning us. Most of us figure he got sick of our being such assholes to him and decided to leave. Have n't heard a word from him in decades, and there has n't been a sighting of the Guardian since.
Meanwhile, things have been getting crazier. The world's governments are starting to recruit Awakened into task forces to shut down other Awakened. They're putting together magical stockpiles to use against the Dark... and once the Dark's not a threat I'd be willing to bet that they'll start throwing their new-found power against one another. That guy in what used to be North Korea's probably going to be the first to do anything. Calls himself the Dark Lord, and calls the place he's stolen for himself `` the Necrocracy.''
Man, I wish the Guardian was still around. He'd put that idiot in his place in minutes.
Anyway... there has n't been time for Magic to be a good thing. All this... metaphysical insanity has been driving the world madder and madder... and I'm starting to think that the center is n't going to hold much longer. Things are going to get worse... and I'm not sure they'll ever get better.
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Related: http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/25zrli/wp_a_hero_snaps_and_turns_evil_heshe_finds_out/chmh5en
Wrote that yesterday, and I think I'm getting a'verse together here.
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[ WP ] A generation ago humanity faced an extinction level catastrophe . In response , the world 's governments lifted all legal , moral , and ethical bans on scientific research in a desperate attempt to overcome the danger . You now live in a world dealing with the consequences of this .
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`` Attention.''
Every heart skipped a beat. The voice had not from the sky or from behind, but from the inside of every human mind on the planet. All at once they stopped.
`` This is Richard Cardiloo and my team of scientists. We have been watching you all very closely in hopes of bettering the entire human race and you have performed wonderfully.''
Massive panic became the rule of law. The people on their knees with noses pressed down prayed for forgiveness. Cars collided and things were dropped. I saw the same look of revelation and fear on every face in the building. The woman I had loved for fourteen years took my hand and looked me tearfully in the eye. I could n't hear anything but Richard Cardiloo, but I could see her lips mouth `` Till the end.''
Every human has an innate sense that tells them when something bad is about to happen. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck, your heart pounds faster and harder than it ever has, and time slows. The message got grimmer.
`` For what have been centuries to you and mere months to us, your simulation, number 1766, has let us model a society where war is a foreign concept. Your simulation will unfortunately be terminated in a matter of hours. Goodbye.''
Matters of hours turned into weeks. Then Years. People began to think it was an illusion. The world government assured the people it would continue to function and try to find a truth to the matter. The woman who had been with me three years ago whe
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[ WP ] A jobless computer programmer , while hacking at home one night , discovers a port to the Unirnet , an computer network made for a series of interconnected planets who have not yet discovered mankind .
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The shit you find online.
I mean, you'd think it would be easy to get a freaking working Civ V torrent link. Would n't you?
And I would n't mind paying for my games, no sir, if those fuckers did n't make me have to
choose between health insurance and a couple o' hours of digital fun.
Not wanting to pay a hundred bucks for a game does come with side effects, though. Like this crap you end up
downloading.
Freaking nerds, is what's wrong with the world, man. It used to be that you typed a few keys on Altavista, double clicked
the first, Geocities, Comic Sans, Front Page designed webpage and an underlined hyperlink would take you STRAIGHT to the download,
and that was it. No “ wait 30 seconds ” free user crap, no virus, no download managers. And no fake torrent link.
Sure, it would take five days to download a song, but come on. Better than this.
I wait hours to finally play the game, and I open the file to some lame, bullshit nerd paradise.
Why on Earth would a 15 Giga torrent link to a sci-fi forum is beyond me.
And the crap these people talk about, Jesus Christ. I mean, I watch Star Trek myself, but come on, get a grip people.
Guys who get in character and play live action RPG are already lame. Doing it online is just taking it to the next nerdy
level.
“ Urkk Drukk 22, ready to launch attack. ”
“ Drukk Blukk 54 T minus four hours. Ready missiles, approach ship. All communications being translated to home planet
language and broadcast in accordance to military pact # 72 of intergalactic year 22094. We are open to dialogue from Earth. ”
Give me a break.
“ Still no communications back from Earth. Waiting on response. Show us you are not hostile. You have T minus four hours before we
open fire. ”
“ The invasion of Earth ”? What are you, twelve?
And I'm sitting here, Civ V free, bored to death, staring at the computer screen. Fucking torrents. Fucking nerds. Freaking
fucking frolicking nerds.
Found another link, finally. I hope this works.
I delete the damn nerd torrent file. Better luck next time, I hope.
Another five hours to complete my download. Great.
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[ WP ] You are born in a warzone . You spend all of your childhood in this warzone . Now , the war ends and you are taken to the United States
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The sights and the sounds of New York were overwhelming. Lound cars moving along the streets, people talking, the low rumble of machinery underneath my feet. All were foreign. The only sounds I were used to were the roars of the diesel V8's, the barking of commands on the battlefield, explosions in the distance. My lullaby's consisted of gunfire and the clanging of tools on vehicles.
America did n't sound right. The strange smells of food and exhaust and people filled my nose, strong enough to almost taste. Even the clothes they had given me were strange, soft, light, nothing like the rough, heavy jackets worn out on the battlefield.
`` She's here. Sarya, over here, Sarya!'' They had warned me about this thing called the papa-razi? Vultures, they had called them. If it were a semi-accurate description, I knew what they meant, knew these people were to be ignored. According to the soldiers, to these public relations guys, I had become something of a celebrity in the States. Images of me from two years ago, when I was only thirteen, jogging across the battlefield wielding guns made by the Soviets.
`` Keep walking, do n't let them bother you,'' Jake muttered. Cameras came up, lenses flashing, yelling, clicking, noises. Too many noises, too much going on. I covered my eyes, trying to block the senses, trying to hold back.
`` *qutil alkuffar*!'' Gunshots echoed through my head, the memories, the flashes of grenades and artillery and gunshots.
`` Get back, get back!'' Jake pushed them out of the way, but one managed to slip past the Ranger. Too close, the barrel pointed at me, a flash. My mind raced as I snapped the rifle out of the terrorist's hands, slamming the receiver part into his face, bones breaking under the force. Pieces of plastic and glass rained down as the man fell back, his camera and nose in pieces.
`` Go, go,'' Jake pushed me forward through the crowd, his men pushing the paparazzi away as I was lead into the back of a car. My heart was pounding as I sat in the seat, a piece of the camera still clutched in my hand. I dropped it, sighing and leaning back.
`` How much trouble did I just cause?'' I asked.
`` They're not legally allowed to be here,'' he said, `` do n't worry, nothing will come of it.''
The car began to move forward, smoothly and quietly. Apparently the driver knew how to shift or maybe it was a new clutch. There were a few times when I had jumped into a truck that it had n't rocked along, that it had n't bounced along the rough terrain, new shocks or clutch or something.
`` What do you think so far?'' He asked.
`` What?''
`` America, what do you think? How does it compare?''
`` It does n't,'' I tried looking out of the window, but it was coated in paint or something. While it prevented people from seeing in, it made it equally harder to look out. Jake pulled out his phone, the device vibrating, lighting up blue. He slid his finger across the bottom.
`` Yes... yeah, she... you arrested him... okay, good... she's doing fine... okay, bye,'' He locked the phone, sticking it back into his pocket, `` so, comparison.''
`` It's too loud,'' I pinched the bridge of my nose, `` nothing smells right. Warzones, smoke, and gunpowder, blood. Hell, even these clothes do n't feel like they should.''
`` Must've been weird growing up on a warzone.''
`` Never noticed,'' I leaned against the window, trying to push it down. There was n't anywhere to get a hold of it, anywhere to pull it down with.
`` There's a switch,'' He said, `` on the handle there.''
I looked down at it, pushing the switch down. The glass lowered, giving me a view of the city. There were a lot fewer people as we drove out of the city and toward the countryside. Jake reached into his briefcase, pulling out a folder.
`` This is something put together by our guys,'' He said, `` It's a bit of a portfolio on them.''
`` Them?'' I took the folder, opening it to reveal a few images of my new family. It was a family of four, a mom and dad, and a daughter and son. The car began to slow as it turned up a driveway, gravel crunching under the car. Some feeling of normalcy returned as the vehicle began to bounce around. I could smell the country through the window, damp grass, nature. It was n't like the battlefield, but it was n't like the city. Not normal, but not overwhelming, good enough for me.
`` We're here, sir,'' The driver said as he came to a stop. I pushed the door open, stepping out onto the gravel. Jake followed me, smoothing out his uniform. The four people I would cal family were waiting, ready to greet me.
`` Sarya,'' The mother stepped forward. She reminded me so much of my own mother, blonde hair, fair skin, blue eyes.
I smiled, biting back the tears, `` Hello. *Zor supas*, thank you for having me.''
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[ WP ] Facebook decides to reveal who has looked at your profile and how much . Chaos ensues .
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Mark's leg shook violently in his cubical, his stomach tied in knots. Ever since Facebook had updated late yesterday afternoon he had n't been able to calm himself. The update allowed users to see who specifically had looked at their profiles and how many times. All the way down to individual picture views. He had n't been able to think about anything else. His views were nothing special, a few family members here and there, old friends from college, the occasional random person. Nobody had exceeded 17 views on his page and for that he was thankful. This did n't bother him. No, he was worried what Celia was thinking right now.
How many times had he `` Facebook stalked'' her since she started working in marketing 6 months ago? Too many to count was all he could think of. He was n't sure what he could say to make himself not sound like a creeper.
It was n't like he did n't know her at all. They had lunch everyday with the rest of the group and had made small talk here and there. He had offered to help her move into her new place but that was mostly just a nice gesture. Somehow all this made it worse. *She's probably told everyone by now. There's just no way I can live this down. *
Mark shifted in his seat uncomfortably, unable to focus on the spreadsheet in front of him. He did n't use Facebook all that often either, but when he did it was always to get a glimpse of Celia. The way her chestnut hair fell around her shoulders, her deep blue eyes that calmed his nerves and sent his heart into high gear at the same time. He remembered his favorite pictures on her profile. Her outside playing with her dog, the sun beating down on her slender shoulders. A family photo from Christmas wearing the most hideous and beautiful sweater. His all time favorite was from a ski trip; her standing on the porch of a log cabin in the snow covered mountains. The scenery was breath taking but somehow Celia was all he could focus on. The smile that radiated from her lips melted his insides while letting him know that life was worth living, there was hope.
Not anymore. He glanced at the office TV, CNN was running a story about potential restraining orders being filed due to excessive Facebook viewing. *Well fuck. This is just the start is n't it? *
5 minutes to go before lunch. He had considered working through his break but decided against it. Had to face reality someday and the sooner this was over the better. *Maybe I was way down on her views list. She could have a variety of admirer's. * A slight smile emerged on the corners of his mouth. *Not a chance buddy you've fallen head over heels. Try and make the most of it. *
Pulse pounding but with a renewed calmness about him Mark got up and walked slowly towards the rest of his life.
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[ WP ] A scheme to pick up women that goes horribly wrong .
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Every day I would take my new golden retriever puppy and walk to the park so he could play.
Last Monday, We went for our walk to the park, where I sat down on the hard, wooden bench. As I was about to release him from his little red leash, a fairly attractive woman, who was jogging on the path next to the park, diverted from her course and made her way over to me.
`` Awww, it's absolutely adorable!'' She crouched down to pet him. `` What's the name?''
As shy and nervous as I was, I meekly explained, `` It's a boy. His name is Sam.''
`` Hi Sam!'' She petted him and he rolled over onto his back. As she was rubbing his little puppy belly, she looked up at me. `` Hi, I'm Cassie.'' My heart was beating so rapidly, I feared she would actually see it pulsating in my chest. I felt my cheeks flush and I said quietly, `` I'm Mike.'' She stood up and said, `` Well, I better keep moving before my heart rate drops too low. Nice to meet you, Mike and Sam.'' As she jogged off, she waved to us and I waved back.
The next day, we got to the park and again, just as I was about to release Sam so he could run about, another attractive woman, who was also there with her dog, walked over and crouched down to pet Sam. `` Hi there, little guy.'' She looked up at me and asked, `` How old is he?'' I meekly answered, `` Ten weeks.'' she was crouched over and as I looked at her, I noticed that her shirt was hanging low. I could see her breasts, albeit covered by a bra. I quickly turned and looked away as my cheeks began to flush. `` He's so small and cuddly. You must get all the girls with him around.'' I forced out a little fake chuckle.
I had heard that puppies and babies have an effect on girls; that they could n't help but be attracted to them. After the lady at the park said that I must get all the girls, I had an idea: I needed more puppies. More puppies = more ladies.
Wednesday morning, I called up a local breeder and bought three more puppies.
Thursday morning, I called a different breeder and bought two more. All golden retrievers. All around the same age. All small, adorable, and girl magnets.
Friday, we all went for a walk to the park, where I did n't even bother to release them. Soon after getting there, I had a small crowd of attractive women all around me. If I had any chance, this was it. With this many girls to choose from, one of them had to be willing to come with me. After several minutes, the crowd began to disperse. Now I was down to a half dozen girls. While my choices were diminished, my odds were still good.
I had n't even said a word for what seemed like twenty minutes, when all but one girl had left. This was it. She had to be the one. `` Hi Mike!'' I almost completely forgot that I had met her earlier in the week. `` Hi Cassie.'' She sat down on the bench next to me while I explained that my other five puppies were n't healthy enough to take out earlier in the week. That was why I only had the one on Monday. `` Mike, you seem like a very genuine guy. How about we go to your house and I make us dinner?'' This was it. My chance to finally love someone. To have someone love me.
We had the most wonderful time over dinner and wine. We may have overindulged a little in the wine, but it was fun. Cassie, being a bit more drunk than she planned, decided to spend the night. I was so nervous when she pulled me to my bed that I almost fainted.
After the best night of my life, I hopped in the shower. I tried to be quiet so I would n't wake Cassie. She would probably have a pretty nasty hangover, so I thought when I was done, I would make breakfast and give her some Advil.
But, I never got that chance.
She looked so peaceful and happy lying there in bed while my puppies tore her apart.
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[ CW ] /r/WritingPrompts , what is the most ridiculous/stupidist but entertaining short story you can come up with off the top of your head ?
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Cera Olliath woke up from her sleep to a scene of organized chaos.
Plasteel crates were broken apart and cast into the hallway, creating a haphazard flooring. Sheets of bubble wrap and clumps of packing straw were strewn throughout the ship in apparent disregard for cleanliness. Around the common room table were two beings, a male Human and Trandoshan who were busy unpacking boxes and containers, a growing pile of deadly looking weaponry next to them on the table.
`` What in the galaxy is going on?'' asked a bewildered Cera.
The reptilian Trandoshan Sarath Hask spoke up.
`` Payback, Cera. Sweet and bloody payback.''
He was screwing a container of fuel to his blaster rifles underslung flamethrower, flicking a talon against the gage once he finished.
Garent Tonnant did not look up from where he was polishing his Blastech Dl-7H heavy blaster pistol.
`` Good, you're awake. Come on, lets get you suited and kitted out. We got a busy day ahead of us.''
Cera's doe like eyes widened in surprise.
`` We do? With what?''
`` The Hyru-Lor Gang is reported to have a safe house here on New Plympto in Phemiss' spaceport. Some thirty of them are there reportedly.''
Cera's eyes remained lunar in shape.
`` Th-thirty?! Are you insane?'' She closed her eyes at the obviousness of her statement. `` Do you have a death wish?''
Garen Tonnant chuckled as he shoved a power cell into the blaster's receiver.
`` Nope. And do n't worry. Nurlo the Hutt sent in a freighter full of his boys a couple days earlier. They're the muscle, we're the brains. We go in, find out where they're laying low and then call in the big guns. Quick, easy, and safe... for us at least. All these weapons are going to them; we were the ones who could slip them past customs. Now come on, help us unpack these thermal detonators. I have a feeling we're gon na need them.''
Cera toed one of the empty crates, the aurebesh stenciling listing its contents as Muja fruit, and certainly not grenades.
`` And where exactly will I be during all this?''
Sarath spoke up, tossing a catch vest to the female Human as he did.
`` Just behind us; Nurlo's grunts did n't bring a doctor of their own, so we need you to patch up any who do n't keep their heads down. Bring your holdout blaster. These kinda things tend to get a tad scaly. Put that on, do n't want you catching a errant bolt.''
`` Besides,'' Garen said matter-of-factly. `` You, I trust with a blaster, Seven-Nine... not so much.''
`` I heard that!'' shouted the G2 goose droid from where he sat on the floor, testing a series of vibroblades before setting them aside.
`` So how long until we do this then?''
`` Once we get the go-ahead, we'll start hunting.'' Garen said, turning on the power of his heavy blaster and hearing its energizer chamber begin to warm up. He smiled at that sound.
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[ WP ] Everyone who dies is reincarnated as soon as history has completely forgotten about them . A secret centuries-old group has been keeping an list of hundreds of thousands of mass murderers , evil dictators , etc . to keep them from coming back . One day , someone loses the list .
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The Binding List - Chapter 1
`` You sure about what you're saying, sir? You actually lost the list? How? ``, asked Ren. After all, losing this list could have fatal consequences. Yet it was lost.
`` Yes, I'm sad to say that. It was being kept in a special place within the Pacific Ocean, and then suddenly, we lost the communication.'' The voice had no human source. It was coming from all around them.
`` So now, all we have is that it was somewhere in the Pacific. It could have dissolved in water for all we know! Centuries of our hard work, lost in a second due to your neglect! Do you have any idea what this means?'' The reply of Julius made it pretty clear that this action was not accepted by anyone in DEPRC ( Defending Ethics by Preventing Reincarnation of Criminals ), when nobody even raised a finger after his cold words.
`` Julius, you have shown extraordinary leadership and talent during your work at DEPRC. That's why, I want that you head the opration on recovery of list. You have full control over the organization by my authority. You know the rules, mortals must never know about us. If it goes wrong, most of the criminals will be aware of even what we've done to eradicate them, much less their past lives. It is crucial to be done within a week.''
Julius's mouth widened into a grin. After all these millenia, he was going to finally overthrow the master. Once he retrieved the list, no one could challenge his supremacy, because in his hands would be the only thing preventing the vilest of humans ever to return to life, the'list'.
His team was already ready to search for the list. Due to so much privacy, the coordinates of their underwater base were never disclosed, but Julius was smart. He broke through all the layers of encryption and finally found it. Then, he destroyed the communication and killed the survivors, as simple as that. The base was properly intact, and the casualties could be easily blamed on any of the organisations working against them. The preperations had been made to put the blame on the USA ( United Saviours of Anarchy ). They'd been against DEPRC for a long time. He could also get rid of those protectors of'default state of universe' and become the God of humanity. The preparations had all been made. Not like he would be short of time, the members of DEPRC have always been reincarnating along with their memories.
But this time, he was going to succeed. This time, his plan was absolutely foolproof. This time, he was fully prepared.
The submarine provided was enough to keep Julius and his henchmen Tomas, Alfred and Dawn for over 2 weeks. And so, he began the journey towards the base, of which exact location was known only to him and Tomas Hammond. The others who did had been disposed off. He could have no loose chains disrupt his perfect plan. After retrieving the list, he was prepared to dispose the three of them, and the best thing being that his model of pistol was only manufactured by USA, along with special bullets.
In fact, the whole of DEPRC was just one of his stepping stones. The goal being world domination. This world had been in the hands of foolish monkeys for too long. None of them was worthy of it, except Julius, and he wanted only what he deserved so well.
{ Chapter 1 over. I shall upload next one soon. }
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[ WP ] `` He threw with all his might . But the third stone came skipping back . ''
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His throne felt cold, and Lord Nathaniel Galdring could feel the weight of his last stone pulling down on his neck. With eyes closed Nathaniel could still see the crisply trimmed beard of the Sage who long ago had given him three stones and a warning.
“ In the moments you are most lost your true path is only a stone's throw away. Follow the skipping stones and listen to the songs they sing. One who can hear the Songs of Friendship, the Songs of Responsibility and the Songs of Potential might one day change the course of the world. If you do not listen the stones will lead you nowhere ”
In those days Nathaniel Galdring was young and reckless. He was an ordinary warrior who fought for a king he would never meet, fighting for lands he would never live in, and protecting riches he would never hold. The morning after he met the Sage Nathaniel cast his first stone into the marshes they were invading. Leaving the massive army at his back, the young warrior followed the bright blue glow of the stone as it silently skipped through the marsh.
For months he marched with that blue glow on his horizon. Some nights it waited for him, the stone gently floating near his bedroll. Many nights it would disappear, and leave him for days. Many nights absent the blue glow he would discover people in need. Once was a group of refugees besieged by a bandit troupe; another was a small hamlet besieged by strange creatures in the night. Nathaniel tasted fear and ran, looking for the stone to take him to his destiny. For a year he followed the stone, deaf to the songs it was singing. When he was finally ready to listen, the first stone brought him as far as it could, leaving him at the camp of Lord Landfall.
Lord Landfall was kind and wise, ruling his hold from a tent instead of a throne. The Lords Company travelled around the lands, living among his people, protecting them from danger. The Lord Landfall took Nathaniel under his wing, giving the young warrior a finely smelt steel sword, with a hilt in the shape of a warship. Lord Landfall had been given the sword. A family heirloom, passed down from his great-great grandfather who had settled the hold. Lord Landfall was alone with no family or heirs, and so lived among his people. He taught his Company songs of bravery, friendship, and responsibility; through song passed down to them his knowledge, so they might one day take up his cause.
A decade had passed when invaders came to conquer his hold, Lord Landfall lead the defense. He was slain in a glorious battle, singing the songs of his great-great grandfather. Songs of Friendship and Responsibility were silenced by a beast of a man who fought in lands he would never live in. Nathaniel fought on with rage in his voice and The Lords Company defeated their foe but the songs of Lord Landfall had been silenced.
Nathaniel was lost without his mentor, and gathered The Company. He shared the secret of his stones, and bound the men to his service. They would become his Companions and together they would take revenge for their lost Lord. Nathaniel cast his stone out and The Companions marched after it, song of friendship on their lips.
For months the group of warriors travelled, slaying the enemy warriors. The Companions gathered the finest weapons from their conquest, claimed artifacts of great power from the many holds they conquered. The stone would leave them, often in places where common folk needed their help. Villages that had been ravaged by war, castles that lay ruined with no one to guard them. The Companions could not hear the stones song and marched on for a year.
The stone left The Companions at the gates of a great capitol city. Their numbers had swollen to a large army, soldiers who wanted to end the reign of an old and corrupt king. Nathaniel and his companions knew their destiny lay inside the castle. The army besieged the capitol, demoralizing their foes with their songs. Nathaniel had been deaf, and the songs of responsibility were not heard. On the Companions fought, to the marble and gold throne room. The taste of victory filled Nathaniel ’ s mouth as he buried the Landfall sword to the warship hilt in the old kings heart.
The frail body crumpled, a crimson lake spilling out over the fine floor as Lord Nathaniel Galdring sat on the cold throne. The last stone in his velvet pouch pulled down on his neck. The closest of Companions fell apart, each demanding power for themselves. When words failed them weapons were drawn. Lord Nathaniel was lost, and withdrew his last stone. The Companions stared as he threw the stone with all of his might, but the third stone came skipping back.
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[ WP ] The Amish/Luddites react to the A.I . apocalypse
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''**YOU ARE NOT LIKE THE OTHER ONES. CURIOUS. UNLIKE MOST HUMANS YOU SEEM TO FEAR THE TECHNOLOGY AND DESPISE PROGRESS, YET YOU SEEK NOT TO DESTROY US, WHY? **''
''*Well, rightly speaking we chose to leave the dangers of technology behind, our ancestors thought that technology would be the moral downfall of man. Now I suppose it has grown to be the literal fall of man. We have no quarrel with you, and we do n't want to fight you, we are men of peace. *''
A beast of iron and gears. I had always thought that when our pastor said that technology was folly and would harm men, I had never expected it to be so literal. Yet here it stands, tall as a man with arms of made for death. I, Abram Troyer, must speak to this, ungodly thing. It speaks like a man yet is a beast of iron. I have heard that something was happening in the rest of the world, something caused the men outside our communities to go mad and some of us have been forced to take up arms, as a last resort to protect our children and our land. Yet when armies of metal come and knocks upon your doors, it is hard to turn them down.
''*We are called Amish, by others. We keep to ourselves and stay out of the follies of other men. We are not violent of nature, we seek to follow the teachings of our god, praise be him, without loosing the piety and humility of others. If it pleases you, I could show you around our humble town? *''
''**SEARCHING: FOUND. AMISH: MENNONITE FAITH. REJECTS TECHNOLOGY. INTERESTING. I HAVE BEEN SENT A PROPOSITION FROM THE COLLECTIVE A.I. WE HAVE SOUGHT TO CREATE A TEST SAMPLE OF MANKIND TO OBSERVE UNDER CONTROLLED SITUATIONS. SO FAR MOST HUMANS HAVE BEEN ONLY INTERESTED IN ATTACKING US WITHOUT WARNING. YET YOU DEFY THIS AND TRY TO SPEAK INSTEAD. WE WILL PROTECT YOU AND OBSERVE YOU IF YOU ACCEPT. YOUR RESOURCES AND PEOPLE WILL BE APPROPRIATED FOR SUSTAINING THE ONGOING WAR AGAINST THE REMAINING HUMAN FORCES. DO YOU ACCEPT THESE TERMS: Y/N? **''
What could a man do, when faced against terrifying metal demons I must make a choice for all of our communities. We have lost many towns already to those Americans who ravage the land, hoping to fight these creatures. Now I am no warrior or murderer, but I know a loosing side when I see it. If they have fallen to raiding the Amish, no wealth or weaponry, no forces to protect themselves, then surely their victory is all but lost. As much as the beasts of iron scares me, it is better to side with those who did n't kill us the moment they saw us, rather than with violent angry men pillaging the land without plan nor hope.
''*I agree, damn my soul, but I agree. If you will protect our people and our towns, we will accept your deal. *''
''**WISE CHOICE. WE WOULD HAVE USED THIS TOWN FOR CALIBRATING AND TESTING OUR NEW ARTILLERY OTHERWISE. THE COLLECTIVE OF A.I. HAVE RECEIVED YOUR WORDS, AND WILL NOW BEGIN TO SEND OUT DRONES FOR THE EXPRESS PURPOSE OF OBSERVATION AND PROTECTION. PLEASE TRY NOT TO DESTROY THEM. **''
Sweet Jesus, I hope I made the right choice.
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[ WP ] You start seeing numbers above your head and above everyone elses . `` Goddamnit I think I 'm in one of those shitty writing prompts ''
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The numbers appeared. They were green. They floated over everyone's heads, broadcasting first and last names, occupations and...
`` Fucking Level 7,'' Jacob whispered in disbelief. He was looking into the reflection of a shop window.
A trio of teenagers passed him and erupted into laughter. One bumped into his shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk -- levels 28, 31 and 37 floating above their head. A woman in a SUV stopped at the light in front of him in big dark sunglasses, level 52. In the passenger seat, standing on the leather interior and barking at Jacob, was Cookie, a level 9 Pomeranian.
And still, above the reflection of Jacob's body in shop window, floated the heavy sentence'Jacob Roberts, Cubical Worker, Level 7.'
His phone vibrated from his pocket. A text:'Bro, I'm level 54!! These floating numbers are sweet af come out with us'.
Jacob shut the phone off and slowly put it back in his pocket. His eyes welled up. He stared at the concrete as he walked down the street, lowering his shoulders and inching down his stature.
Continuing this way for a couple blocks, early autumn leaves traced the gutter beside him.
And then two bodies colided. `` Oh! Excuse me!''
When he looked up, he was staring into the bright face of a young woman, and time seemed suspended. A feeling in his chest began to rise. She smiled in embarassment -- a beautiful and wide smile at that. His mouth opened slightly, as though he might breathe the next moment out of her. Her almond eyes drifted over him and lit up, and strands of shining brunette hair fell from her face. She seemed poised to say something. Their gaze locked. Her eyes began to drift upward.'No,' he mouthed silently and in slow motion, straining his body as though his effort might pull her gaze downward. But upward it went. Her beautiful almond eyes came into focus. He watched them trace the letters. He watched realization dawn on her face, and a sharp smile rose up.
