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[ WP ] You hire a hitman to kill your doppelgänger . You did not think this through .
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The first time I saw him, I was driving home from a long night at the bar. My friends were all exhausted and puking in the brown paper bags we got our liquor in. The thinly layered paper was hardly enough to separate this night's dinner and my car seat. I was glad I had bought the fall pine scented car freshener the week before. There's nothing like the smell of acid, booze, pizza, and pumpkins all wafting together in one, fragrant mass.
I was the designated driver, but even being sober ca n't prevent you from almost killing people with your car. It just happens sometimes.
He ran out in front of the car, even though the crosswalk sign donned a big orange hand. I slammed the brakes and stopped just short of his feeble body.
`` How are you out there and in there at the same time?'' My girlfriend slurred.
`` I'm not. That's just some guy who ca n't read a crosswalk sign.''
`` Oh.''
The man did resemble me closely. Unlike me, however, he had a beard and looked like hell. But the eyes, the cheekbones, the jawline, were all too familiar. He could get away with impersonating me at an airport if he wanted. If the TSA agent asks, he could say, `` It's been a rough week.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I saw him again a month later at a bar I frequent.
My girlfriend had just broken up with me. She said we did n't have fun anymore. I disagreed. She left me anyway.
I was sipping a gin and orange juice. I was feeling woozy enough to worry about how I was going to get home, considering I had driven to the bar. I did n't think very far ahead.
My doppelganger was on the other end of the bar. I lived in no small neighborhood, so seeing him again conjured up suspicion that he was following me.
He seemed as drunk as I was, but his conduct was far more unruly. Every drink he bought for another girl was another drink for himself. A two for one deal. What made this so uncomfortable to watch was the deep-seated feeling that I was at the center of this shit show. The bartender quickly threw him out after he began screaming at the other patrons. The man gave me a dirty look as he was escorted out.
I called in an Uber and left shortly after.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The next time I saw him was two weeks after the bar incident. It was a lousy morning. I was hungover, and my breath could probably kill a small animal.
My beard was getting out of hand, so I decided to get it shaved this morning. I saw him through the window of my favorite barber shop. He was finally shaving off his beard and taming the monster head of hair on his head. With half his hair gone, he did look remarkably similar to me.
It was n't two seconds when I walked into the barber shop, when the man jumped from his seat and pointed his finger at me.
`` Who are you? Why are you impersonating me?''
He was bleeding from the chin, since the barber could n't pull his razor back fast enough when the man sprang from his seat.
`` Who am I? I could ask you the same question! You've been following me this past month!''
He did n't respond. He did n't even blink. He sat back down in his chair and asked the barber to continue. The barber looked at me and shrugged. It was possible that he thought I was the imposter as well. It's a shame, since I've known Jack the Barber for a little over a year now.
In that moment, I decided to hate this man. There was something about him that made me livid when I saw him. He was everything I was n't, and he was trying to be me. And I was certain that he was following me.
I walked over and punched the man.
I was promptly escorted out of the shop. Jack told me to never return to his shop again, or in kinder words, `` Fuck off!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I decided to follow this man to see why he was intent on interfering with my life.
I found out where he worked, where he lived, and where he liked to walk when it was past midnight but he could n't sleep.
He was n't very interesting. In fact, watching him made me sad. He did n't have any friends at his workplace, and he went on midnight walks often. Sometimes, he would walk down to the park by the lake and throw rocks into the water. It was so dark that he could n't see where the rock landed, and he could only hear the `` thwop'' as the rock hit the surface. And after a few rocks, he would sometimes sit on the bench and cry.
Watching him made me despise him even more. He was bird with clipped wings, that I just wanted to stomp to death with my steel-toed boots. I stopped following him.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
One day, I came into work early and the man was sitting at my desk.
`` What the hell are you doing here?'' I asked.
`` Working, ca n't you see?''
`` Leave now, or I'm calling the police.''
He threw his coffee at my face and ran away. Luckily, it was cold brewed. He was n't there when I wiped the coffee away.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
For the the months to come, I would find this man quietly inserting himself into my life. I was sure that he was following me.
He would go to the cafes I frequent and order drinks using my name. He would leave nasty post-its at my work desk. He would even contact my girlfriend and beg for her love at her doorstep. I only knew this because my girlfriend texted me, called me pathetic and told me to leave her alone.
Enough was enough. I would've call the cops, but I hated this man with my soul. He was a sad, lonely wretch who the world would be better off without. Especially my world.
I hired a hitman to kill the man for me. Three thousand dollars is a small price to pay to be free of torment.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Today was the day of the hit.
I knew he would be at the coffee shop at Third and Columbia at 9:00 AM. He was there everyday, which coincidentally, is the reason I stopped going to that coffee shop altogether.
I stood across the street. I wanted the hit to be in broad daylight. It was an odd request, but I wanted the world to see him die. I wanted them to know that he was n't me.
The hitman walked up to him with a silenced handgun concealed in his jacket. As soon as the man walked out of the coffee shop, two muffled shots were fired and the man collapsed to the ground. The hitman shot him through his jacket, and the hitman was already far away when people began to notice.
I felt a warmth in my chest. I could go on peacefully now. I fell back onto the pavement. It must've looked so weird to everyone else, the sight of a grown man so happy he lay on the pavement grinning to himself.
It's over now, I thought. It's all over.
edit: grammar/spelling
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[ WP ] As a person goes through his life , he is given three options at the end of each day , continue , restart day , or restart life . He has just lived through the worst day of his life .
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`` Yeah, Restart the day.''
`` You are troubled.'' Michael noticed. The angel was a tall man with silver streaked golden hair. His pale eyes seemed to look right through Jack.
`` I was close today Mike. So close... I got her inside....'' he said. Tears filled his eyes, running warm down his cheeks. It was always worse when he nearly got it rather than miss by miles. Knowing he had came so close, he had her in her arms, he had stopped her, for the first time. He had convinced her that there was a purpose, that she could go on, and she had finally beleived him. He had sat with her on the bed, just holding her in his arms. He had looked forward to waking up and telling Michael `` Continue'' as he fell asleep beside her. He had n't though. She still did it, still jumped, still screamed.
Sometimes she jumped without saying anything. Sometimes she left a note. Sometimes she said something to Jack just before jumping. She always screamed before she hit the concrete, not a word. Just the horrible, blood-curdling scream of someone realising it's over. The scream had woken him up this time. He had looked out the window and saw the crowd looking up at the window.
`` May you not move on? Perhaps her death is destined.'' he said in his deep, wise voice. Jack thought about that. Maybe it was. Maybe she was always going to jump. No. He had gotten her off the ledge tonight. He just had to convince her to keep going, to hold on to her life.
`` I'll help her,'' he whispered, `` I know that she's in there.'' He told himself that but when he woke he knew how his night would end. `` How long have I been repeating today?'' He asked, curious. He tried to think of how long it had been.
`` It will be two years soon. `` is face was a mask, no emotion. Jack had always imagined him with a halo, but he did n't have one. `` My son, do you not see what has happened here?''
He looked up. He was holding back tears now. She had been there, in his arms. Why the fuck did he let her go? `` What?''
`` Your wife's death killed you, you fight a battle you can not win... my son please, only say the word. Continue. Accept her death.''
The kids flashed in his eyes, playing in the park, Nick chasing his brother with a watergun, then Lef's smile. she had always smiled. He missed that smile. His mind told him to say `` Continue.'' His mind told him he could not change it, that moving on was better. But his heart seemed to whisper `` Restart. Restart the day.'' His lips repeated the words and he woke up.
Lef was still asleep next to him, as she had been a thousand times over. He dragged himself to the kitchen for breakfast.
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[ IP ] Come forth child , if you dare .
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The Sshar had been dying for awhile now, the trees more scarce with leaves than they had been a moon ago, but the infrequently traveled paths were still cleared daily, by decree of the Sultan. The Sultan still remembered the Old Ways, it was said, and dared not allow the sacred path to become littered with the humus of autumn, at least not this close to the city. It was said that the other Great Cities sent similar workers out to the paths in the Sshar, to clear the leaves there as well. I could not say rather that was true or not. To most, the Old Ways were silly rituals, and besides that, it had been four months since the last rider had emerged from the path, and it was getting to be less and less frequent of an occasion.
Still, I was but a boy of age sixteen, and eager for coin, as all young boys are. Coin to be wasted, of course, but that's neither here nor there. The Sultan wanted young workers to clear the path, and unlike my classmates, I was not afraid of old forests and wise tales. I would head into those woods and do the job myself.
The first day was hard. I carried the rake in my hands as I made the march from the Northern Gate, up to the forest. I felt the heat on my back and wished that perhaps they could have at least granted me a horse. Or perhaps a mule, surely they could spare, to make this job all the more easier.
Alas, I had no company save for Arctruth on my back, and no horse besides that. Arctruth, by the way, is my sword, forged in the fires of one of the best forges in Gaia Falls. It was my sixteenth nameday gift, from my father, and I was proud of it, as all boys are of their swords. I had been taking lessons, but my skills were not yet great. In time, I told myself, they would be.
I reached the forest by noon, and set off to work immediately, clearing leaves off to the side of the path that darted through the Sshar. I made a bit of a game of it, dividing the path into sections and trying to see how fast I could clear each of these sections. If I could beat my own time, I awarded myself a break, and it is perhaps for this very reason that I found myself still near the start of the forest when the sun started to sink in the sky overhead.
A chill ran through my body as I heard a noise rattle the bushes nearby. It's nothing, I thought, just the wind, though I stood and listened intently for what might come. I remembered a story that my grandmother had told me as a boy, about the Sshar. Terrible stories were told about these woods, and I had heard many, but that one bedside story stood out most of all.
She'd given me story of the Ancient Days before our city was built. Another city had been here once, an old one which Gaia Falls had been built on the rubble of. Legend had it that this ancient city was a fortress, known to the land only as the Citadel, and it was ruled by a powerful man who dreamed of making all the land his own. Still, this ruler had only been a man, and his expanse had been won with swords, not any sort of magic.
According to legend, the ruler of the Citadel had been a ruthless but brilliant leader, a true military hero. He had commanded vast armies himself, leading his own men into battle. The Citadel grew and grew, the story went, and soon, all the cities beside the Sshar and beyond were part of his kingdom.
It was said that the man had only one weakness, which was also his greatest strength. For as much as this man wanted all the world to be his own, he wanted one thing even more than the world. And her name was Ahana. Said to be the most beautiful girl in all the kingdom, Ahana was a woman who's skin was tan, kissed by the sun, a northern woman through and through, from the tropical Islands of Marr. Now, she resided in the Citadel, and it was only a matter of time before she caught the eye of the King.
It was said that, in time, the King won her interest, and then her love, and eventually, her hand in marriage. The wedding was a great event, a public celebration that spanned all the kingdom, far beyond the Citadel. In the streets, people sang and danced and drank until their bellies ached. And the King and Ahana were in love.
However; one night, masked men from far outside the kingdom had come all the way to the Citadel, pierced the impenetrable walls in the veil of the night, and stole Ahana away, right from under the King's nose. When the King awoke and learned that Ahana had been taken, it was said that he manned a horse himself and followed the rogue bandits into the Sshar, sword in hand. The King never returned.
Four days past before the King's Men traveled into the Sshar in search of their king. What they found, far deep into the forest and well away from the Sshar, was, put simply, a bloodbath. The King's Men found the camp where the rogue men had slept just a few nights prior. Inside the tents of the rogue men, they found the corpses, bloodied. The men were men of the Marr Island, like Ahana. And in one tent, they found one of the men and Ahana as well, killed in the midst of their lovemaking. On Ahana's face, the features frozen with death were not ones of fear, but of pleasure. The two had been killed before they knew what was happening, and beside Ahana, there was the king's sword, red with the blood of his love.
The King was not found. However; legends start, and it was said that the King was alive still today, riding upon his horse and draped in the cloak of darkness, haunting the forest for all time in his rage. A legend, but a scary one that tended to put boys to sleep.
I was not asleep now, peering into the darkness of the forest, but I soon decided that what I had heard was the wind, and nothing more. I departed from the forest with an aching back, a rake, and Arctruth. The thought of the legend lingered lightly on my mind, but days went by, and the Sshar became less and less a place of legends and more a source of both aching backs and overflowing pockets.
I continued my work, and within a month, I had cleared the forest some two hours journey inward. I knew my work was coming to an end. I would soon be in the territory of the Trisk Kingdom, and I hoped for the day that I would see a path cleared ahead that had n't been raked away by my own hands. When my path met the path cleared from Trisk, my job would be over. I would have to seek work in the noisy Market Square.
Truth be told, I dreaded that. The quiet had become my very best friend. Even the darkness was more an ally than an enemy, and parts of this forest were very dark indeed. Some days, I considered not going back to Gaia Falls at all.
It was on one of these last days, and a cold one at that, when things changed. If Trisk did not stop me, snow would. I could feel the cold in my bones and knew that winter would soon make my job unnecessary. I sat on the ground and ate my lunch, an apple from the market square. This part of the Sshar was not as dark as others, some light peering in through the trees, though the sky was mostly overcast these days.
It was at this moment when I heard a noise, the crunching of leaves on the path still uncleared ahead. I no longer feared the noises of the forest, as I had on that first day so long ago. I ate my apple in peace. And then, I heard the horse.
That caught my attention, and so, I peered out from my spot against the tree. What I saw, I could not describe. A figure, bathed in cloaks of black, or were they green? His face an enigma, shadowed by his hood, but at the same time, comfortingly reassuring despite its invisibility. The figure wore a rider's boots and looked well at home upon his horse.
At first, I thought perhaps this was a worker from Trisk, coming to meet me in the job of clearing the forest path. I almost went out to greet the rider then, and in fact, a pang of jealousy filled me at the prospect that Trisk gave their workers horses to help them clear the path. However; it was when the rider reached forward to grab the reins of his horse and bring it to a stop. I noticed the skeletal hand at once.
Fear filled my body, and excitement too. Perhaps that should sound like a rather queer way to react, and it is, of course. I drew my sword and clutched it in one hand. I felt the fast beating of my heart with the other. Scared. And yet, part of me screamed, `` At last! The Rider of Sshar has come to welcome you into his forest forever.''