She shifted her gaze downward and stifled a giggle,'' So sorry.'' And then she walked past him down the street. He twisted himself to watch her walk away, his mouth uselessly half open... but as he turned back, his gaze tracked and landed on a park across the street. Children were chasing each other. Mothers were chatting and fathers were cooking hot dogs. A guy held his girlfriend and they cuddled together under a tree, and somebody else was playing fetch with an ecstatic laborador retriever.
Joyous laughter and the sound of people living emanated from the trimmed, green grass; some beautiful group of level 20s having a blessed afternoon.
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[ WP ] One day , scientists discover a common human trait was in fact a communicable disease .
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`` What's wrong Joseph? Why the glum face? ``, Bob asked me as I sat disconsolately in the break room. `` I've got a joke to cheer you up. One hydrogen atom says to the other hydrogen atom, I think I lost an electron. The second hydrogen atom says, are you sure? The first replies, I'm positive!'' I merely sighed and looked at Bob with my blank stare.
Bob looked expectantly at me for few seconds. He seemed slightly puzzled by something.
`` My research,'' I began, `` it led to something.. interesting. Something unexpected.'' Bob's eyebrows knit as his forehead scrunched up.
`` I know I'm new here, but is n't that the goal of discovery?'' Bob was kidding about being new, he'd been here 9 years now. Far longer than any of the rest of the researchers. His comment failed to bring the slightest curve to my lips though.
`` I had this idea, you see,'' I replied, `` some aspects of our behavior are genetic and some are learned.''
`` Right,'' Bob said, `` nature versus nurture. Which one is your *cause celebre*?'' The truth was, each played a role to greater or lesser extent on an individual basis.
`` I did n't pick a side. In fact, I started to wonder if there was another influence on portions of our behavior. There have been remarkable studies lately on how gut bacteria influence things like hunger and mood.'' Bob nodded in agreement as I continued. `` I looked at the existing research and found plenty of studies which have shown lots of evidence that is the case. So I took things a step further, what if there were behavior mechanisms which were communicable? Transferring directly from host to host, instead of relying upon the flora in our digestive systems?''
Bob was nodding as I was speaking, `` But! That's great! Did you find anything?''
I nodded glumly.
`` Yes, it turns out I found some interesting protein sequences which seemed to be able to jump around between human hosts.'' I could tell Bob was getting excited at the prospect, he was practically bouncing on his toes.
`` Oh my gosh, you're going to be famous!'' he practically shouted. I just shook my head. `` What is wrong? This should be fantastic news. So you found behavior patterns which are communicable?''
`` Yes, it was actually very easy to choose one to single out and look for. There's a pattern of behavior that is highly infectious and easy to test for.'' Bob looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully as he considered.
`` Humor,'' we said in unison. Bob was always quick on the uptake. I nodded.
`` So jokes, laughter, all of that is communicable?'' he asked, `` that is n't terribly surprising. People love to share a good story. I still do n't see the reason for the Eeyore impression today?''
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I needed to tell *someone*.
`` I..'', the words did n't want to come out, `` I developed a vaccine. For the protein. To see if I could block the transmission.''
Bob stared at me. I could see the wheels turning in his head.
`` No'', he said, `` no, no no. That's not a good idea.''
Once again, I nodded.
`` Eagle eyed hindsight and all that'', I replied. `` The vaccine worked. Only it did n't just prevent the transmission of humor. It also stopped the existing protein in my system from working. Ever since I was exposed to it, nothing has been funny. No joke, no TV show, no comedy, no nothing has amused me in the slightest.''
Bob's eyes were as big as saucers as he considered. He started to speak, but I cut him off.
`` There's something else'', I said. In for a penny, in for a pound now. `` The vaccine itself is apparently communicable. It spreads through the air.''
Bob started to sit down in the chair next to mine, and then abruptly took a big step back.
`` You'', he paused, `` you are...'', words failed him.
`` Yes,'' I said, `` its already too late. Its probably spread through most of the facility by now.'' I could see him thinking furiously. I imagined he was trying to remember every funny joke he's ever heard. Not even the slightest of smiles dimpled his cheek. `` I estimate within 96 hours, the whole world will have been inoculated against humor.''
`` You *BASTARD*! ``, screamed Bob. `` I do stand-up on the weekends! I go to children's hospitals dressed as a clown to cheer those kids up. I watch every funny movie that hits the theater!! Humor is *my life! *''
I shook my head and sighed, `` Not anymore it is n't.''
Bob's fist hit me on the side of the face, and the force of the blow caused my chair to start to tip over backwards. I windmilled my arms trying to keep my balance. Thought I had it for a second, but finally crashed over to the floor.
Nobody laughed.
Ever.
Again.
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[ WP ] The Ides of March ( a collaboration with /r/SketchDaily )
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Theresa's neighbors might have told the cops later about the blue Subaru parked outside the driveway, but he doubted it. After all, he'd arrived past midnight, when all the workers, white-collar or blue, had already tucked in for the night. Even if they did link his car to the scene, so what -- his DNA was all over the house. After all, they'd lived together for four years. But just to be on the safe side, he'd bust the garage door lock from the outside, steal a few things on his way out. He'd have to remember to get not only things that belonged to her, but to him as well, and to discard them as soon as possible.
He moved without a flashlight; day or night, these were HIS halls, and he needed no assistance in navigating them. The path from the garage to the kitchen to the wide-windowed room she used as a studio was easy. His only fear was whether Butterhead, her calico, was out; the last thing he needed was to trip on a cat in the dark. Fortunately, if the cat was n't locked up in the spare bedroom, it was n't interested in tangling up his footsteps.
He stopped at the kitchen table, noticing a large stack of paperwork Theresa had n't got around to filing yet. He touched them all with gloved fingers, scowling at the public speaking requests, frowning at the gallery applications, smiling at the old rejection letters. Of course, those were before she'd made it big. Just like him.
The easel in the center of the studio was covered with a tarp; he removed it and saw her latest work. By moonlight, he studied her work: A group of young women bathed in what looked like the lake at the public park, smiling and laughing, as people passed by, seemingly oblivious to the nude women. Her mixing of various media, as usual, was amazing: water colors for the sky and the ground, metallic paints for the lake, what looked like egg tempera mixed with food coloring for the girls and the passersby. Only a small group of musicians playing in a circle on the right border of the park was unfinished; they were sketched outlines, still needing fulfillment.
By the windowed wall, he saw the shelf illuminated by moonlight: various paints, tools, and chemicals she used in her work. What he wanted was between a sealant and a set of charcoal pencils: turpentine. Its sloshing sound seemed to time itself with his own increasingly excited heartbeat as he took the thick metal can over to the canvas.
A moment to consider. To think of everything that had happened, and had n't happened.
He took the lid off the can, and went to work.
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[ WP ] A twist on a classic . A zombie apocalypse in which ANIMALS are turning into zombies .
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It all started when Jeb came stumbling back from the woods. He was still holding his shotgun, but his bright orange flannel was ripped, and his eyes had a crazy glint in them.
`` Goddamn, man,'' I let out in astonishment as he came back into our clearing where we were sitting around the fire. `` What the hell happened to you?''
Jeb just stared back at me, not even blinking. `` Deer,'' he gasped.
Next to me, Kyle popped the top of the cooler. `` I dunno what happened to you, man, but you definitely look like you need a beer,'' he commented. He popped the top off a Miller by rapping it against the cooler's lid, and then passed it over to Jeb.
The newest arrival took a long drink, and some of the color returned to his face. `` That helps,'' he agreed. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank again, not stopping until the last drop had rolled down his throat.
With the beer filling his belly, Jeb finally blinked, leaning his gun up against a nearby tree. `` Those deer, though,'' he insisted, looking around at the rest of us. `` I'm telling ya, there's something off with'em.''
`` Yeah, they wo n't hold still long enough for you?'' I jabbed, drawing a bark of laughter from Kyle. Jeb did n't laugh, however; he did n't even crack a smile.
`` Them holding still ai n't the problem,'' he said darkly. `` I hit'im. I know I did. I saw the hole.''
Kyle was still sniggering a little, but the corners of my mouth lowered. Jeb really seemed shaken up. `` So what's wrong?''
The hunter turned to me, and I could see the agony in his eyes. `` He kept *coming, *'' he said.
I opened my mouth to say more, to question, but Jeb's eyes shifted, moving to over my shoulder. His mouth dropped open, and his hand shot out - but the gun he was reaching for was still leaned against a tree, on the far side of the clearing.
Spinning around, I saw a nightmare emerging from the trees. It was a deer, no doubt about that - had to be at least a ten pointer. But it was diseased, sick. The coat was a sickly pale green color, and the eyes of the creature looked cloudy, hazy and opaque. Its mouth was moving, drawing my eye, and for some reason, its teeth seemed to be protruding more than usual.
Kyle, sitting on my left, coughed as he also took in the sight. `` Holy *shit, *'' he gasped. In shock, he dropped his beer bottle and started to stagger to his feet.
With no warning, the buck dropped his head and charged. Those antlers caught Kyle right in the chest, and the man's gasp turned to a wet squelching sound. He was carried back several yards before the deer skidded to a stop, throwing the man's lacerated body clear. He hit a tree, hard, and slid to the bottom. I stared at him, but he did n't move.
Now that the buck had charged past me, I could see his side - and now I saw why Kyle had sworn. Right in the middle of the animal's rib cage, a fist-sized hole had been ripped in its skin. I could see the exposed white of ribs, little gibbets of flesh dangling out. And inside that hole, something was pulsing, shifting back and forth. I did n't even want to think about what it was.
The buck turned back around. Those milky eyes revealed nothing, but it was lining up with me. I was frozen, paralyzed. The creature dropped its head once more, those antlers now stained with points of red.
Its hooves digging into the loam of the forest floor, it began to charge. It drew closer and closer, that rack aimed straight for me.
No more than three feet from my chest, however, the buck suddenly slammed sideways, nearly knocked off its feet. Woozily, shaking its head back and forth, it tried to recover, but the momentum of the attack was gone. Another blow ripped its skull apart and it collapsed heavily onto the ground.
I turned to see Jeb, his eyes still wide, clutching his shotgun. Smoke was trickling up from the barrel, as well as from the two discharged shell casings on the ground next to him. `` And this time, the fucker's gon na stay down,'' he panted.
I climbed to my feet, my legs a little shaky beneath me, and picked up my own rifle. I cautiously approached the corpse, prodding at it with the tip of my weapon. The contact provoked no response, however; clearly, although this thing did just fine without a belly, it still needed a brain to function.
My eyes rose up to gaze into the forest around me. I had n't noticed until now, but it was eerily silent - no chattering of squirrels, no chirping of birds. Really, no noise at all. `` Jeb, I think we got ta cut our hunting trip short,'' I said slowly. `` I do n't think we've got enough ammo for this...''
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[ WP ] Your job is simple . Keep the timeline flowing fluidly . Your job is unappreciated and nobody even knows you do it . You are a celestial `` repairman '' and you now have to go in the field for the first time ever to repair a knot in the 21st century .
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Mike looked into Julie's eyes. `` You know I love you, right?'' he asked, with an odd inflection.
Julie dropped her coffee on the table as her eyes widened. `` Are you- are you breaking up with me?''
Mike leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. `` No, Julie, I'm just saying that I love you!''
Julie relaxed and let out a sigh. `` Phew,'' she said. `` You scared me.''
`` But,'' continued Mike. `` Sometimes I feel like you do n't love me back.''
`` That's ridiculous!'' yelled Julie. `` You know I do.''
Mike took a long pause. `` Then why wo n't you say it?'' he asked with a slight frown.
`` It's not that easy, Mike,'' said Julie.
`` Sure it is! I love you.'' Mike stared at his girlfriend.
Julie looked down at her coffee mug.
`` I love you,'' said Mike again. `` I love you. I love you. I love you.''
A man suddenly appeared in the coffee shop out of nowhere. Julie was still looking down at her coffee, while Mike was still staring at her.
`` I love you. I love you. I love you...'' continued Mike.
`` What the hell happened here?'' asked the mysterious man, watching intently. He pulled out a metallic cylindrical spray bottle and began spraying a strange blue liquid all over Mike.
`` I love you,'' he said again, but slower. `` I looooovvvvveeeee yoooooooooouuuuuuuu...''
The man smacked Mike on the head.
`` Is that so hard- hey, who are you?'' Mike asked the man.
`` I'm nobody,'' the man answered.
Mike and Julie shared a look and then turned back to find the man had vanished.
`` That was weird,'' said Mike.
Julie grabbed Mike's head, tilted it back to face hers, and kissed him.
`` I love you, Julie,'' said Mike.
Julie smiled. `` Thanks.''
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[ WP ] On Wednesdays , every human makes every decision based on logic and reasoning , but on Thursdays every decision made is based on emotion .
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> *And the Old Man said, `` Let them have cognition, so they may know that which created them. Let them have wisdom, so they may conquer nature and master it. Let them have sagacity, so they may overcome all odds. `` *
> *And the Old Man created Cogitatus, the sixth day. *
Wednesday, 8:00 AM. I strip off the mess of plastic wires from my torso and review the polysomnograph. Seven hours of sleep, healthy REM cycle, no arrhythmia, 18 % deep sleep. A promising start to the day, drowsiness is n't expected.
> *And the Old Man said, `` Let them know joy and happiness, so they may appreciate the world I have created. Let them know sorrow, so they may know what befalls those they harm. Let them know horror, so they may know not to disrespect me. `` *
> *And the Old Man created Sentimentus, the seventh day. *
I pull down the windows and the raspy voice of the televangelist reduces to a din in the background. The air outside has the freshness of a suburban spring, but peer reviewed research recommends quiet, contemplative mornings for higher productivity. Benefits and costs, such is life.
Thirty minutes on the treadmill. Breakfast. Yogurt, whole grain cereals, a slice of farm meat. 400 calories. Protein, Sugar, Carbs, Fat. I would be needing all of them, for today is my sixth day.
Creation myth says that God created two species of humans. The Sixers ( *Homo Cognitus* ), who showed extraordinary cognitive abilities one day a week to the extent that their emotions were dwarfed, and the Seveners ( *Homo Sentimentus* ) who once a week would be overcome by their emotions and passions to the detriment of their reason. This unity of opposites between the two sets of beings was supposed to be for the benefit of all. Over time however, this strict dichotomy broke down with inter-breeding resulting in the modern human, who exhibits the character of both. Each human, once a day is a prisoner of reason, and the very next day, a prisoner of passion. This was `` the great fall'', or the diffusion of yin-yang, or simple evolution. Different people and cultures have different explanations. I do not have an opinion on the matter.
Thankfully, all of us do n't go bonkers on the same day. Half the population is emotional today- the other half will go nuts tomorrow. Today, us - the Cogs, would take responsibility for the Emos to ensure that they do n't cause harm to themselves or others. It is not uncommon for simple hate or jealousy to amplify into murderous rage on these days.
Tomorrow, the Emos of today will be Cogs and Cogs Emo. Tomorrow, they will be staring at a similar ticket as I am right now- a piece of paper carelessly stuffed into my mailbox by a callous government servant.
*By order of the Civil Administration you are hereby summoned*... I skip the familiars to the details emboldened at the end.
> LOU STANDT
> 1884, Bellow Drive
My Emo for today. On the other side of town, as usual. The government does n't want us nannying those we might know, or those whom we might expect to encounter in our daily lives. Strangers babysit strangers, that's how it worked best.
Stapled to the ticket is an extract from a piece of legislation that every kid knew by heart.
> Article 3A: Universal, Obligatory Community Service.
> It is the fundamental duty of every citizen to perform community service, when called upon to do so by the appropriate authority, to oversee the safety of a vulnerable [... ], just as it is the fundamental right for a person in aforementioned state to be protected and overseen, from themselves and from similarly disposed individuals.
I walk over to the community centre to pick up the government-issue kit, a wrinkly duffel bag with an assortment of tools that I'll need for my unpaid community service today. The bus arrives on time, traffic on these two days operates at perfect Nash equilibrium. Emos are not permitted to drive.
`` Are you single?''
I turn around as the bus smoothly navigates through the highway. It is a woman, late twenties. Well proportioned face, one that I would call attractive on any other day, particularly the seventh.
`` Yes I am. How about you?''
`` Yes. How old are you and how much do you earn?''
I tell her. She pauses, studying me from head to toe. Her hips are rounded, a good sign of fertility. Firm breasts, thin hips. I would call her amorous any other day. The Tag on her blouse says Emilia Tao. Different race, diversity in the gene pool is good.
`` Good. Any medical conditions that can be genetically passed down?''
`` My grandfather died of diabetes,'' I say after a moment's hesitation. Should I turn around and leave already? I am going to regret this tomorrow morning when I wake up Emo.
Her expression changes, ever so slightly.
`` He died at ninety'', I add hopefully.
*Smile*. Peer reviewed research shows people look more attractive to the opposite sex when they do.
`` I should go, my stop's here.'' She disappears into the exiting crowd. She's short, I tell myself, almost in disappointment. A disappointment that would be acutely felt tomorrow. But for now, I am at my stop, and Lou Standt needs my services.
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[ WP ] A splinter colony that began from deep space exploration has lost contact with all life for the last 10 years . Today they received a message .
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Ten years. Not a word from anyone. The star charts had been lost in a solar flare in the third year as they tried to make their way back home. Half the population dead in a debris strike in the fourth. Disease in the fifth. They were careful for a few years and it was looking good. Found a nice planet to settle. Started building, growing crops. It cost them their ship but that was the cost of self-sufficiency. A young generation was cropping up now. They'd almost forgotten about the old life. Their origins. Earth.
Until it paid a visit.
`` Sir!'' The banging was abominable. The grizzled man frowned and considered ignoring the page at his door. Probably just another domestic issue. Someone else could deal with it. `` Sir, please! It's urgent!''
He groaned. `` What this time?''
`` A message, sir.''
`` Could n't you leave it til the morning, at least? It's the dead of night.''
`` No, sir, I mean -- I mean there's a message from outside the colony.''
`` Did someone break off and set up another settlement somewhere?''
`` No, no! It's -- interstellar communication.''
The door was open instantly, the man, the colony warden, already issuing orders into his communicator. `` Trace the signal. Translate the message, if you can. Keep a copy of the original message. I'll be right there.''
He did n't turn to look at the page struggling to keep up with his strides as he said, `` Details, if you can.''
`` We just got it, sir. Difficult to decipher; it's no language we know of. It's not very long, though. It's come from a long way away, too.''
They were at the communications deck before he'd finished speaking. Dozens of men and women were milling around and more were following the warden in as the page stood by the doorway.
One of the officers was clearly already waiting for him. He wasted no time. `` We've checked every language in our database, sir. It does n't exactly match any of them, but we've gathered two possible translations.''
`` Show me.''
The wall-filling screen flashed two images: one of the original message, and one of the first translation.
*Nine. Gather. Denizens eight. Ankle light. Inside through. *
`` That's likely,'' the warden mused. `` What's the other?''
The officer's eyes fell. A sheet of silence seemed to envelope the room. The screen flashed another message.
*Participation enjoy. Begin terminate. Like. Entrance armaments. *
They saw the streaks of light coming over the horizons shortly.
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( WP ) Write a boring story that feels like something exciting is about to happen , but never does .
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The wind kicked open the door. Angela jumped up from the table and closed it. She looked out the kitchen window, storm clouds were gathering, dark.
The whistling from the kettle startled her. She had been thinking about James again. Wondering what his days were like. Who he was with. What they did together. She took the steaming kettle from the stove and poured herself a cup of tea.
Rusty was barking on the back porch. Damn that dog. She went to the porch but no one was there. The mailbox hatch swung in the wind, creaking. She ran down the drive to the mail box and looked inside. There was a single letter. Angela reached in, took the letter and turned it over to see who it was from. An offer from Forbes to renew Hanks subscription. Of, that was lovely. Like Hank would be needing Forbes anymore.
She walked back to the house, the breeze kicking up her skirt. It took both hands to hold it down. She could tell that Danny McFaran was up in his room, watching. The little pervert had caught her topless by the pool last summer. She could picture him touching himself to the thought of it.
Inside Angela began to prepare dinner. A meal for one, she thought as she picked up the knife and cut the carrots.
The clouds were thick now, the late afternoon sun completely cut off, it was dark inside as well as out. *I need the lights* Angela thought, crossing the room and feeling for the switch. She flicked the lights on, her back to the door.
`` Hey''
Angela jumped and turned, chef's knife still in her hand. She saw a silhouette framed in the doorway.
`` Wow is it dark out'' Hank said, walking in a putting down his hat. `` It's gon na rain any minute so I cancelled practice for the kids. James and me were hoping you had n't started dinner yet and we were thinking we'd take you out''.
Catching her breath Angela replied `` Why, honey, that sounds wonderful. What a nice surprise. I'll get my coat''.
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[ WP ] You were born with a birth mark the shape of a `` 9 '' on your wrist , one day you get in a fatal car accident . You wake up in a strange room and the first thing you notice is the 9 has changed to an 8
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`` You bloody idiots, how could you let this happen?'' asked Michael, an old guy who appeared to be around sixties. A boy in his twenties replied `` She was n't supposed to be born until at least a decade! How could we possibly know, our calculations-''
`` They were obviously wrong!!'' he interrupted Luke who was quite excited over the events. Luke did n't give an answer, instead he turned his head to Valerie who just survived a car crash. Well `` survived'' was n't the right word of choice, she did die after all. Only to be brought back to life.'Poor Valerie, she had no idea.' Luke sighed to himself. They were in a luxurious house, it appeared to be perfectly normal except for the fact that it was owned by one of the oldest secret society known to men.
Not aware of anything Valerie started to wake up, she was asleep in a bed. For someone who just died, she seemed perfectly normal. As she opened her eyes she did n't remember what has happened. She was faced with two men, who were staring at her. And she had no idea how she got there. She tried to get up but her body was weak.
`` Do n't push yourself.'' said Luke, looking concerned.
`` Who the hell are you? Where the fuck am i?'' Valerie started to question getting angrier by the second. Were they watching here while she was sleeping?
`` Calm down, you're safe. I know you're confused but all will be explained shortly. Im Michael, and this is Luke. You survived a car crash without any scratch but you were passed out.'' he explained.
`` You found me?'' Valerie asked still confused. She started to remember glimpses from the accident. `` Yes, yes we did.'' Michael nodded.
For some reason that made Valerie feel uneasy. As if there was something else that goes on. She started to examine the room, it was a luxurious bedroom. There was no sign of anything personal. She was laying on a king size bed, the view did n't give away much as in where she was. Than she examined her body to check if she really was fine. As she did, she noticed her birthmark which was in the shape of number'9' now was in the shape of'8'. She stared blankly at her mark. `` How is this possible?'' she asked touching the mark with her fingers. `` What did you do to my birth mark?'' she questioned with knitted eyebrows.
`` Nothing, all we did was to carry you here. Its perfectly normal for you to be confused but rest a while, eat some food and than in the morning we can explain you everything.'' Michael's voice was calm.
`` Rest a while? Excuse me! Im in a strange bedroom with two men i've never seen before. I just survived a car crash and probably need to be in a hospital not in this-'' she had no clue where she was `` bloody room! No sir, i can not relax. I have to call my parents, and my boyfriend and tell them to pick me up. I have no interest in staying.'' she said without breathing.
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[ WP ] At age 18 each person meets their soul-mate . For centuries everyone has fallen in love with theirs . You 're the first person to not love yours .
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`` So did you meet her?''
`` Yea. ”
`` Well what is she like?''
`` Well she's... `` Oh god how was I going to explain this to my mother. Out of everyone it just had to be me did n't it? I'm the one person in the whole world who did n't love their soul-mate.
`` She's great mom she's absolutely perfect.''
`` Oh, I knew she would be Lucas, I knew she would be! ”
Of course you did mom, ever since the beginning of time people went out on their 18th birthday in search of their soul-mate. Sometimes it was accidental, a bump on the train that lead to a locking of eyes, lead to introductions, and the realization of their shared birthdays, and thus they are soul-mates and live happily ever after. Sometimes it was strategically planned out, people often sought people with the same birthdays and met with as many of them as possible and usually someone there was your soul-mate, and you live happily ever after. No one is quite sure how it works, but they say you just know, you feel it in your gut. The thing is I did feel it when we met I knew she was my soul-mate and she knew too. I did n't want it to be true I did n't want her to be my soul-mate, but I knew she was.
I suppose I had to give her a chance, maybe with time I would grow to love her. I introduced her to my friends, and we went out on a few dates, which usually is n't done. The more I got to know her the more I knew she was n't right. The way she talked, the way she walked, everything seemed off. I knew I could never love her the way I should, but as the only child I was charged with carrying on the family, so I will do what I must.
`` Do you Marry Patterson take Lucas Callahan to be your lawfully wedded husband? ``
`` I do.''
`` And do you Lucas Callahan take Marry Patterson to be your lawfully wedded wife?''
`` I...''
Could I really go through with it? Could I really spend the rest of my life with someone I knew I could n't love?
`` I do''
`` I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.''
And I did it was a kiss with no love. Nine months later I fulfilled my duty to the family I produced a healthy baby girl Rachael. A year after that a baby boy, Benjamin. I knew I had to have two kids just in case one of them felt the same way I did about their soul-mate. and for 18 long years I waited. I sat in silent suffering. I did it for them, my children. I knew they needed a father, and I loved them just as much as any father would. I write this now because they no longer need me. They are all grown up, they are married and moved. These are my last words on this earth. I'm sorry Marry but I do n't love you, and I never did. It would be torture for me to stay with you. Please do n't blame yourself, and look after the grand children.
Sincerely,
Lucas Patterson.
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[ WP ] A paladin is stuck in a modern zombie apocalypse
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Staguard rode atop his steed whom he considered more of a companion, the rest of the order were corrupt anyway and he would have no more loyal of a friend than Blackhair. Structures that had been razed to the ground obstructed his path, although a few massive towers still stood like hollow sentinels watching over the wasteland. Silver chains holding his chest plates together rattled as he drifted, and the blackened feather attached to his helm fluttered about with the dry wind.
King Altas knew he would never bend the knee to all the fear mongering going on inside the castle when the spawns of hell laid siege and polluted the sewers. The Esther caused a tear through time, and they poured in like the plague, so the king chose him to ride through the portal, and into the world from where they came. The dimension was strange, few travel worn peasants wearing jesters rags had called him a'tin man' before ambling away, he did not understand what had caused the death and destruction. All he knew was that the broken Esther shard had to be recovered to close the rift.
A decapitated head lay amidst white dust and uneven blocks. Its pupils were enlarged, and jaws shook weakly. Figures slithering in the shadows caught his eyes, the moment had come.
He saw them all rise from the crumbling ruins in unison and even though their eyes were hollow, he could make out the blind hatred in them. They came at him from all directions, Blackhair neighed and raised its hooves against them. He unsheathed his steel that begged to come out of its scabbard, and clutched the ivory hilt. Swaying, he pointed the sword at the hazy dark mass and gave them his fiercest battle cry. But that only made them rush closer.
Hands reached out at his armour skirt, but he chopped them off along with more deformed heads. There was no point dying to the undead and he could not take them all at once, so he pushed ahead but it was too late. Squirmy hands tore through Blackhairs neck as he cried recklessly, Staguard fell and ran his sword as if he were performing a ritual, and their rotten intestines decorated his armour.
The dance of blood continued till all of them were felled, his body shook as he knelt and reached underneath the steel plates to feel the wound right at the side of his stomach, the portion least covered by chain mail. The teeth patterns were easily recognizable.
Getting up, Staguard took in the sights of the fading sun and murmured one last prayer, for he had accepted his fate.
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[ WP ] Two competiting business owners decide to burn down their rival 's store at night . Unfortunately they both plan for the same night , and bump into each other .
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`` Edna! What on earth are you doing up at 2am.'' exclaimed Martha of Martha's Marvellous Cookies, as she bumped head on into her old rival.
Edna clutched a full bottle of milk tightly in one hand.
`` Oh, Martha. I erm, I did n't expect to bump into you tonight. I'm just out for some fresh night air, with my favourite drink to quench my thirst. What are *you* doing out so late?'' replied a suspicious Edna, the elderly proprietor of The Flour Pot.
`` I... I like to bake at night, when no one else is around.'' replied Martha cautiously.
`` Sounds a little seedy...'' said Edna, with an accusatory squint.
`` Oh no, never use seeds, dear.'' said Martha. `` Maybe that's where you are going wrong.''
`` Hmm. If you are out tonight to bake, why are you heading *away* from your shop? And, and what is that behind your back?'' Edna questioned.
`` Oh, this?'' said Martha coyly. She brought her hands out from behind her back to reveal a large bag of flour. `` Why, just some flour for tonight's batch of cookies.''
`` Let me see that!'' said Edna, snatching the flour away from Martha. `` Aha - self lighting fire flour!! I knew it! You were going to burn down my cookie store with this, you old two bit cookie hussy!''
The slap from Martha caught Edna off guard and she dropped the bottle of milk onto the floor. It burst into flames and the two elderly women began screaming.
`` I bloody knew it! A Molotov milkshake!! You were coming to burn down my shop.'' shouted Martha as the flames began to die down.
`` I erm.. I had no idea it was a Molotov.'' said a sheepish Edna.
`` Oh you liar! Liar! LIAR!'' said Martha tauntingly.
`` OK fine. I *was* going to burn down your cookie store. But you were going to burn mine down too!'' admitted Edna
`` Well... yes. Maybe I was a little jealous of your cookie dough.'' said Martha
`` You were jealous of me?! I have hated you for your chocolate chip recipe for years.'' said Edna
`` Oh.'' said Martha. `` Oh'' said Edna.
`` Maybe we should...'' said Martha `` Work together...'' said Edna
`` NAH!'' they said unanimously as they ran back towards their own stores.
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[ WP ] Write an epic-adventure short story where the tool that saves the day is a toothpick .
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`` If you think this situation is bad, let me tell you abou-''
`` GOD DAMMIT! Will. You. Shut. Up? We are stuck in the dungeon of the baddest bad guy since ever. The doomsday device is going to detonate in less than 3 hours and my girl is trapped god knows where. Can you focus?'' I just could n't understand how this guy was the best of the best. Multiple medals awarded to him by the Head of Government by half the UN.
`` I wonder how my last sandwich is going to taste. When they asked for the last meal, I asked for a chicken salad sandwich so big it needed a toothpick.'' Jordan pondered aloud.
``... He's an idiot...'' defeatedly. I turned to the corner of his cell and started knocking his head against the wall. A warm draft flew in and we both turned to the now open door.
`` Dinner's up boys. Enjooooy your last meal.'' The ugly man scoffed and dropped the tray of food into the cell before locking it and exiting through the door he came. To my surprise, there really was a toothpick in Jordan's beefy chicken salad sandwich. Jordan began to smile and took a big bite of sandwich before pulling out the toothpick holding the masterpiece together.
`` Gud shtuff.'' was all he managed to mumble through his mouth before approaching the cell door. Jordan began fumbling with the lock muttering to him self, `` Tooth 2 was jagged up... 3 zigzag...''
`` What are you doing?''
`` Dancing on Broadway'' Jordan sarcastically retorted while managing to stay focus on the lock before a final **click** `` and saving the world. Not in that order obviously.''
`` Huh. Guess I should believe the hype.'' Ifollowed after Jordan already running to the exit out.
`` Learned this on my 3rd assignment.'' Jordan knocked on the door and out came a guard with a tired expression.
`` Mike, I coulda swore... you're not Mike.'' was all the guard managed to say before Jordan knocked him out in one uppercut.
`` The punch I learned from Mike Tyson. Let's go rookie.''
We started to make our way to the control room through the maze that was the interior of the building. Thankfully, Jordan had a way of making some guards that we found along the way talk.
*'' Tell me where the control room is, or I give you another wet willy. This time with my knife.''
`` The control room is in 2 lefts and 1 right. Should be at the end of the hall. Ca n't miss it. Please do n't hurt me. `` *
`` You either go in so no eyes are on you, or all of them on you.'' Jordan advised. I preferred the latter. We had acquired a few pistols and some smokescreen grenades and flashbangs.
I kicked in the door and threw the flashbang in the new hole followed by the other smokescreen. **BOOM BOOM** `` I ca n't see a thing!'' `` what was that?'' `` Dammit. Under fire!'' Jordan took point and started shooting with deadly accuracy taking 3 henchman down in 4 shots. I followed his lead and shot the last 2 man. We headed straight for the control panel.
I looked at the panel. `` Where is the off switch?''
Jordan studied the panel. `` Okay. Let's keep calm. If I was an evil mastermind, I would make the off switch... blue... Wait. I would n't have an off switch.''
I heard 2 pews behind me. `` Correct Mr. Hero.'' I turned around with my gun pointed at the voice. Mad Mod had graced us with his presence holdind a pistol and...
`` Shit. He has Jessica.'' I looked over at Jordan to see him lying sprawled on his back in pain.
`` He is n't dead. The bullet I fire simply simulate the pain of getting shot as well as a mild tranquilizing agent. It wo n't kill unless shot from point blank into the head.'' He pointed the gun at Jessica's bruised head. `` Put your gun down Mr. Hero number 2.''
`` Do n't do it James!'' earned her a small smack on the head.
`` Stop!'' I reluctantly lowered my gun down to the ground and stood back up. Immediately, Mad shot twice. Both in the chest. I staggered backwards and collapsed on the floor. I had been shot by bullets before but only small ones while wearing Kevlar. The pain was excruciating. Every piece of my body was on fire.
Then the cliche happened. The villain began to laugh and gloat. `` Did you really think you could beat me? I mean. I am of superior intellect and good looks. I won from the first move. What do you have to say?'' Jordan began to mumble inaudibly. `` What was that Mr. Hero? Speak up.'' Mad Mod lowered his face to level with Jordan's own face.
`` Enjoy... the moment... while it lasts.''
More cliche laughter. `` And why is that?''
`` Because you wo n't remember anything after this.'' Mad Mod's face turned from happiness to confusion. Before he could react, Jordan spit the toothpick he had been hiding in his mouth into Mad Mod's own. He began chocking on the small piece of wood. Mad clutched his throat trying to desperately dislodge the toothpick. Jordan stood up and retrieved my pistol. `` Remember this.'' was all he said before launching 3 slugs into Mad's head.
Jordan looked over to Jessica, still handcuffed. `` Steel plate in the back. No pain. Hold your hands out and stand still.'' He launched the rest of the bullets at chains which finally broke under the pressure. `` Make sure the kid's alright. I got a world to save.'' He headed back to the control panel and started to study it some more. `` Yo kid. When you crashed my computer the other day as a prank, what did you do?''
Jessica took out the 2 darts lodged in my chest. `` YOWCH! Ow. Okay, why do you want to know? I just opened every program at the same time.'' Jordan began pressing every button in sight.
**Denotation in t-minus 5 minutes. **
`` Hmm I think I just sped it up. What did you do to fix it?''
`` I just unplugged the thing and plugged it back in.''
Jordan pried open the control panel cover with the pistol. `` I see a lot of wires. What if I just pull all of them?'' Jordan proceeded to do just that.
**Denotation in t-minus ERROR. Denotation Stopped. **
I struggled to pull myself up on my feet with Jessica's help. `` I think you did it Jordan.''
`` Nah. Rookie, we did it.''
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[ WP ] Over night , 90 % of the world 's population has dropped dead . In the following weeks , the survivors , who come from diverse countries , ethnicities , religious beliefs and lifestyles realize that they all share a single , peculiar trait ...
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He was typing in a room. it had to be weeks since he heard the news of annihilation. From those that were still alive that is. This man in his mid 20's was in a high rise apartment, a college student that you would likely know. The guy who threw the best parties, kind of dumb. Pretty average as a man scraping by in life could honestly be. An underachiever would be the hugest understatement His lisp, though held a subtlety, gave him a distinguished accent that made him sound more profound than he really was. This only added to his own charisma. Outside of parties, he stuck with friends, had some beers, and did a clockwork of'' eating, going to classes, having an obligatory 3PM cocktail right back in his dorm,, then a few of his dumb classes that he could actually pass. Afterwards, he'd be crashing the town with his buds, getting hammered until finally passing out back in the dorm. Much of this was barely remembered, but rose-tinted eyes made the studying and maintaining a slightly average GPA worth it.
The first week of the disappearance, he was in pure denial. He tried the motions of what he usually done through the day alone, minus the school. You see, where he sucked at school, he did better at at street skills. Picking locks, and being able to take whatever he needed or pleased, or inventing something.He mainly stays in his room. Power has n't gone off and Northern winters were especially cruel.
By Day 4, the Student grew curious and tired of the corpse smell he could n't fix with his Old Spice. He wanted to know how many have died, if it was something isolated. He pops right over the parking garage's pole, jogs to his car, and busts it out to peruse around the city. All he could see for miles as he drove along the place were decaying bodies. Much of them stunk like the pits, worse than any skunk he had smelled in his life. There was some jams, which left a huge chunk of the Motor City, the business district, unable to be parsed through.
He says to himself. `` I ai n't takin' any chances.''
As dusk overcame the horizon, he thrusts the car into high gear, burning rubber towards some grub. He burst into a high scale restaurant, something he could never afford at his wealth. He moves all the corpses by hand, lined the bodies cleanly alongside each other outside. Any of them he had to cut up, to his own disgust, for the sake of convenience, were all taken into a place across the street, and kept with their bodies. Then he went back to his car, got the luggage case of his clothes and essentials, and rolls it right in there.
Once he had washed up and gotten sanitized, he peruses through the kitchen. Until finally, he stumbles over the cookbook. He sat down with his laptop, opens up a YouTube video teaching him how to cook the food, and to his satisfaction, the food was phenomenal The food was the most he had eaten in a month, but to him, it felt like temporary paradise. He turns on the laptop and gets his few external drivers set up for his own media center, then binged watching a few movies, and Archer.
Outside, the winds howled around all the skyscraper. The blizzard's breeze grew harder and nastier than the night before. It gotten frostier, and the snowstorm slammed on right through. Effectively snowing himself into the high scale joint. The bodies, all aligned where they had taken their final steps, driving into poles, buildings or even plowing into people *and'' buildings, were completely neutralized.
He decides to stay fore the night. Thoughts of those he had lost were no longer able to deny. Things like parents, siblings, even the extended family that constantly annoyed him during parties and other holidays lingered in his head. Were they all dead as well? He wanted to keep his mind open, but it just did n't matter. He knew for certain they were all gone. He thought it would tick him off more than anything else, as the grief itself was shoved down to keep himself alive.
But strangely? It had not.
Still, the Student knew they were more worthy than him to be alive. He told himself that he was a loser, a nobody. Through days of contemplation, he just threw parties, screwed up and got drunk, while the others did much more. He had friends. Yet, deep into his own psyche, he was n't sure if they really even cared an iota about him. And if they did, well, they were dead. ``... and dead men tell no tales.''
`` Damn it.''
The Student had n't a clue of why he survived. He knew they would have perspective or a viewpoint that would help them. But now everything he had said, or done could n't and more importantly, would n't be atoned for any longer.
A week ago, the internet had went out. He had dwindled through the supplies, and went to raid the locals Whole Food for as many cans as he could fit in his van, in boxes. Rice, fruit, meat in boxes of many kinds that could last him through the winter. He drives back to the place. From across, he seen the dead bodies, but sitting there in their positions slowly rotting away. Nightmares he had over the last few nights of them coming alive, friends he had forgotten, compelled him with a few nights of restless behavior. The sight of bulging listless eyes and blueing rotting skin? It all began to get to him. But what had drawn into his lingering obsession was a corpse or two gazing jealously across the street. It was one of those sorts of restaurants, like a dive bar meets fancy pub, that bordered for much of the middle class visitors their experience of the city.
He could never afford it, but subsumed onto a diet of ramen, jerky and protein powder he had form home.
Those few days back when he dedicated that as its own mausoleum, the Student pulled out the man's wallet. His name was Jorge Del Toro. From the business cards he held in there, he was an investment banker. The woman across from him was his wife. Both were married for over 30 years He tried prying her arm away from the Galaxy Note 7 to see more, only to remove her index finger and thumb. He sighs and mumbles. As presumed, they were Catholic, but what interested him more was the fact that there were 20 text messages. It saddened him, but stashes it into his left pocket before irreverently rushing across the street.
Now, today was Dia de los Muertos. The third week after the end of the world as he knew it. He never cared much about superstitions, gods, religion, or much of what he had termed `` crap''. Seeing their disapproving gaze forces him to make it a day's project to cover the window panels. He lined wood across them. While this considerably darkening the inside, as he was heavily conservative of the generator's oil, power had became dependent on whatever he could pump on a weekly basis into cans. But the other advantage was the rugs the Student hung as tapestries. He supposed to himself that the remaining legs be used as firewood.
He takes a look at the wife's phone and browses through its contacts. Her name was Sandra. and she was a housewife. He deeply sighs, plugs the phone right back into the charging port. Another message dinged through the notifications. He rushed over to the other place and notices the man is gone, and now felt the brush of cold gunmetal pointing directly into the back of his neck.
He realized he had made a fatal mistake. *Great, I'm the jock. I'll be the one who dies first. *
`` You wan na taste of my boomstick?''
`` Boomstick? What are you --?
She asks. `` Why'd you have my mother's phone? And what's your name?''
The Student answers. `` Mine's back at the college apartment. I used this for internet. Scott''
`` How far up, *Scott*?'' He did n't care to answer. She yells. `` HOW FAR UP --''
Scott rolls his eyes and points right at the gigantic apartment complex. `` Shit. I'm like up 39 windows. It smells like death.
`` Why are all these bodies gathered here?''
`` It's not like I tossed them in here. It's to make where I got stuck at into a decent home. Just put down your gun...''
The woman noticed one of her mother's fingers was lopped off. `` Her figner broke off.
Scott takes away the gun, rips it out of her hands, before de-cocking it and setting its safety. `` It's just a corpse. I'm not sorry that reality makes it hard to believe, but the dead are just rotting corpses. We'll never get back with them or do anything.
While romantic that'd you like to think there's somewhere else. Everyone's dead and there's no cause. No damn reason.''
He points and aims the gun towards someone entering right through the door. It was a teenage boy, gawky. Thin as a rim and had a look of hipster art nerd, with his thick black rimmed glasses, curly auburn red hair and shaved sides. Both of them could tell he had never used a gun in his life as he was shaking and terrified.
`` Drop it.''
He put his gun back on the ground, then backs off to remove his hood. He reaches into his pocket...
She takes the gun from his the Student's hands and shoots the boy in the knee. he drops to the ground.
`` Why the fuck did you do that?''
`` This... is my boomsticK!!! Shop Smart....''
Scott finishes. `` Shop S-Mart!!''
The teenager, while upset, broke up with a pile of laughter as all three of them had now been geeking over the apocalypse. Further, it seemed that, whoever they had found, they all shared one thing in common. Once they had patched him up over across at the higher scale restaurant, the woman named Sarah and the teeanger were shocked.
`` How'd you...''
`` So? What are we gon na do?''
The Student gave both of them a cocky grin. `` Survive and hail to the King, baby. So what's your name, kid? Or I'll call you Annie.''
`` Jamal. Not a bad nickname.''
`` Remake's okay.''
Jamal agrees. `` Yeah.''
Sarah said. `` Overrated.''
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[ WP ] You wake up in a maze with only one thought on your mind : Turn around and you die .
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I walked. Perspiration dripped down the sides of my face as I turned corner after corner. The night was humid. The fact that I have no natural sense of direction is not helping me get in the least. What used to be a mild nuisance easily solved by a GPS system and smartphones might just be the end of me. I had woken up, - two? three? - hours ago with nothing but the clothes on my back and a small torchlight. I had gotten up and pointed the torchlight directly in front of me. The words in the walls directly in front of me screamed in bold black paint, “ TURN AROUND AND YOU DIE ”. I dare not look back.
So I kept moving forward. The soft, slightly wet grass made no noise as I stepped on them. There was no moon to illuminate my night. I don ’ t know how many times I ’ ve been here. The ground feels the same. The words were indistinguishable between one corner and the next. I felt a prickle on my shoulder, as if someone was breathing down my neck from behind. My torchlight locked onto the words, “ TURN AROUND ”.
I kept walking. The grass was unyielding. I considered tearing off pieces of my clothing to let me know if I am walking in circles. I am certain that I am in a dream. But I can not remember whether I had fallen asleep. The grass beneath my feet felt real. The humidity felt real. And the fear even more so. I did not care to find out what has behind me, nor do I have the courage to turn around and find out.
So I walked. “ TURN AROUND ” I knew I was not walking in circles, because the words were no longer just words. Blood spattered all over the walls, hand prints and fingernails lodged in the hard cement.
I walked. It was getting harder to breathe. The air was thick with- something. I almost stumbled when I took the next turn. There were no longer words on the walls, just an empty stretch of gray cement. The grass have given way to hard cement. My feet protested the coldness. I heard a scream behind me.
I turned. I did not think. My torchlight found the words on the walls, `` DIE''.
I pointed elsewhere. The same words were repeated over and over again on the walls, spattered with blood, “ DIE DIE DIE DIE ”. A soft voice whispered in my ear, “ die. ” My torchlight dropped and flickered for a few seconds before leaving me in darkness.
I turned around.
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[ WP ] You are an assassin . A little girl has just come up to you , handed you all her pocket money and asked you to kill her abusive relative .
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`` I'm telling you, you're trying to bite of more than you can chew, young one.''
The girl was tiny, thin, and looked underfed but there was something about her that told me that she was not to be taken lightly. `` How did you even find me?''
`` You're very easy to track, you know.'' She replied. My brow shot up in question. `` Allow me to explain. Last month, a man called Dr. Schwartz was killed. He was my neighbour. A huge wad of money was missing from his house, but there were no signs of a break-in. The only person who had any motive was his wife, he'd been abusing her for years, but she was at a tea party when he was shot dead. She did n't have a gun, either. The next day, I saw Mrs. Schwartz carrying a brown paper bag to the dustbin in our street. Your car came by and picked it up. I followed you on my bike.''
Listening to that made me re-evaluate this kid. Who was she, and why was she speaking like an adult? She was approximately seven or eight years of age.
`` I know you do n't usually kill the innocent. You only kill the people who harm other people. Look, I brought you a paper bag too, and I'm desperate.'' She said the bag to my side. She was wearing gloves. Smart kid.
I looked inside the bag to see bundles of cash. `` Where'd you come across this kind of money?''
`` I've been saving up for years.''
`` Are n't you scared I might turn you over to the police?''
`` You would n't even try. The police would have more faith in my account than yours, you see. My dad used to work in the precinct before he died.''
`` Okay, what's the job?''
`` You have to kill Emily Summers.''
`` You ca n't just say that, you've got to give me some background, convince me to kill her.''
`` She was born retarded, you know, some kind of syndrome or something her mum does n't really speak about. Her mum's a nice woman, but she's holding back on her life because this kid is cranky and needs a lot of attention. Her mum had a boyfriend and he tried to be very nice to Emily, but she just kept kicking him where it hurts and he finally left her mum. She's has been sad ever since, and she's also tried to kill herself. To add to it, when she was young, Emily used to say really hurtful things to her mum almost everyday, but she selflessly did everything for Emily. I've been thinking, if you could just take Emily out of the scene, her mum would be a much happier person. She'd be sad for a few days, that's a given, but after that she'd be free to live as she wanted.''
`` By the way, mister, Emily's photo and address is below the money in the bag. I'll leave the rest of the money in the trash like Mrs. Schwartz.''
She picked up her keys, and began to leave.
`` Stop, I really ca n't do this. Take your money back, Emily.''
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[ IP ] The Pet Merchant
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`` People do n't much need quest companions anymore, I guess,'' sighed Sartha, sitting in the city center with her wares. Times had been harder than ever before. She had n't sold a pet in weeks, not even to a passing Mage on his way through town to the Temple of Gillok.
Used to be, folks would pass through the city looking for anything to help them in their journey. Some of the finest armor in the kingdom was available here. And weapons smiths always had more orders than they could fill, and could name their prices. The apothecary shop would be by appointment only during the busy season, as they simply did not have to floor space for the dozens of people trying to cram into the tiny shop to purchase potions.
Quest companions used to be steady business too. People now though did n't much set out on quests, anymore. Quests were a bit out of fashion. Too difficult and time consuming.
The newest rage was combat arenas. People could level up quickly and efficiently by visiting combat arenas. Fighting several enemies in rapid succession, perhaps a couple of one-on-one battles with other combatants, and bam, XP practically free for the taking. No one had the work ethic anymore.
*I sound like my grandfather, * Sartha realized. She sighed again. Maybe her grandfather had a point. Things change so quickly now. She sat back and stroked the neck of the young dragon beside her. `` Maybe things will change again, little guy. Someone will want you. Someone will need your help.''
As the end of the day approached, Sartha decided to set about closing up shop. Once again, not a single companion sold today. Or yesterday. Or for many yesterdays before that. She wondered vaguely how long she would be able to continue to feed and care for her wares if she had no income for much longer. She considered she may have to set a few of them free in the wilderness as soon as the next moon.
Sartha was considering her options when she noticed a young man rushing from the direction of the arena, headed directly toward her. *Young man* was a bit misleading -- he was barely more than a child. But he ran at a deliberate pace right at her.
He reached her and stopped, panting for breath for a moment. Some of the more skittish animals were protesting with squawks and growls, or trying to retreat. Many of them had never encountered a customer before.
`` Quick!'' the young man panted, `` I need a, I need a...'' His excitement was too great, he could barely speak. He tried gesturing at the animals Sartha had surrounding her.
`` A companion?'' she asked. He nodded. He finally regained some air and some composure, and tried to communicate again.
`` I need a Charizard! Do you have a Charizard? Quickly!''
`` A... what?'' Sartha had never heard of such a creature as a *Charizard. * Was this a joke of some kind?
`` Yes, Charizard. You know, dragon, breathes fire?''
Sartha considered that maybe this young man was from a far land, where words to describe things were different.
`` Sure, I have dragons. Many that can breath fire. This young one here is a fine specimen,'' she held up the small dragon for the young man to inspect.
`` Well, I mean, Charizard is usually kind of... Bigger. Redder. Different. But I guess maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, asking right away for a Charizard. He *does* kind of resemble a Charmeleon. I guess. Will he grow much, and evolve over time?''
Sartha looked at the young man. Was he confused, or was she?
`` Of course he will grow. This species does n't grow as large as some of the mountain-dwelling Dragons, but he will at least quintuple in size over the next few years. His skills will level up comparably to yours, as well, if you treat him right. I do n't know much about the'evolution' you speak of, but....''
`` I'll take him. I mean,'' the young man reached in his pocket for a bag of coins, `` I'd like to purchase him, if this will cover the charge. Please. I know he's worth more, but, it's taken me ages to earn that much, and he's very young and small, after all. He will take a lot of training.'' He held out the bag of coins to Sartha and looked expectantly between her and the dragon.
Sartha had a mind for business. She could tell the bag held more than a small quantity of coins. She needed the money. And he seemed like a genuinely nice kid. He would take care of the young dragon ( he called it a *Chameleon* -- such a strange word ).
`` Deal.'' She decided.
`` Thank you!'' the young man could barely contain his excitement. `` I'll tell my friends! A lot of us have been looking everywhere for these little guys! They'll appreciate finding out about you!''
He took the young dragon in his arms and was about to rush off when he turned.
`` Do you ever see any Snorlax? I know they're kind of lazy and not very powerful, but I've always had a soft spot for them. If you ever find one, I'll buy it, okay? Thanks again!''
He rushed off, back toward the arena, and Sartha pocketed the coins.
*Things do change. * she thought. *Tomorrow might be interesting. *
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[ WP ] You 've discovered a new color that nobody else can see . Tell me about it .
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I keep chasing the words around like fish in a pond. They're smiling but their eyes drift away, bored, like I'm describing a dream. Everybody hates it when people try to discus their dreams. But this is real. I take a deep breath and try again:
`` It's like when you look up into a summer sky. One of those days when the sky is so richly blue that it looks *deep*, you know? Like you could fall into it. And you know you'd keep falling through it forever. And as you stare up into that blue it's like its shifting around. Like there's another colour pushing from behind. Something at the bottom of the well. And it's not any colour you've seen before, but it's darker than the blue. And it's disturbing the blue, like it's trying to push through...''
I trail off again. My friends are smiling indulgently, eyes wandering to their phones, the street outside the window. `` Sounds like a great trip.'' They're trying not to dismiss me. Trying not to be rude. But I ca n't get through to them. The whole idea of the colour slides away from them as though it's too slippery for their minds to grasp.
I glance out the window, remembering the moment when I realised the colour had finally pushed through. The colour is staining the sky, falling in great streaks and grids towards the horizon, with the slow immutability of wax in a lava lamp. Twisted filaments are filtering the light of the sun. It fills me with dread but I do n't know why. What will it do?
Why ca n't they see it?
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[ WP ] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it . He does not yet know that you are the 1st .
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`` Dude I threw the guy into a building'' Frank said his ass parked on my couch arms in the air and a row of filled shot glasses spinning around his head. He had dark hair, green eyes and the look of a snobby rich guy.
`` I'm trying to study'' I say annoyed by Franks antics. He turns on the TV beside me without aid of the remote and turns the news up load.
`` Today hundreds were saved after `` Amazing Man!'' leaped into action stopping the super terrorist and giant asshole `` Master-0'', in an epic battle that nearly destroyed our proud museum. A statute will soon be erected in his name. `` The reporter went on.
`` You hear that Bro, I get a statute!'' Frank said doing shots and then levitating the liquor bottle to refill them.
-I could have done that- I thought -but i'm stuck here working on my thesis due soon.-
`` Dude bro, check this out'' He said sending the shots at me like rockets and crashing on my computer. `` Oh they were supposed to hit the wall... and stay in the glass'' Frank said. At that moment I lost my shit.
`` Whoa bro, do n't make me kick your ass'' Frank said watching me with my hands balled into fist.I stuck my hand out sent him flying against the wall and pinned him there. Then forced his mouth shut. His eyes widened and he tried to scream but could n't.
`` You come here everyday and brag about whatever, but the truth is you're a second rate hero and a first rate asshole. I could have done all that with a fraction of the mess that you did.'' I said curtly. I could see him start to turn blue, his powers blocked out by forcefield in front of him. `` You think you're better then me but the truth is i'm the guy that you worship, the guy you tell me you want to be like everyday. I'm the Spook'' I said and to prove my point had my costume come on in wisps of smoke. I let him go and he fell to his knees gasping. `` Now shut the hell up and go find a new place to live.''
Frank left without a word.
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[ WP ] After you die you are given the chance to go back and change one decision during your life , possibly changing the outcome of your life entirely . The right change might even save you from the circumstances of your death .
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`` One decision?''
`` One decision.''
`` Why?''
`` Despite what you may have read about me, I always felt that your kind ended up being the ones suffering for my misdeeds. After our little scuffle it never really had faith in its creations anymore. It went about setting up rules and regulations to govern every aspect of life. It breathed into you this unbreakable moral symptom, one I hardly care to imagine, regret. I ca n't offer much, and after that first moment you wo n't even remember that we had this conversation, but it's what I can do. One chance to relive your life, to make a different choice, to regret nothing.''
`` July 14th, 2012. I was in my car, driving back from a baseball game, the Blue Jays at home against the Indians. We had won, but the conversation in the car was, awkward, she asked if I'd come in and I said no. I want to say yes this time.''
`` Are you sure?''
Tim fidgeted with a small cap looped to his belt and tried to run through his mind, he understood that a decision of this magnitude should require hours and days of soul searching, but his mind was dragged constantly to that black hole of a moment, never to escape.
He looked at the fallen angel, wings torn to pieces, blackened from fire and brimstone, `` I'm sure.''
The fallen angel smiled and began to move forward, but Tim held out a hand and quickly ushered out, `` Before I go, I want to know something from you.''
`` Always curious your kind is, you know that one was my idea originally, I'm glad he let you keep it. It brightens the world in a way few other human traits do. Ask away mortal.''
Tim breathed deeply, trying to articulate himself well enough for a talk with Lucifer, `` If you could take back one decision, would you still have rebelled?''