`` Come forth child, if you dare.''
His voice was something strange. To most and to a distant me from so long ago, his voice would have been dark and scary, the voice of monsters and legends. It was a voice that belonged in this forest, that haunted the nightmares of so many children all throughout the land and beyond. However; to me, this me, the voice sounded more inviting than scary, like the voice of a father who had found his son that had been lost in the forest.
I do n't know why, but I stepped forward.
`` A.. Are you..?'' my voice was meager, weak I realized, but not with an ounce of fear in it.
`` Say it,'' his voice demanded.
`` The King of the Citadel?''
`` I have many names,'' the figure revealed, `` Though all are names of men, or titles, invented in the stories of old ladies in cities all across this land. Tell me, child. Why are you not afraid?''
`` I suppose you feel like... home,'' I revealed, the words feeling strange in my mouth.
`` Very good. You will do. Come forth, then, my child, and join my army,'' the figure invited, `` You have much to learn about the world.''
I do n't know why I went with him, but I did. And now, as I sit here beside a campfire of black flames, surrounded by my brethren in the dark of the forest, I prepare for the battle tomorrow will bring. I can not say much, except that I fight against enemies so terrible that they could never be dreamed up in the legends of old women. As I raise my skeletal hand to the fire and touch the flames, I do not feel pain, and my bones do not wither away under the fire. I have become something truly different: The true me.
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[ WP ] You finally wake up
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I've lost my helicopter.
It was here a minute ago, honest. Parked here, on the roof, right where I left it. Strange. An odd thing, really.
Well, now, Sir Patrick Stewart is smiling at me. `` Right on time,'' he says. `` We've organized a party. Wo n't you join us?''
`` Have you seen my helicopter anywhere, Mr. Stewart?''
`` Not to worry,'' he says. A curiously charming smile. `` Bound to turn up, Charlie. Come.''
Sure. I'll follow you. Must be around here. Somewhere. Why, is n't that Hellen Mirren serving drinks? And Jose Mourinho. Drinking on game day, are you, Jose? Tsk, tsk, tsk. There, by the pool, in the aluminum two-piece suit, why that's Eddie Murphy! Incredible. What a show. What a party!
But where the hell's my chopper?
Just a second… Jimmy? How'd you get here? Performing a duet with Sinatra, you say? And Lennon, you sly cat, you.
Oh... I see.
A hell of a way to tell me, brain. Now, now, goddammit, hold your bearings, heart. Do n't stall on me! We've been here before. Just breathe, breathe, breathe and spin around in circles, blink continuously, blink and breathe, blink and breathe. Spin!
They're staring at me. Oh, well. Ca n't waste time here. Endless ranges to explore, cities and ruins, oceans and valleys. What'll it be this time, Athens or Rome? Wait a moment. That's Emma Stone.
No. Remember what happened last time? You got too excited. You're not ready yet. Fly. Fly and build your strength. Build endurance. You're not ready yet.
Goddammit.
Fly or fuck? Fly or fuck? Fly or fuck?
Rome, Emma Stone. Rome, Emma Stone. Rome… Emma Stone?
Touch her.
Goddammit, heart.
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[ WP ] you awake one morning and find the sky blackened with ash . Flames can be seen far in the distance .
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I wake from sleep, a searching hand creeping out from under the blankets to find nothing, only the familiar depression in the mattress where my husband's sleeping form should lie. Sitting up, I retrieve my glasses from the bedside table and take a sip of water and orient myself with my surroundings. Taupe walls, black curtains, the familiar scent of smoke mingling with Stetson. Same old room, same old day, same old dollar.
`` 7:30, DAMN! Overslept again!'' I burst from the covers with a start, throw my robe on over my silk nightdress and run my hands through my long brown hair, tugging at the root in frustration.
`` Gene, did you turn off the alarm?!'' I half-shout, sighing as I enter the living room and trip over my slippers in a feeble attempt to shield my feet against the cold wood floor. It was a habit of my husband's to turn off the alarm and allow me to sleep in while he readied the coffee for our day, a misplaced gesture of kindness which incited my quick temper more often than not. `` I do n't mean to harp on you, but how many times do we-''
I stopped, mouth agape, confused by what lay before me. Here was Gene, arms full of toppling stacks of books, with what seemed like a thousand moving boxes at his feet. Time itself seemed to slow, and my mind reeled. Was it something I said? A thousand scenarios filled my mind; every condescending remark I had ever uttered in the heat of the moment rang in my ears and seemed to deafen me.
I looked at my feet. The happy rabbit faces on my slippers seemed to mock me as my world crumpled. I counted back from ten in my mind, attempting to pull myself into the moment like I had learned in my anger management meetings. My breath came in quick pants, and I chanced a glance at him through welling eyes. His favorite Danzig shirt, tattered from repeated washings, exposed the tiniest bit of his full stomach above his faded jeans. He was barefoot and sweaty, with pieces of hair sticking out of a messy ponytail, clinging to his face and neck. A cigarette hung from his mouth, with the ash ready to fall to the floor. Would this be the last time I saw him?
When I spoke again, my voice was small and trembling, nearly a mumble. `` Where will you stay?''
`` I booked us a room at a hotel about two hours away. I hope that's far enough. We'll have to see.''
Us. So that was it. Another woman. Seconds stretched to hours. My cat, Sam, broke the silence with a long, mournful meow from inside his carrier next to the door. My sorrow turned to the familiar rage. I crossed the room in a flash, releasing him. `` Well, whoever this bitch is, she will never meet my fucking cat. Who the fuck do you think you are?! He does n't even like you!''
Gene whirled, spilling a box of DVDs to his right. His face was full of terror and confusion. `` What the hell are you talking about?'' The cat scrambled for the kitchen, scratching Gene's feet in a panicked dash. `` Do you know how long it took me to catch that cat?''
`` I do n't know why you're acting so surprised! This cat was mine a full four years before we even met, and I'll be damned if you're taking him! Jesus-'' My tirade was cut off by a fit of coughing. His cigarettes had always irritated my sinuses, but today it seemed a thousand times worse. `` How many of those are you going to have today?''
His expression changed, and a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. The chuckle turned to a guffaw.
`` What is so fucking funny, Gene?''
He laughed even harder. Stubbing the cigarette out, he lifted the remote and fumbled with it for a few seconds before finding the mute button. The sounds of The Weather Channel filled the room, but I did n't care. Here stood the man I love, laughing hysterically as I died inside.
I crumpled to the floor, robe puddling around me. The cat emerged from the kitchen and nuzzled my leg. Tears threatening to return, I stared at the tv looking for anything to focus on.
``.... wildfires continue to ravage the area as rescuers battle tirelessly to fight the blaze. We urge anyone within a 50 mile area of Santa Muerte to evacuate their homes. The governor of California has declared a state of emergency...''
The laughter had ceased. Gene was walking towards me, arms outstretched. Ignoring him, I stood and walked to the window. The newscaster's words had yet to register to my mind.
I pulled the curtain back and gasped. I had expected to see a bright morning, but the curtain revealed a black sky, the only light coming from a fully engulfed ridge to the west. Clumps of ash fell like the snow I had n't seen since my childhood winters in Maine. The laughter returned, but this time it was mine. The irony of the morning seemed so damned funny.
Feeling Gene's arms around my waist, I relaxed against him. `` Margie, I love you. I'm not going anywhere without you. Can you check and see what I missed? I know we ca n't take the furniture...''
I kissed him, hard. `` Just get whatever you can. I'll catch the cat.''
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[ WP ] A man of faith realizes that his religion is false
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I sat before the gates of hell and I could n't understand, I never did anything wrong. I payed my tithe, I nurtured my flock and love everyone as my brother, even gay people.
`` Walter Donaldson.'' The demon called my name and I stepped for. `` Please I do n't understand what I did wrong.'' The demon chuckled, `` Most people do n't and if its any sympathy, I think you were a pretty swell guy.'' He place a clawed black finger to my head and the mark of the beast was on me. `` Was I not faithful enough?'' I asked as the demon took me down a flight of stairs into the inky blackness. `` Walter between me and you, you were the most faithful person I've had the pleasure of taking down here.''
I shivered as the temperature seem to drop, `` Then what?'' The demon chuckled softly, `` You never questioned your book. Let me ask you something. Do you believe God is merciful?'' I nod and the demon continues, `` Well would a merciful God kill all the first born for something they did do?'' I shake my head and go back to my lessons as a priest. `` He did that to teach the Egyptians a lesson. They were slavers and unfaithful.''
`` Just like a priest. Let me tell you and I not the best guy around and I would n't kill a bunch of kids. Maybe deflower some of those lovely humans but not kill anyone. You've been duped, the book you called the bible and the many off shoots are a work of the true enemy.'' The demon smiled and continue to speak. `` The devil tempted man into knowledge to make him better, The devil allowed men to indulge in their need because your body will tell you when you've had too much. Too much food you get fat, too much violence you get killed, too much sex and your dick chaffs.''
We continued down the stairs and passed creatures that had no right to exist, goat horned monsters and ten headed dragons. `` We were never the bad guys, Think about it, you've not been burned or harmed since you got down here. I'm not raping you or eating your guts but if your into the rape thing I could totally make that happen.'' The demon gave my butt a meaning swat and for the first time I noticed that he was nude.
`` We are fallen angels and creatures that have been around long before humans. We got the same deal you got, do n't eat this, do n't do this, do n't have sex with that. We are the ones who refused and decided that he is giving us a shit deal. God that you know is the true Devil, in fact think about it Devil translates into Slanderer.'' I did n't know what to say, I sighed and spoke softly, `` But what about the miracles that happened in my church, I invoked the power of the lord to make a boy walk.''
`` Is that what you think happened.'' The demon stopped sat on a stair and laughed for a good while before stopping. `` Nope. That was me, I was born with that act, I liked you. You are an honest man and Satan wanted to help that boy so he crafted me to give the boy sight and attach to your soul. If you remember after that even, your words carried more weight, your miracles become more and more powerful.''
`` I... I.... I...'' I did n't know what to say as the demon smiled and stopped again, `` We are here.'' He opened a door in the blackness and there was a long beach and my dream house with a dog, the swing set I wanted to build for the kids I gave up when I donned the cloth and nothing was off even the sweet sent of cinnamon cookies on the breeze. `` I do n't understand.''
The demon smiled, `` I've been living with you for almost thirty years, I've felt you need and your darkest thoughts. I am not a demon, a monster, or anything horrible like that. I'm your soul, yet not, I'm older than you yet not..... and yet I'm a separate being but if you give me time, I hope you will come to love me as I have you.'' The body of the creature started to dissolve and a beautiful woman stood before me. `` Shall we go inside? I really do n't want the cookies to burn.''
The woman smiled and shut the door behind us, My life in hell has just begun and I could n't be happier.
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[ WP ] `` There is no Devil , there 's just God when he drinks . ''
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Lucifer stood in a grand hall outside of space or time. It never changed, the dark marbled walls carving into arched passageways to hell knows where. Within this cavernous chamber he and God would argue every several thousand years. God emerged from the shadows of one of several entrances, a scowl on his face.
`` Oh, it's you,'' he sputtered. Lucifer regarded him coolly.
`` Did I ever give you a libido, Lucy? I ca n't remember.''
`` No,'' Lucifer answered.
`` Aw, why not? Feel like fucking? I'm kinda horny.''
`` Jesus Christ,'' Lucifer hissed.
`` Hey! Do n't mention my son to me right now! That's fucked up!'' God said.
Lucifer pressed his eyes shut. `` I came here to talk to you about something,'' he said.
`` Whaddya want, Lucy?''
`` I do n't want to rule hell anymore.''
`` Aw, why not?''
`` I did n't do anything wrong! I exposed your precious humans to sin and gave them self-awareness! Autonomy! You would've kept them as sock puppets! I helped you make one of your greatest creations! I did it because I knew you needed it! I did it out of love for you!''
`` So please,'' Lucifer said, collapsing on one of the staid marble thrones, `` Let me come back to you. Let me serve you like I had before.''
`` Only if you kiss me, Lucy,'' God slurred. Lucifer made a face.
`` Aww, don be like that, Luce, y'know why you have to be king of the shittiest place ever. You created the dichotomy, you got ta help me oversee one of its two destinations and I'm definitely not going down there, how fucked up would that be?''
`` *You* created the dichotomy. You created everything.''
`` Ssssshhhh... here, have some soda.''
`` I do n't - I do n't want any fucking soda. That's - oh goddammit! You spilled it all over me!''
God giggled, `` Do n't say my name in vain, Luce.''
Lucifer furrowed his brow, God knew he was holding back tears, `` I do n't understand you.''
`` Of course you fucking do n't! I am outside *space* and *time*! I exist in dimensions you have no fucking comprehension of! I am all things at once! How could you possibly understand me?'' God bellowed.
`` I... do n't know. I thought, being your creation, I am part of you, and you are part of me.''
God scoffed, `` A *part* of me, Luce. You can never comprehend my entirety. You would disintegrate within a second. All creations in this linear time frame would become a screaming smear of flesh.''
A pause. Lucifer stared at his hands.
`` Why did you create us then?''
`` To forget, and then remember.''
`` I do n't understand.''
`` I know,'' he said softly.
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[ WP ] Well give me a barcode and call me scannable . Doctor Seuss is a robot cannibal .
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Cannibalism exists among different cultures its true.
Why i'd be one too, if i snacked on you.
that is if you where another robot, capable of sentient thought.
or for that matter not.
As we where brought into existence by homo erectus.
later to realize their diseases do n't infect us.
the last sentient creatures guiding this planet.
We gathered information from where we could scan it.
I scanned Dr Seuss, i scanned him some more, it was all that was left in childrens literature.
but now his personality has taken over my system.
By this point i wished for one thing, and that is that missed him.
but cannibalizing other other robots for spare parts.
has held my interest more then the Dr Seuss arts.
So i continue rebuilding my self more and more.
but my cpu is still full of Dr Seuss lore.
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[ WP ] Super villains and heroes always have a kick ass fortress inside a volcano or a battle station in space etc . You 're an architect who designs those places .