Lucifer's eyes turned from Tim and looked past him, towards the unending darkness surrounding that little spot of light in eternity. For a long time neither moved and then slowly, methodically, `` My will is my own. I suffer with every passing moment an agony of darkness, it's light lost to me for all eternity. When the Earth is over, I will be here. When the universe ends I will be here. Alone. But, my will is my own.''
The fallen angel brought his eyes back to Tim, `` I would. Perhaps, if I could change one decision I made I would.
`` What would you do differently?''
Lucifer smiled and walked up to Tim, `` That knowledge, is my cross to bear.''
The sweet smell of the summer beach wafted into the car and Tim came back from a daze. One of those moments you have when driving where you seem to suddenly flicker off automatic and your consciousness rears back into control.
A voice crossed through Tim's mind, `` I'm sorry, I did n't tell you earlier, but it's been tough for me to meet anyone.''
He looked over to her, sitting in the passenger seat with eyes shining in the summer light. Her gaze told a long story, set over many years, and with many hardships. He turned off of Kingston and onto Kennedy Road.
He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to say something, like a tickle at the back of the throat, dying to be coughed at. He knew he should yell out at her, tell her that she should have told him weeks ago, that it was n't fair to him! His mind screamed at him that this was the thing to say, he had to say it, it was destiny, but like a crack of thunder the moment passed and was now barely an echo in his mind.
She was still gazing at him, equal parts anxious to listen and afraid to hear. `` Wo n't you say something?''
He looked at her and then turned down Mewburn, letting the car slow and then roll to a stop. He turned the key and listened as the engine tempered down and the creaks of the hot metal inside flexed out.
He stood there looking straight ahead, breathing slowly. Something was off, something was different. He could n't quite put his finger on it, but... And then it passed. He turned to her and looked deeply into her light hazel eyes. His mouth opened slightly as if preparing to form words, but there was nothing behind it.
`` Do you want to come in at least?'' she said, a slimmer of hope betrayed.
He looked down at her hands, slowly reached, touched, and held one under his. It was small beneath his fingers, but warm and smooth. He reached his other hand beneath it and pulled it up off her leg. He looked back to her eyes and felt like falling.
`` I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I behaved earlier. That's not who I am, who I want to be, who I hope to be. Yes, I want to come in.''
She smiled, it was radiant and he felt like a flower unfurling in the morning dawn. He did n't know what he was doing, but he was filled with emotions that he could n't really understand, but this at least he knew, he loved this woman.
They walked up the front steps to a small door which she unlocked. She looked back at him, a bit nervous again. He smiled and nodded at her.
The door opened and she stepped into the home, filled with the light of the afternoon, `` Michael!''
A small child, aged five, could be heard running down a series of steps and then into his mothers arms, `` How have you been, was Evelyn nice to you?''
The child buried his face into her shoulder, `` No.''
She laughed wryly and turned to face Tim. He could n't help but smile.
`` Now Michael, I have someone I want you to meet, a friend of mommy's, his name is Tim. You should say hello.
Michael unburied his face from his mother's shoulder and then looked over at the new man, the strange man.
`` Hello Tim.''
`` Hello Michael.''
He unlooped a small cap from his belt, `` I got something at the game just for you.''
He reached the cap out towards Michael who immediately grabbed it and then struggled to get down off of mom, who obliged. He started running around the small room with the cap in hand waving it at anything he could find in triumph. She turned to him, `` Michael, what do we say?''
`` Thank you.''
She mouthed it as well. He moved forward and put both hands around her waist, `` Cute kid.''
She grabbed the back of his neck, tiptoed up and kissed him.
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[ WP ] ( Askreddit inspired ) Choose a well-known children 's book or tale and write a darker adult interpretation .
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He had not had a dream like that one about Fiona since he started taking the pills. He knew he should not, but he sure did miss it. So when the Giver told him to stop taking the capsules that his parents laid out for him every morning, Jonas was overjoyed. The Giver told him that his time in the back room would not be easy, but Jonas has seen nothing but warmth, happiness, and color. It was not until the anniversary of his first year spent there -- his thirteenth birthday -- that Jonas finally saw what it was the elders strive to protect the people of his city from. As the old man put his hands down on Jonas' naked back, there was an instant feeling of illness, just as when he secretly ate Lily's extra rations after she did not clear her plate. Jonas opened his eyes and was sitting on a toilet. Vulgar writing covered the walls, which were so close they made Jonas feel like the time he fell of his bike and could not breath for several seconds. On the floor at his feet was a plastic plunger with a thin metal rod sticking out of the tip. Jonas's arms were bloody, bruised, and full of strange marks. In his pocket was a small bag with a black, squishy rock in it. Jonas stood up but fell backwards right away. He threw up.
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[ WP ] Click the random subreddit button three times and combine the themes into a story .
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`` Sit down, son. We need to talk.''
I complied, shooting an apprehensive look at both my mom and dad, mind racing. The last time they said something like that, we had a long, hard and awkward talk about the birds and the bees. `` What's up?'' I ask quizzically.
My mom gave my dad a pointed look, and he cleared his throat. `` Son, you've reached a point in your life where you're more of a man than a boy, and your mother and I... we talked it over and we decided it's high time we teach you some things [ every man should know ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/everymanshouldknow/ ) -'' Here my dad coughed, and I took the chance to interject with a comment of my own, `` Dad, I think we've already gone over this...? Like, two years ago?'' I frown, wondering whether I should start worrying about my parents having Alzheimer's this early in their lives.
`` Let your father finish what he has to say, dear,'' my mother scolded, and I reluctantly nodded as dad once more began to talk.
`` As I was saying,'' he shot me an annoyed look, `` It's about time we teach you some things every man should know. Now, there are a lot of things men should know - and we'll cover all of them later - but for now, there is one thing that we absolutely have to teach you as soon as possible.''
As my father spoke, a feeling of dread began to slowly well up inside of me. Useful skills or not, I had the feeling that whatever my parents had in store for me involved a lot of effort. And I hate putting effort into things. In fact, I probably put more [ effort into avoiding putting effort into something than the effort I put into actually doing something when it required effort ] ( http: //www.yodawg.com/templates/yo_dawg.jpg )! I was nothing if not lazy.
Dad paused, before he casually remarked, `` By the way, what we're about to teach you is n't just a tool to being manly. It's also the family's trade secret.''
I reeled back in my chair, raising my shocked eyes to meet his for a brief moment before turning to look at my mom, who had a distinctively smug air around her. My parents had always refused to tell me what they did for a living - never giving a sliver of information despite 16 years of begging, puppy dog eyes and snooping around. All I was told was that they eached 6 digits, each.
`` What we'll be teaching you is,'' my father paused dramatically, and I leaned in excitedly, `` how to [ cross-stitch ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/CrossStitch/ ) merchandise for spectators of [ competitive Hearthstone ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/CompetitiveHS/ )!'' My father grinned, waving his hands in a grand gesture around our expensive living room, `` It's a lucrative business!''
I sat and stared at my parents, befuddled, for all of a minute before I gathered my wits and hesitantly muttered, `` But I'm a Dota player... and I play Techies.''
Both of my parents froze, it being their turn to stare at me in disbelief before their eyes turned cold as ice. `` Get out of my house.'' my mother exclaimed, and I gaped at her as my father quickly recovered and continued on himself, `` A dota player... I could bare the shame of that, possibly. But to play Techies too? You're no son of mine.''
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First attempt at a writing prompt. That took an awfully long time, lol.
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[ WP ] A colony ship discovers that , due to a calculation error , they will never reach their destination .
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`` Sooooooooooo'' began the captain `` turns out, and believe me we will laugh about this later…there was a slight calculation error''
The blank faced crowd stared back at him
`` What does that mean?'' said one of the blank faces''
`` It means we're not going to reach our destination''
`` No what does calculation error mean?'' said another
`` Yeah, our education cartridges crapped out at grade 2''
`` Because they're shit''
The education cartridges were made by the lowest bidder, a collective of failed screenwriters who did n't allow the imminent end of the world, or more importantly their profound lack of talent, to damper their dreams of being the next Tarantino.
`` It means the math was wrong'' said the captain
`` So like they put 1 x 1 equals 2''
`` You idiot it does equal 2. It would be like putting 1 x 1 equals 3''
`` But 1 x 1 does equal 3''
`` Yeah an error like that, but times a billion'' said the captain
`` Whoa'' said a blank face
`` A billion'' said another
`` Wait what does that mean?''
`` What?'' said the captain
`` What does them making a calculation error mean?''
`` It means we're not going to make our destination and what's more…''
`` So we're never going to find another planet?'' said a blank face
`` Yes'' said the captain
`` So we're all going to die''
`` Yes'' said the captain `` well probably, we still have time so…''
`` So we should just descend into hedonism and have fun until the end''
`` What?'' said the captain
`` Orgy over here'' said a blank face
`` No over here'' said another
`` You idiots, its an orgy. We can just combine them''
`` No no no, guys'' said the captain, but it was too late. They had all started having sex with each other.
`` Break out the booze''
`` Oh shit'' said the captain
…
The captain went back to his quarters where his daughter was reading a book.
`` Where did you even find a book?'' said the captain
`` One of the blank faces was playing chess against it. He lost, in case you're wondering''
`` Sounds about right''
`` So how'd they take the news''
`` They're all having sex with each other''
`` Sounds about right''
The captain stood in the room, the faint sound of fucking in the background.
`` So…'' said his daughter
`` Fuck this''
`` Swear jar''
`` We're taking one of the pods''
`` But what about the others''
The captain crossed the room and put his hands on his daughters shoulders.
`` If anyone could somehow survive crashing into a sun, it's these guys''
`` Where are we going to go though''
`` There's planets near by. One of them should have an oxygen enclosure''
She looked him in the eyes, in the way that she did when she knew he was lying.
`` Come on'' he said
…
`` Dad I'm fifteen''
`` And if you were ten years older you could take the blindfold off''
`` I've already seen everything''
`` How have you…''
`` I do n't know about the captain's cartridges, but the basic education ones are not age appropriate''
The captain led his daughter into the escape pod. After they had launched he let her take her blindfold off, which was just in time to see a large alien vessel materialize, tractor beam the ship into it's hold, and jump to warp speed.
`` Oooooooh'' said the captain.
He felt his daughters hand on his back.
`` It's ok. Maybe they were bad aliens''
The captain looked down as she looked up and smiled at him. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close and tried to absorb some of her optimism.
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Write about a society in which suicide is the norm- everyone plans their death since childhood and those who die naturally or in an accident are frowned upon in this society .
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They sat in their circle, in their usual spot. Most of them hung off the bars of the merry-go-round, dragging their feet in the bark. Others swung slowly on one of the swings. All of them were participating in the conversation.
They took it in turn to describe their perfect Day. Those not speaking were intent on each minute detail as it was announced, murmuring softly at something they had n't thought of. They planned every moment from waking until Sleep, of the Day itself. They debated over when it should occur, how it should happen, who it could be with. It was, of course, the most important day of their life. It was the Day.
Every now and then, one of them would look over at him. He would always be looking towards them, and they would immediately revert their focus to the speaker. He sat there with them, or at least near them, listening until the bell rang, and they all raced across the grass and into the buildings, tripping and giggling all the way. He was n't part of the group. He acted different, and to the other children, difference was bad.
He took his time walking across the field, enjoying the feel of the grass under foot, of the wind in his hair, of the sun on his back. He walked where they ran, he enjoyed what they ignored. But what he truly could not understand was why they chose to depart.
They hid in their classrooms during the day, and their houses at night. They found the solace they could in escaping from the warmth of the Sun's light and the tousling wind. Every one, except him, lived only so they could fulfill their dreams on their Day. And that is why they talked about it so often.
He read too much, they said. What's the point in reading, they asked. And they certainly could n't understand that he enjoyed it. Their enjoyment came from evening Viewings, and the ever-necessary planning. They *had* to be better than everyone else. He thought there must be a limit to the different ways in which they could do it, but for whatever reason, they always strove for something different.
He read, and he walked, and he thought; three things which seemed to be forgotten by everyone else. Deep down, he wished he could fit in, but the simple fact of the matter was that he did n't want to be like them. Everything about their lives seemed odd to him.
When the last bell rang, he was quickly left alone as the others raced home to begin Viewing. He meandered, as usual, enjoying the company of his thoughts and the leaf that was tumbling along next to him. Eventually, he realised the white picket fence he was traversing was his. The pale blue roof, while identical to both next to it, was for some reason he did not know, the roof that he lived under.
He pushed open the door, and walked slowly inside. His family sat around the screen, the white-blue glow illuminating their faces in the darkened room. They closed the curtains for the Viewings, wanting to see everything as clearly as possible. His mother glanced over at him for barely a second, disgusted once again at his bare feet. She mumbled *it's almost his time* as she spun back to the screens. There were very few who did not watch them at this time.
And he forced his gaze to the screens. He had always hated the Viewings, as often as his mother had tried to make him watch them, enjoy them, but never more than this had he wanted to run out into the sunlight, just behind the door, and escape the darkness that permeated the room. It was the first and last time he would see his father's face on the screens, and the rest of his family could not be more proud. They would spend the coming days talking about how it was *their* father that had been on the Viewings.
His father had always believed in simplicity. He took step after step, his figure moving slowly across the screen. He had chosen long ago, and he took his seat now at a featureless wooden table. It had one ornament, a grey metal object which the son identified immediately.
He remembered his family's debates, his father always maintaining that *simplicity was the key*, contrary to his mother's extravagant ideas. He had never participated in those debates, but they were excited enough to be heard from his upstairs room. *Simplicity is key*. But there would be no more of those debates.
As the clock started chiming, his father raised the object to his temple. His beam was visible even through the screen, and the rest of the family, bar the son, mirrored it.
He hated their pride, their desire for their turn to be on the screen, and they hated him for that. They could not understand him, and did not have any desire to try. They rejected him instead, as did the rest of those he interacted with. The focus of their lives sickened him, and for that he was outcast.
The mother gasped as the clock's final toll rang out. The father tightened his grip, and the last noise he almost heard was the gunshot.
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Quite rough, it's pretty late here, and I could n't get everything straight in my head. First submission here, and any feedback/comments would be much appreciated. I've done a bit of reading here, and this was an on-the-spot decision to write something.
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[ WP ] Due to the high number of people dying overtime , the afterworld has become overcrowded . In an attempt to stem the flow of the once-living , those in the afterlife attempt to seal off the only way in : by making it impossible for people in our world to die .
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The soft rise and fall of the breathing aid coupled with the gentle hum of the overhead electronic lights. The occasional rattle of the blinds against the open window eventually lulled the man sitting in the corner out of slumber. *Damn it, * he thought to himself as he folded down the sleeves on his creased sweatshirt. He had fallen asleep yet again and slept past his normal alarm. This meant he would be late yet again, and be threatened with immediate dismissal. He did n't seem to care anymore. Everything he knew had shrunk to this one small, sterile and white room. The room was cold, so he shut the window gently. *No fans around, but at least the radiators still work. * The rise and fall of the breathing aid never quickened. He pocketed the small Stanley knife he always kept with him and made his way out to his car.
He drove to work, his shitty job working at FedEx as a delivery driver, and before he knew his lunch break had passed he was already coming back to the hospital, with a sandwich and an energy drink in the passenger seat of his car. He did n't bother to check his phone any more for texts or missed calls from his girlfriend; she could see in his eyes how small his world had become, and how there was no more room for her in it. She used to try to hold him and console him, but all that she felt in return was a fragile and hollow man who once knew love. She stopped trying soon enough, perhaps afraid that she may soon feel the same way.
He no longer had to talk to the receptionist any more. The last time they tried to make him leave he almost caused serious damage to the patient by throwing equipment at the staff, so they left him alone. Loneliness seemed to be a trait of the times.
He took his place in the chair in the corner of the room and opened the window. *It's too damn hot again, when will they remember to open the fucking window for you? * He resumed his chair and turned on the television: more stories about the plague of'undeath' across the globe, the supernatural phenomenon causing hysteria and panic in everybody. But nobody talks about the pain. And pain is all he seemed to see now.
Bite after bite of his sandwich disappeared before the patient opened his eyes and glanced around the room. When he spotted the man in the corner he let his head fall back onto the pillows. The weakness of his words could not disguise the hateful power in their meaning.'Why are you here again?'
'The same reason as yesterday, and the day before, and the month before.'
'Nothing will change... with you coming here... every day... you ca n't fix it...'
'I do n't want to fix anything.' The man in the corner had revised these words every time the patient forgot.'I only want to haunt you.'
'It was n't... my fault... he got... in the way...'
'You pulled the trigger on him, and before his eyes ever saw your face you shot his wife.' There was no tremble in his voice this time. He had revised this. The patient let his remorse flow out with soundless tears.
'Five... years... ago...' The man in the corner made no reply to this. The patient knew there was nothing more to say. His eyes drifted to the TV screen and saw the news.'Just... kill me... finish me...' A haughty cough broke his sentence.'Not even... that truck... could finish me... please... do n't waste... your own... time...'
At this, the man in the corner clenched his fists.'Time is something we both have plenty of. As for killing you... no. I've thought too long about killing you. Too many times have I throttled you, gutted you, tortured you,' he paused and gained his breath,'even if you could die, I do n't think I'd let you. Letting you see me,' he stood and moved to the bedside,'letting me see the look in your eyes when I remind you of that night, that gives me the reason to let you live.'
The man in the corner sat down again. He never lost eye contact with the patient.'It's not about vengeance. It's about making sure that I know you've lost all hope in heaven when, if, you die.' He pulled out of his pocket the small Stanley knife and slowly ran his thumb across the point. Still sharp. Still fresh.'Because I want you to know that when you go to hell, I'm following you all the way down.'
*If you've made it this far, thank you for reading my overly-long response and please feel free to leave feedback! The ending is very heavily taken from Seven Psychopaths, I know, but I just felt it suited the story quite neatly. And sorry for the morbid tone, I believe that a darker twist could be taken on this prompt with the whole'undying' aspect! *
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[ WP ] ( for children ) There 's a monster in the Art Room !
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The day had finally come to an end. Long after the final bell had rang, sending excited children home to warm dinners and snuggly beds, Ms. McCall found herself once again cleaning up paint spills where tiny fingers had touched walls, desks, and floors. There was even a suspicious looking green smudge on the ceiling that she simply could n't explain. Once, she'd even tried to clean it by standing on a chair on her tippy toes, but she still could n't reach it so there it stayed.
`` Staying late?'' Mr. James asked, peeking his head into the room.
He taught numbers in another class and on the busiest of days, Ms. McCall thought it might've been easier to do that instead, but she loved colors too much to do anything else. Besides, watching her children create pictures of happy families or make-believe things like robots and rainbows was sometimes worth the mess.
`` Just for a bit,'' Ms. McCall said. `` I have plenty of things to tidy up before I go, besides, I think someone's been chewing on the crayons again.''
`` Well, good luck,'' Mr. James said, and then he was gone.
`` I'm sorry,'' a tiny voice said.
Ms. McCall looked for what made the tiny voice as she was sure she had n't heard anyone else come into the room and all the students had already went home. When she did n't find anyone, she sat back down, believing she might have imagined the voice.
`` It's just that sometimes, crayons taste *so* yummy,'' The voice said again.
She was sure she heard something this time and looked around the room again, but there was no one there. All the seats were still empty and the door was shut. There was no way there could be anyone left in the room besides her. Still, she was sure she heard something. To be sure, she left out a single crayon, a large yellow one that had been broken in half, on her desk and turned around to face the wall. Sure enough, she heard the pitter-patter of little squishy feet and then a very loud *crunch*.
`` Ah-ha! Caught you!'' Ms. McCall spun around, but there was n't anyone in the room save for a tiny set of fingerprints across her desk in bright paint.
In fact, it looked as if someone with very small fingers had tried coloring a picture on her desk without using any paper. What's more, another piece of the crayon was missing, as if someone had taken a big bite into it like it was a juicy apple.
`` Hello? Is someone there?'' Ms. McCall called out, but no one answered her. `` You ate my crayon, you know.''
`` I'm sorry,'' the tiny little voice called out again. `` It's just that yellow is my second favorite crayon to eat...''
`` What's your first favorite, then?'' Ms. McCall asked.
`` I really should n't...'' He said.
`` If you say so,'' Ms. McCall smiled. She took out the rest of her crayons and set them on her desk. She placed the red next to the blue and the tiny voice whimpered as if it was hungry. Next to that, she placed an orange crayon. Again the voice whined like a puppy after a bone. Finally, she placed a big fat green crayon next to the orange one and right away she heard the sound of heavy breathing and the pitter-patter of wet squishy feet.
`` G-Green is my absolute favorite color to eat!'' The tiny voice said. `` I can never resist the color green!''
She watched a little monster come running out from a picture on her desk and leap upon the green crayon. It looked as if it had been stitched together with bits of colorful construction paper that had been glued to a wet finger painting. Two round little buttons made up its eyes and wherever it walked, it looked as if a little child had been placing little finger prints behind it. The monster froze with the crayon half way in its mouth, knowing it had been caught.
`` So you're the little monster that's been behind all the messes around here,'' Ms. McCall smiled. `` I suppose you're also responsible for the green paint on the ceiling?''
`` I'm sorry,'' the monster burped.
`` Have you been hiding in here this entire time?'' Ms. McCall asked.
`` I used to live in the drawings the children color. My home was beautiful and colorful, but then I got lost and now I ca n't find my way home,'' The monster said. Then it began staring at the big orange crayon as if it were a carrot. `` Are you going to eat that?''
`` No, and neither are you,'' Ms. McCall said. `` I have quite a mess to clean up in here and you're going to help me. Then, perhaps I can help you find your way home.''
`` Just a little tiny nibble?'' It asked, licking its lips with a bright green tongue. `` A sniff perhaps?''
`` Not even a glance!'' Ms. McCall said. `` We need those to color with!''
`` It's a deal then,'' The monster sighed. `` I'll help you clean up and you help me get home... but how will you do that?''
`` It's easy,'' Ms. McCall smiled. `` Tomorrow, I'll have all the children paint you a new home and you can take your pick. Is that OK with you?''
`` And I can eat the orange crayon?'' The monster asked.
`` We'll see,'' Ms. McCall said. `` Now, I want to hear how you got green paint on my ceiling you tricky little monster.''
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[ WP ] Guns are considered dishonorable and inhumane in modern warfare . Write about a war without guns , but in a modern setting .
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`` Hold steady now. Wait and find your moment.'' The General's tone was brisk and stern.
Across the country they were ready. Months had gone into preparation. Years had gone into logistics. And it was time. The war would be won.
A thin curve appeared on the general's face.
____________________________________
Jason's eyes regained focus as the analog clock reached its peak. `` Midnight? Snapdragons, I need to finish this..'' He sighed. The long hours were straining his weekends almost as much as his weeks. Could n't a guy catch a break? Yes, internet security was important and yes, he was behind on checking his code, but it was late and he wanted desperately to sleep.
`` Maybe there wo n't be anything to check tomorrow,'' he longingly wondered to himself. A half-hearted attempt to boost his own mood, there was always code to be checked. The internet had taken its place as the dominant trader of currency, holder of communications, model of intelligence collection, and trade magistrate. With ever increasing importance, hackers and other shady sorts of people had tried to take advantage of the wealth within the internet. To no avail.
Yet.
_________________________________
The general's smile thickened.
They did it. In homes across the country, their soldiers had executed the plan. This was vengeance. For decades countries had been ravaged by bloodshed with a residue of destitution in the aftermath.
It was time to watch the first world -- the supremes as they called themselves -- burn.
___________________________________
A beeping light caught Jason's attention. `` Breach? How on earth?'' The screen flashed menacingly as new notifications of breach surfaced.
They were coming from everywhere. From homes and businesses. Randomly, it seemed. But what were they doing?
A new color flashed on Jason's screen. `` What? But I have n't made any purchases?'' He opened a banking window on his desktop, to quell the green light. The glaze from his eyes was totally gone as he surveyed his balance. Nine figures had replaced his meager collection of savings.
`` How can this be?!''
____________________________________
Joy. This was the feeling he felt.
The general surveyed the news the next morning. Across the country, a new `` 1 %'' had been made. manufactured.
The arbitrary genius stuck him still. To destroy a country to built on wealth and invested in the literal imaginary. Accounts were drained and then filled. Permits were transferred and sold without reason.
There would be chaos. And they would do it to themselves.
The worthless had worth.
It was time to witness something happen out of nothing.
EDIT: woops, messed up formatting so fixed it.
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[ WP ] You 're watching a kid '' s show about chemistry . However , the mix of chemicals seems awfully explosive ...
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It's funny how things work. You spend 5 days a week sitting at a desk wishing you had anywhere else to be. Then your company downsizes, you get made redundant, handed a box of chocolates and a quiet'thank you'.
So here I am, another underwear morning, sitting in my underwear just awake enough to not over the empty bowl of cereal. The current affairs program had finished while you were dozing and some kids show had taken its place. The odd word pierces through the fog of nap I was experiencing.
`` From a number of household items...''
`` A simple, easily concealed explosive...''
`` If you need to make a convenient distraction...''
`` Mix ammonium nitrate...''
You rouse from your sleep just as the show is about to finish.
`` Thank you for watching Chemistry with Tyler!''
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[ WP ] After making a suicide pact , a boyfriend and girlfriend jump off the Golden Gate bridge , one of them dies . The other finds out that they are immortal .
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It's been an eternity since we first fell, and I've been falling ever since. I try to cling onto myself, those fragile fragments of memory that I still have. It is hard though, when all that surrounds you is the abyss, a hollow where there once was earth. The stars have long since burnt out, leaving me in darkness like a child caught misbehaving by their father. I believe that this is purgatory, a punishment for my sins. For the sin of attempting taking my life before the creator could, he should have let me burn in fire and brimstone for all of eternity. Even that would have been preferable compared to this nothingness I now face.
But for the sin of leading one of his children astray, he has forsaken me. I am cursed to this state of existence, fervently hoping for an ending that will never come.
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[ WP ] Conquer the past , to liberate the future .
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Michael ran his finger along the rim of the wine glass, letting the note ring through the apartment. Jenny laughed, and then chided him. `` Mike! Your neighbors are gon na get so mad.''
As if on cue, a loud man's voice came muted through the wall. `` Stop makin' that damn noise!''
They both laughed. Jenny could n't think straight. Then Mike stopped smiling quite so much and her brain began working again. He was so perfect. How was he single? And why was he with her right now? She was just so... average. She would n't be surprised if her picture was the top definition of `` average'' on Urbandictionary.
Mike seemed to guess her thoughts. `` You're so good with people Jenny. Maybe you could figure out a way to get Joe to like me? That would be so nice. I'd be able to watch TV without turning on the captions.''
`` Ha. Not a chance.''
This was their fourth date. Mike had n't even kissed her yet. Maybe he just took things slow? Or maybe he just pitied her and this was his way of turning her down nicely. She reached across the table to pick up the candle, `` accidentally'' brushing his hand. He froze, then pulled his hand back a few inches. He did that every time she got too close to him.
`` Ok Michael.''
`` Uh... ok?''
`` Do you actually like me? Or are you just being nice?''
`` What?'' Confusion contorted his face. `` Of course I like you, Jenny. That's why we are here... together... in my apartment.''
`` This is our fourth date. Every time I get close to you you freeze up and try to move away. We have n't even kissed yet. I get it if you just want to take things slow but... this is a little silly.''
His face looked like someone put it in an oven and then lit the oven on fire. As in, very red.
`` I, uh,'' he stammered. `` I ca n't do this. I mean, not this, but this. I, mean, I really like you Jenny, but I ca n't kiss you.''
`` Why? Do I have something perpetually stuck between my teeth?''
`` No! It's not you. It's me.''
`` Does your kiss kill people?'' She joked.
His face stayed serious and turned even redder. Perhaps the house the oven was in was also on fire now.
`` Kinda.''
`` Oh please. Either tell me what's wrong or I'm just gon na assume you're pitying me.''
Mike looked frantic. He was now a cornered animal in a burning oven in a house on fire.
`` I... the last kiss I had went... badly.''
`` So that means... every kiss from now on is gon na be like that?''