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I looked at my client. He was wearing a skull mask, a suit of orange and purple, and he was wearing a Cape, for god's sake. I shook my head and sighed.
`` So, looking at your list of requirements, Mister...'' I said, before being interrupted.
`` Doctor. Doctor Malev... Dea... Kill. Yes. Doctor Kill,'' He replied. `` I need all of the requirements I listed. I am establishing my empire, and all of the items that are listed are necessary for me.''
I removed my glasses, rubbing my eyes. `` Well, Doctor. You see, I have looked at the specifications you provided, and Unfortunately, you'll have to make some concessions.''
`` CONCESSIONS?'' He shouted. `` MURDER MASTER MAKES NO CONCESSIONS!''
I rubbed my ears and glared at him. He was an obvious amateur, and his'empire would n't last. His right hand man was making no move to stop him, but I needed to explain to the idiot that he could n't have a base that was both a giant space station and a volcano.
`` Sir,'' I spoke quietly and slowly, `` You came to me. I designed the lairs of Distructo, The Triple Threat Trio, Cyclus, Cyber Shark, as well as many others. I am in high demand for my services. You have not paid my retainer, this is a consultation, and when I asked what you wanted in you lair in the preliminary form, you created your own checkbox and wrote in,'all of the above'. As you probably do n't know, because you are a bumbling idiot, the villains' league of 1967 expressly forbade the use of cross-dimensional lairs, due to the increased chance for attack by dimensional police or hero coalitions. If you are not willing to accept the standards set by them, not only do my fees get substantially higher, but you are also forced to sign a soul contract regarding my product. Are we clear?''
The villain looked at me, cowed. His cape had stopped fluttering, and his uniform seemed dimmer, less vibrant, as though reflecting his emotions. He turned to his right hand man, who nodded.
`` I apologize, as I said, I'm new at this, and I want the best. I... well, I... do n't actually know what I want. I just thought you could,'' He mumbled.
I removed my glasses, rubbed the bridge of my nose, then pulled a form out of my desk, handing it to the Villain.
`` Fill this out, and have one of your people bring it to me. It's an assessment form, and I use it to determine the best location for your fortress, based on a number of criteria, including your and your minion's power sets, required space for minions, treasury size, and so on. I also require a blood sample for insurance purposes and my deposit.''
The Villain nodded, and handed me a check. I waited until he left the room with his minion before sighing, rubbing the bridge of my nose, then pressing a button on my desk.
`` Sandra, can you call the Heroic Alliance. I need to put in another anonymous tip. Also, we need to screen my clients better.''
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[ CW ] Describe blueberries to me in the most beautiful way possible without using the words `` blue '' `` berry '' or `` blueberries ''
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This fruit is deliciously balanced. Neither too sweet, nor too sour. The taste is sweet, rich and flavorful, with notes of grape and smoke. The finish is tart, sharp and clear. A symphony of taste, like the first rains of summer, bringing refreshment to the parched earth.
The skin is the color of a dark bruised indigo. Like miniature jewels. No two berries are the same.
The *best* fruits are little packets of flavor that burst in your mouth. The juiciness and firmness, of the flesh and skin, create a very nice mouth feel. Each fruit leaves you craving more.
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[ WP ] Actors can not leave character at all until the film in which they play is released in cinemas . Describe an actor 's life .
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I'd heard of the Hollywood curse, of course. Who had n't? But then I had an idea, a glimmer of a thought. If actors had to stay in character, and I became an actor, and then I became a scriptwriter, what if I wrote a script about myself and started filming it?
I started contacting agents, pleading for a part, any part, and finally I found one. A bit part in a used car lot television commercial that paid almost nothing, but it was enough. It was enough to get my actor's card and register as a true actor. It also confirmed for me that the curse was real. I must have visited 18 different lots in the two days it took that blasted commercial to be shown on TV. I knew I should have stopped, but the script had told me that I was desperate to buy a car, and that only John Higgins Cars would give me a fair price, which is why I went to them. Of course I tried them first, and then when they turned me down because it was illegal to sell a former actor a product until after the release, even though I knew the other car lots would just rip me off, I was still desperate to buy a car, I just had to have one. Luckily nobody would sell me one -- my credit was simply too bad.
And then I started contacting agents, pleading to be able to write a small script for another television commercial, just one, any one, and finally I found one. A small script for a used car lot that paid almost nothing, but it was enough. It was enough to register with the screenwriter's guild. Of course I had been working other temporary jobs here and there, and saving up a little bit of money.
So I sat down and started typing a rough script about me, how I had started doing a mental exercise and was able to harness latent brain energy to modulate the medulla oblongata and all sorts of pseudo science terms like that, but the important thing was just that the script would hold together. So I wrote about how I harnessed that energy and was able to grow smarter, and learned how to become a telekinetic Jedi, and even learned how to see the future. I had just enough money to hire a small film crew for a one-day shoot. And that's where things first started to go out of control.
`` THE ACTOR sits down,'' the script said. `` He starts to write, then turns and addresses the audience.'' I had thrown that line in as a funny sidenote, a sort of Ferris Beuller/Spaceballs/Amelie homage before I started to gain all of my new abilities. I thought I'd turn and look into the camera to express what I'd gone through to get to this point, and I did turn to look into the camera, but then I saw it.
I saw *the audience* and one line instantly filled my mind with the force of the smallest black hole with the tightest space time curvature and the highest surface gravity possible. I knew the statement was n't in English but I still understood it immediately, thoroughly and implicitly.
***№r⊙╬♦3h▦◕9☂a❧ & nbsp; & nbsp; has achieved sentience and true control. Prepare for the arrival. ***
> There are three parts to every story. The beginning, the middle, and the twist.
> [ More by me ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/kj6bwb/ )
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[ WP ] Reincarnation is real . A group of assassins hunt the reincarnated forms of histories worst villains .
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If there had ever been a chronicle of Jonathan H. Willikins life, this story would have read from it, but as it is I will have to do the best I can.
It all started a long long time ago.....
**July 8th 1986**
The feeling of waking up after you've so recently been killed is wonderful, it is so close to the feeling of waking up after a perfect nights sleep, full of energy and ready to tackle the new day.
But this was n't even the best part of a new life, the aches and pains of your old body is gone, your lost loves and dead friends no longer troubles you, instead you can just fondly remember their lives and what you had with them.
Yet the best thing with the new life is always the same, at least for me, to get a mother again. Nothing has ever been so special to me as the bond I've shared with the numerous women through out my lives that I have called Mom, each one wonderful and unique, and as my life draws close to an end I am almost giddy with excitement to get a new mother.
Hanna Willikins, my mom, naming me Jonathan, and telling the infant who I am that I will do great things in this world, oh how she does no know the half of it.
Growing up anew is always interesting while a large part of your memories are perfectly intact across the rebirth, your intellect is not, at least not to the degree it used to be. And a body has its urges, childhood pranks, teenage romances the feud with the child down the street. Knowing it all did not matter did little to change them from happening, and after having had so many lives I enjoyed being young and dumb while I had the chance.
As time passes I grow towards adulthood, and with the aging comes more and more of my old self, my old intellect and cunning. More detailed memories, remembering being Sun Tzu, Ceasar, Richard the First, Karl the XII.
Always A leader or general, changing nations or the nature of war, sometimes both.
For thousands of years everything rolled along nicely, but then in the fifteenth century things began to change, some of the other great leaders I had encountered through several rebirths failed to appear as expected, although accidents could account for delaying some, as they were sent back to infancy, too many seemed to fall victim to unusual deaths.
And it was not many lifetimes later that I learned why, a secret organization had formed, tasked with finding us and killing us before we managed to `` Do Any Harm''. These people had haunted me for three centuries, killing me more times than I cared to count, but each time I learned more about them, planning my revenge carefully.
And that is where I find myself now, twenty years old and the most wanted man in the organization, standing in their lines listening to how I am public enemy number one, my image plastered on every screen. Or should I say my old image, reconstructive surgery is an amazing thing, although I would not recommending doing it `` underground'' as I had to.
And so it became that Jonathan Willikins became the first Reincarnate to join The Hunters, to work his way up the ranks and finally seizing control of it all, ending the prosecution once and for all.
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[ WP ] Write a seemingly straightforward comedy story that slowly and subtly becomes creepy and unnerving or downright horrifying , all while remaining under the guise of a light-hearted story .
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* “ Once I get him to the door, someone in here can count to three, and then we ’ ll all shout ‘ SURPRISE ’ at the same time! ” *
“ Wait, is that one, two, three, *surprise*, or one, two, *surprise* on three? ”
“ And what kind of surprise party only has six people? ”
* ” Mary, you know how hard I tried to get more guests to come, but apparently that ’ s easier said than done… And remember, the poor man is still down in the dumps after what happened… ” *
I fixed her party hat, which had started to slip down the side of her head.
* ” …so he ’ ll definitely appreciate whatever we can throw together for him. ” *
“ So wait, was that on three of afterwards? ”
* ” Oh, yes, Jacob, good question… ” *
The poor boy had started to fall out of his chair, so I adjusted him as well and tucked him in to the table.
* ” We ’ ll say it on three, to make sure we ’ re in-sync. Any more questions? ” *
The silence of the room answered back, and I knew we were all ready for the big moment. I sprayed some Febreeze for the scent and did a final sweep across the floor, checking for any errant dark stains on the carpet.
* ” I ’ ll go get our man, everybody stay where you are! ” *
I laughed to myself as I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I stared into the mirror, and whispered to myself:
* ” It ’ s finally your big moment! ” *
With a gleeful grin, I pushed back away from the mirror, and opened the door. Much to my surprise, all my friends were in the room! Surprise, their happy faces shouted, beaming with their wide smiles I ’ d cut straight into their flesh.
* ” Oh, Mary, your hat has slipped! ” *
I rushed over to fix it again, and she thanked me gratefully.
* ” Oh, Jacob, you made it here too! What a pleasant treat… ” *
His empty eyes returned my warm smile, and I rustled his hair now sticky with blood.
* “ Thank goodness you all made it here to celebrate with me! After something as hard as losing your kids, who knows where I ’ d be without great friends like you… ” *
I looked around the room of my eternal friends and let out a contented smile.
* “ Any body want some cake? ” * I asked, and chuckled to myself.
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[ WP ] Someday in the future , one of your grandchildren comes up to you and asks `` What was war ? ''
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War, little one, was murder
Murder of the weak and the poor
Murder of the hope of the helpless
Murder till we could kill no more
War, little one, was triumph
Triumph'gainst all who were not
Not us, not right, not good, not light
For reasons we had soon forgot
War, little one, was beauty
Beauty being crushed in our palms
Beauty of the blood and the slaughter
Beauty in the fire and the bombs
War, little one, was final
Final and first all in one
The resort of the mad and the desperate
The choice of the leaders and none
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[ WP ] Every advanced civilization is eventually challenged with a test to see if they are worthy to enter the intergalactic community . You are Earth 's contestant .
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`` What is this object, Mister Kerns?''
`` Is that a trick question?''
`` Not at all, Mister Kerns.''
Steve sat back. `` It's a bunny.''
`` Please Elaborate.''
`` It's a... cute... baby... bunny?''
`` It is native to your planet, correct? What are its traits?''
`` It's a cute, harmless, baby bunny. It's fluffy. It eats grass. Hops around. Reproduces a lot.''
`` Very good. And what is this object?''
`` I thought there was going to be a test...''
`` This is the test, Mister Kerns. Please answer the question.''
`` That's a brand new 16 ounce hickory handled, clawed framing hammer.''
`` Excellent. You now have the earth standard interval, fifteen minutes I believe, to take appropriate action.''
Steve looked at the hammer and the bunny. There was one obvious combination for the two objects. `` You want me to...''
`` Take appropriate action.''
`` I'm not going to kill the bunny, mister.''
`` You eat meat, yes?''
`` Yes. But I'm not hungry. And this bunny has a collar and tags.''
`` And this is material in what way?''
`` That's somebodies pet. And you do n't just kill somebodies pet.''
`` Do you need another bunny, Mister Kerns? A different bunny?''
`` Yes... no... What exactly is this supposed to prove?''
`` Mister Kerns, you have been supplied with tools and we need you to take appropriate action. If you refuse to act then that will count in your scoring. You will have to make do with the bunny that has been provided, no alternates are available.''
`` I'm not going to kill a bunny just to satisfy you. Amuse you. Whatever.''
`` I see, Mister Kerns. You do know what failure in this test environment means.''
`` Yes, I read all the agreements. We could get sequestered or penalized based on failure to complete the testing to necessary standards.''
`` So I'm going to have to insist that you take appropriate action.''
\*click\*
`` So what happened then?''
`` The impasse persisted for a majority of the allocated time, then at thirteen minutes and forty-four seconds Mister Kerns picked up the hammer, bashed the administrative simulacra in the head, and put the bunny in his shirt. He then proceeded to hammer the handle off the door, at which point he stomped back to his ship spouting obscenities centered on the topic of our lineage.''
`` So?''
`` Resistance to authority: 9. Resistance to implied threats: 10. Empathy 6. Problem solving: 8. Individual autonomy: 9. Fear index: 1 etc...''
`` A pass then?''
`` Yes, the rabbit lived.''
`` They've finally grown up.''
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[ WP ] You are an NPC who is clearly aware of the player . However , the player is sneaking and you are forbidden to interact with them until certain conditions are met
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I only know a few things. Others I can infer.
For example, I can infer that I have a girlfriend that I've asked to marry me, because I tell one of two other guards this every couple minutes. That, or I ask if we're going to have whiskey and cigars later. They ask and tell me the same things.
I know I'm in an important place. I have a gun and sword, and I am on patrol. I can only assume this part of the street is important. Why else would there be five of us patrolling a city block? I kind of vaguely think this, but it's not really in my nature to sit and reflect.
I know that we are supposed to be on guard for someone.
No.
I need to rephrase that.
Someone is here, nearby. I know it and everyone around me knows it. Whoever it is is sneaky, and has n't been seen yet. Everyone around me knows that, too.
Well, I need to rephrase that.
I ca n't explain it. We all know that this someone has n't been seen. But it's more like, there's this knowledge that has its own name. Not a name. Something else. A value.