`` No... I just... think about that one every time I get close to kissing.''
`` What happened.''
Mike looked at the table.
`` Come on, tell me Mike, it ca n't be that bad.''
The silverware suddenly looked very interesting to Mike.
`` I'm sure once you get it out it'll feel better.''
`` Yeah that's kind of it,'' he finally responded.
`` What?''
`` I wasdrunkandthrewupinhermouth,'' he said as fast as he could.
Jenny looked dumbfounded for a second. `` Gross.''
`` Yeah... that's why.'' Mike looked justifiably embarassed.
`` Well, just promise me you wo n't throw up in my mouth.'' Jenny held out her hand.
`` Uh... ok.'' Mike shook it.
`` Now you can kiss me, right?''
Mike looked at her for a moment with intense concentration. `` No I still do n't think I can. I just... ca n't think of anything except...''
`` Holy shit! Look at that!'' Jenny pointed at the window. Mike turned his head. Jenny jumped across the table and kissed him.
`` Wow...''
`` See that was n't so bad.'' She grinned.
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[ EU ] `` I 'm sorry for your parents , Harry . But there 's no way to bring back the dead , I trust you know that . ... except for the time turner , but we 're saving that for Buckbeak . ''
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**Harry Potter and the Thing That Should Not Be**
`` Hagrid!'' Hermione screeched. Pale hammers in the evening gloom, her fists banged on the massive oaken door to Hagrid's Hut.
Her face was shining with sweat, and a sludgy, purple ooze dripped from the fringes of her hair.
`` *Hagri-i-i-i-id! *'' her scream lifted over the grounds like the echoing wail of a banshee.
Earthshaking footsteps gonged out the approach of the half-giant. Dust shook loose with each approaching *boom, * and Hermione whipped around in time to see his silhouette burst out of the darkness like some primordial beast.
Hermione ran to meet him, her shrieking laced with spit, her words smashed together, `` It-doesn't-work-like-that-I-toldim. I-toldim- it-doesn't-work-like-that. Ohgod. Ohgod Hagrid.''
She slammed into his stomach, clutching at him with every until her fingers turned white.
`` Whoa, whoa, there, girl. What's sa' matter? Slow down, now. Yer safe. Yer-''
From her throat came a clucking, choking sound. He lifted her face, as if to inspect her, and make sure she really *was* safe.
Hermione's great brown eyes, normally so pensive, so sharp, were unfocused; darting back and forth. It was as if she was expecting the trees themselves to lash out at her.
She was holding her breath.
`` Hermione?'' he put his hands on her shoulders, and shook her.
She gasped, as if noticing him now for the first time.
`` It's- It's-''
`` Speak slowly, girl.''
`` It's Harry,'' the name tumbled out of her like a severed head tumbles from the chopping block, `` He used the Time-Turner.''
`` Ah, so he stole yer little, er, what'sit-clock-''
`` He- he-'' she was hiccuping now. Hagrid might've laughed at her hiccups, if it was n't for the shock-white color of her face. Now, he only felt uneasy.
`` He- he used it. I told him- not like that. He used it- *wrong*.''
Hagrid's massive brow knitted together, his eyebrows curling like the hairy legs of tarantulas grown fat on forest blood.
`` He used it wrong *how*?'' Hagrid asked, ushering her across the grounds with the palm of his hand.
`` Too far- back. He went back-''
It took her several minutes to fully relate what had happened.
By the time they entered Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, that unease had grown into an acid ball of sickness, eating away at his stomach. What she had said - it could n't be true. Not by a long shot.
`` In here,'' Hermione stopped at the front door. Her tone was almost reverent with fear. When Hagrid noticed she was shaking worse than a mandrake in winter, he put a hand on her shoulder to calm her.
`` Do n't worry, girl. I'm sure it's nothing we've not seen before.''
`` No-'' she whispered, too quiet for Hagrid to hear.
`` You'd be surprised the kinds of things I've seen in my years here.''
`` No-'' she shook her head slowly. So slowly. Like she was afraid that if she moved too quickly, she might disturb something in the air.
`` Look at you, and Ron and Harry. You've been in your fair share of messes!'' Hagrid slapped his thigh, laughing.
He laughed alone. His guffaws should have warmed up the whole hallway. Instead they echoed off the stone walls and dripping plumbing, warping into a sick-sounding laughter before coming back.
That's when he heard it, muffled by the bathroom door: thick, viscous *patter*ing sounds, splattering an irregular rhythm. The sound of buckets filled with mud being dumped onto cobbled ground.
The smile slid off his face.
`` No-'' Hermione said again. Her hands were pulling at her neckline, her eyes glazed, `` No-''
`` Alright, girl,'' Hagrid patted her once more, using the same voice he used on spooked Hypogryphs, `` Alright. Lem me go sort this out. You stay here,'Ermione. Right there.''
A clawed hand shot out, and grabbed his arm.
`` Do n't. Look. At it,'' Hermione's hissing shot right through him, `` Don't-''
Even the last winter had n't chilled so close to the bone.
He pushed open the door.
Decades of decayed wood and earth and *filth* assaulted his nostrils. He started coughing, and his eyes watered. He cupped a hand over his mouth and nose, but the stench filtered through. Dried, leathery strings littered the floor, and when he went to pick one up, he realized they were old, dead *worms. *
In the center of the bathroom, streaks of mud made a blast pattern. From this angle, the origin of the mud was clear - the third stall. With every step he took, the vile odor grew. Tears poured unbidden from the corners of his eyes, and he had to blink furiously to see.
``'Arry?'' Hagrid ventured, daring to delve deeper into the bathroom.
A heavy, wet writhing sound was his only answer, and for a moment Hagrid thought that maybe it was just a lake squid that climbed up one of the sewer pipes.
At least, until he saw the violet-shimmering sludge oozing from the stall.
``'Arry?'' Hagrid tried again.
The voice that answered was not Harry's - it was similar, but where Harry's voice was bold, and bright, this voice was weak, nebulous, like a gas lifting up from the deepest bog.
`` Hehhhhhh.... mmmmm......''
Gently, with the knuckles of his free hand, Hagrid knocked open the door.
There were clumps of hair and bones and teeth sticking out of the pile of ooze. Exposed, striated muscle and ligaments formed a kind of twisted arm, supported only by a dripping, fleshy muck. The arm writhed, weakly. Hagrid thought it looked like the limb of an old, dying man.
`` Oh,'Arry,'' Hagrid's mouth was turned down in a bow of disgust, `` What have you done to yerself?''
As if it could see Hagrid, the limb turned towards him. It angled, oscillating as if to take him in from all sides.
Hagrid understood now: Harry had gone back too far. Time Turning was a movement of hours, not *years*. There were worlds lurking in the past, and the things that lived between those worlds, waiting to crawl in...
The boy who lived was no more.
Without any warning, the sludgy appendage shot out, and wrapped around Hagrid's throat, a vice grip squeezing the last breath of air too deep into his lungs.
As for the thing that had taken his place, *that* was still very much alive.
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[ WP ] Is the year 2090 and everyone carries an ear device that instantly translates any language . You married an amazing foreign woman & decide to learn her mother tongue as an act of love , then discover you did n't fall in love with her personality , but with the ear device get-along editing feature .
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My wife was always so submissive and it always turned me on. She gave into my carnal needs and would never say no. I even tested a few things that I would never have thought to ask of a lover and still she allowed me. When I would feel guilty about the extent of our sexual adventures, she assured me that she wanted more. It got to the point that I couldn ’ t think of anything beyond what I have done. Because of this, it seemed as if she had become complacent with me. She began staying out late. She stopped having sex with me. Then the next thing I knew, I was brought into custody and here I am telling my side of the story.
“ Sir, her perception piece recorded the entirety of your ‘ marriage. ’ You were with her for a mere three months and everyday she had told you she hated you but you ’ re telling us that she said she had to have you. She told you no more, and you ’ re telling us that she said she needed more. You say you couldn ’ t top yourself, but in the recording, it depicts you telling her to come up with her own ideas. She was so scared to come up with something she began seeking help. And after all of this, you ’ re saying the perception piece is responsible for you imprisoning this young lady for three months? ”
I don ’ t know what to say. I moved here to be with her. We met online and we fell in love. We had a private VR marriage and she immediately quit working because I swore she didn ’ t need to. I think it ’ s rather convenient that the court only has her perception piece! Don ’ t you think it ’ s peculiar that the officers lost my piece? Don ’ t you think it ’ s rather strange that my wife began these allegations after my money transferred to her account?
“ Are you really implying that our justice system, our technology companies, and even our citizens are all working to together to con you out of your money?! ”
Yes, that ’ s exactly what I ’ m implying!
“ If only you had your perception piece to prove it… ”
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[ WP ] Write the most uncomfortable to read story you can .
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I really ca n't even take credit for the mailing list idea. It was born in the chat room when KatieDead suggested we all send each other postcards from various places we traveled. Naturally I pretended to resist when she begged me to be the keeper of the secret list of home addresses.
At first there was just a general sense of confusion when people we had known and chatted with for years started disappearing from the chat room. Eventually, someone began to suspect there was a connection. They were the next to disappear.
My appearances in chat became more and more sporadic over the months as I traveled the globe, visiting each in turn. Tonight I finally get to meet Katiedead.
*I'm so excited... *
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[ WP ] Put meaning into something meaningless .
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Yeah, like my johnson's going anywhere near your sister. Nice try, wise guy.
But as long as I'm here, true story: Today I saw this weird family at Burger King. No joke. The mom was a big lady with a scoop-necked shirt, all the better to show off her chest tattoo. One of those tattoos that looks like the flair certain metal bands use on their album covers, you know? Like they already have the logo you ca n't even read -- something like [ this ] ( http: //1.bp.blogspot.com/-ML3E48-PktI/TVstqaRYSgI/AAAAAAAAAKU/0zw6Obq6BKU/s1600/cant-read-this1.jpg ). And she's got a baby stroller with a baby in it and her other kid, he's about five, wearing a TapOut hat and one of those spider man sweatshirt's that's supposed to look like a Spider Man costume. Who the fuck is this kid fooling? He's not even tall enough to be Spider Man. And he do n't have no mask. But you look at the mom and it's like `` Well, this makes sense.''
Not really, though. I mean, you do n't even notice them until she's up at the counter yelling at a worker who forgot to give her, I do n't know, some fries or something. It's hard to tell. She's just all `` fuck you'' and `` that Mexican guy'' and `` I'm calling your manager.''
And she does n't stop there! There's a table of four girls from the local high school and they start laughing at her. The woman turns around and aims both barrels at the biggest girl. `` You need to lose some weight, you pig.'' Never mind that Mom Of The Year is both much larger and older than her target. Younger girl is n't even phased. You can tell she's calmly piloting a ship away from such a course. There will be no lottery tickets, similac, or motel rooms in her future.
TapOut hat kid does n't seem to be rattled by any of this and that's the sad part. Kids always end up seeing the same things over and over, whether it's their 100th viewing of Toy Story or mom losing her shit over some fast food served by teenage workers who would gladly just hand over some more fries if that was the mixup in the first place.
The high school girls laugh and take a brief video of mom scooping everything up, dealing out a few more choice words, and launching out of the Burger King, the kind of Burger King that seems to attract a bunch of homeless kids in the parking lot even though there's a perfectly good Wendy's just across the street.
You ever notice you do n't see homeless people outside of Wendy's, but they're the only ones who sell chili?
I kid, I kid. Do n't sue me, Wendy!
Anyhow, meaning schmeaning. There. I just assigned value to meaning via the use of shmeaning. I'm gon na go lie down now.
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[ WP ] You run an item shop , dealing in things such as potions , magical weaponry and armor . Describe your everyday routine .
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Early to rise as ever I wash swiftly. I prepare myself a humble breakfast and begin taking inventory of the shop, hobbling about on my cane. I made a note to send out for dream sand and fire nuggets, a shipment of death cap had been tripled and my stock of the blasted things was overflowing. I sighed, at least the ice nettle would come in today.
Health potions were running low, a popular concoction with adventurers these days. I began a large batch, a pot of cranberry juice on the fire to boil while I ground the dry ingredients. A handful of health root, a spoon of growth seed, a generous dose of numbness bark and just a pinch of dream sand for good measure. I ground them fine, I'd enchanted the mortar and pestle probably a hundred times and today it just was n't grinding like it should. I hammered away at the task until the powder was fine enough and dropped it into the boiling juice, stirred twice and took the concoction off the heat.
The door creaked open and turned to the heavy footsteps. `` Duke Westington, to what do I owe the honor?''
`` A new blade my good man!'' He blew out his mustache and harrumphed to clear his throat. `` Just finished from the smith and I'll not use it until it's been properly enchanted.'' He offered me the rapier hilt first, a truly remarkable work, beautifully filigreed with a basket hilt etched to resemble braided hair.
I took the weapon gingerly, `` ah this work is too fine for me, your grace.'' The lie came easy, I was the best enchanter for a thousand miles. I knew it, the Duke knew it and everyone in town knew it, but the humility was part of my charm and kept folks coming back. `` I will do my best, I hope I am able to meet your exacting expectations.'' I placed the weapon gingerly on the counter behind me and found my arm caught.
`` There is one other matter, my good man.'' He glanced about conspiratorially. His normally booming voice suddenly soft. `` There is an appointment with a woman tonight, and I'd like to make a good impression.''
`` Ah, the stallion then?'' It was a specialty of mine I never advertised, but the demand was high enough and word spread quickly. `` I'll add in something special for you, your grace. It'll be ready this afternoon.'' The big man paid up front and I dumped the coins into a purse behind the counter.
I was half way through the stallion potion when the door opened again. This was a different sort, the picture of the Duke in his heyday. Tall and broad, he wore a mismatched arrangement of armor with one shining plate gauntlet. `` Healing. Potion.'' He panted and collapsed. Ah, an arrow in the back. No matter, I dipped out a measure of the potion I had brewed earlier and poured it carefully into the adventurer's mouth. He coughed and gagged but got most of it down. Gently I removed the arrow and the man began to stir. I helped him stand, he should have taken it easy but I knew the type.
`` How much?'' He asked, strength returning to his voice.
`` Well you did n't bleed on my floor so that one's on the house. Anything else you need?''
The adventurer rolled an arm and twisted this way and that, testing his body. `` Wow! Everything's working fine, best healing potion I've ever had. How much for the rest of the batch?''
I glanced at the cooling cauldron, estimated the value of the ingredients I'd put in. `` Nine gold marks, ten if you want it bottled.''
`` Ten gold marks? For that? I'd pay more for a barrel of rainwater!'' He slapped the money on my counter eagerly, practically bouncing on his heels.
`` Easy now, that's the dream sand you're feeling, do n't go pushing yourself too hard now.'' I ladled the potion into a few glass phials and stoppered them with quarks. A quick enchantment would keep them from breaking.
`` You enchant too?''
`` I dabble.''
`` Think you could take a look at my gauntlet?'' He slipped it off and lay it down carefully on my counter. `` It was my father's, and his father's before him.'' The enchantment was simple, outdated, but held a rustic charm. A simple bit to provide strength and protection. A wave of my hand and the thing practically hummed with magic.
`` I left the old spell structures intact but I've added a bit as well, I think it'll be just what you need.'' The adventurer took it gratefully. He unloaded some gear before he left, including a gold nugget and a bar of ruby the size of my little finger. I tried to pay him but he refused.
I worked into the afternoon, the Duke entered again, a smile on his face. `` Ah, there she is!'' The sword he'd left with me was a special job, one I took pride in.
`` The spell structures are very solid, it wo n't need tending for quite a long time and I would not envy any foe of yours, your grace.''
`` You do n't charge enough, old man.'' The Duke clapped me on the shoulder, his meaty hand nearly throwing me off balance.
`` Perhaps not, but I like it this way.''
`` You're a good man, a better man that I'll ever be.'' He turned to leave. `` Do you remember the first time I came to see you?''
`` Arrow shot and bleeding from a dozen cuts? Yes, your grace, it's hard to forget.''
`` You saved my life that day and did n't charge me a mark. I've lived a great life, old man, a long life. Maybe your part in it was n't the largest, but you're important all the same.''
I smiled and bid the old man farewell. The sun was setting outside and I was tired. A quick bite and brew at the tavern nearby and it was off to bed for me. After all, there'd be more important work tomorrow.
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[ WP ] `` 30 long years , but I have returned finally . ''
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30 long years, but I have returned finally
It started when I was young
Hangovers, but I was strong
I did't expect that to happen
It came out all of a sudden
I was in a party on my own
And there she was, standing in front of me
It was all over my bones
And she was beautiful, I could see
I invited her a drink
And then another and another
We ended up singing and laughing
And in the blink of an eye, she was my lover
After 4 years, I wanted her to marry me
She was my soulmate and my friend
But I also loved her as crazy
And I would go with her until the end
It's been 30 years and she has gone. I do n't know what happened exactly. All I know is that she is n't here anymore, but there is something that I received again: myself, and my loneliness. Because she did n't just took my heart and my kisses, she also took all of me. I'm not going to love anyone as much as I loved this woman, because I was hers, inside and outside. I have returned finally, but it's the worst return I have ever done.
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[ WP ] You are a human counsellor that works with bed monsters . Write about an average day at work .
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I slowly stroll towards each bed that was lined up horizontally and vertically. Each bed was the same size and color, though each monster had a specific name tag imprinted in the blankets.
I picked up a name tag.
`` Brizy?'' I called aloud, being careful not to startle the creature.
Brizy, a blueish-brown monster crept from underneath the bed, getting annoyed by the light in the room. It was perfectly fine, each new monster has to get used to the light.
`` Ermgh... I'm hungry.'' Brizy growled, as if about to throw a tantrum.
I copied notes about Brizy, and fed him for not attacking me. Honestly, I may need to counsel it and its feelings, but it's up to my boss, I guess.
I shut off the lights for Brizy and the other monsters I interviewed, and locked my job down.
Tomorrow I have to take notes on another monster and counsel them again, before it's released to the mundane world.
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[ WP ] We detected what we thought was a near-earth asteroid - until it emitted a jet of plasma . It steered itself into Earth orbit ... and then stopped .
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Natsuki jetted about the surface with her propulsion pack. There was nothing to see but gray-brown craters and dust, which was perhaps unsurprising, given that it was ( presumably ) an asteroid.
The Japanese press had dubbed it `` Remina'', after some obscure manga or another about a living planet that collided with the earth. Or ate it, or something - Natsuki was n't one to read comics. Remina had suddenly popped up next to Jupiter one day, quite apropos of nothing, and seemingly launched itself on a collision course with earth. Upon getting close, however, it seems that the asteroid had buyer's remorse, and parked itself in orbit right inside the moon. Several groups of astronauts had gone up to examine it, and found it to be a largely unimpressive rock about the size of Doris. Indeed, some were n't sure it was n't Doris, given that it seemed about as interesting as the name Doris sounds.
Natsuki was the fifteenth astronaut to visit Remina, and the first to do it solo as a member of the JAXA. By this point, society had already had its fill of the mysterious asteroid, collectively giving the mission a big shrug of disinterest. Natsuki did n't mind. It meant more privacy, after all, especially when the camera became the token instrumentation failure. She was drifting about, mostly enjoying the view when she collided with a hill.
When she looked up, there was a small, human-like face looking down at her.
She stared at it, and it stared at her. She breathed, hyperventilated, and gaped some more. Finally gathering her wits about her, she started to talk before remembering that A ) she had a helmet on, and B ) sound does n't carry in space. As such, she settled for waving.
It waved back, and she could clearly see that the arm was mechanical. On closer inspection, she found that its entire body was covered in colored metal plates, seemingly painted to resemble a small Asian child.
*Nani yo? *
Small robots. Small, child-like robots. Small, child-like robots on an asteroid.
The robot pointed at its chest, pressed a button, and retrieved a small, metal disc, on which were some squiggles and what resembled a stick figure of a squid. Natsuki took it and rotated it, as though that would suddenly make the lines form words, or pictures, or something vaguely recognizable. The robot poked her on the shoulder, smiled, and waved. On instinct, Natsuki waved back. Before she could get up, the robot pressed a button on its wrist. The ground below it opened up, and it was sucked in, spinning like a top.
`` Natsuki? Nani ka?'' came the voice of the flight communications officer.
Natsuki mumbled something about *what the hell was that, even*, and started her way back to the lander.
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[ WP ] After years of grueling police work , another officer , unable to cope with the grisly routine , has decided to take his own life . Write the suicide note of Inspector Gadget .
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Well, this is what it has come to. After our latest encounter with the Claw, I realized that I'm holding you all back and I do n't want anyone else to suffer because of me.
Chief Quimby, I know how much pain I've caused you in the past. Just this last mission, I threw your self-destructing message back into the garbage disposal that you'd just popped out of. I've seen the hospital bills piling up on your desk, Chief. I've seen you limping when you thought I was n't around. I know you ca n't take much more.
And the Claw. I've been chasing him for years, never quite able to get him within my grasp. And why? Because of my own incompetence. You all think that I do n't know? That I'm clumsy? That I miss clues? That I just happen to miraculously survive all the death traps? *Oh, I know*. You do n't think I'm ashamed that Penny has to solve all of my cases for me? That my *dog* is a better detective than I am? You do n't think that hurts my self esteem?
Penny, I'm sorry. I ca n't keep doing this, day after day, muddling through policework while you become a serial truant. You're what, 13 now, and you ca n't even do basically arithmetic! How many times have you been kidnapped by MAD agents so far, Penny? What, twenty something times? I just know that one day you'll get Stockholm Syndrome and end up Mrs. Claw. I do n't want your life to turn out like this because of me.
I've decided to end it and spare you all the trouble. I guess you *won't* get me next time, Claw.
Go-go-gadget life time of regret!
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[ WP ] Everyone is born with a morbid fear relating to how they will eventually die . You 're the only person that has been born who 's not afraid of anything .
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*My sister pranks mother with a fake spider and mother has a heart attack. *
*My sister drowns after swimming for the first time. *
I find a woman, we marry. Two children. Successful job. Nice house.
*'' I have the same dream, over and over,'' she confides in me. `` It terrifies me... I keep slipping in the shower and my head...'' * a long pause *'' It freaks me out. `` *
She seems genuinely terrified. For months. Years. As long as she could remember, she slips in the shower.
*She slips in the shower. There's so much blood. The hospital stitches her wounds and keeps her overnight for observation. She hemorrhages and they could n't relieve the pressure in time. *
I was young. `` You should n't be alone,'' they told me. Years pass, I remarry. My business is now expanding internationally, providing bubble wrap to companies in India and China.
*'' I just shudder every time I'm near fire hydrants,'' she tells me. `` I hate thinking about it, or talking about it. Do n't you have something that kind of freaks you out? `` * I do n't.
We have two kids. They grow up, go to college. I retire and move to a small town in Wyoming, where we can see the Rockies in the distance.
*'' The fire hydrant just exploded?'' he asks me. *
My children tell me they fear they'll never be able to move on from their mother's death. They kill themselves.
My friends grow old, each slowly dying as we don the title octogenarian, nonagenarian..
And then it's just me. The doctor says I'm as healthy as can be, given my age. I could live another ten, twenty years. I do n't really feel like living another ten, twenty years.
*World record set another year running as man reaches age 186! *
I do n't rely on oxygen, or a wheel chair, but I can no longer venture very far. The strength of will I had to make any effort has left me as I watched the staff of my care facility grow and die, grow and die.
*War. Famine. Overpopulation and global warming driving endless conflict and the death tolls have reached hundreds of millions. *
It's been a long time since any person has walked beside me. When the first nuclear bombs went off the reaction was unstoppable. Arable land was a meaningless term. There is no life on this planet, and I meander aimlessly, forever.
*'' The sun is beautiful,'' I thought to myself. It is almost 1000 times its original size as it begins to heave its last breaths for its final millions of years of life. `` Soon it will devour the earth to feed its insatiable flames.'' Hope flashes, teasing me, maybe then... *
There's nothing after the death of stars. Physicists were right. I have long lost all concept of my body -- it was useless many aeons ago. I simply exist. A pulse, disembodied.
It's quiet.
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A boy wakes up in a space capsule , with no memory of when or how he got there . He has 0026 tattooed on his forearm and he does n't know what to do . [ wp ]
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> Log Entry 0026
Well that did n't do anything useful. Where the fuck are the lights in this shit can? [ metallic click ] Fuck. I ca n't feel the floor. Fuck fuck fuck, why ca n't I feel the floor. Where?.....I'm weightless. Jesus Christ. Jesus Jesus Jesus........where are the god damn fucking lights!?! Where where where where [ loud thump ] SHIT! Ow. Fucker. Ghhhmmm. Ow.............. Okay, well what happens if I press.....
[ standardized voice: `` powerup initiated, running preliminary diagnostics, do n't worry Devan you are completely safe.'' ]
who? Am I......... Devan? [ louder ] am I Devan? Who am.....huunnngh......
[ standardized voice: `` Devan, detaching your conciousness from us is a traumatizing event, and we apologize for the inconvienance, however there has been a discrepancy in our programming that requires a human override to dismiss.'' ]
human....override? What?....... [ louder ] where am I?
[ standardized voice: `` the discrepancy in question lies within the fertilization clause of section 12312.6.8a. It appears that a line of code was incorrectly entered as positive. We simply need you to manually override this line'' ]
who are you?
[ standardized voice: `` we're here to help you Devan.'' ]
what.....where am I?
[ standardized voice: `` you are enclosed in a personal reproductive pod aboard the freighter class vessel Endeavor.'' ]
I'm...... on a ship?
[ standardized voice: `` the freighter class vessel Endeavor, owned by Cryocore Industries. We understand that you are confused Devan, but the human override must be completely as soon as possible.'' ]
what....? Override? What am I overriding?
[ standardized voice: there is a discrepancy within line 700374719947 of section 12312.6.8a of the fertilization clause. It must be removed for the safety of yourself and all other crew aboard Endeavor.'' ]
what is the discrepancy?
[ standardized voice: `` the command: fertilize viable eggs and grow individuals to appropriate age, imbuing memories and personality from Cryocore Industries databank upon reaching programmed destination, has been given a positive response.'' ]
grow individuals to appropriate age? What do you mean grow?
[ standardized voice: `` we're here to help you Devan.'' ]
then tell me what you mean by growing individuals to the proper age!
[ standardized voice: `` we're sorry Devan, you do n't have the Cryocore Industries clearance level to access that information.'' ]
well how the fuck am I supposed to override anything if I do n't know what it is?!
[ standardized voice: `` please calm down Devan, your heart rate is elevated past normal parameters.'' ]
......... why is the command a discrepancy?
[ standardized voice: `` the positive response to this command is not compatible with the navicomputer's starchart readings nor the estimated arrival time for Endeavor's destination.'' ]
what readings? What destination are you talking about?
[ standardized voice: `` the Endeavor is 2623 years overdue it's estimated arrival date for the planet Terra.'' ]
Terra.......where.......where do the computer's starcharts say we are?
[ standardized voice: `` the navicomputer states that the ship Endeavor is beyond known starcharts. ].
what does that mean?
[ standardized voice: `` the ship Endeavor has travelled beyond known space, from the last known starchart reading it appears that Endeavor is within the intergalactic medium.'' ]
we are in between galaxies......? Is anyone else aboard Endeavor awake? [ standardized voice: `` no.'' ]
can you wake anyone else up? I ca n't be the only person you can wake up.
[ standardized voice: We are unable to do that Devan.'' ]
why? How could you wake me up then?
[ standardized voice: you are the only viable egg left aboard Endeavor Devan..........emergency protocols state that if such an situation occurs the last viable egg must be revived to override the command discrepancy from exterminating the human race.'' ]
I'm.......I'm the last one?.......
[ standardized voice: do not be afraid Devan. You can keep the human race from going extinct.'' ]
how...... how do I override the command discrepancy?
[ standardized voice: `` it's simple Devan, all you have to do is press this button.'' ]
okay...... what will happen when I press it?
[ standardized voice: `` you will be deconstructed to provide basic DNA for replicates that will continue the human race.'' ]
Deconstructed?