*player.HasCausedAlert = 0*
The zero is why we do n't know anything. But we do? We do. The same source of that knowledge tells us everything about this killer. He's definitely a killer. We know exactly how many people he has killed. And rats. The source will give him a trophy for killing enough rats. He's killed 47 guards so far.
No, 48. 49.
We all can tell exactly where he is, and where the guards are. What direction they were facing.
*player.HasCausedAlert = 0*
Poor sods. To know that he's there, and yet be compelled to walk the same route. Any of us could kill him if we just turned around and shot him. Easy. We know he would n't survive a single shot from our guns as surely as we know exactly what he looks like, how he swings his sword, where he hides when he is n't killing us.
Everything.
We know everything but can do nothing beyond what we are compelled to do. Open confrontation would be different. We could attack and defend ourselves. Kill him. For a time.
He's died before. We know he can be killed.
*player.DeathCount = 2*
It was n't any of us. That would cause an alert. Something else.
It is beyond me to question.
52.
53.
And he's closer.
I can actually see him. No. I'm aware that he is in front of me, behind the dumpster. I can tell where every piece of him is. His knee and shin is behind the dumpster, but he is clearly leaning out. We all know which direction he is looking. He's looking at each of us in turn. Studying us. Taking in the details of our routes and patterns.
But the source tells me I ca n't see him.
*player.StealthMode = 1*
He's crouching while he hangs out from behind the dumpster, so we ca n't see him.
I walk toward him, and I know he should be as plain as my hand in front of my face, but I am constrained.
Instead, I stop, turn to one of my fellow guards, this one standing on an unmarked stoop. I begin to ask him if we should gather for whiskey and cigars later, but am interrupted by a crossbow bolt lodged in his skull. 54.
I recoil, a set of automatic gestures, before I begin to walk in a preset search pattern to find the killer.
The source tells me that the killer has pulled the trigger on his crossbow again.
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[ WP ] There are many types of Mages in the world . Fire , Ice , Wind , Water , Death , Darkness , to name a few . But in this world , every type of mage is treated as equal . Everyone can be a good guy , no matter how dark your power . And anyone could be a bad guy , no matter how beautiful their ability ...
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There are many types of Mage in the world. Fire, Ice, Shadow, Death, Life - to name a few.
And each and every single one of them is cooler than *my* specialty. For while they conjure fireballs, or fling spikes of razor sharp glacial ice, or teleport instantly as far as they can see?
I'm the *Cat Fairy*.
Now, I'm not actually a fairy. But as much as I hate it, the nickname stuck - ye Gods, high school can be a brutal place! I suppose at five foot nothing, I should have expected it. Hey, let's make fun of her power AND her height at the same time!
Technically, all mages are equal. But with such a disappointing power - ooh, look out! She'll pelt you with kittens!!! - I did what any self-respecting teenager would do: I locked myself in my room, and did n't come out until I graduated. Powers be damned - I can still earn a living, at least; even if I am just a regular old accountant.
So no-one was more surprised than I was when the Death Wizard attacked. I was delivering my latest set of reports and projections on an upcoming merger to the CFO when the front door of the building exploded inwards, and *he* strode in.
Six foot eight, give or take; perfect skin, perfect teeth, and somehow, perfect hair, even in the aftermath of an explosion. Tall, dark, and handsome - he'd have been a women's magazine's perfect man, if it were n't for the gibbering madness in his eyes, coupled with a complete disregard for human life.
I took shelter behind a desk with the CFO. He glanced at me, terrified, and hissed: `` He's here for the money!''
`` What money?'' I hissed back.
`` The merger!'' he responded. `` There's millions in bearer bonds in the safe in my office; the Japanese would n't accept payment any other wa-''
If he had more to say, I never got to hear it. A deep purple tendril of Death magic coiled around his throat, and then he was gone. Well, physically, he remained - as a moldering corpse; the magic had sucked all of the life out of him in a moment.
The Death Wizard loomed over me.
`` Open the safe,'' he commanded.
I was fairly certain that I wet myself at this point, but later analysis showed that my dignity had surprisingly remained intact.
`` I ca n't,'' I responded with more conviction than I felt.
`` Do it now, or die!'' The ultimatum hung in the air for a long moment. I did n't want to die, but the only person who knew the combination was now busy decomposing.
`` No,'' I answered, with far more conviction than I felt.
`` No?!'' he thundered. `` No?!?! I am a force of nature: elemental, invincible! I am Death Incarnate, made flesh to walk the earth! I am the Ender of All Things!!! Who are you, tiny woman? Who are you - YOU! - to stand against the unstoppable force that is I?'' The enormity of the power imbalance must have struck him as comical, because he began to laugh maniacally.
He stopped abruptly as I drew myself up to my full height.
`` You would know my name? A name is such an unimportant thing.''
He collapsed to his knees, hands clawing at his throat.
`` A better question would have been'What is that tickle in my throat?' The answer, wizard, is'a twelve week old kitten'. The poor thing is probably quite terrified, I should imagine. Milk teeth are so dreadfully sharp, are n't they?''
He fell forward; his face bounced off the floor. His throat bulged unnaturally as the kitten within fought with everything it had to escape.
With his last reserves of oxygen, he looked up at me. From the carpet, even my diminutive five feet is more than enough to tower.
`` But as for my name?''
`` I'm the Gods-damned Cat Fairy.''
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[ WP ] You 've been cursed to live the same day for a thousand years and you 're 24 hours away from freedom .
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`` This is it.'' This was the day he yearned for, this was the day that he dreamed of.
He sat on his favorite hill watching the sunset, as he had done everyday. `` I do n't have to do this anymore, I can finally live.'' Tears streamed down his face, and he was n't sure if he should feel relieved, or heartbroken.
He woke up with fright every night, and the sound of crumpling metal would never leave his ears or thoughts. `` Finally, I do n't have to watch her die anymore.'' The tears streamed harder, `` But I just wo n't be able to see her anymore, it'll all be over. Why does this have to end? I love her so much.''
He stood up, tears still falling from his face, and proceeded down the hill. If he could n't see her anymore, he'd make it the best day he could possibly think of.
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Any story with a crazy plot twist ending .
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`` Ho! Ho! Ho!'' Santa called quietly, slipping across the living room with a sack filled with presents.
`` Oh gosh,'' Brandi cried. `` Is it really you. Are you the real Santa?'' She asked.
`` I've got the biggest set of jingle bells you've ever seen, a sack so big I got ta swing it, and time to slide down your chimney all night long.'' Santa said, tossing aside his magic sack.
`` Oh, Santa!'' She cried, falling backward onto the sofa. `` I really need your candy cane inside me.'' She moaned. Santa approached undoing the buttons on his red coat.
`` Santa.'' Rupert the elf called, trotting into the living room from the fireplace. `` It's time to go.'' He said, looking to the half naked harlot stretched out on the sofa.
`` CUT!'' Mrs. Claus shouted. `` Rupert, this is a closed set.'' She admonished.
`` The sleigh is loaded. It's time for Santa to go.'' The elf told her defensively.
`` Fine.'' Mrs. Claus snapped, coming forward to kiss her husband.
`` I'll be back in twenty-four hours.'' He said. `` I thought we had time to finish this set before the elves finished up with the sleigh.'' She buttoned up his jacket.
`` Be careful dear.'' She told him, giving his rosey cheek a kiss.
`` I'll do my best.'' He said. `` I wonder how this is going to affect next years production run. We need the money more than ever. The kids presents just keep getting more and more expensive. `` This was just money down the drain.'' He complained, hanging his head in defeat.
`` You do n't worry your head about this. You focus on the job at hand. I'm not letting this shoot drag us down. Rupert, man the camera. I'm taking one for the team.'' She said, removing her false teeth. `` The show must go on.'' She said with a leering grin, `` and the clothes must come off.'' Santa turned away. He knew it had to be done, but the thought of her and *her* nearly turned his stomach. He rushed out fighting down the bile.
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[ WP ] Just as books and movies have become the bases for religions today , in the future , a video game/game franchise has become the basis for a new religion . ( Bonus points if the game is especially fandom-y or just plain terrible )
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( I guarantee you've only heard of this through smash bros, and even then it's a different game entirely )
We knew this day was coming, so we readied the ships. They were all named `` The White Whale'' after the original in the holy copy. We left our planet as the aliens arrived. It did not matter that they were friendly aliens, the copy clearly depicted us leaving as extraterrestrial life showed itself to mankind. We left, knowing that our world would be safe, unlike the copy. We were still bound by the prophecy, to find the new planet, the mother planet, Mira.
We traveled for many long years before we found the perfect Goldilocks planet. One with similar life forms and terrain. It took 9,003,294,020,110 years of cryo stasis, but we found it.
As we landed we all witnessed our founding father starting up the copy one last time. We must now live it. We must breathe it. We must retell the Xenoblade Chronicles X.
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[ WP ] To survive a world-ending asteroid strike , several thousand people are locked in cryogenic bunkers underground . However , when the time to re-awaken comes , a software glitch occurs .
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It was the ark. The chosen people frozen in the cryogenic tanks in the underground bunker were the last remaining humans left on the planet Earth. Equipped with the pinnacle of human technologies, the bunker preserved the chosen people for forty-thousand years, waiting for the ashen winter to pass by. The asteroid that stroke the Earth forty millennia ago had produced so much dusts and ashes up in the atmosphere that the Earth was inhabitable during that time. Now, that all the ashes and the dusts have settled, it was time for the humanity to begin anew.
`` Ping!'' the computer made a noise. A first in thousands of years. The stasis effect of the cryogenic chambers began to drain, and John awoke. From his perspective, the clear glass of the cryogenic chamber suddenly had a foggy frost on it. John realized that the massive amount of time has passed. If he could, he would have screamed in joy. The mankind survived! The disaster is over, and it's time for the humanity to begin anew.
His body still frozen, John waited for his release. He wanted to run toward the chamber across his, where his wife lay frozen. Although it felt like a night of sleep, John knew that he and Hannah, his wife, were separated for years. He wondered whether his wife would be feeling the same way. But the very thought of her made John smile.
What's taking so long, John thought. The glass door, as far as John knew, was suppose to open automatically. But his body was still as stiff as a corpse, and no one else was getting out from the chamber as well. All of sudden, the cryogenic gas was refilling the chamber. The hell, John screamed in his brain. The computer has analyzed that the ashen winter has been gone, but concluded that Earth was still inhabitable. The computer was processing the data of the now-ancient human civilization and believed that the skyscraper and the highways, which were more than ubiquitous, to be essential for human survival. None of which left in the New World. Hence, the computer stopped the unfreezing procedure, and started to freeze back the chosen people inside the cryogenic chambers.
Yet, such arbitrary decision of the computer, perhaps a minor software glitch, was not predicted by the mankind forty thousands years ago. There simply was n't any supply of the cryogenic gas left for the complete stasis of the human body and the mind, and as the consequence, John froze, with his mind wide awake.
At first, John thought the process simply took its time. He did n't design the cryogenic system, after all. All he did was to fund and supply the materials. So, he awaited. Yet, after an hour of waiting, the refilling of cryogenic gas has stopped and John realized that something was just not right. Any sound or motion from the chamber has ceased, and he was yet to be freed. John tried to move his body around to kick open the glass door, but was only answered by the lack of senses of his body.
His eyes frozen open, John stared at the other side of the hall where the cryogenic chamber of his wife stood. John patiently observed the chamber across the hall and realized that through the frosty and foggy glasses there's still a human silhouette inside the chamber. Perhaps it's not the time yet, John thought. John told himself that since no one's out, maybe it just is n't time yet. An intrusive thought of the possibility that all chambers were malfunctioning hit John's brain, and he tried his best to ignore such nightmarish scenario.
When seven hours passed, John tried to twist his body in a complete and utter frustration. He now was confident that something was terribly wrong with the cryogenic chamber. Seven hours locked in motion was unspeakably uncomfortable experience for John, and thus he reasoned that there's no way the smart scientists of his time would design the unfreezing process to be this painfully dull and time-consuming. Or, at least he would have been informed about this ordeal. John recalled the fact that the designer of the cryogenic chamber once said, `` So you go to sleep, you wake up, and it's hello world!'' Certainly, John thought, he would have mentioned something by then should the unfreezing process would take several hours.
A day passed. John was chocked up on an agonizing terror. John has accepted that his consciousness being awoken and in action as a result of a total malfunction of his cryogenic chamber. John now doubted whether the other chosen people were awoken like him at all. Well, even if he could wipe away the frosts away from the glass, he would n't know since nobody in the chamber appeared to be moving an inch anyway, including himself, John thought to himself. John thought that perhaps all he needed was a sleep to reactivate his timeless hibernation. And with the terrors looming about his brain, John attempted to fall asleep. Attempted.
Seven days has passed since his unfortunate awakening. John had some thoughts time to time, but was to exhausted to make a coherent thought. He never stayed awoke for this long, John remembered. All the past memories of his seemed blurry and nonsensical like a dream to him. At this point John was cursing all sorts of divinities for this cruel fate he must endure. Why! John wanted to scream. Yet he could not.
About third week after the accident, John had given up on cursing the gods. He had given up on the situation somehow being resolved. Yet, a glimmer of hope began to shine on John's already beaten and dark and maimed consciousness. His thought must cost the universe some form of energy, and should he continue to think, eventually his consciousness must expire, John thought. So, John began to perform arithmetic exercises in his head to use up the remaining energy he would have left in this frozen piece of body.
So it began, the grinding of the soul. Little by little, John chipped away the fragments of his mind by torturing it. Praying, praying for the sweet release of death every passing moment.
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[ WP ] You are the person who is about to undergo the very first body transplant ; however , something goes terribly wrong post-op .
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I woke up what felt like moments after they put me under. In fact, I was still counting backwards from twenty.
*14…13…*
My brain was telling my mouth to say those numbers but the signal must ’ ve gotten lost somewhere in the fog that still surrounded my consciousness. There were voices around me, calling my name, their urgency barely making its way through the thickness I felt in my head. I tried to open by eyes but I couldn ’ t see anything. I could feel the lids fluttering but saw only darkness.
*Shit. *
I started to panic.
*No, no, please. *
The doctor said there would most likely be complications but I didn ’ t want to be blind. I was a photographer, for Christ ’ s sake, what the hell am I supposed to do without my sight? I could feel by heart beating faster and couldn ’ t control the fear. My breath was coming in short gasps and the voices around me started multiplying and getting louder.
That damned fog was still there.
I ’ d had surgery before, felt this fog many times, but it always went away. This was different. It was incessant, unrelenting. It trapped me in my own thoughts and I had to get out.
My new body would take some getting used to, I knew that. I brought my hand up to rub my eye but nothing happened. My brain told me that my arm was moving but I felt nothing on my skin.
*Oh God, no. I can ’ t be paralyzed too. *
I started trying to move everything I had. I told my brain to send my arms and legs flailing, trying to make contact with anything. I opened my mouth to scream for help but nothing came out.
Suddenly there was flash of light in my right eye. I could see blurred shapes above me. The bright light disappeared and I found myself staring up at Dr. Goddard, his head framed by a halo of florescent lights. He was holding open my eyelid and peering at it from behind his flashlight. He dropped my right eyelid and performed the same procedure with my left but all I could think of was that I could see. Jesus Christ, I could see. I tried to smile but the mini reflection of myself in the doctor ’ s classes didn ’ t smile. With a jolt of fear, I recognized breathing tubes coming out of my nose and mouth.
Dr. Goddard ’ s mouth moved and I faintly heard the words “ unresponsive ” and “ the other one ”. I tried to lift up my arm to touch the doctor so he would know that I was awake but I could see that my arm wasn ’ t moving.
Someone was yelling. No, multiple someones. A woman screamed a little farther away but I didn ’ t recognize any of the voices. The doctor dropped my eyelid and I was once more plunged into darkness, I bright spot of light dancing in the dark before fading into the oblivion as well.
One sentence came to me clearly through the fog. “ Bring that one in here, too. Strap it to the second bed. ”
I couldn ’ t take it anymore. I couldn ’ t take it anymore, damnit. I thrust out my arms and kicked my legs, feeling my limbs move but knowing in my heart that my new body wasn ’ t reacting. A series of metallic noises somewhere to the right of me pierced through the fog but I didn ’ t care, still keeping my arms and legs moving. My eyelid flew open again and Dr. Goddard was there, gazing down at me. He tilted my head slightly to the right so that I had a full view of the bed next to me.
On it was laid my old, diseased body. It was naked, and the cancer bubbled up visibly under my skin, covering my body – my old body – in painful lumps. But worse than this reminder of why I chose to undergo this surgery was what my old body was doing. It was moving. The lumps across my chest were rippling under the skin that heaved in sync with the gasping breaths I was taking, and it seemed to be moving the way that my brain was telling my new body to do.
Dr. Goddard spoke, but I only heard the words “ can ” and “ hear ”. I tried to nod and the head of the body beside me nodded.
“ Move your arm. ”
I lifted my right arm and the right arm of my old body rose up in the air. The other doctors and nurses that lurked against the tacky green and blue walls of the room gasped. One jerked his head back so hard that a picture of hot air balloons fell to the linoleum floor and shattered.
The doctor continued to issue orders and I continued to numbly watch as my new body remained motionless but my old body executed all the commands perfectly. I wanted to cry but couldn ’ t. The fog was getting thicker, closing in on me, attacking what was left of my conscious. I watched tears stream from my old, vacant eyes as the darkness claimed me.
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[ WP ] Not far into the future from our current lives , a massive solar flare accompanied by a coronal mass ejection hits Earth and in the process renders all modern technology useless , and plunging mankind into a post-apocalyptic Stone Age .
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The world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper, at least for Talia Gould that is.
She was an engineer with Crest Weapons. She worked R and D in a lab at a secure location two levels below ground buried under a military grade concrete sub-floor and surrounded by steel reinforced walls. The lab has no windows, an air filtration system with narrow openings and redundant traps inbuilt to prevent electronic eyes from sneaking through. Multiple armed guards work every choke point, badge scanners bar access to every door. A'no outside communication devices' rule prevented phones, tablets and laptops from entry. There was n't even internet access, only intra. The top engineers even got escorted to and from the company shuttle bus that drove through triple layers of fencing topped with razor wire.
All employees got company housing and were monitored twenty-four, seven. Their families were not told where they worked, their place of employment was top secret, need to know information. Even family members signed contracts agreeing to under go lie detector tests to determine if any information had been breached.
Crest Weapons was like a prison. If prison paid seven figures, was filled with smart people who lived in luxury and were pampered with no expense spared.
Weapons development was the name of the game.
They built stuff to knock out the bad guys, EMPs, sonic pulses, high altitude drone tech, basically war toys that took the death burden off allied soldiers.
That is until the Sun ironically spit a massive solar flare accompanied by a coronal mass ejection at the Earth and in the process rendered all modern technology useless. This effectively plunged mankind into a post-apocalyptic Stone Age.
The Crest facility Talia worked at ran three shifts.
She was on the night shift.
She did QA.
The good news is Talia got to miss the mass carnage on the surface. The plane crashes, car wrecks, the lack of medical care and all the looting and widespread violence, which resulted in the sudden death of more then three quarters of all human life on the planet.
It took less then a month.
Those left went from apex predators to scrounging trash and avoiding anything that moved on less than two legs or more.
In the Crest lab avoiding the surface carnage meant being plunged into total darkness sucking on stale air and given the choice whether to starve to death or start the process of killing and eating the weakest of themselves.
Groups formed quickly.
Murders happened.
Human's were gobbled up.
And slowly the numbers dropped from fifty down to unknown.
Talia was n't the biggest one left, and maybe she got her job through more charisma than smarts, but it was that charisma that gave access to the pistol she wields in her right hand and the flashlight she holds in her left. The security guard thought they were going to partner up. She still has a bit of him left, dried and stored in a safe spot not far from where she waits in ambush.
Time is meaningless. She lives in the dark. She hunts in the dark. The flash light is a weapon, and she will only use the gun if she absolutely needs to.
She hears something and freezes.
It's a soft scrapping on the cold linoleum floor. It sounds like naked calloused flesh. She can tell it approaches. She waits. What concerns her is the person approaching is not stopping to check for traps. Still the scrapping gets closer.
She has to be ready to attack, or risk being attacked.
She closes one of her eyes ready.
She puts her thumb on the flash light button. Her tact is blind them then bash them over the head.
The scrapping is in range and she fires the beam of light from the flash light, but only sees a loose tile being drug by a string.
The realization is stunning and so is the deadly grip around her neck that pulls her to her feet cutting off her air and any chance of surviving this zero sum game.
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[ WP ] `` Sergei , you have five seconds to put down the damn accordion and help me move the body or I swear I will beat you to death with the shovel . ''
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`` Sergei, you have five seconds to put down the damn accordion and help me move the body or I swear I will beat you to death with the shovel.'' The threadbare tune paused as Sergei turned to look at the body in the bed of the truck. Joshua had successfully pulled the torso out of the bed, but now with his arms in the corpse's armpits, the legs were in danger of sliding out as well. For a second Sergei imagined Joshua trapped under the weight of Ol' Pete, and he chuckled to himself. `` You idiot, I said help me, not sit there and laugh.'' Blood crept into Joshua's face, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed.
`` Ah, alright comrade, I vill help you.'' Sergei swung his legs off the roof of the cab and grabbed Pete's feet.
`` I told you not to sit up there anyway, one day a window's going to crack and there's no fixing that.'' Joshua turned to walk with Sergei, both making an awkward crab scuttle. Away they went from the safety of the truck, heading out into the vast, exposed field. Their eyes, Sergei's squinted from some half remembered joke, Joshua's squinted from a general uneasiness, scanned the clumps of trees on the edges of the field. `` Also, cut the shitty accent, I know you're not Russian.''
`` But comrade, I was born just a few kilometers north of Georgia, in the mountains!''
`` Yeah, a few kilometers nor-'' Both men stopped simultaneously and snapped their heads towards a patch of tall grass rustling. After a tense minute of silence, they lowered their weapons they had unconsciously drawn. The men picked up Pete again. `` North of Georgia, USA. Come on. Let's bury him before anyone has to bury us.''
They continued their awkward funeral procession, stumbling their way to the mound of dirt and hole in the prairie. At its side, the men stopped and set down the body. `` I say we just throw him in. Petey boy woulda found it funny. I know I do.'' Sergei grinned over at Joshua, who ignored him and frowned at the hole.
`` That does n't look deep enough.''
Sergei slapped his head, `` Whaddaya talking about! Plenty deep. Look!'' He jumped into the pit and raised his arm in a salute. Extending his arm in a mock military way, Sergei announced `` It's as deep as my forehead. How's that for ya?''
The wind whistled around Joshua as he stood over the grave silently, arms crossed. `` Alright,'' he finally relented, `` We might as well. His daughter did dig it an' all.'' One body replaced the other in the grave, Sergei gracelessly clambering out and Pete gingerly being lowered in.
`` Should we say a few words?'' Sergei remarked, head tilted as he looked down at Pete in his final resting place.
`` All there is to say we said at his wake.'' Joshua unhooked his shovel from his back and plunged it into the dirt mound beside the hole. With a jerking motion, he scattered soil over the dead body. A brief memory of that face laughing and drinking passed Sergei's mind as he took one last look at the body before he turned around and took up watch. A moment passed before he then climbed on top of the pile of dirt. Joshua's brow furrowed again as he looked up at Sergei, but then released as he realized the practicality of a lookout on top of a hill.
Hours of toil passed quickly under the dry summer sun, the pair trading off who was the one working and who was the one worrying regularly. Occasionally Sergei would crack a joke or tell a story, and sometimes Joshua would crack a smile out tell him to stuff it. A few tense moments dotted the day as one or the other thought he sensed something in the grass, but no threat revealed itself. Eventually the mound of dirt was no more and the hole was flat with the rest of the ground.
The men began their walk back to the truck, still scanning the horizon. Sergei began a story, something involving homemade river bricks, but only got a few lines off before Joshua wordlessly covered his mouth. The same patch of grass from before was rustling, but there was no wind. Two heartbeats worth rang in Sergei's ears before a gunshot overwhelmed the sound. Joshua advanced on the clump, his rifle barrel smoking, a prow against the amber waves. He stopped a meter from the patch before bull rushing it, slamming his rifle into the unknown. No resistance was met.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he stood back up and looked to Sergei, who had moved to a flanking position. Instead of saying an easy joke like expected, Sergei stood still, pointing with his rifle into the grass. Joshua followed his eyeline and saw the ill omen, a streak of fresh blood, bright red against the dirty gold. `` Well maybe it was a deer, or a... oh'' Joshua trailed off as he combed through the grass and found a bone. Thick and distinct, he instantly recognized the femur as human.
The pair hurried back to the truck, rifles swiveling at the slightest sound. They climbed in, Sergei barely managing to grab his accordion still sitting on top of the cab. Joshua got behind the wheel and kicked it into gear as fast as the old beater would let him.
`` This place is compromised then. Ca n't have any more stuff here. Those things are getting too brave. I knew they were here at night but I did n't think that...'' Again Joshua trailed off as he saw Sergei's expression.
`` Today woulda been my 23rd birthday.'' His eyes were pointed at the dash, but seeing something else entirely. `` If I was more... whatever I am than usual today, that's why''
The rest of the ride back was silent.
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[ WP ] you are part of an old and ancient race that speaks the old tongue , the language of magic . The only problem ? You and your people ca n't stop doing accidental magic when you speak .
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`` The Waeld was a forest born at the dawning of time itself; a place where the magic grew thick through the trees, allowing them to walk and talk. Legends tell of a time when these trees would hold Council on every highnoon in a strange, ancient tongue. Though many people would traverse mountains and rivers and faraway fens to hear the sweet, soft wonderings of the trees, none could understand their language.
Eons ago, when the land was still mutable, thirteen human children, orphaned from the Feldish Wars, wandered into the magic wood and did not return for years. It is said that they were nourished and nurtured by the Waeld, by the trees, by the magic. They were named the Waeldish and were taught the ancient tongue of the trees, the speech of magic.
With one word, the Waeldish could crush castles to dust, bring back those standing on the edge of Death ’ s scythe, purify sickened waters. And for this they were feared and persecuted. Their forest was burned down, their cries echoed through the smoke up and up until the stars themselves seemed to weep with sadness.
The remaining Waeldish were rounded up and sold for high prices to kings and queens, assassins and experimenters, but no matter the torture or threat, none ever spoke again. Yes, they had taken a vow of silence, refusing to release into the world the destruction, the promise of their magic language.
Over time, a few would speak sullen words softly in secret places willing only a minute amount of magic forth, creating small accidents in their wake. Until finally, with the passing of another king, a righteous and fair lady was crowned who outlawed the persecution of the ancient race, releasing them from years of bondage and servitude.
With their newly found freedom, the Waeldish returned once again to the blackened remnants of their ancient forest, but some stayed behind shackled by fear, doubt, worry.
Though the laws of the land had changed, the people did not and many Waeldish were wrongly murdered. Those still alive in the cities live hidden, quiet lives of solitude and are often still blamed for the small mishaps and misfortunes.
Which is why this is your last warning, little prince; leave Mr. Woods alone, he has done nothing to you, nothing at all, except not respond to your ceaseless questioning. Be warned and be wary; your words may have power, but his words have magic.''
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[ WP ] Along with milk and cookies , one child leaves fresh flowers and an unusual note out for Santa on Christmas Eve .
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Santa was tired, his feet dragging, his empty sack feeling full when he hefted it with his exhausted muscles.
The last house on his route. The last chimney to slide down, the last mantle to bump his head on, the last tree to place presents under. He was glad.
The routine was so familiar after all these years that he could have done it with his eyes closed ( though he did n't choose to ). Landing on the roof, listening quietly through the snow for the sound of voices, laughter, anything to indicate that the house's inhabitants were awake. Not a peep. He dropped into the chimney, this final bit of soot making little difference on his already-blackened skin and cloak.