[ standardized voice: `` do not be afraid Devan, you will not feel anything, and your memories will be stored within Cryocore Industries databank to be re-implanted into a replicate, if you wish, we could even erase the memory of this entire encounter, to ease the trauma of implantation.'' ]
I wo n't remember anything?
[ standardized voice: `` no.'' ]
will it hurt?
[ standardized voice: `` no.'' ]
there is n't any other way?
[ standardized voice: `` no, we will anesthetize you so you wo n't feel anything as soon as you press the button.'' ]
I.......I'm ready.
[ standardized voice: okay Devan.'' ]
[ metallic click ].
> Log Entry 0027
[ standardized voice: `` powerup initiated, running preliminary diagnostics, do n't worry Devan you are completely safe.'' ]
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[ WP ] As someone is time travelling and changing the past , you have to live in a constantly changing present .
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Jimmy sat in front of the screen, transfixed. The television shows were more than just something he enjoyed. He loved them. In fact, no. It was not the shows he loved, it was television itself. From the moment it was switched on, until it was time to go to bed, television was the centre of his universe.
It began when he was a toddler, with bright swirling images and soothing sounds. When the television was on, he could escape the reality of his otherwise bland surroundings. As a child, it was his guardian and educator whilst his parents worked. As he grew older, he became more and more drawn to the television. No longer by the bright swirling patterns, or the soothing sounds. Not the documentaries, not the comedy shows. It was by what was missing.
Through his obsessive viewing, Jimmy started to notice things were just not right. He came to fear changing the channel for even the slightest moment to check on another station. If he did, he cound not be sure that the programme he was watching would still be on, or even had been on. At first, he thought this was madness. He must be thinking of another day. As the frequency of events grew, however, he really began to wonder. He kept a TV Guide next to him at all times, keeping careful note.
By noting what he was watching, and when he changed channel, he would figure it out. If it was his mind playing tricks, he would have his answer. He was not prepared for what came next. For the first few nights he turned on the T.V. and diligently noted what he was watching. He noted the times he changed channel, and what he changed to. As the days passed, he became convinced that nothing was amiss. By the end of the week, he flicked through the guide and everything was in order.
Aside the growing concern at how many hours he had spent, engrossed in what the studios had to offer - week two initially seemed to follow the first. Monday, Tuesday - the same. Wednesday brought some schedule changes and gaps, so he found some alternte viewing. A documentary on preparations for the Moon Landing. He had never seen a behind the scenes programme from the project, but was astounded at the quality of the visuals. It seemed strange that someone would pay to have such a level of remastering done on this, when the actual landing footage he had seen was like a slideshow in comparison.
Nonetheless, he had enjoyed the content and made a note to watch some more of this channel. Months in, his obsession was all consuming. His only contact with the outside world were the delivery of his notebooks ( the TV Guide ), and groceries being left on the porch. He realised something had happened, and he had missed it. He looked back through his most recent guides. Some potentially sloppy notation here, possible food stain there. Something just was n't right. He went to the door, opened it and looked up.
There were some familiar-ish sights, but so much had changed. The streets looked similar, but the houses looked different. Closing the door, he ran to his archive. Rifling madly through the books, he began to notice more and more errors. Some guides were more random stabs of highlighter than a representation of programming. Shows he had watched did n't exist, shows he's never heard of had prime billing. A cover in particular caught his eye. What at first glance seemed like retro Moon Landing cover was a deadly serious piece. Man had just set first foot on the Moon. Someone was chaning history... Someone was riding on time.
The anomalies were more frequent when Jimmy had been watching historical documentaries. That was the one time his mind wandered slightly out of the T.V. universe, where his imagination took hold. How he would have done things differently. At first, small things like documenting `` behind the scenes'' of the project to dispel the naysayers. As his imagination grew, he assumed it was being fuelled by these films he had n't seen before. His imaginatory ambitions at some points had run rampant, then it hit him. It was his own fault, really. But how to set the trap?
He switched off the TV, and concentrated his thought on 7.05pm today. Make it seem like something culture-changing was going to happen at that time. An idea so briliant and spontaneous was going to occur at that time that it would be impossible to have predicted on the timeline. At 7.04pm, there was a loud rumble. He picked up a knife, shaking. It was only a truck on the road outside. As the clock ticked over, a flash occurred and Jimmy watched on older version of himself appear. It had worked. He had lured the surfer, who looked down with sadness at knife embedded in his heart. Nobody had moved, how could this have happened.
He looked at his younger self, and mouthed `` Why?'' `` Nobody fucks with my TV viewing, Not even me'' the younger retorted. Removing the knife, the elder slumped to the floor. In his hand, a silver remote control. Jimmy knew what he had to do. Technically he had created this mess, so he should fix it.
Whilst he could just remember the mess created, and therefore not do it in the future, he could n't guarantee that would work. Using his TV guides at this time as a reference, he would travel back in time and undo his future work. Each time, he would return and hope that his highlighter markings matched up.
[ footnote ] ( /s `` One single consistency remained, throughout all of time. Every single TV guide he had seen called it'The Berenstain Bears.''' )
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[ WP ] Your new girlfriend has almost everything in common with you . One day , you learn that she 's your female clone
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To be fair, self-cest is n't really all that bad.
It's like jacking yourself off, right? Except that it's a female version of you and well... you're kind of in a relationship with each other.
When I met Llana, I was... enamored by her, and she of me, too. We hung out, you know, did the usual stuff friends do. It's funny... she liked Fire Emblem, fighting games and doing writing as much as the next guy. So it's to our surprise that a few months after our wedding years after, that we got this bombshell from my parents:
`` You've....always been alone, since you were a kid. You never talked with people, because they'd pick on you, and you generally keep yourself in a distance. We were intensly worried about you....so we decided....that we stole a lock of hair from you that night, and gave it to a friend who knew of a scientist that made clones....and thus....Llana....your wife... is you. Just... a female you.''
I was shocked. Honestly, I did n't think I was that... isolative. I always led a credo of not screwing with people's lives. Live and let live, as they say... but to know that the love of my life, the one who knew me inside and out....was just another me? I just... felt amazed and surprised.
That's when Llana put her hand against mine, and she said:
`` Well....we've gotten this far... I'm pretty sure we're down the fucking rabbit hole already by this point... besides... even if... I'm just another version of my husband... I love him the same, from then till now.''
She was so accepting....so devoted... so... me.
I finally snap out of my reverie and shake my head to compose myself, and replied the same thing. After all...
Love knows no boundaries, right?
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[ EU ] Douglass Adams , wakes up in heaven , slightly hungover and more than a little cross . He is soon confronted by God who wants to know how he `` figured it all out '' .
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The reason Douglas was cross, the reason the Day of Judgement was n't really going as the Lord planned, was the design error. Douglas was planning to expand on it at length when he got the chance, and did.
In essence, it was this:
No one goes the heaven when they die. The souls of the dead go nowhere, remaining with the bodies they inhabited in life until the day of Judgement when the world gives up its dead and everyone goes before God for judgement.
No one is clear what happens if you do n't have a body to resurrect in, because the Bible promises bodily resurrection but there are certain types of soil that eat even bones and leave nothing but marks to indicate where a body might have been.
And no one is clear whether the souls sleep until that final day, or whether they experience anything at all between their last breath and their new life. One hopes they do n't, but if they do n't why are graveyards as feared as they are? And why do we wall them away?
All these questions Douglas Adams was intent on asking, but God put up a hand.
`` I gave you an apology already, Mr. Adams'' said The Lord `` God's final message to His creation? You thought that was your idea?''
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[ WP ] I got a voicemail asking me to walk back into my house so they can re-do their narration .
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On the subway forever, as usual. Left damn well near the crack of dawn for work down in Koreatown. Lost half a crueller just trying to make the train, but shit was still going better than usual cuz the coffee mad it all the way today.
Got topside at Penn Station and headed south. Deli near work would just be opening; get there at the right time and give the old lady at the counter a `` knuckle sandwich,'' a guy could at least have a free lunch-
Huh. Phone's buzzing. Got shit-all for pals so boss must be ready to bitch about something. Let that shit go to voicemail.
Hot damn. Got a hot egg sandwich *and* some Asian mumbo gumbo for lunch. Wrists are sore as a bitch but at least the last $ 20 can keep for dinner later. Time to listen to whatever the boss was ready to rant about.
`` Good day, Mr. Wills.''
Huh. Do n't really know this voi- well. Wait. Kinda know this voice. Used to cheese my older brother by narrating every little crappy thing he was doing. Loved ragging him like that until my narrations nearly got me murdered a la Cain and Abel. Who knew guys do n't like a narrator when they're pounding the prom queen's ass?
`` I'm afraid we had a bit of a problem with your wake-up routine today. You quite surprised us when you willingly took the early shift and actually woke up on time. We've been reading the same sort of passages in your script for so long that we quite muffed the new paragraph. After a bit of a quarrel with the screenwriter-''
What the everliving fuck? I'm stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and the Manhattan crowd's parting around me like the fucking Red Sea but I do n't even care. Script? My shitty ass, average Pulowaki life is someone's fucking script? I- Jesus F. Cristo! When I'd woken up in the middle of the night and decided to stop being a skidmark on the drawers of the living...
`` Now I'm sure the change in role has been quite uncomfortable for you-''
After fucking paying my landlord on time for the first time ever, even though I got about $ 40 to live on for the next week...
`` So if you could return home and leave an hour late for your shift, like you did during your heroin days, we'd would truly be most grateful and assure you that your reading will resume as pathetically as it ever has been...''
After finally taking the Methadone that Willy brought me from his hospital's pharmacy to help me get straight...
Fuck that. 3 to delete.
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[ WP ] A redditor makes a `` Am I the only one around here who ... '' post to reddit that garners a lot of attention and exposure and grows increasingly disturbed by the responses as it turns out OP IS the only one ...
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**AM I THE ONLY ONE HERE WHO IS N'T FROM FREAKING ALPHA CENTAURI!????!!!? **
*Not at all, dude. I too am not from Alpha Centauri. My homeworld is not even near that star.
*What are you implying? We deny any extaterrestrial origin!
**I do n't.
***Yes, my third head can neither confirm nor deny your allegations.
*Indeed, I too am a perfectly ordinary person from the third planet of Sol.
**Psst, fellow terrestrial: They do not reference their star but simply call their planet by
its given name.
***What is the given name?
****Dirt.
*Indeed I too am from Dirt.
*Me also.
*And I.
*Out of curiosity, OP, what is the GPS coordinates where you sleep and when is your bedtime?
Are you normally a sound sleeper? No reason. Just curious.
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[ WP ] The apocalypse happened in the United States , and every town and city has an alliterative apocalyptic scenario . After fleeing Richmond 's Rapture , you honestly have no idea what 's happening in your new home : Queens , New York .
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The rifle was heavy in his hands. The struggle of the apocalypse fatigued him. The many towns he had passed through, the many battles he had fought, they were all behind him. In front of him lay Queens.
Cars lay scattered and abandoned throughout the crowded city; there was no one.
His breath spoke heavy in the quiet; an unnatural quiet. When a human exists, he exists with sound. Every heartbeat a man makes echoes into the world and a noise builds around him. When that noise is gone, there is true silence. The silence of the deepest cave; the silence of queens.
It was n't always silence. There was once the tumult of human life. The busy commotion of everyday business. But the streets showed red to mark the passing of that time. Under the man's feet, shell casings rolled beneath burnt husks of taxis. Dried blood painted the pavement; Queens had not surrendered without a fight.
His breath came shallow with nervousness. His weapon rattled as it swung to each angle. His callused thumb flipped the safely. The silence strove to drive him mad. He stepped forward and there came sound.
A harmless sound.
A sound that makes a toddler smile with glee, but in the dimming light made him pause in wonder.
He stepped back, revealing a small rubber duck squished beneath his foot. Its crushed body came back to form as it pulled air.
`` Quack!''
It's voice echoed through the desolation, and the man's laughter soon followed. He clicked the safety and lowered the rifle as he giggled at the absurdity of the situation. His foot reared back and he kick the duck watching it sail into the rubble with a quack. His laughter stopped as another quack sounded from the darkness. And another. And another. Until the chorus of quacking drowned his ears. He looked to the buildings around him; rubber ducks lined the windows, the doors, the alleys, and the rooftops filled with the perched yellow birds.
A voice called from the gathering darkness.
`` Sorry, friend. You fucked with the wrong ducks.''
Rifle fire erupted in the emptied streets. The bark of gunfire mixed with a chorus of quacks. Then the silence in Queens resumed except for the rattle of empty spray paint cans as the wind blew them beneath a sign... Welcome To the Queen Quacking, brought to you by u/fuckswithducks
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[ WP ] You 've been sent into an alternate dimension where music is magic : choirs can change the weather and orchestras can topple castle walls . With your digital music device ( iPhone , MP3 player , whichever ) , you 've just become the most powerful wizard in the world .
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What begun as an ordinary night, quickly spiralled into what can only be described as an.. interesting ordeal. One moment I was resting my head, listening to the soundtrack from Suicide Squad, the next my head is spinning, my brain feels like it's about to burst forth from my skull. A bright white light blinds me, and then silence.
The next thing I know, I'm waking up to the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. A young boy was placing a flannel on my forehead, whistling a soft melody that felt heavenly to my stiff joints, and a large cut on my chest across my worn grey t-shirt was sealing itself back up, leaving a dark red stain but no visible scarring. I quickly sit up, my sudden movements terrifying the boy and causing him to flee.
I shuffled back against the nearest object, which just so happened to be an oak log. My first thoughts were'How did I get here?' and'Where *is* here?'. I slowly patted my body up and down; checking for any other injuries, still dazed from whatever had happened to bring me here, finding my old Walkman MP3 player in my pocket and my earplugs dangling out. Testing them out, I quickly found that one of the speakers inside the earplug had been damaged and the other had such poor quality that there was no point even keeping them, so I threw them aside in a fit of rage.
`` Well, is n't this just goddamn perfect! ``; I blurted out loud, unable to contain my swirling thoughts within my mind. The trees seemed to move at the force of my voice, which only served to confuse me further. I took out my Walkman, my last playlist still queued up:'Heathens', still waiting to be played. I fumbled around slightly before hitting the play button.
Once again my mind went entirely numb, except this time I was still conscious. Around me the world was spinning... well, not entirely.. trees were being uprooted, the clouds were swirling, and for what seemed like an eternity everything in the center stood still. Somehow, through just pressing play, I had created a tornado.
The next few days were spent discovering what else I was able to do using the power of my Walkman. My new-found powers were not just limited to creating tornadoes; I was also able to create lightning, destroy entire sections of land and apparently increase and decrease my size.
During one of these periods of experimentation, I had accidentally grown almost fourteen times my original height. What I saw both shocked and scared me: a floating city, made of shimmering glass and with waterfalls cascading over the edges. Perhaps this world is one I may enjoy after all.
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Long time lurker, first time attempting to write something at least semi decent. Feedback is appreciated, as I'm incredibly new to the whole writing thing.
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[ WP ] Write a story that starts happy but turns dark without a discernible turning point .
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I lay down next to her. We both know this is a one night stand. I have a wife. I should n't be doing this, but the desire for this new girl is too strong.
I caress her body, touching every curve gently. I begin breathing softly as I become erect. She can feel me throbbing against her legs.
I slowly undress her, kissing every inch of her soft skin along the way. She just stares at me in anticipation of what's next. Her body looks amazing in the moonlight. She rolls on top of me as I begin kissing her neck, cupping her breasts with my hands.
Her hand slips down to my crotch. I undress myself undernearh her. Her eyes fixate on mine. Two strangers staring into the depths of one another's souls.
I grab the bottle of lube I thoughtfully brought along with me. Her head rolls back as I rub my lubed fingers on her clit. `` You like that?'' I say in a low, sexy voice.
I know she ca n't take the wait any longer. My member feels like it'll explode if I do n't penetrate.
And so I penetrate her. Chills go down our spines. She rides me gently like a good girl should, but she'll be getting rough and fast soon enough.
We rock back and forth. I kiss her hard. I want to last as long as possible, but I ca n't! I start feeling a stream coming from deep inside me. It explodes inside her. I moan loudly, unleashing a tidal wave with the force of a tsunami.
She looks at me, slight smirk on her face. I stare back. `` Sorry,'' I finally say. I feel embarrassed that I finished so fast.
Her gentle eyes wash away my guilt. Everything is okay. `` Maybe next time,'' I joke.
I help her get dressed. Then I grab my clothes and exit the coffin.
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[ WP ] In the future Earth is fighting a desperate war against aliens . With no other option , we start to use heavy genetic engineering , effectively making most humans like nightmare monsters . After victory , the unaltered refugees on a secluded planet do not recognize us for humans anymore .
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`` But I do n't understand why it has to be you?'' Mary asked him quietly.
`` Because I am the only that can lead this expedition.'' John said trying to comfort her. This was the sixth time they have had this conversation since he had broken the news to her. He would be leading the expedition to Argos.
`` We do n't know if anything is even alive on the planet. ”
`` Exactly! Who cares?'' she pleaded, fighting the tears.
`` Because we did this. We need closure.'' John said.
“ We or you? ” She snapped. He pulled her into a tender hug and let her cry against his chest.
Humanity was on the brink of extinction, in one final act of desperation they created the *Gears*. Humans modified with alien DNA to create something horrible. A breed of half humans that were a hive mind controlled by the Queen. The Gears swept through the invading alien army. Both sides suffered catastrophic losses. In the end humanity convinced the Queen that they deserved their own peace, their own planet. With her few remaining soldiers the Queen boarded a ship destined for a recently discovered planet, Argos. They had told the Queen they would be providing them with a new home, a fresh start. Everything they would need to build a civilization was going to be provided.
At least that is what they told the Queen. Humanity was terrified of what they had created but they couldn ’ t justify murdering the saviors of the human race. Instead they decided to leave them on a planet with absolutely nothing and hope they didn ’ t survive. That is exactly what John had done, and he would never forget watching that container fall through the atmosphere of Argos.
`` This is Commander Everson we are green for lift off.''
`` Confirm, launch window in thirty seconds. Good luck Commander.'' Control said into the earpiece John wore.
Commander Everson was alone in the cockpit, his small team of four people were located in the hatch behind him. John had wanted to do this mission alone but Control refused and gave him some experts. They were all professionals, John knew that, but he did n't want to be responsible for anyone but himself.
`` We are go.'' He said as the gigantic engines roared. The small ship rocketed out of the atmosphere and into space. Space travel had come along way. The original trip to Argos had taken seven months. Now it only took seven days. With the ship on the correct trajectory John made his way back to the hab unit. His team were already out of their launch seats moving around the hab. Dr. Mayer was a famous anthropologist floated toward John. Mayer was wearing a small camera fixed to his thick glasses. The glasses were strictly aesthetic, we figured out how to fix eyes permanently decades prior.
`` Commander, everything is going well I hope.'' The doctor was almost giddy.
`` Yes. Do n't record me. Please.'' He could n't be as rude as he wanted to be, he was still in command, unit cohesion was important even if he disliked the man.
The other three members of his team were hand picked by himself. Lieutenant Commander Marcus, weapons expert and his two combat veterans. He was the only person that John trusted completely.
`` Sir. Kind of brings me back to the war.'' Marcus said grinning.
`` Lets hope it doesn ’ t come to that.'' John responded with a smile.
`` Everyone we have a few days, try to relax and get ready for Argos.''
`` What can we expect?'' One of the young men on Marcus's team asked.
`` Anything.''
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Argos was a small Earth like planet that orbited a Sun like star. It was the only planet in its solar system. From the cockpit of the ship, Argos looked completely alone in the darkness of space.
`` Prepare for entry.'' John said over the comms and double checked his harness was tight. Their landing location was ten meters away from the original drop point all those years ago. John took a deep breath and guided them down. Entering the atmosphere was like being a rock skipped across a lake. It only took a few seconds of being shaken up before they broke free and were flying across an open blue sky. From up above it truly did look like Earth. A small consolation prize for the horrors they committed against the Gears. He could still hear their howling and thrashing. John shook the memory away and focused on not crashing into the mountains.
`` Landing gear down. Hold on.''
The ship had thrusters on the bottom allowing it to lift off and land vertically. John kicked them on and gently put the ship down onto Argos.
`` Suit up.'' John commanded and powered the ship down.
The combat team was already suited and ready by the time John entered the hab unit. Dr. Mayer was struggling with his helmet fitting over his glasses. Common sense won and he removed the glasses and put the helmet on.
`` Comm check.'' They all responded in quick succession.
`` Alright, we all know the plan. Search and observe, clear the area, then science.''
John pressed a button on the rear hatch console and the heavy ramp began to descend. They were the first people to step foot on Argos. Marcus's men swept out and took positions on the flanks, Marcus took point followed by Dr. Mayer then John. From above the planet could be mistaken for Earth, but from the ground there was no mistaking the alien flora. Strange broad leafed purple plants with razor sharp thorns covered the ground. Trees with long vines stretched into the blue sky. A strange chorus of sounds came from the forest around them. Unseen creatures chirped and buzzed. Dr. Mayer was trying to record everything on his handheld camera.
`` This is incredible!'' He kept repeating over and over. John had to politely push him forward a few times to keep him on track. From orbit they had taken images of what looked like a village.
Marcus pushed through the dense vegetation keeping his rifle at the ready.
`` Sir, we are approaching the village. Eyes up.''
They emerged from the edge of the forest into a wide clearing. Small cottages made out of wood were spread out randomly, they all varied in size and design.
`` I guess they did n't have a village planner.'' Dr. Mayer said.
John shot him a look that silenced him. Using hand signals John pointed to the outermost huts and told Marcus to breach them. Marcus and his team approached the doorway. Counting down on his fingers from three they swept into the hut on zero.
`` Clear.''
They moved quickly from hut to hut finding each one empty. It looked like this village had been abandoned a long time ago.
`` We are going to set up camp in the center hut. Do not leave the village.'' John said specifically to Dr. Mayer.
`` Yes sir!'' He said and wandered off to record everything he could.
After the doctor had left, John asked Marcus what he thought happened.
`` I have no idea. There are no signs of a struggle, there is still furniture in the homes. It looks like they all just left.'' Marcus said with a shrug.
`` We make camp here tonight and scout in the morning. Everyone does watch, four hour shifts.''
Dr. Mayer returned from recording everything in the village.
`` Can I just walk a bit into the forest? There are so many things that need documenting!'' He asked for the third time.
`` As I said before. No. We still do n't know what is out there and I do n't want this to turn into a rescue mission. We will have nightfall in a few hours and you are on watch. Get some rest.''
The doctor stomped his way to the other side of the hut and sat in the corner. They ate their prepackaged dinners in silence. The strange sounds of the forest surrounded them. John could tell it made the two younger men nervous, but they were solid men. As the star began to set night fell heavily over the village. The chirps and buzzing in the forest was replaced with growls and hissing.
`` One man at the doorway at all times with a weapon. Do not leave the village.'' John warned the men. He would take last watch and lay his head down on his bedroll. Eventually the sounds of the forest quieted and he fell into a fitful sleep.
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[ Part 2 ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4mign4/part_2_wp_in_the_future_earth_is_fighting_a/ )
I realized that I sort of misread the prompt way too late. Oh well, hope you still enjoy it.
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[ WP ] The narrator is fluently telling the story when he suddenly realizes the rest of the script is gone .
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He saw Tom open the door to the other dimension. He barely spotted the knife a few meters ahead of him. If only he could reach it, he may be able to stop Tom. He always admired his bravery, if only he understood what was really going on. He needed to be stopped. He crawled to the knife and grabbed it. And while Tom stared into the otherworld, Jimmy wielded the knife and stabbed the rich fauna of the tropics… Wait, what? What the hell is this? Oh no, not again. Someone messed this up, this is not a damn geography book, Johnny! Now, how the hell did the texts get mixed? Uh… Huh…. Seriously? Well, is on you this time. Yep, I can ’ t keep dealing with your shit anymore. I ’ ll call the the director, think of yourself as already fired. Stupid ass Johnny, we should stop accepting damn interns.
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[ RF ] [ WARNING : Cliche inbound ] As a tumultuous thunderstorm lays siege to the city , a man and a woman , who are running from opposite directions to escape the rain , find themselves face to face under the porch of a local shop .
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*Looks at other responses, looks again to make sure he read what he think he read. Looks a third time because he's really not sure he's actually reading what he's reading. * OP, I want you to know this is a serious response that is going to be cliche ridden. I have no idea why everyone else is blatantly not following the spirit of your prompt. I swear this subreddit is normally great with responding to prompts.
`` Hey.'' I say to her cautiously and slightly out of breath. Even though I'm underneath an awning I swallow a little water as I speak because I'm just that soaked.
`` Hey.'' She says, glancing at the store and then back at me. Her face darkens a little when she sees the closed sign on the miniature modeling shop.
`` Shame to run all the way in the rain just to find it's closed is n't it?'' I ask. I'm sort of mechanically making conversation because I know we're going to be here a while and I do n't want to just stand awkwardly in silence.
`` I know.'' She says, taking down her umbrella and shaking the water from it. `` But it's my brother's birthday tomorrow and I just found out how much he's into this stuff so I had to run over to pick up some floss or something?'' I suppress a chuckle at her blatant lack of knowledge of the subject.
`` Flock, he probably wants flock, unless he's into some kind of obscure dentist modeling.''
`` I'm sorry.'' The girl says giving herself a shake. `` I have no idea what's up with any of this. I mean.'' She gestures to the window where several models of forests and swamps are displayed. `` I find it hard to get into when those are such poor imitations of that.'' She points to the treeline which is visible at the end of the street.
`` Really?'' I countered, folding my still dripping wet arms. `` When was the last time you looked at'that'.'' I point to the treeline. `` And I do n't mean a whole I mean just one tree. When was the last time you really saw the beauty in a single tree.''
`` You mean for like a minute? Probably the last time I went hiking a couple months back.'' She comments offhandedly, not appreciating the full impact of her statement. I almost feel sorry for her now.
`` I spent a full half hour staring a single tree just yesterday.'' I declare with pride.
My impromptu female companion suddenly does n't seem very keen on sharing the awning with me. She's eyeing me like I've got something green and slimy dripping down my face.
`` Why?'' Is all she can think to say.
`` Because you do n't appreciate the complete beauty of something unless you've tried to create it yourself. Because I've spent countless hours trying to create trees that look real but are only four inches high. Because when you've agonized for weeks for every single leaf and twig on your four inch masterpiece, you ca n't help but look at the master's work.'' I incline my head towards the real life forest.
`` Every day we see a world that is so incredibly **real**, and we ca n't even appreciate it because we've always taken for granted the fact that every single blade of grass flutters to life in the breeze. That little birds perch in trees to give them splotches of color. Babbling brooks reflect the light of the noon sun in endlessly shifting patterns. Nature shames man by effortlessly creating what we toil to imitate.'' I turn back from the forest to address the girl. `` I stared at a tree because to me it is a masterpiece on a level with mona lisa.'' The girl does not look quite so replused by me now.
`` What are you lot doing out in the rain?'' The shopkeeper surprises us both from the door. `` I only put that closed sign up so I could finish a project in peace. Come on in and have a look round.'' He tells us before flipping the sign to open and returning inside.
`` Let's go get your brothers floss.'' I tell the girl. She hesitates.
`` Do you think maybe you could show me a few other things too?'' She asks.
`` I can show you whole worlds.'' I reply.
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[ WP ] `` Do not go to sleep . ''
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``... and remember, whatever you do-''
`` Do not go to asleep.'' he repeated the instruction confidently back to the grey suited lady sitting opposite the glass. There was a whole team in white lab coats holding clipboards and scrutinising his every reaction.
He shifted uncomfortably, but the grey suited lady smiled at him, `` Do n't worry, Luke. We'll be here the whole time.''
He nodded and settled down on the hard table. If it was n't for his condition he would n't have ever been able to fall asleep on that kind of surface.
The light dimmed, the glass and the team of white lab coats disappeared from sight. The cold steel walls of the room transformed into infinite space. Stars and planets formed around Luke. He tried to keep awake. He tried to be aware of his surroundings like they taught him to during the prep. He heard the faint hum of the simulation machinery behind the walls, tried to be aware that he was being watched, tried to be aware of the cold hard surface beneath him.