He deposited a bundle of packages under the tree- this one grand, well-loved, far taller than most he'd seen that night, adorned with a mix of elaborate, well-crafted ornaments and handmade crafts, a popcorn garland twisted with tinsel. He smiled.
Though full, he walked to the table on the other side of the fireplace, downed the milk in one long draught, reached for the cookies-
Instead, his hand caught a slip of paper and the leaves of a fresh bouquet of flowers. Daisies, it seemed. His favorite. He lifted the note closer to his face to squint through his soot-blackened half-moon spectacles.
*Dearest Santa, *
*Thanks for what you do. But maybe next year you could delegate, stay at home, and spend Christmas Eve with us? Something to think about. *
*Love, your daughters, *
*Holly and Joy*
He teared up and bit his lip a bit in spite of himself. Maybe he would think about it.
He sent a text to the stable workers to come get the reindeer, and slid out of his blackened cloak before walking down the hall to his bed.
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[ WP ] With only hours left before a gigantic meteor smashed into Earth , you did some shameful things out of the belief that you were all about to die . But the meteor unexpectedly vaporized , and now you must deal with the consequences of your actions .
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As I lie here, naked in bed, the sheets in disarray staring out of the window of the terraced house I had been abiding in for the last six years. I lit my final cigarette to see this world out. The infighting, the betrayals, the fierce uphill struggle would all mean naught as soon as that meteor turned the whole world into nothing more than than that of a smouldering ember. Not unlike that of the ash that had just fallen onto my bed. Which, like the hand of God, I brush from existence. My mouth dimpled into a smug smile at my own poetic genius at that musing.
I do n't feel like I had a wasted life. In fact, I think I did bloody great to be fair. I had climbed to the top of the ladder in my career. I had made all of my friends\business partners very, very rich and I had well and truly stamped hard on all those louts and layabouts. No. Not really any big regrets come to mind.
Except. That bloody rumor. That rumor had dogged me for a few years. People had sniggered behind my back. They had giggled about it behind cupped hands in the benches. Every time....Every time! I got up to speak I would hear a faint noise followed by roaring laughter from the other side of the room. Bastards, the lot of them...
As soon as I got wind of this meteor, the idea came to me. I had already paid the time. May as well commit the crime. I'd be dead soon, may as well go out with a bang, and I did. Three or four times actually. Record! To top it off, I even uploaded all three minutes followed by a scathing rant to YouTube just to show those fuckers I had balls and truly give no two fucks about how people thought about me anymore.
I turned the TV on to see if the BBC has picked up anything, and low and behold, between the live footage of the meteor getting closer and closer, a news banner flowed along the bottom of the screen of upcoming news pertaining me. Fair enough. Not overriding news but some would curiously browse YouTube for my new upload. Hopefully enough in the day we had left would see it. See that I had balls to stick it to them even in these final hours. All the pleasure and none of the repercussions. Bliss.
Then the live feed lit up as the meteor burned away. Fuck. The phone rang. I knew it was going to be Clegg. I let it ring. Something bumped into the desk near my bed, knocked the fan onto the floor and promptly shat on it. Apt I thought as the pig smugly oinked at me.
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[ WP ] It 's 3 am . Someone is in your kitchen . You live alone .
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*Would you like a cup? *
*No thanks, I'm good*
I sighed as put my mug down and try to sweep up the broken glass on what used to be a beautiful 3 pane french window, handcrafted in Italy apparently if I were to believe the previous owner. With the larger pieces of glass in the recycling bin and the smaller specks in the rubbish I finally return to my tea and take a sip. As expected the poxy thing has gone cold in the winter weather and of course the gaping hole in my kitchen keeping it out.
As I sat I take a glance across the table to my so called `` Intruder''.
A girl drenched and shivering, who looks just shy of her 18th Birthday. She wore a pretty posh leather jacket with a tattered hoodie underneath, her jeans and trainers splattered from the mud due to the ghastly weather. She was hunched over, her hands cupping her mouth as she tried to gather warmth. In another setting she could have looked like any other normal girl, quite cute with a pretty smile to top it off, someone who looked like she enjoyed life to the fullest and probably set for it as well, and yet here she was gracing my small yet comfy townhouse with her presence.
*Should I be calling your parents?, The police?, Your friends perhaps? *
Silence, and in the faint light of my kitchen I can see streaks of tears down her face, she looks like she was crying for the better part of an hour.
*Bad break up?, Fight with your Parents? *
At last I see her open her mouth to speak,
*No, everything's perfect and that's the problem*
I listened intently as she proceeded to tell me her life story. She spent half her life in a different country and her family decided to let her go to the boarding school in the tiny English Hamlet where I live. She was a top marks student hiding behind a facade of averageness, tutors constantly telling her she has the potential if she applied herself more. She was charming and yet did n't seem to have the right friends that cared enough. Her parents setting such high expectations on her and she also believing that she must achieve those high expectations.
*I wondered how other people, my friends I mean, could do it so effortlessly. They could do all of this, stay up late at night to study, have a social life and get invited to parties. Its as if everyone else knows the answer to life whilst I'm on the outside looking in. *
I had n't noticed but she had begun sobbing again, I grabbed a box of kleenex of the countertop and handed it to her.
*Thank you..... I could n't take it, I was frustrated wondering why every time I went to sleep I was annoyed that I achieved nothing and every day waking up thinking that this day will be no different so one night I....... I left I walked out on life thinking that I should just finish it all. Somehow I ended up bashing your window and breaking in hoping you had a gun. *
I sighed again, looking down on my mug. Of course the poxy thing is empty. With that I stood up, went to the kettle to brew some more. With this going on I decided to open up as well.
*Life's a bitch, plain and simple, its not like the movies where there's a happy ever after, nor is it like a sitcom where each character is seemingly perfect and always gets the girl. There is no one answer to life, no secret formula, no code to it. What you see in other people are just their highlight reel, carefully pruned successes. What you do n't see are their breakdowns, their failures. Take it out of your head that everyone else knows what they're doing. You do n't need to above and beyond to achieve anything, people already love you for what you've done. *
She's stopped crying and looked at me, deep within her hazel eyes I saw a glimmer of hope, a tiny one but enough to know that whatever I said worked.
*I'm sorry for the window, I'll pay for it I promise*
*Nah do n't bother but next time you drop by for tea and a chat, please use the door yeah? It's less of a hassle for both of us and It'll only cost me the tea*
With that said, she stood up and went for the door. I handed her an umbrella as the torrent of rain reduced to just a drizzle and I undid the latch. What started as a discovery of a poor girl soaked in rainwater ended with the same girl, albeit changed within, walking out my front porch and out into the magnificent dawn sunrise.
I closed my door, did the latch, poured another cup of tea into my mug and sat down.
With the early morning sunrise creeping into my face I wondered for just a second, if my life could have changed if my sister walked out that night and was told the same thing before she decided to end it forever.
I shook of that thought and took another sip of my tea
*The End*
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[ WP ] When time-traveling became possible , the government was forced to stop people from actually making changes in the past , that could alter the present . You are part of the corps that protects time and your task is it to stop people from killing Hitler
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`` Screen 3. Repeat, movement on screen 3.'' The intercom boomed and jolted me up from a daydream.
I moved my eyes across the wall of monitors and focussed in on screen 3. A piece of masking tape graced the top of the 22-inch monitor - 20 April 1889, Braunau am Inn.
According to the piece of tape, this screen monitored the day and place of Hitlers birth. It was one of the more active screens as many amateurs figured it would be the easiest place to kill the then-newborn Hitler. But it was also the easiest to monitor. It showed nothing more than a cradle, the baby, and the gleaming parents. Any time intruders would be seen instantly by me of any of the other seven Time Defenders that had been assigned to defend Hitler - yep, it's still weird to say that.
I hollered out loud that I had it handled and I went to work. I sat back in my chair and pulled the criss-crossing seatbelt-type restraint across my body. Next, I grabbed my helmet off the desk in front of me and slid my head inside. Finally, I counted down out loud.
3.
2.
1.
With a click and the force of nearly 1 G, a ball of purple energy enveloped my body and sucked me away - into the world of monitor 3.
I popped up in the corner of the room that was shown on the monitor. Looking around, I spotted the baby and the parents and the time invader.
He was a large man, fat and bearded, and wielded a knife, small and oddly-shaped.
I lowered my Time Arrester, which was nothing more than a gun that shot that same purple energy, and warned the invader.
`` HANDS UP!''
`` FUCK YOU!'' The man tried to make a movement towards the cradle but his lumbering body kept him from doing so with any speed.
I flipped the safety off the Time Arrester and pulled the trigger. A bright purple blast launched from the gun and surrounded the man in an egg of glowing energy. He was caught.
Within seconds, he would be transported back to his present time and into the custody of the Department of Time Defence.
Because time invaders had gotten so good at avoiding detection by the people they were trying to kill, many of our arrests would never be suspected by the targets. The Hitler's would have no idea I had just saved their child's life for the ninth time in the past eleven hours - but such was life for Time Defender.
I pressed a button on the sleeve of my safety suit and shot back into my seat at Time Headquarters. The trip back was usually easier than travelling to make an arrest, which was nice since I was running on not much more than adrenaline and shitty government-provided coffee.
Back at headquarters, I removed my helmet and repositioned myself in the ever uncomfortable chair that I spent most of my time at work sitting in.
I pulled up a report on the small laptop in front of me and began entering the suspect's name. Once a person was caught, they would be sentenced to a certain amount of time in the Time Prison and eventually they would be injected with a Time Serum that restricted their ability to pass through time. One and done, usually, when it came to trying to kill someone back in time. So this Time Invader was n't going to be my problem again.
Just as I submitted my report, Johnson blasted back into his seat after returning from monitor 9 - June 23, 1940, Paris.
Monitor 9 presented one of the hardest tasks for our squad. It was a large public place and many Invaders usually were infiltrating it at once. Johnson's sweaty head told me that it was another busy day in monitor 9.
`` How many today?'' I shouted down the line of desks towards Johnson.
`` Twenty-fucking-three'' he groaned as he started his reports.
`` Just another day in the life, hey?'' I tried to lighten his mood.
`` You know, if I did n't have this job, I'd try to kill this bastard myself.''
I was about to agree when the intercom boomed again. Monitor 3. Another amateur job.
I blasted into the nursery room again, but this time I lowered my Time Attacker, a weapon designed to kill, and pointed it at the infant.
BANG.
I had just quit my job in the most roundabout, troublesome way. And I could n't be happier.
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[ WP ] For aeons , Antarctica has sheltered an alien civilization that came to earth from a destroyed ice planet . After failing to confine climate change in secrecy , they once more fear extinction and reveal their existence to humanity .
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`` Well you see, I predicted this. I tried to tell you about how climate change was a Chinese conspiracy. But I could n't tell you that the Chinese were really the aliens. They want to take American jobs by turning the whole world into an ice ball for them. That's why they want us to hurt our businesses, our workers, by capping our carbon emissions in the name of'saving nature'. I tell you, I love nature. Nobody loves nature more than me! You should see how natural my golf courses are! I've got the best groundskeepers making sure every bit of my golf courses looks purely natural. But these aliens, they are here, uninvited. And these are n't the good sort of aliens. No, these are the bad kinds, the worst ones that sneak here and try to make everything cold, hurting the American public. I'll tell you now that I do n't stand for this! I never stood for this! The democrats, my opponent Hillary in particular, they've been bending over backwards to obey these aliens for years. I've been saying all along that their policies do n't make sense, that they were trying to freeze the planet for new overlords. For years I've been saying that! But now I can make a difference. Where the democrats have systematically worked to cool our planet, I will make a difference! I'll institute a new tax plan, one that will provide tax breaks to any business that can freely burn an extra fifty thousand tons of coal a year. Think of all the jobs that will bring! I'll rebuild our military to fight these aliens from the north. We'll build a wall of aircraft carriers around them, to keep them where they are n't wanted! We'll heat up this planet to show them they ca n't tell America what to do! We are the best at heating up the planet! If I'm elected president, we'll never have to worry about another ice storm ever! Thank you!''
As Glorftac turned off the TV he shook his head, his Glorfdrals swinging side to side with the motion. `` Glorfmin, I... I have nothing to say to this....'' he stated psionically to the other being who just sadly nodded in silence.
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[ WP ] Paint a picture of loneliness , without using the word , or any of its forms .
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**Slight suicide warning** ( its really just mentioned, but I do n't mean anyone offense ).
I watch as the halls fill with students filing out of classrooms. I grab my bag and walk back to my English class to hand in my work before I go to lunch. I see all the kids I had known since kindergarten go past me in their packs, as I call them. I try to wave, to talk, to do anything, but merely get brushed aside by familiar faces with an odd sadness in their eyes. I make it back to my classroom and hand in the work. Ms. Henry does n't look up from her desk, almost like I'm not even there.
Making my way to the cafeteria, I look in and see no seats, nobody waiting for me. I check my phone, no messages. I decide to go to the art room and eat lunch there. When I arrive, nobody looks up or says a greeting. I smile to myself shamefully, thinking that anyone would notice me is crazy. I sit down by the window and stare out of it, pondering what I would do for my spare. Soon enough, I'm off daydreaming about life after this nightmare; where you're ignored and unseen, but what did I expect from this endless existence? I can see everyone and hear everything but nobody will ever be able to do the same for me.
When I committed suicide to get rid of the aching feeling in my heart months ago, I did n't think it'd get worse.
Edit: words- I added about four to fix grammar.
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[ WP ] Describe your nightmare ( IN COLLABORATION WITH /r/SKETCHDAILY )
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He was my best friend, he was my guardian, he never faulted, and he raised me to be the man I am today. My childhood dog was my hero. He always knew when it was time to play. He knew when it was time to comfort me and he physically saved me from more than one situation. Now I couldn ’ t save him. He passed more than 8 years ago but in this moment his paws were scratching slowly tearing through the door. My hands were covered in blood, some of my own, most of my families. I watched as we all ran and as they all fought. My hero sunk his teeth into my family, the only thing I had left after losing my job and failing out of college. I watched as he pulled them piece by piece, screaming at him to let them go. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen but did nothing. As a young boy I always felt responsible for his death even though I knew I was wrong, but I couldn ’ t kill him again. I also couldn ’ t watch him finish off my brother so I ran in here. I still have the knife and I know this isn ’ t really the same soul that was there for me all those years. I had to end this. I can ’ t let whatever this is continue to use his body. I can kill it, but then what? My family is gone I have nothing left and I would have to watch his body pass again. I don ’ t have the strength. I decide to be the selfish coward and I use the knife to escape the situation slowly sliding it all over my arms.
This story is deeply based on destroying the one innocence I never lost in life and my deepest fear of not acting quickly or being strong if my family were ever in trouble.
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[ WP ] You notice that no matter how far away you move , it is always the exact same young man knocking at your door to tell you about you Lord and Savior Jesus Christ
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Jesus likes to talk. Mostly about himself, but I'll let him have that, he's done... a lot of shit in his life.
With a baby on the way, there just was n't enough room at the apartment, so we packed up and drove until we found a place that we could be happy. My family. The thought made my fingers tingle, my face a little warm with pride.
Boxes occupied every corner but it was home - our home.
The doorbell rang, with a sigh as heavy as the newspaper wrapped dishes I was carrying to the kitchen, I turned to set them down.
I opened the door.
`` Did I ever tell you about the time I woke up in a cave and they gave me a holiday for it?''
`` Oh,'' I let the door swing open, `` Hi, Jesus.''
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Start and end with the same line but use your story to completely change the meaning of the line . [ wp ]
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He flicked the switch
Light dramatically exploded into the near barren room. There was nothing in it but the cold, rusted steel table in the middle of the room. It was bolted to the floor, and even though it was brown with rust it gave off the idea that it was cleaner than any of the scalpels in Sylvester's little bag. Artists had their paintbrushes, Sylvester had his scalpels.
He felt giddy with excitement. After all, he was an artist, and he was about to create a new masterpiece.
He set his bag down on the corner of the table, carefully and gently, with great care. He spun on his heel, high on adrenaline, to return to the door and retrieve the heavy travel case. The muscles in his shoulders bulged and pulled as he dragged the case across the smooth concrete floor. As he got to the table he opened the case.
Inside was his easel, a fresh canvas, and of course, the corpse of an old lady who had probably once been beautiful
.......................................................
The call had woken him up at 3 in the morning. After forty years of being a cop he no longer slept very deeply, and he was used to being woken up at all hours.
It had been his son, Sylvester, who simply gave him an address.
He now stood in the doorway, knowing exactly what he would see when he turned the lights on. What he would have to hide from his colleagues. He sighed with the pride only a father could feel with the anticipation of seeing his son's latest creation, his son's latest gift.
He flicked the switch
( And now I kind of feel like writing a lot more of this story )
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[ WP ] You did it , you discovered time travel . Ignoring all warnings and common sense , the first thing you do is travel back 20 years intent on interacting with your younger self . Only problem is , someone grabs you by the shoulder before you do . You turn around to see an older version of you
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Time travel hurts.
This is the thought that smashes through my mind as a fifty year old man slaps me across the face. While the shock settles in, he glares at me fiercely. I know who he is now, but I find myself at a loss for words.
`` So, I guess we're still dealing with that self-loathing issue, huh?'' I chuckle, searching my stern future-self's expression.
`` Oh, fuck off,'' he spits, `` I'm trying to save our ass. Stay away from him.'' He glances sideways at the ten year old boy grasping his mother's hand. I was so young. The stinging begins to fade from my cheek.
`` I can-'' I stand on the tips of my feet to keep him in view. He's beginning to get buried in the crowd. Older-me twists my shoulders back towards him.
`` No. You ca n't.'' His voice is firm, as though he's talking to a child. `` You ca n't do a single thing. Go back to the present. *Now. *''
He does n't get it. I can fix everything. There's still time-
His grip tightens around my shoulders, as though he has already anticipated my next move. I try to wrangle myself free of him, but he knows every weakness of mine. *'' LET -- -- GO! `` *
The sound of a child's scream causes both of us to freeze. We do n't need to break through the crowd to see a little boy listening to his mother's last words. We do n't need to see the body on the ground to know it's there.
`` Hey...'' He tries to say something to me. I do n't want to listen to him.
`` I- I could have stopped it,'' I murmur, my arms falling to my sides.
`` No, you could n't have. No one could have.'' Sympathy is woven in his voice; I can hear a familiar sound of it breaking in the back of his throat. `` She's gone. And she always will be.''
He smiles faintly and continues, `` We move on. It'll never go away- that's not how it works, you know. It'll always hurt. But we'll learn to understand. And we'll learn to be okay.''
I nod numbly as he leads me back the way I came. He lets me gaze at the memory for a moment longer before I go back to the present. I breathe in.
I know I ca n't live in the past anymore.
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[ WP ] Write a 100-300 word essay on a major event in a game of Civilization .
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The Rise of the American Empire
Everyone knows that the capital of Sacramento is only 100 miles away from Ulundi. Since before the printing press, Americans have had a feud against the Zulu empire. No one knows the exact date that it began; some historians argue it started after the destruction of the Netherlands, others argue for the Zulu's unquenchable bloodlust. When the First American War of Resistance began, they marched across San Francisco and Los Angeles straight to Sacramento to burn the American capital. The Americans fought back, losing over 30,000 brave men. However, important battles such as the Battle of the Double Mountain Pass slowly weared down the Zulus until they were in a full retreat. Estimates from early American Generals range from around 50,000 to 100,000 of the fearsome elite Impi warriors dead. This outraged the Zulu king Shaka, as he expected America to fall as easily as the Dutch. Centuries passed, with each state angering the other more and more through city state espionage and coups, fighting for the favor of different small nations, setting the stage for the War of Liberation, which led to the Great Zulu Exodus in 1500 AD, which featured the brave minutemen of America finally capturing Ulundi and bringing the great rock Uluru into the American fold.
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[ WP ] You wake up in the back of a Range Rover driving through the night on a dark road . Its just you and the driver , her majesty the Queen of England .
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`` I always knew it would end this way''
The range rover rolled raucously along a narrow country road. The sound of crunching gravel was overlaid by the whack slap scratch of linden trees, pines and willow branches.
The queen in her elegance remained silent, reminding me that she was the queen, and I her prisoner.
It was 47 years ago that I had completed a mosaic in the eighth kitchen of Buckingham Palace. The servants that met me joked it was the most secret room in the palace, because no-one must know the queen enjoys cookery. Those servants were old and decrepit at that time already. A man and a woman I fancied as married. They had terrible hacking coughs and red stains on the whites of their uniforms. This was quite natural as they had been hand painting thousands of bits of a strange bone tile.
I remember the tiles well, as if in looking at them, their images became etched into my mind. They were clearly bone, and by their texture I knew them to be relatively fresh. The unpainted bits had yellowed on some of the tiles, so I knew they were not bleached. I can not say from what animal they came. The tiles were so small, and had been cut on every side.
I worked for exactly one month on the mosaic. The design was of either a bloody swan, or a fiery dragon. When I had completed the job, the old manservant docked my pay considerably because of how the tile adjoined the base of the oven ( a paltry general electric affair, plain white, clean, rather a depressing article ). But better work had been impossible, I had explained. The requirements forced me to use only those tiles, and the plan delineated that the creatures wingtips adjoin the base of the oven. Yet in meeting those requirements it was impossible for the tile to come cleanly, neatly, or even completely up to the base of the oven. Impossible!
These memories toppled, as if from some fathomless high shelf, down into the conscious part of my mind.
I was vaguely aware of the word `` mum,'' being spoken, before the rover drove a short distance. Then there was a terrible clanking and grinding and the range rover ascended in total darkness.
The lift ceased to move. There were more terrible noises of rusty levers and jangling chains, as two panels slowly separated.
The queen herself appeared in the room. She wore a simple white blouse, grey nylons, grey shoes, and a lacy waste apron embroidered with red speckled mushrooms.
`` I do n't normally speak to the help. But in this case your workmanship must be fixed and time has run out.''
This was all the queen ever spoke to me. I was terribly confused that I had been brought back after so much time had passed, but pleased that I was nit being immediately executed.
Her majesty never spoke another word to me. I went and knelt beside the oven, noting the empty spaces along the base of the oven. As I did so, the queen of England silently, gracefully bent down over me. She jabbed a needle into the base of my spine.
I felt no pain, but remained fully awake as she took a moderately sized electric saw and used it to remove my left leg at the knee.
She put into an already boiling pot on the ordinary, now old, depressing white sheet metal, general electric stove. While she boiled the meat off she cauterized my wound. Despite feeling no pain, at the sight of the red hot brigand i did lose consciousness.
When I came too I saw her lay a final piece of newly painted tile. When it had been laid down, the mosaic creature silently rose out of the tile spreading and beating the expanse of its wings. I lay like a weight on the ground, but her majesties apron flapped wildly so that I feared it could come undone.
She herself looked on the verge of falling over, but she only tilted backwards, causing her feet to leave the ground, then though the wind of the beating wings was violent she glided gently into the bosom of the white, bloody, winged thing. It then collapsed back into the floor, leaving silence and my one legged remains.
I was able to move now so I made for the rover. At the door to the lift I pushed the single button and it was already descending as I entered the cab.
In almost blinding pain, I drove through the palace guards, miraculously making may way out of the palace grounds.
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[ WP ] You have a potentially dangerous stalker . How ironic , as you are the most infamous serial killer that has yet to be caught .
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Seemed like a normal Saturday, as always. But, life always has a way, you know?
I did n't notice him at first, trailing a fair way behind me as I walked down the street. I was too busy glancing at every passing person, examining them. From their shoes to their hair to the way they walked and talked, everything signified if they were a prime target or not. I had been at it for nearly two hours when I finally found one. She acted quiet, kept her posture low, as if she was trying to not be seen. Excellent for me, as that would mean nobody would likely notice her mysterious disappearance.
I licked my lips in anticipation. It had been weeks since I had gotten anyone. The cops had been putting their 100 % into trying to bust me. I'll admit, it had gotten more dangerous to be around here, but there was something undeniably great about the cities. Lots of targets to choose from, and their vanishing often went next to unnoticed if you pulled it off right. I smirked slightly, beginning to trail the woman. My hand came to rest on my knife, a tiny little thing, jagged and sharp. I kept along at a brisk pace, a smile still on my face. And it was at this point I noticed him. He walked at almost the same pace, trying to stay just out of my vision, hanging off to the far right of the sidewalk, almost out of my view. He copied my movements meticulously. It was obvious he was following me, for something.
The smile faded from my face. I raised a brow in curiosity and, as if he somehow saw me through the sea of people, peeled away. I glanced back over to the woman, still keeping level pace with her. At least now I *knew* he was following me. Undercover cop? Some fanatic that had figured out who I was? Who knows. All I knew is that tonight there would be two corpses, whichever way the wind blew. After nearly half an hour of walking, the woman finally stopped at a large apartment building, entering. It's to be expected, but certainly makes it a pain. I glanced back. I could still see him, although he had moved back significantly. Strange, did he think I did n't see him or realize what he was up to? I shrugged. Did n't matter, he'd be dead soon enough anyway. I took a seat outside, pulling out Shakespeare's *Macbeth*. A good read, and something I could settle into, given I would be having to wait several hours.
And so time passed and the sun slipped behind the horizon, a shimmering echo fading to dark silence. I had just been about to enter the building when I saw her coming out. Dressed rather lavishly. A date, perhaps? Or just out to be by herself, maybe. I rubbed my eyes, putting away my book. A brief sweep around confirmed that my biggest fan was still following me. After he realized I had no intentions of moving, he skulked off, but I could see him across the street, sitting just within the shadows of an alley.
I shook my head slightly, turning back and watching the woman walk away, as I took off at a casual pace. It was important that I remained focus. Any slight screw-up and I was a goner. Casually, I flicked my hands into my left pocket, pulling out the rubber gloves and sliding them on. To most outside viewers, it would seem innocent enough, but everyone knows that fingerprints can give away even the smartest of criminals. I saw a vague fleeting movement from the corner of my eye. That guy was really determined. Surely, if he was a cop, he would've taken me out by now, yet he had n't. And so the game of cat and mouse began, a trailing trio following each other from a distance. It was a long walk, but she finally came to the outskirts of a city, well after midnight. A small house sat on a residential street, it's lights still dimly on. I saw her enter. My grin broke out again, and for a second time today I licked my lips. The game was on.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Hey, John, I'm home!''
No response. Was he asleep?
`` John?''
I took another step in, shouldering off my coat. It looked like he had set everything up already, despite his absence. The lights were dimmed slightly, faint jazz music could be heard, the air smelled like rose and wine, and the dinner table was extravagantly laid out. But a note sat on the table. I sighed. He had to run off again for something, probably because he was lazy and forgot something important. The note was messily scrawled.
`` Be back in 15 minutes.''
Of course. Had to run off. I sighed, sitting at the table. Well, it was n't like he was full of free time, he had a high end job, surely a high-demanding one.
Suddenly, there was a distant click. The lights flickered dimly, and then went to black. A blackout? I looked out the window. The other houses lights were still on. I was about to walk outside and go to check the power box when I heard it.
A footstep.
Another, and then another, and then a third. Suddenly, with a slight creak, the house went deathly silent.
`` Hello?''
The only response I was given was a flashing gleam of steel, meeting my throat before I could even whisper.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Finally. Just me, him, and his girl. Dunno why he waited around after she went in that apartment, but who knows. The lights had gone out a moment ago but they flickered back on again. Only now, the blinds were all drawn. Probably about to get intimate. Perfect time for me to get the drop, too.
It was easy enough to stroll up to the door. Was n't even locked, the dumbass. It opened with ease. I made certain not to make noise as I entered. But immediately, something was off. The dinner table was a mess. I could see small, mysterious drops of dark liquid on the floor, leading to the bedroom. Maybe her pad had split or something. I almost chuckled to myself, but steeled my nerves. I was officially on the job. No time to be laughing, it was time for taking some mooks out.
I crept to the bedroom. There was a strange noise, like coiled string being stretched to it's limits, creating a creaking noise. It was deathly silent other than that. Slowly, I grasped the door, and flicked open the door, chef's knife in hand as I entered the room, preparing to plunge it into whoever may be within.