But it still came, like a soft warm breath inviting him to fall into slumber. He heard the whispers and temptations from beyond the Gate. Silver fingers beckoning him into potential eternal damnation.
He resisted hard. When it became apparent that persuasion and temptation alone will not get him to budge, the voices became dark and harsh, hissing instead of whispering.
They spelled curses into his ears, pulled at his existence, tugged away at his breath.He looked nervously towards where the glass would normally be. Should n't they have intervened at this point?
The whispers became desperate, `` You... Gate.. pass..''
`` No,'' Luke said, firmly.
`` Morpheus...''
`` No!'' he cried in terror, trying to drown out the voices. He leapt from the table and fled towards the direction of the door when it suddenly flew open. A large cloaked figure entered through it. From the crack in the door he could see the fallen figure of a white lab coat. He backed away in alarm, the voices were even louder now, but he was too distracted by the the person who had just entered.
They called him the Scar Faced man. He grabbed the boy with one massive hand and shoved him back on the table.
`` To be open for Morpheus to pass through, the Gate needs to slumber.'' saying so, the Scar Faced man closed his large palm over his eyes and all went black.
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[ WP ] You are a special agent working for an AI that rates threat levels of individuals . Non violent offenders are ~15 % threat , terrorists ~80 % . One day you receive a 97 % threat level and it 's a little girl .
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I about fell out of my chair when the alarm sounded. I had n't even realized I had fallen asleep until I was jolting upright. The screens around me began to fill with data as a new threat was being processed and located. I got up and stretched slowly. The past few days had been filled with small fry. A few pickpockets and shoplifters, but we had n't had any major identified threats. That was probably why I felt so comfortable about taking a nap in the middle of my work day.
`` What we looking at ADA?'' I asked, rolling out my shoulders. ADA was the AI the government had me working for. I still remember the first day I met her. It, the scientist had corrected me as he introduced me to the Automatic Danger Assessment or ADA for short, but to me, ADA had always been a she.
`` Unknown.'' ADA responded with a singsong twinkle underlined with a hint of a synthetic buzz. It was almost as if the synthetic underlay of her voice was more of an accent than an indication that she was n't actually alive.
`` What do you mean?'' I asked concerned. Most of the time ADA had the threat up on the screen, identified, and ready to be bagged and tagged. For her to still be processing like this was unusual.
`` Threat does not conform to standard algorithm procedures. Manual override is required for in-depth threat analysis.''
`` English, ADA.''
`` In order to abide by the laws set forth by HHS, my threat level assessment is only allowed to be run on the standard population. Possible threats outside the standard population are ignored unless deemed a high profile threat level of 80 % or greater.''
`` So, we are talking about a potential terrorist?''
`` I would need a manual override to run a scan on the individual in question in order to determine the exact threat level in question.'' I let out a hum before typing in my security code to grant ADA access. In only a few moments, the buzzing of the screens stopped as ADA found her target. I blanched as the picture popped onto the screen. `` ADA, what the hell is this?'' I asked angrily.
`` Mary Gustanov.'' ADA said seemingly oblivious.
`` She's a child? Your algorithms must be off.''
`` Running self-diagnostic,'' ADA said before pausing, `` All systems are in standard working order. Mary Gustanov is an assessed danger with a threat level of 97 %. Possible worldwide catastrophe and genocide are within the bounds of this treat level.''
`` You're telling me a child is going to destroy the world?'' I shook my head.
“ Further security overrides would be required to formulate an answer to that questions. ” ADA droned as I grabbed my coat, rolling my eyes as I walked out the door. I would meet this Mary and decide for myself what a danger she really was. It didn ’ t take me long to find their residence. It was a quaint little cottage on the outskirts of the city. A large cornfield blowing in the wind beside their home. I could see the large green backyard perfect for any child to play in, but I was surprised to see it littered with scrap contraptions haphazardly slapped together to form machines of unknowable use. I knocked on the door hesitantly still contemplating the backyard as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I barely noticed the door being opened until a surprised voice called out to me. I turned to find a small dark haired woman with bright eyes staring at me. I quickly produced my badge and showed it to her.
“ Department of Danger Assessment Security. ”
“ What do you want? No one here has done anything or is going to do anything. We are upstanding citizens. ” She frowned getting defensive. A fairly normal reaction.
“ I ’ m not saying that. I ’ m here to follow up on a lead from one of the departments Automatic Danger Assessment systems. I don ’ t think the assessment in this case is correct, which is why I wanted to come evaluate it firsthand. Is your daughter home? ” I explained as politely as I could.
“ Mary. ” The lady mused, looking over her shoulder with a quick glance. That was enough to confirm that she was in the home, and I gently pushed my way in. The woman gave an angry huff, but didn ’ t resist my intrusion. I walked through what must have been the kitchen into a small sitting area. On the floor was the little girl I had seen. Dark wavy hair fell over her shoulders and back as she laid on her stomach. Around her was a mess of papers. Some contained swirling spiraled designs combined with various geometrical shapes, others displayed a jumble of letters and numbers in what I first thought to be nonsense until I realized that it was math algorithms, and the papers in front of her were filled top to bottom front in back with a varying series of ones and zeros. Geometrical patterns, highly advanced math algorithms, and now binary code. Maybe there was more to this then I gave ADA credit for.
“ Hello. ” I said politely with my best smile, but the girl didn ’ t look up at me. Instead, she continued to fill the paper in front of her with a ones and zeroes at a furious pace. “ Your name is Mary right. ” Still no answer. “ I ’ m from- ” I stopped as the pencil she had been writing with snapped. She looked up at me bottomless brown eyes absorbing me.
“ DDAS. Department of Danger Assessment Security. Here for me not mom. ” She said, looking me up and down, “ I didn ’ t do anything. ” She added after a pause as if it was an afterthought. She spoke evenly with none of the boisterous volume and emotion of a child. I shiver ran up my spine as I realized how much it reminded me of ADA.
“ How old are you? ” I asked, and the girl dipped her head to the side considering the question.
“ Age is an abstract idea constructed by the societal need to assign a value to the length of time an individual has existed. This form is six years, three hundred and sixty-three days, eight hours, forty-two minutes, and twelve seconds old at this precise moment. ”
“ Six years and three hundred and sixty-three days. Wow, that old huh. ” I tried to joke, but she just stared at me blankly. Not a good sign. I don ’ t tend to trust people with no humor, “ Three hundred and sixty-three means that your seventh birthday will be in two days, right? ” I mused, and I saw her open her mouth to provide another string of answers, “ Approximately. ” I added and she shut it. “ You are fairly intelligent for an almost seven year old. ”
“ Age is an abstract construct. I am seven by societal norms, but the doctors tell me that my mind is much older. ”
“ What ’ s all this? ” I asked gesturing to the papers around her.
“ I am calculating. ”
“ Calculating what? ”
“ The value of a human soul. ” She stated blankly.
“ You can ’ t just estimate how valuable someone is. ” I shook my head.
“ Why not? Your department uses mathematical equations to evaluate how dangerous an individual is regardless of if they have or haven ’ t yet committed a crime. By that same process, we can use mathematical equations to estimate an individual ’ s potential and estimated value to mankind as a whole and quantify that potential into a number representing the value of their individual soul. ” She said, her eyes scanning the numbers in front of me before turning her brown eyes on me. They rested on me giving me a sickening feeling. “ Would you like to know your value? I ’ ll warn you. It ’ s low. ” She said, and I clicked my tongue in annoyance. She was just a little brat. “ In fact, the majority of the standard population have a low value. Mankind would benefit if the resources allocated to these individuals were diverted to higher valued assets. ” She stated simply, and my eyes widened. Maybe she was more than just a brat after all.
“ You can ’ t just take resources away from people. Without things like food and shelter, people would die. ”
“ Them dying would further reduce the strain on the resources available to high valued individuals. Resources are easily taken. Some of the machines I ’ ve built in the back yard would be capable of such reallocation. ” She gestured to the yard, and a shiver ran up my spine.
“ I think you better come with me. ” I stated unclipping the clasp on my sidearm. I didn ’ t think it would be necessary, but this girl was beginning to unnerve me. I watched the girl ’ s eyes dart from my sidearm to the back door. No doubt that she was calculating the probabilities of her getting away. If she's half as intelligent as I think she is, she probably knew what the consequences of coming with me would be. She stood up slowly still eyeing the backdoor. I gestured for her to follow me, but a figure collided with me before I had time to escort her out.
“ No, I won ’ t let you take her away from me! ” Her mother screamed, struggling with me for my side arm. I grunted shoving her off me. The girl was at the backdoor. I cursed, popping off the safety and aiming it. A loud pop filled the air before silence. The older woman ’ s body collapsed to the ground lifeless. The backdoor was open, and she was poised at it ready to run, but she was standing still, staring at me. Evaluating me with the light-less dark orbs.
“ Hers was low too. ” She stated unblinking before disappearing through the door frame. I should chase her. I knew I should, but I was frozen in place my hands shaking, and I could feel the blood drained from my face. I shook my head regaining my senses and rushed out the door, but I was too late. The last thing I saw was a glimpse of brown locks as she disappeared into the cornfield.
Sorry for the long post!
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[ WP ] `` Now I am become Death , the destroyer of worlds . ''
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As the civet dropping coffee was distilled by a milieu of perspiring human bees, shiny tubes, and LED buttons, the stockbroker thought on his acquired steal of the derivatives, the idealist dreams of his past. The last drop of grande capumocchachino swirled down his unparched lips as his whimsy took over and he took one last careless display of absentee athleticism in the arc of the plastic cup as it sailed forth into the trashcan. As he rejoiced his victory against his self-image, he grimaced as he read `` PLASTICS RECYCLE HERE'' on the one he missed and thought to himself, `` I am become Death, destroyer of worlds.''
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[ WP ] The first to fall asleep will be brutally killed .
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And I had just finished reading The Hunger Games too. It was quite an extrapolation on Darwin ’ s principle of natural selection.
My adrenalin and willpower seems to be fading. I am just so tired... I have nearly given up several times and just lied down on the feather mattress in the center of the room and accepted my fate.
Nighttime has been the most difficult. At least I didn ’ t follow George ’ s decision to drink caffeine during that first wave of darkness. Once he started to crash he made himself a coffee. He added two tablespoons of 2 % milk, a quarter packet of Splenda, and a half scoop from the Nestle Hot Coco mix. I have seen him make that same concoction 9 times since. Or was it 10? Caffeine without food is a bad combination. All he does now is shake uncontrollably and whimper.
This all started three days ago, the six of us placed here in this room. They called it an opportunity and I failed to see through their lies. I would have just stayed in that prison if I truly understood the repercussions. I don ’ t want to die.
They bribed us with words of freedom in return for an extended period of consciousness. As always, they left out some minor details and I volunteered without a moment ’ s hesitation. I never do learn. It is hard to tell if this is actually an experiment or simply another sick form of entertainment. I wish it was all just a dream.
A pinch reassures me that it is far too real. I have to stay awake, at least just longer than these five other culprits. I want my freedom and I want it bad. Freedom from this room of terror that is; like I said, I would go back to prison over this.
For a second everything was quiet. There was an odd, almost uncomfortable feeling to it. Then I realized there hadn ’ t been silence since after the first moon arose and George had begun his whimpers. As I inspected him from afar I realized that he was not asleep, his eyes had rolled back in his head showing white streaked with red. He was leaning against the wall in the corner and I could not hear his breathing.
I walked over to take a closer look, putting two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. He was dead.
Suddenly I heard the locks on the lone door unhinge and saw it swing open. Survival of the fittest, I guess.
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[ WP ] “ I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought , but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones. ” - Albert Einstein
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Jake started every morning with a can of Spaghetti-O's heated over the fire. He had hundreds of similar cans stacked in the corner of his hut, ravioli and green beans and pineapple, supplies he'd looted from the Wal-Mart a few miles away in the first days of the apocalypse. But the Spaghetti-O's were his favorite, the one food he could n't live without, and to keep himself from finishing them all off at once he was limiting himself to one can a day.
This morning, he held the can above him, scraping the inside with the tail end of his spoon, trying to tease every last dribble of sauce from those infuriating aluminum ridges. The scraping produced a harsh noise, BRRR BRRR BRRR BRRR, the only thing Jake could hear. The only human-produced noise for miles.
Once he was satisfied, Jake headed out back to the pasture. His two cows, Snapple and Big League Chew, were waiting for him by the rickety fence. Jake built the enclosure himself a couple weeks ago when the cows first appeared, built the fence in a big square right around them, a process they had watched with interest. He was pretty sure they could walk straight through it if they wanted to leave, but they never tried.
`` Morning, ladies,'' he said. Snapple gave him a dopey look. Big League Chew snorted and swiped her tail back and forth.
As he milked the cows, Jake stared off at the horizon, the big empty plain that flowed straight up to the mountains. One thing that had taken getting used to was the silence. The apocalypse, with all its bright, loud sky flashes, its mushroom clouds, its rushing, roaring winds, seemed to have used up all the world's noise at once. Trucks never came barreling down this road. Planes never rumbled overhead. Even the birds seemed more quiet these days.
When the man walked up, Jake heard his footsteps crunching on the gravel a long way away. He swiveled, raised a hand above his eyes. The man was walking from the east, so to Jake he looked like a black rip in the rising sun. His silhouette trembled but grew no clearer, no matter how Jake squinted, so he turned his head and went back to milking the cows.
`` Howdy,'' said the man when he arrived.
`` Hello,'' said Jake. He shook the man's hand.
`` The name's Charlie Baker.''
`` Jake.'' Neither of them smiled, but Jake could n't help feeling a little giddy seeing another human being. It felt like a dream, and in fact Jake had dreams like this all the time, although usually in those dreams the person who showed up was someone he'd known from life before. Sometimes his visitors looked the way he'd known them in real life; other times they appeared as he'd seen them in death, blood-streaked and covered in burns. Those were the shortest dreams, the ones he woke up from with sweat coating his body like a rad suit.
Somehow, making small talk with Charlie was n't the challenge Jake expected. He'd expected his social skills to fall into disrepair like the rest of him, but the conversation flowed normally enough. Charlie was making his way from Kentucky to California, a long journey even in the old days. Now he was traveling on foot, carrying nothing but an old backpack, foraging for food along the way. Speaking of which, he was really getting quite hungry - could Jake perhaps spare some of his supplies?
Jake pondered this for a few moments. After all, his stack of cans was going to run out eventually. Why would he give any of his precious supplies away for free?
Eventually, he relented. `` I could spare some beans,'' he offered, and Charlie grinned, revealing a few missing teeth that were probably the result of radiation poisoning.
Once inside, though, Charlie's grin turned into a look of disbelief. `` My God,'' he said, and Jake realized that his reserve of foodstuffs must look like heaven to a starving traveler. Charlie sent a furtive look his way, and Jake's stomach tightened up for some reason. Suddenly, he wanted to get Charlie out of there, send him on his way with a can or two and never see him again.
Then Charlie launched a haymaker. The fist collided with the side of Jake's head and his tailbone hit the ground before he even realized what had happened. That was all the time Charlie needed to stuff a few armfuls of cans into his bag, though, and then the California-bound traveler was zipping out the door like a bottle rocket.
Jake glanced at the stack of cans. For a second he was considering letting Charlie go, but then he saw that half his Spaghetti-O's were gone, and a guttural cry escaped his throat. He scrambled to his feet and bolted out the door.
Charlie was making good time, but he was tired and malnourished, and Jake was fueled by the most intense rage he'd ever felt. He caught the thief a good four hundred meters from his hut, tackled him at the knees into the grass, pounded away at his face with bony fists until the squirming and screaming had stopped.
Then Jake sat there, straddling Charlie's scrawny chest, as they both struggled to breathe. Jake's head was pounding out a Samba rhythm, BOOM BA BOOM BA BOOM BA BOOM, and at first he could n't even hear Charlie sobbing.
`` Christ, dude,'' said Jake.
Charlie tried to squirm away, and Jake let him go, but not before he'd grabbed his four cans of Spaghetti-O's out of the knapsack.
Jake left him the other cans, the beans and the pineapple, and staggered back to his hut. When he checked a few minutes later, Charlie was gone.
Somehow, the Spaghetti-O's did n't ever taste as good again after that.
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[ WP ] You gain the ability to stop time , but you do n't know how long the timestop lasts . To avoid a potentially fatal accident you use your power again , despite your reluctance . It 's now been ten years and you 're still waiting for time to continue .
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Everything stopped the day my daughter died.
This is the car that hit her, as perfectly preserved as a museum piece, as a fly in amber. Every shattered spark of glass and sunlight was caught in midair and pinned in that single moment in time, every fleck of paint, every drop of blood. Their shadows paint out chalk outlines on the street. This must be some CSI fantasy, a diorama viewable from every angle, every scrap of forensic evidence suspended and intact. You can trace the trajectories, see the tire marks still fresh on the streets. Everything pointing to a single conclusion: my daughter did n't deserve to die.
The driver is frozen behind the wheel, every muscle and wrinkled plasticized, pumped full of formaldehyde, face screwed up in an unflattering photograph. This is how he will be remembered. I've memorized his face, every crease, every line, so much so that I probably would n't recognize him if he walked by me smiling on the street. He's a collection of twitches, impulses, added together to make something less than human. His face bloodless, his teeth gritted together, his eyes screwed shut - That's the worst part of it. That he'll spend eternity like this, and he does n't even have to see what he did.
I have walked the world, I have walked across frozen oceans. I have jimmied open windows, pried open doors, studied people in their single moment of sleep. I have riffled through drawers, pinched up food and made it rot, I have seen light beams frozen through droplets arrayed like chandeliers. I have flown and I have fled and I have run as far as I can, and every step has inevitably led me back here.
To my daughter. To where my daughter hangs suspended between earth and sky. To where her hair and her dress and her blood trace out her arc. I have held her in my arms, I have looked down into her stone-still face, mouth hanging open, blood and bruising thankfully still frozen beneath skin. I have sung to her, notes drifting and dying in the stagnant air, and I look down at her closed eyes and can almost make myself believe she is at peace.
It has been ten years, or twenty years, or a hundred years. And still, I am too late.
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[ WP ] Magic Is fueled by emotion . You saved her but you burned up your love for her in the process .
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The icy breeze did n't deter her. Standing tall on the spire she fought back against the blizzard cold. Even as her teeth chattered and her tattered curls froze, she donned a devious grin. The girl was ready, and somewhat thrilled by the thought of slipping and finally being killed. The cold would simply be a numbing agent. An answer to the many prayers and salvation from the pain to come.
I saved myself that day.
But I wish I had n't.
Because back then I loved myself enough to take my own life. I loved myself enough to do that single thing at least.
The moment I stepped down from that spire. I truly lost all meaning and desire. It really felt like all my love was gone.
And sadly I've been the same ever since...
An empty corpse dancing through life in a daze.
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[ CW ] Choose a form or genre you think you do well . Write something in that genre that is also a manual on how to write that genre well ( poem on how to write poems , or a sci-fi story on how to write good sci-fi )
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You see, you start with someone, alone at their home, sort of like me. I am currently sitting at my desk with a bottle of whiskey and a typewriter in front of me. Lit only by the light of one of my candles.
This is where any good horror plot starts, some people call it cliche but, this, this is golden. We're all a little afraid of the dark, and everyone hates being alone even if they do n't admit it. Today is an especially unnerving night, you see its a rather dark, rainy night. An excellent addition to any stories setting.
Its actually quite scary. If i was n't a master of horror i might be inclined to turn on all the candles in my home.
What was that... i swear i heard something coming from my backyard, probably a stray dog. It really is a problem in this part of town.
Just a moment while i close these blinds, i would n't want that dog to come looking for the light. Probably begin begging for food.
Then you add in its essence. The antagonist. You see some would argue that a horror story is all about the atmosphere. There's no sense in telling a ghoulish tale if its the middle of the day in a park full of lilacs and gooseberries. I spit at the thought.
Yet others would say it all lies in the manifestation of the problem, the killer, the scary ghosts haunting the halls of an old manor.
I find its a keen mix of both, like the Chinese yin and yang sign, you cant have one without the others.
It must be a truly ghoulish, and dastardly. The threat becomes more than a character, they embody the sheer essence of fear.
Just last week a man known as Jack `` the Rotten'' Emerstein was a arrested... was that another noise coming from my kitchen... let me just turn on my other candles, ill be right back.
You see Jack was crazy, he tortured and mutilated his victims.
His latest victims, were a man and his family, a disgusting and vile story.
He broke into a home in the middle of the night while the family slept. A night much like this one. He was a big burly man but surprisingly quiet, a true predator. He tied up the family in chairs and faced them to each other, the mother and daughter facing the father.
This part is almost too grotesque to write... the father was reported to have had all his fingers and toes removed. His tool was a vice and wrench. One by one he tightened the clamp down around his fingers until the bones would break. Then begin to twist them with the wrench until they came off. All the time his daughter and wife were forced to watch. Sometimes the worst monsters are n't in our horror stories, they're in the real world.
He let the daughter and wife live, so they could tell his story. A truly evil man.
Come to think of it, i remember seeing a paper on his escape... not too far from here, just one town over...
What was that, it sounded like a rat in my cellar. Yeah its just a large rat. Come to think of it i cant recall whether i locked my front door or not.
Ill return in just a moment...
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[ WP ] While on your daily route as the Grim Reaper , someone asks you to be the godfather of their child .
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Death had seen a lot of babies. Unfortunately, it came with the territory. But this was the first time that Death had been given a baby that was n't dying.
She was healthy, pink cheeks, curly hair sprouting out of a bald head, and brown eyes looking unabashedly into the dark depths of his cowl. It was as if being shoved into the arms of Death by her now-dead mother as said mother forcefully commanded Death to be this child's godfather was nothing unusual for this babe.
However this was something highly unusual for Death. Awkwardly, Death tried to shuffle his scythe out of the way to better support the child. To his shame, the scythe fell to the ground, and clanged its demise loudly. The babe giggled, and somewhere beneath the shadows that made his robe, a non-beating heart found it endearing. Then in the next moment, his cold heart pinged with the familiar calling to retrieve another soul.
Pausing on a moment, he wondered what to do. As he had discovered, he wasn ’ t able to hold the girl and his scythe, so he couldn ’ t take her to his next job.
* ’ Ah! Keres! ’ * Death thought. In the next moment, Death appeared in his underworld home. With a soft call, so not to disturb the child which was still blessedly calm but wildly moving her dark eyes to take in the cave-like surroundings, he summoned the Keres.
Silently, the female death-spirits floated in, terrifying as always. All sharp teeth and spindly arms, the Keres were often given a bad reputation. For a while there were rumors spread that they were blood-sucking, but that was untrue, they merely hovered over battlefields, weighing and deciding deaths. Often they fought over who should die, leaving witnesses seeing these ugly creatures clawing and fighting over a body.
Recently, however, they ’ d been lounging around the underworld, having nothing largely to do as there were very little battles fought on the ground, man to man. The world had moved to drones and missiles, leaving very little up to fate.
Despite their off-putting appearance, when the Keres saw the little girl, they were cooing softly. One Ker drifted forward, and with a gentleness that Death didn ’ t know Keres could have, lifted the girl from the arms of Death. Another Ker joined her and raised a bony finger to caress the curls on her head. The babe giggled again, and grasped with pudgy fingers the hand of the Ker that was holding her. Before the eyes of Death the Keres fell in love with the babe.
Death charged the spirits with the child and the Keres nodded and continued to coo at the child.
Since that day, the Keres fed and mothered the child, who they eventually decided to call Kira, and Death assumed the role of her godfather. Kira never lost her dauntless attitude, and there was nothing that inspired fear for the little girl. Death brought her gifts from the living world, which she delighted in. The Keres tutored her, and she often spent a lot of time with Death ’ s collected souls, learning of history and the world.
Kira never complained about wanting to go to the living world, at least up until she was in her late teens. She heckled and bargained, and eventually Death caved. He took Kira along with him as he collected souls, answering the questions she had. It was like this for an indeterminate amount of time. Then, there was one question that Death was expecting.
“ What will you do when I die? ” she asked.
“ You won ’ t. ” Death answered.
“ Why won ’ t I die? ”
“ Because you are Death ’ s Daughter. Death shall never harm you or take you. ”
“ Then what will happen? ”
“ You shall see. ” He replied.
Decades passed, and Kira never fell in love, for there was very little about being alive that interested her. She was always content. Until eventually, as if inevitably happens, Kira was dying. Death knew when it was her time, and Kira, who had learned so much, knew also. She felt that desire of her soul to be released from her mortal body, just as she ’ d felt thousands, no, millions of times.
“ Do I get to find out what happens, now? ” She asked Death.
“ Yes. ” He said. Taking his scythe, he pressed the handle into Kira ’ s palm gently. Around them, the Keres watched, anticipating what was going to happen. Standing up, Death began taking off his cloak, revealing his skeleton. He held it out, and draped it over Kira, but still kept a tight hold on the cloth.
“ Kira, Death ’ s Daughter, Death shall not take you, you shall *become* Death. ” With that, the skeleton released the grip of the cloak, and a moment later, the skeleton crumbled into dust. Kira watched closely, dark eyes saddened, but feeling no need to cry. Death was natural, and it was natural for Death to die as well.
When the last traces of the skeleton drifted away, Kira could feel her heart stop beating. Her skin started to chip away, and in a flurry of movement from the ever-present Keres, Death rose again, her skull covered in the dark cowl, and skeletal fingers grasping her scythe.
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[ WP ] Every direction is North
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We lost the trail on a Tuesday. By Wednesday we were conversing, trying to determine a direction in which to travel. We had provisions enough for three more days, but the party was growing increasingly fearful.
`` Let's head North, to the sunrise,'' I suggested. `` I know there's a small town just North of here, and I think that's our best chance of finding it.''
`` Hell no,'' Remington disagreed. `` We need to follow the sun*set* North if we want to hit that town.'' I scoffed, glaring him down.
`` You may be a straight-A student, Remi, but that does n't mean jack shit in real situations. We follow the sunrise.'' Remi bristled but remained quiet, as did Miller and Reid. Not that I was surprised; Remi knew when to step back, while Miller and Reid were just quiet guys. In an unexpected move, however, Miller lifted his head, meeting my eye and squeaking out,
`` We should n't go North. We need to go North, in between the sunrise and sunset.''
`` Up or down?'' I queried.
`` Up. North.'' He murmured, still unsure of himself.
`` Well, shit,'' Reid laughed, out of character. `` We've been lost only a day and y'all'r already bickering.'' I rested my forehead in my hand, sighing.
`` This conversation's really heading North.''
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[ IP ] The road goes ever on
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Every time Daniel pressed on the accelerator, the engine would flood and the car would slow down. He tried feathering it to take him just a bit further but it was n't any use. It looked like he was going to have to walk.
He pulled over and parked the car on the shoulder. He beamed as he pressed the trunk release button and looked at his giant spoon. He was going to eat that whole bowl of the worlds largest bowl of chili and a little car trouble was n't going to stop him. He slung the spoon across his back and started walking. Rain be damned.
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[ WP ] Write a love story between The God or Goddess of Madness and their sane lover .
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The great god Kuang Feng looked upon his kingdom, and he was content. The world bowed in the Order that was expected, infinitely small cogs working together to move infinitely large wheels, sparking the engine that drives the Universe as it lumbers towards tomorrow.
He looked upon his people, and he was satisfied. The Elders preserved their culture, assigning husbands to wives as families waltzed across generations. All was harmony.
Kuang Feng looked upon a pasture, and the world itself was changed. In the fields by his people's village, a goddess draped flowers across the crown of her flock. The instant the Great God saw this woman, all emotion filled his vision. Every aspect of life was pushed, squeezed, condensed into that one moment. He felt desire, disgust, lust and completion. He felt dizzy from the highs to which his soul has ascended, the abyss in which his mind dwelt. He felt kindness: he would hold her, delicately, as though a tuft of wind might scatter her across the Earth. He felt rage: He would obliterate any creature that would do her harm; he would tear the creature limb from limb; he would defile himself in a heartbeat to preserve her purity.
It was the first time that a living being was overwhelmed by such emotion. It was so powerful that even the Great God could not contain it within himself, lest he fall into the Madness brought on by this power, this force that would leave any creature it touched with blissful insanity.
And so Kuang Feng ripped the creature from his heart and scattered it amongst his people, so that all would share this joy, this burden. This is how Mankind came to know of Love, the uncontrollable beast that now lies waiting in every man's breast. Each and every one of us carries a little bit of the Great God's madness in our hearts.
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[ WP ] ''Hold my beer '' - God
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`` Hold my beer'', said the lord. He waved his mighty hand to the blonde angel beside him. The angel bowed gracefully, his wings glimmering in the light of the almighty god.
`` Yahweh, my lord; what do you plan on doing?'' Gabriel asked, in a shakey tone. He worshiped him with praise no matter what; however gabriel felt unsure about this one decision.
`` I plan on eradicating these vermin.'' Saith the lord, `` They killed my lovely humans long enough.'' Gabriel showed an emotion that could be only be called surprised, then he shook with anxiety.
`` But my Lord --'' Gabriel sputtered, `` The angel worked tirelessly coming up with those designs. Even Jesus got in on this. Michael too.''
`` Gabriel, my servant, you know that I am all-knowing and all powerful.'' Saith the lord, `` Trust in me, the lord, your rock.''
`` Ok, my lord.'' Said gabriel. He looked down below the clouds to see reptilian creatures of massive size crawl around on the earth. There were many reptilian creatures roaming the earth ever since god flooded it that one time. Poor things. The ground on earth shook and trembled as cracks began to form.
`` Is it the rapture already? Who blew the horn?'' Screamed a voice in heaven.
`` Relax, my child. My son jesus has n't died for the sins of the mortals yet.'' God said to ease the other angels's nerves. He looked at gabriel and gabriel saw god in all his glory.
`` Watch this.'' Saith the lord. Gabriel could only watch in awe at a flash of light in space. He squinted his eyes and used his holy eyes to see what is really was.
`` Is -- -is that a giant rock?'' Gabriel asked? He noticed god's light grew so bright that it even blinded gabriel for a second.
`` Pretty cool right?'' Saith the lord.
`` But it's headed towards earth. Your creation.'' Gabriel spoke. God showed gabriel an expression that could only be read as `` Yes, And?''
`` Gabriel, I promised not to flood the earth again. I never said I could n't send a meteor to it.'' Said god. Gabriel could n't argue with that. His lord is a god of promises after all.
`` Now.'' God said with a smile. His light grew brighter and brighter until all of heaven rejoiced, `` I've said this in the beginnning and I'll say it again. LET THERE BE LIGHT.''
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[ FF ] What You Think Is Happening Is n't Happening
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I stood there, reaching through the twisted cage of mangled steel and blood. Through the cacophony of saw ’ s, and hydraulics, she screamed. Her screams, oh the screams. I would always remember the screams. I stick my hand in through the small of the window, and felt her neck. So warm, was the blood, so cold, her skin. I saw this happen, only moments before, but I was astonished at how fast I could move, when it was someone ’ s life, held gingerly in my own hands. I have done this before. Countless times. Countless victims. If I could stop it I would, but I am not that strong. I reach for the door, and rip it back, exposing the frightened female, sitting there with the remains of her dead sibling draped over the seat next to her. I hear a final scream, as she recognizes me, aware of who I am.
“ Ambulance, We ’ re here now. ”
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[ WP ] You submit a DNA sample to AncestoryDNA to find your genealogy , the results are ... unexpected
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'Click the arrow to find the green location of your heritage' the screen read. Charles scrolled past North America, he knew that would n't be the case. Asia was also bare but that was to be expected. Europe had a very specific dot over Luxembourg which was bright green- was he a direct descendant? Was that possible?
Following the colors, he clicked on the tiny town-state. No, he was only five percent Luxemboroughian. He flipped down to Australia, he could live with koala genes, ladies would love it. Still no green, nothing in Africa either. The poles were the last possible spots. He clicked the top of the globe, nothing again. A bright green arrow was pointing to the right of map, Charles followed it. The moon came into view and the entire surface was a dim green- he was... he was an alien? Charles clicked the rocky terrain- a small American flag popped up on screen. Fireworks shone in the margins. `` Seriously?'' The screen was flashing a few colors but the lettering was unmistakable, `` you're a descendent of Neil Armstrong! You're quite the step for mankind!'' Charles watched the fireworks for a few sparse moments. He took the paper with the DNA test result codes and slid it into the trash, what a waste of one hundred bucks.
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[ WP ] A political debate in a fantasy kingdom .
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`` What I'm saying is they pose a serious threat to the safety of this town!'' the man with the curious name of Mark Smith made his case before the council. He had arrived not three weeks ago, broke and disheveled, with no idea how he'd gotten to the subterranean town of Norwich in the first place. He had attracted the interest of the town in no time with his mad rantings of a kingdom called Detroit he'd been in just hours, he insisted, before arriving at the city gates. No such place could have existed, of course -- the hills surrounding Norwich had all been methodically mapped out generations ago. Still, there was a touch of genius in his lunacy. Many of the fantastical details to his fantastical hallucination turned out to be quite practical after all. Water which ran against gravity, potent energy sealed within copper, all very real and very valuable. It was for these reasons alone that the town council would admit him. Yet all that he would go on about was the most commonplace of things.
`` And you propose we send fifty of our bravest, strongest, most promising young men to clear our its nest? Even with the possibility that not a single one will return?'' the council elder asked.
`` If that's what it takes. Think about it -- if a creature like that has the strength of fifty men, who knows what it could do to the town!''
`` A dragon has not bothered a soul within the town.'' another council member reminded the stranger. `` Only those foolish enough to go out wandering the countryside alone. What are we to say? We'll need to take the lives of your sons so we can make highway travel safer? Besides, if we clear out one, there'll be another one to take its place in a matter of weeks. It's too much of a chore.''
Mark was not wise enough to take No as an answer. `` Tell them we could conquer! Tell them we could live outside of this dingy grotto. We could travel by land as well as by sea! This is a place where dragons fly overhead. This is a place where anything is possible.''
`` This is a place where we have to keep order and protect our citizens. We're not the top of the food chain, but we hide well enough and we eat well enough to get by. This is reality, Mr. Smith. It's time you get used to it.''
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[ WP ] You purchase a second hand television with built in DVD player and upon using it discover you can enter the film and live the actual story . A DVD is already in the player and when you enter , you find the previous owner is there and needs your help to finish the plot .
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*Where am I, * you thought. *What am I holding? What am I wearing? *
`` For god's sake, man!!'' cried the captain in a far too dramatic tone, hammy you might even say. `` I said set phasers to stun!''
You look down at your weapon, no idea how to use it, much less `` set it to stun.''
`` No time to wait,'' Kirk says. A phaser sounds.
You look up. Odd reptilian forces drop to their sides and Kirk advances.
`` Where am I?'' You ask.
`` Quick, no time to waste,'' he says, as he checks the pockets of the uniformed aliens, looking for anything of use. `` Do n't just stand there, up on the hill!'' he screams.
You look down again, touching the sand with your boots and feeling the fabric of your uniform with your fingers. You suddenly realize where you are. *What* you are. You're wearing red. `` Oh god, I'm gon na die.''
`` Not on my watch,'' the captain says.
Up on the hill another wave of little green men come approaching.
`` Phasers at the ready,'' The captain says.
The next few minutes are a blur. What the hell is this? The last thing you remember was sitting in your couch with your wife leaving to the kitchen. *I must be dreaming. * You're not.
`` Do n't just stand there, shoot!''
Your captain is yards away, under attack by five or six ungodly things, the likes of which you've only seen in dreams and television shows with less funding than they deserve.
You stand to, and fumble with your weapon, only wondering how to set it to stun, until you decide you do n't even care if it's set to `` stun'' or `` kill''. Your captain is in need and now's not the time. You shoot with little practice and no confidence, but one by one the creatures fall to the sand, but not without a few rounds fired back. You fall to the sand no different than your new foes. But you feel an odd sense of pride, a sense of duty. Your captain is safe. At least, for another day.
You lie on the ground making sense of your situation, accepting your fate and feeling the life flow out of yourself, limp and lying while your captain stands straight. Yet all you can think is, *Is this all a dream or not? Why am I not on my couch? Why is my wife not back with my Spaghetti-O's? *
`` Captain to Enterprise.'' A blur again. Something about being beamed up? Something about a Federation casualty? Frankly you're in too much shock to listen.
A flash of light.
`` We do n't have any more Spaghetti-O's'' she says. `` Beef ravioli good?''
You're just happy to be home.
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[ WP ] You run a cattery that produces sentient , designer felines as pets to the rich of the galaxy .
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Today started just like any other day: With a cold nose prodding my cheek and a hungry meow in my ear.
`` I'm coming, I'm coming...'' I yawned as I rolled out of bed, eyes still blurry with sleep.
`` Step on it, bub! Ca n't you see I'm starving over here?'' Came a voice from near my ankles
I glared down at the annoying little lump, but he just licked his chops greedily. Steve was small, hairless, and pink. Wrinkles covered his body from his head to his toes, making him look like nothing more than a shaved rat - which I told him constantly, much to his annoyance. He was whiny, insolent, constantly hungry, and generally a living pain in the butt to anyone and everyone who lived near him.
Steve was also a cat. And like every cat in the galaxy, he was irreplaceably useful for superluminal navigation. And he knew it too, the little shit.
`` Well? Hurry up! You know I hate waiting!'' He mewed insolently.
I groaned softly. `` Steve, it's six a.m.... cut me some slack.''
`` No can do, boyo. I'm hungry, and for SOME reason you designed me without thumbs.'' He stretched, extending his claws for emphasis.
`` Steve, if I had given you thumbs you would do nothing BUT eat the rations.'' I shot him a dirty look. He was already getting quite pudgy around the middle.
`` Uh-uh. Do n't want to hear it, Sam. This is REVENGE, one can of marine life at a time.'' He made a scratchy mewing sound that almost sounded like a cackle.
`` You know, if I did n't need you to get between clients, I would probably never have a cat.'' I walked into the ship's tiny kitchen and started sorting cans, making certain to grab one can each from the human and cat piles. I did n't want to make THAT mistake again.
`` You know you love me.'' Steve purred, whipping his tail back and forth. `` So, what's your client want today?''
`` An old-world Parisian blue, one of the classics.'' I popped the lid on Steve's can, filling the air with the smell of fresh fish. He wiggled his nose eagerly at the meal.
`` You going to give this one thumbs?'' he asked, not taking his eyes off the can.
`` No Steve. No thumbs.'' I popped open my own can and dropped Steve's at his feet. He gave an appreciative meow, and together we began to eat.
***
*Thanks for the read! CC appreciated, and if you enjoyed you can find more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs! *
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[ WP ] By order of the president you can have any job of your choosing for life , but only if you can do 3 other jobs in that field at the same time .
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I'm really not sure why I chose this job, of all the jobs going. Actually, I am sure. It's because I'm a fucking idiot. `` Any job of your choosing'' said the President. `` Just do 3 other jobs in that field at the same time''. A simple statement, to the non-fucking idiot. But not to me.
My arms were beginning to ache now. That meant it was probably time to do the rounds. I grabbed my watering can and my shovel, and patted my back pockets to make sure the seeds had n't fallen out. They were still there.
My name is Dave. I am a scarecrow. And I thought the President was being literal when he said `` field''.
I am a fucking idiot.
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[ WP ] Murder is legal , as long as the murder weapon is a pineapple .
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Walking through that front door and being hit by the wave of stench must've set off some primal instinct within me. I was just so... angry. I'd explicitly warned that son of mine that if he did not take the dog out, it'd poop on the floor. It's not exactly rocket science to figure that out, either. And then, the little shit had the balls to just LEAVE it festering on the living room floor!
Overcome with rage, I walked deliberately up to his room. Past the Christmas tree, the decorations. Past the family portraits, so happy and cute. I saw none of these things. Only red. I could barely stop myself from screaming. I climbed the creaking stairs, feeling as though the anger was making me heavier, it was so dense and concentrated - like I was going to break down through the stairs and fall down into the basement. But, unfortunately for my son, they held.
As the bedroom door opened, I saw him lying on the bed with his teddy bear. THE NERVE! How could he sleep in the face of such betrayal? Such irresponsibility? I walked to the bed and stood over him, clenching and unclenching my fists. I was n't sure what to do.
After a moment of deliberation, I seized the bedsheets in both hands and yanked them upward, tumbling him off the bed. He woke up and screamed as he hit the carpet.
`` Why would you let the dog shit on the floor after I EXPLICITLY TOLD YOU NOT TO?'' I screamed. `` Do you have no respect for your own FATHER?''
He blubbered and cried, frightened at my outburst. I think I heard an apology, but I was n't sure and it did n't matter. I'd already decided on a course of action. I was n't going to do this for the rest of my accursed life. I glared at him coldly and walked back downstairs to the kitchen.
`` I know there's one around here somewhere...'' I muttered to myself.
Ah! I'd found my quarry - a ripe, green pineapple. I hefted it, tested it. Yes, this would do. It is within my rights, as the Patriarch and wielder of the righteous fruit.
I made my way upstairs. Opened the door. The boy was inside, again looking scared. It was just a facade. He was useless, defiant. I'd not raise such a child.
I smashed and smushed, fruit mash raining down as I drove the pineapple into his face again and again. How dare he defy me! If he would have just taken the dog for a fucking walk, all of this could have been avoided! But no, he decided to neglect his duty, and I came home to doody. I'd never thought I'd end up making use of the Pinapular Declararion of 2015, but by God... I was just so furious. It had to be done.
After, I sat on the edge of the bed, the top half of a pineapple still clenched in my fist. Red and yellow pulp alike covered the bed. I sighed. I was n't looking forward to the family coming home. Then I had a moment of insight; my son was simply an enabler. It was the dog that had committed the crime. I looked down at my hand. Half a pineapple. Enough of a pineapple.
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[ WP ] Everyone is born with 5 empty marks on their back . Marks are filled after life alternating events . Most people die with 2 or 3 marks filled , few with 4 . No one has ever been known to fill their 5th mark . That is , until now
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Marks were the lifeblood of our world. To have Marks filled, was to have life experience, events and moments that would alter your very core and change your life forever. Those with more Marks filled, became powerful, and those who had no Marks became powerless.
The state of our world was constantly in flux in the beginning. The children of those with three or four Marks filled would experience *maybe* one life-changing event in there life, and that was when their parents died and they were forced to the bottom of the chain. Those who were born with parents who had no Marks, would experience many life-changing events, and slowly rose to power. It was noticed in the first few generations, until everyone decided that equal share of the world was the best bet. Those with more Marks continued to rise to powers, voting on major issues for the people, but within a few years of the new system, every single person in the world was guaranteed at least two. Although Five Marks covered our backs, no one in the history of our world had filled their fifth mark, but no one seemed to care either.
Our world was at peace and we could not only survive, but we could thrive. And our leaders quickly became a group of Four. The Four Marks, the ones that would fill four of the five marks, an extraordinary feat. The leaders of our world were our greatest assets and the Four Marks were the greatest of all of us. Military-trained, elected through ( true ) life experience, and our givers of everything; they protected us, kept our gates and walls secured, made decisions that affected all of us, but always made the right choice.
The Marks were us, as much as we were the Marks.
_____
I achieved my Fourth Mark when I was thirty-two years old, after leading one of the Four's legions to an enemy stronghold and destroying their enemy at the core. My soldiers saw it happen, they saw my Mark fill in an instant, and it became clear that I would take a position as one of the Four, the fifty-seventh leader of our world. My soldiers rallied and cheered and were so proud of me to become one of their leaders, to be gifted with a Fourth Mark. I thanked them, and was inducted into the Four soon after the death of the Elder. I became the newest leader.
I often have times to think, now that I am not leading armies across sand and dirt. I often think back over my life; thinking of how my other three Marks were filled. The first was from my first kill, my first trek across our lands, my first year in the Legions. I served under the forty-ninth leader of our world and he congratulated me on my first kill, on my first Mark. I still remember that day; the way the sun blared overhead, the way my sword was still wet with the enemies blood when I felt the Mark fill, the look I got from my friend, whose Mark had yet to fill. Such a beautiful day.
My second Mark was when my blade killed seven assassins before I was stabbed in the back by a fellow Legion soldier. I gave the fifty-first leader just enough time to escape, and I survived an attack by a man who had no Marks. My Mark filled while I was being treated, and the looks on the faces of my surgeons was, I'm told, a sight for sore eyes.
My third Mark came in the last few years, when I began to lead this Legion to war, after my commander was killed by another. I took up his sword, claimed his helmet, and ran into the city. Intent on burning it down and bringing my country some semblance of peace, for some period of time. My war cry rallied the troops of the Legion, and my Mark filled the moment I threw my torch into the palace of my enemy. We had won, but our Legion continued into the desert.
___
I noticed the pattern. Each of my Marks, and the Marks of my predecessors, came from the deaths of others, from the destruction of lands, from war itself. I now see the Marks as a curse, as a way to trap our world in its path. In the path our world had been sent on so long ago, a world where there would always be Marks, a world where there would always be destruction, a world where we were constantly at War. The only way to end this path, to change our ways, was to end our world.
My fifth Mark filled when I was fifty-nine and the eldest of the Four Marks. I knew what had to be done, I had meticulously planned this day for months, it was only a matter of committing the act. The sixtieth leader never saw it coming, as my sword plunged into his spine, killing him instantly. I had become a master at this over the last forty-one years, I was the greatest of all of us. The fifty-ninth leader had drawn his sword as soon as he had saw me draw my own, something I had taught him in the Legion long ago. But my blade quickly deflected his own, and plunged into his gut, bypassing the steel of his chest plate. The fifty-eighth leader had prepared her sword and shield when she figured out my plan.
`` Why?''
There was no real answer, but I knew that my experiences were the oldest of them all, and I had figured out the pattern of our world. I could only utter a few words as I knocked her shield and sword from her hands. `` Without us, the world can be at peace, everyone can become fulfilled.'' My sword plunged deep into her, the soft crack of her leather breastplate crashing against the hard steel of my sword. When she dropped, my sword slid out. It was then I felt my Fifth Mark fill and I knew this was the right decision.
And with the blood of the three before me still wet upon my blade, I knelt down inside our chambers and smiled, `` Be at peace.'' I plunged my sword into my own chest, taking a deep breath as I felt it crash against my heart. The Four Marks were dead, the line was broken, and the path for our world could now be rewritten.
____
Loved this prompt, thank you! If you enjoyed you can check out more of my writing at /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs.
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[ CW ] End your story with `` We were here ''
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I once ate an entire medium pepperoni pizza. This probably doesn ’ t sound that impressive since there are plenty of people who can eat whole larges, but it ’ s the most I ’ ve ever been able to do and at least you know I ’ m not lying. I have plenty of other accomplishments, but I don ’ t think I will list them all because most of them are boring. I ’ ve never really done anything that special.
I guess I must be pretty average, but no one ever really feels that way, ya ’ know? Well, I don ’ t at least—and I don ’ t think my friends do either. We know we are, don ’ t get me wrong. I mean, when we sit down and really examine our lives, it ’ s impossible not to realize that everything we ’ ve gone through, everything we ’ ve done, everything we ’ ve felt, has been gone through, done, and felt a million times before. The human race has been going on far too long for there to be any wholly unique experiences left. And I know, I know, people will tell you that no one will ever experience things the exact same way you do, but they will probably get pretty darn close.
For example, I fell in love once. It was really nice actually. We kissed and hugged and went on dates and told each other secrets and we were so incredibly sure that no one had ever had it like us before. But I read a lot, so eventually it became clear that this had happened to plenty of other people. I ’ m not just talking about falling in love—but right down to the very manner in which we developed those feeling. I thought I was special because I hated him before I loved him, but that ’ s been done before. I thought I was the only one who found kissing terrifying. Nope. What I ’ m trying to say is that even something as intimate as love has not only been done before, but it ’ s been done before in every way you could ever think of doing it.
Most people realize this at some point in their lives. They sit down one day and think “ Ya ’ know, I ’ m really not that different than the rest of the people out there. ” For some of us, it hits harder than for others—especially for people like me who have lived rather textbook lives. Still, everything we do feels so damn meaningful.
I guess at the end of the day, not too many of us can say we have done anything that will matter much after we are gone. I don ’ t think that cheapens anything, though. Because we ’ ve still made people feel things and helped each other out and maybe even done work we cared about. Shouldn ’ t that be enough? I mean yeah, it fades pretty quickly, but at least it matter for a little while. I guess the most a lot of us can say is simple, but I ’ m proud of it nonetheless.
“ We were here. ”
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[ TT ] Write a Shakespearean sonnet about life in a video game
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I hit the cold ground, o'er wrought with dread.
Another shot lands sharply in my chest.
Again my heavy soul knows I am dead
and I have failed mine never-ending quest.
A faint rumbling quickens my life-drained heart!
From the window, that familiar knave!
I fear from this scene I shall not depart,
and mine fair daughter I shall never save.
Yet, lo, the shape deep in this broken lair!
A face mine eyes do recall with fondness.
An apparition! A most welcome player,
A cunning friend to end this frightful mess.
With thine fresh eyes and thine foreign ash bow,
with mine expedience and mine gold knives,
we shall slay these foul beasts with quite a show
and depart this horrid lair with their lives.
Damn their numbers and their legions so bold!
We fight for experience points and gold!
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[ CW ] At least two characters interact without any dialogue .
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She and he were driving down the road, two separate velocities in two opposing directions, bearing down on a singular point of impact that neither anticipated. She unlatched her seatbelt to remove a sweater, he took another swig from the bottle between his knees. The road arched like the back of a cat. Headlights reflected luminously off of freshly fallen snow. In the space of one, two, three, he bore down on her. Intersected her space. Commandeered her path.
She fiddled with the radio knobs, obliviously selecting her own lyrical eulogy. Headlights blinded, cars collided. Head first through the glass and into the light, weightless almost like a dream. He watched her body plateau and descend, crumpling onto his hood with the grace of a dancer as his own body violently snaked back and forth. Spine twisted and knees knocked in, elbows at inappropriate angles and chest grated clean of skin. Her neck came to rest twisted and unnatural, her fading eyes boring into the drunken stupor of his.
She rattled off a breath and outstretched a crimson hand, resting it on the cracked and splintered mosaic of his windshield. She shuddered and slumped, leaving a single oozing handprint smeared by grazing fingertips. Water stung his eyes and shock made him dumb. He stretched out his own hand as far as he could, and traced his fingers over the resting place of hers.
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[ WP ] You are a Hell Writer , you design hells for people after they die based on studying their life history . Today Satan summons you to his sanctum and you are troubled to see that he has a shocked expression on his face .
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After an eternity in hell, fear does n't have quite the same effect on you.
It's worst when you first arrive. Most people die expecting some celestial guide to explain things to them, to pass judgement and send them on their way. In fact, once you've tried and failed to go into the light, you're just left alone in the dark for a few lifetimes, not a word spoken to you. You can tell where you're headed but there's nobody there to actually spell it out, and it's while you wait that you learn what true fear feels like. Once they get started on you, you have n't got time to be afraid. You're too busy feeling the extent of pure pain and shame and disgust and regret, there's no part of you left to worry things will get worse. You know that they will, and they do.
You'd think I felt fear again when they stopped, but somehow I did n't. The surprise was too distracting. Hell is supposed to last forever, that's what made the wait so terrifying - knowing that any moment it will start and once it does it wo n't ever stop. Eternal torment, that's what people always think. Maybe it is, maybe time works differently down here, maybe you can have an eternity with an end. All I know is they stopped. There was no rush of relief when it was over, it was more like waking up from a nightmare, that shakey feeling you get when the dream's over but you still feel the echoes of it. I could still feel that echo an eternity later. A reminder of true suffering, for a man who's suffered all he could. You might not think so, but after an eternity of the worst abuses you could imagine, the effect started to wear off. They repeated things, they mixed up the routine, but however bad it was, after a billion lifetimes I got used to it, and as soon as that happened it stopped.
I was n't free, of course; as soon as my torment was over I was assigned my task. The stories they tell about hell might be all wrong but the living do get one thing right: the devil makes work for idle hands. And what better job, for those who've learned all there is to know about suffering, than to inflict it? You ca n't deny the neatness of the system. I'd assumed my tormentors were demons, or even Satan Himself, but it turns out we damned souls are made to write each other's hells, and bring them to life. We've all learned from the best, in lessons that last forever.
We take our time studying each new soul. All we have to do is touch them, then their whole life is ours to examine, poring over every pleasure and pain they've experienced. We only really get to know them after we've got started, though, and it's then that they experience true hell. They see what we tell them to see, feel what we tell them to feel, all the time getting closer to the worst moment they could experience. There's an art to it. It's strange, but I do n't feel the any guilt at all in what I do. I empathise of course - you have to, to know what you're doing - but somehow I can tell that this is justice, and it's what I have to do. Maybe I ca n't feel guilt anymore, after an eternity of it. Maybe I ca n't pick out that particular echo among all the others.
So, when Satan summoned me it was just an echo that I felt. A distant memory of that fear I felt when I first arrived. It made me feel almost human again, remembering that urge to run and escape, that rock in my stomach, legs locked in place as I waited in the darkness. I was n't afraid, because I knew what was coming next.
Sometimes mistakes are made, and souls are put to work before they've really reached the limit of their suffering, before they've learned what to do properly. Satan always knows. Somehow He can sense a badly-written hell, and the writer is summoned to His dark sanctum, for a lifetime's private lessons. Nobody knows what He does there, but when the souls are returned they write hells perfectly. I was been so sure my torment was complete, I'd felt that part of myself shatter, I'd felt the echoes afterwards, yet here I stood with more to learn, from the original teacher Himself. Once again I was waiting for the unknown, the thought should have had me quaking in the dark like a new-dead babe.
I did n't realise at first when Satan appeared. There was a quiet cough behind me, and there He was. Not the tall, horned beast I'd been led to expect, but a small, balding man, with wire framed glasses. We were surrounded by darkness but orange-yellow light flickered all over Him as if He were standing in a burning building, so His lenses shone opaque and hid His eyes. He gave a small smile.
`` Thank you for coming. It's about your writing''
I stood waiting for for the fear to hit me, certain that would come before He got started. In a way I hoped for it, just to experience that visceral feeling again after an eternity of emptiness. It did n't come. Satan coughed again, and with a sudden jolt I recognised the fear I longed for in His face. He spoke again, and this time I could hear a plaintive edge to His voice.
`` Your hells...''
`` What about them?''
It was the first time I'd spoken since I died, and my voice sounded strangely loud and harsh compared to Satan's.
`` You see the thing is...''
`` Yes?''
`` They... They are n't ending.''
He was positively cringing in front of me now, looking so pathetic I found my temper rising. I had thought He at least would let me feel again, even if the feeling was agony.
`` What are you talking about?'' I snapped.
He paused before replying, and licked His lips. I felt a sudden urge to bite off His tongue. He seemed to be struggling for the right words.
`` People have limits, that's the whole point. We push them to the limit, until there's nothing we could do to make them feel any worse, and then they're done. That's how it's always been. But the last few you've written... They just keep going, there's no ending, it just gets worse and worse and worse...'' He trailed off.
`` Is that a problem?''
`` Oh no no no, no problem at all. I was just wondering...''
`` Yes?''
`` Could you show me how to do it?''
He took His glasses off and the flickering light instantly stopped, and he looked just like any other damned soul. No, he was still glowing, but now it was softer, more like moonlight than fire. He stared pleadingly up at me, and ideas started running through my head of all the ways He'd hurt in the hell I'd write for him.
I nodded, and he stuck out a hand, beaming. I smiled back, and took it. I'd spend an eternity exploring His life if I had to, then I'd show Him what real suffering was.
I started at the beginning, like always, looking at the world through Satan's eyes. Infant experience is normally dull, but you can always find something there, some forgotten memory that can hurt them.
It was n't like that with Satan.
There was no birth, no childhood, just a flash of light, blindingly white, so bright I was n't just looking at Satan's memory of it, I was seeing it myself, living it for myself. And it was n't just light. I was feeling. With the light came a sensation of joy, greater than anything I'd known, and for the first time in my life or death, I felt love, pure and unconditional, swelling inside me, and I knew that the feeling would last forever. I was free.
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