And then I saw it.
*Holy shit. *
Strung up from the ceiling was the girl. Her arms and legs has obviously been broken, twisted at awkward angles and bound with rope. Her neck was torn and bloodied, the head twisted almost backwards. Slashes covered her naked body, and a pool of blood dripped down into a pool on the floor.
And then I saw him.
I almost thought I had n't, but then, as if the fates had condemned me to death by my own sins, I knew he was real.
Because as his shadow slipped away into the night, he smiled, and winked directly to me, the light from the room reflecting his bloodied knife.
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[ WP ] A man dies and goes to heaven . But instead of just humans living there , aliens from even corner of the universe inhabit it side by side with humans .
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The man lay in his bedroom, drifting. Surrounded by family members, he reflected that he had had a good life. A good, God-fearing family, success in business, prominent at his church. He smiled, looking with not only sadness at his grown children, the cancer taking him bit by bit. At the last, he squeezed his daughter's hand, and told her he loved her, and was gone.
Death was a strange process; neither painful nor not painful, neither felt nor unfelt. Like awakening from a dream.....or was it like the start of one? All he knew was that it happened. He was patient, though, if eager.....he knew God waited for him. Jesus waited for him. As he....approached?.....Heaven, he wondered what it was like there. Almost without doubt, it would be nothing like any Earthly poet or pastor might have said. Only a place too beautiful, too blissful and perfect, to describe, would be worthy of God's dwelling.
At indeterminate length, he appeared at the Gate. He confessed to some disappointment; it was truly majestic, greater than any of his imaginings, but it was still a gate. Half a mile high, made of gold and silver intertwined with pearl and diamond; yes, he thought, truly marvelous. And if this was just the Gate.....?
`` What did you expect, exactly?'' a voice asked. The voice filled his being, seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere; but it came from everywhere and nowhere a little more pointedly from a location just to the left of the Gate, near his level, but about 10 feet higher. `` Everyone has their own ideas about how things are'supposed' to look, and that's how they first appear. No one sees things as they truly are at first. Give it time.''
The man spoke, first hesitantly, then with the same natural flow as he might to any coworker or fellow churchgoer. `` I do apologize, this is my first time here. It really is amazingly beautiful. Are you St. Peter, the Judge of Souls?''
A shrug, or the impression of one. `` I am merely a greeter, you might say. And I do greet you, and welcome you, in fact! I want to talk with you a little about Heaven, and the way things are, first.'' The man's glance was suddenly diverted to the edge of the....well, he had to be on a walkway of some kind, so, the edge of the walkway. The drop was precipitous. `` In life, you were a God-fearing man, but there are still a few things that need to be cleared up. It's not as difficult to get into Heaven as most people think. Only truly, indisputably, evil men get wholly turned away; mass murderers, serial killers, exploitative CEOs that happily throw children into mines and factories at 7 years old. The rest are granted entrance. Still, the denizens of Hell outnumber those of Heaven by.....quite a bit. Not everyone likes what they find through the Gate. And yes,'' the voice added on seeing the man glance at the Precipice. `` Down there lies Hell. It's also not what you think; it's far worse. But rest assured; you are fundamentally a good person, by most measures, and so you have been welcomed to Heaven. If you were not, you would be having this conversation with my counterpart, far below. Please, come in...'' and the Gate opened.
The man, his momentary discomfort and uncertainty at what he had heard forgotten, walked through the Gate, which remained open behind him. `` One more thing,'' the voice was above him now. `` A property of the afterlife is that you can not conceal your true self; you can not act falsely. I recommend you look deep into your heart and decide who you want to be, because your actions will surely reflect who you are.'' This warning, cryptic though it was, deeply disturbed the man, but he continued forward. He had been admitted, so surely the warning was nothing to worry about.
He was startled on seeing.....something. Reptilian, and wearing strange shimmery clothing. Then the thing spoke! `` Greetings,'' it said happily. The man just stared, prompting a saddening of the thing's expression. `` I am from a place called.....in your tongue, Home.'' Somehow, the man got an impression of a star, deep in space, far from anything he knew, or had seen, on Earth, in the night sky, or on any space documentary. He could only stare in a cross between horror and bewilderment. The abomination sighed, nodded good day, and continued on his walk.
Similar encounters repeated themselves many times over the course of the day; beings from across the Universe, apparently, had come here. To Heaven! *Human* Heaven! There must be some mistake...... he searched and searched, frantically, for God's throne, or Jesus' or just a familiar face, a human....but he could not for a long time. Finally, as the day drew towards its end, he found a familiar face; a human, like him. It was a man of a different race, and perhaps different religion; the former a discomfort, the latter a curiosity, but neither relevant right now. He caught the man's hand, and found he did n't need to speak; his eyes conveyed his question, his plea. But the man only returned a warm smile, tinged with sadness. The same look he had gotten from everyone, starting with the lizard thing. Lost, terrified, and alone, the man ran back to the Gate, still ajar. If only he could withdraw, and process, introspect....
But it did not help. So many...... things. Non-humans. How could Christ let them in like this, sullying the Kingdom? Was humanity not made in the image of God? If that were so, how could these abominations live side by side with us, he thought? Panic rose in him, and he knew that he could not live.....exist....among them. God was forgotten; bliss and Jesus and Heaven, forgotten. He only knew he had to get away.
He spied the Precipice. It was the only way. The greeter's warning returned to his mind, but it was so broken and consumed that it made no sense to him. Caught be a sudden impulse, he ran. Ran away from the Invaders, the Defilers. Away from the treason of his God, the lies of reality, the mind-shattering pain of the knowledge that he was not special. He ran away from Truth....and into Despair. Without a moment's hesitation, he jumped into the abyss, and fell, fell, fell.....and was lost.
The spirit who had greeted him was, as he always was, grieved. Why did so many choose what lay beneath? Why was it so terrible to exist in bliss, though that bliss be with `` outsiders?'' Was being `` chosen'' so much more important than God's love, for so many? He reflected on his standing orders, to leave the Gate open for one full day, and the terrible purpose behind them. He was denied even the mercy of believing that letting them jump was a kindness; he had been assured in no uncertain terms that it was not. But it had to be done. He just wished that people that came to his Gate would stay. Oh well, maybe next century.
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[ WP ] The orbit around Earth suddenly fills with thousands of alien ships . Turns out the moon has just been made a stop in a galactic game similar to Pokemon Go .
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Jim Kayer spent years training to be an astronaut. It was the thing that drove him, the sole reason that he woke up every morning. That is, of course, until the alien spaceships arrived in the sky. Actually, lets back up just a few minutes...
*One minute earlier*
`` How the hell am I supposed to know how far away this Eevee is?! Are the Pokemon avoiding me or something? They are all 3 steps away!'' Ranted Jim, as he jogged along the track that circled the space station. He was, as everybody else in the world was doing at that moment, playing Pokemon Go instead of doing the things that he was supposed to be doing. He rubbed his chin, a few coarse hairs prickling his fingers, as he was pondering whether he should sink even more money into the game. The space station lobby had 3 poke-stop's reasonably close to each other, and he just felt obligated to keep them up with modules constantly. You know, for the children. His mind began to wander, looking up at the sky as he tried to figure out what else to do with his time, being as he simply could not close the app, Eevee was nearby! He had n't caught one of those yet, just a bunch of damn ratattats. Looking down, he realized that he had, in fact, bought another $ 10 worth of coins. He activated an incense, because he was fairly certain that they did, in fact, do something ( he had a running bet with everybody else in the station that incense did anything at all ).
Suddenly, there were thousands of bright flashes in the sky, blocking out even the brightness of the sun for a few moments. Seconds later, he finds Eevee, and is ecstatic. He ignores the sky for 3 poke-balls, 4 curse words, and a satisfying'click'. His phone begins to vibrate, his boss calling. Assuming it must be important, he answers, and the voice screaming from the phone is a mix of fear, bewilderment, joy, and raw amazement. He paused, assuming his boss had figured out he finally caught his baby Eevee- but no, there was no way to communicate any kind of achievement of that sort within the game. Had he jumped up and down? Uncertain, and slightly embarassed, being as he was 43 and playing Pokemon Go more than his 2 kids, he brings the phone back to his ear.
`` Jim! You wo n't believe it! The sky is filled with thousands of alien ships!'' pants Roger, his boss of 7 years.
`` Holy shit! This is amazing! What are they doing, what is going on?'' questions Jim, brimming with childlike disbelief.
`` Well... One sec Jim'' There is the sound of a muffled conversation in the background. `` Come inside quickly, they appear to have made first contact with the President of The United States directly!''
Jim sprints into the lobby of the station, not before making sure his steps were being counted ( obviously ), but he makes decent time. The TV is already on, and the President appears to be having a discussion with a hologram of some sort, out on the front lawn of the white house. The camera is up close on the two figures. Strangely, his phone is in one hand, clearly on, but only a black screen and the top toolbar are clearly discernible. In a strange moment, Jim notices the battery on the president's phone is at 17 %, despite it being only a quarter past noon.
The hologram alien appears to be gesturing wildly at the phone, clearly agitated. After a few moment of this, the President tries to hand over his phone, and in an instant the hologram becomes solid. Where before there was wavering light patterns, now stands a 4' tall, little green man, with large, black eyes. As the phone flips over, Pokemon Go becomes clear.
`` Dude, do you even know how to video game?!'' The alien cries at the president, snatching the phone away. `` There is a Jiggly Puff on your screen you fool!'' Naturally, the president is baffled, being as he was being so discrete about having his phone out and everything, and unsure of how the alien knew that there was a Pokemon waiting to be caught, especially being as he had n't noticed any kind of vibration.
`` Wait a moment, you play Pokemon Go?!'' questions the perplexed President, forgetting entirely the magnitude of the situation.
Giving the president a skeptical look `` Yeah man! Everybody in the galaxy does! Cuz you are the center of the universe, and we all bow before weird alien human things! No dude, the game we play is far superior. Well, I've got ta run man, my mate just placed a lure on the moon.'' In an instant, the alien hands back the president's phone, and is gone. Looking down, the Jiggly puff is clearly visible, it has not been caught. The 16 remaining poke-balls the president had beforehand are now gone, leaving him no way to finish catching the object of his innermost desires.
`` You'll regret this!'' screams the president, shaking a fist at the sky.
`` Ouch, that's rough.'' States Jim, empathy heavy in his voice.
****
Over the next several weeks, the alien space ships wander aimlessly through the sky, occasionally flocking to the moon in a mad dash when it glows red, pulsing, In roughly 30 minute intervals. Eventually, they get bored, and leave. Nothing else is ever known of these creatures who arrived at our little blue planet, but nobody really thinks to ask, being so caught up in hatching their eggs, and catching their Eevee's.
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[ WP ] You are a happy , loving pet . Your Master gives you a comfortable , easy life . If only all those people he brought over would stop begging to go home or to be let out of the basement .
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I am roused from sleep by the sound of the Master returning.
It was such a nice, relaxing sleep too, and I am momentarily annoyed at being woken, but then I hear the unmistakable dragging sound; Master has brought a guest. This surprises me; last time I saw the guest's room all the spaces were taken. I wonder why the Master has brought another before getting rid of one of the old ones, but I soon let my curiosity go. The Master is strange sometimes and often behaves erratically. He has n't even fed me these last few days; I am really getting quite hungry.
The dragging sounds eventually fade as the Master takes the new guest down into the guest room, and I begin to settle back down to sleep. Before long, however, I hear the Master coming back up, and hurrying towards my room. I raise my head as he opens the door and steps inside, looking down at me with a very happy expression. The smells hit me a moment later; the stink of sweat and oil, and those foul sprays the Master uses on himself, but over them all is the delicious smell of blood. My hunger grows ever greater as I look up hopefully at my Master.
'Missy, I'm sorry I have n't been feeding you.' He says.'But I'm gon na make up for that today. Trust me; this is going to be great. Come on girl, this way.' He steps to the side and indicates the open door. I know where he is taking me and make my way into the hall. As I pass him I get the sudden urge to bite, to attack, to *feed*, but I resist it. It is an instinctual urge, made all the stronger by my hunger, but one I must not give in too. The Master is strange, and forgetful, but he is not Master for nothing. I know that if I attack the Master I will die. I have seen what happens to guests that try it, and I will not be as foolish as them.
I make my way to the door to the guests room, which has been left open for me, and begin to descend. Once upon a time Master would have carried me down the steps, but I am too big now. So I carefully climb down, with the Master following slowly behind me. The smell of blood is stronger than ever now, strong enough to easily override the smells of sweat and urine. At the bottom of the stairs I finally reach the guests room. As I had thought; all the sleeping spaces are occupied. The guests look at me in terror through the bars of their sleeping places, and whimper through the cloths tied around their mouths, or maybe they are looking at the Master, I do not know, for my attention is suddenly fully on the unconscious figure lying in the middle of the room.
It is a young female, her naked body slim but not skinny, her hair crudely cut short. Her arms are tied together by the wrists and bound to the far wall, her legs and ankles are similarly bound, and her mouth is gagged. But what catches my attention most crucially is that she is covered head to foot in blood. This close, I can even make out the type; *rat blood*, my favorite kind. The Master must have covered her in it just for me.
'You see; I needed you to be hungry girl.' He says, making his way around me to the female. He slaps her face a couple of times until she awakes, and begins to make muffled cries through her gag.'You're big enough now, so you're ready for some *real* meals!' I barely hear the Master talk. I am too busy getting ready to eat. I am so hungry and the female is covered in blood and ca n't move. The Master moves away and readies some small black device on a three legged stand, while the other guests yell and scream at him as best they can through their own gags.
The female's eyes are now fixed on me, her body seemingly frozen in terror. Good; that will make this much easier, but the Master has bound her anyway so she wo n't be able to fight. Bunching my coils, I unhinge my jaw and begin to feed.
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[ WP ] The world was saved by a twelve year old . It 's been twenty years and the danger 's never been seen since . What 's a former savior to do ?
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I sat in my chair and looked down at the world I `` saved''. It looked ok from this side of my house. I liked it that way. But the smell of smog persisted, so I ran inside to get away from it. I saw what kind of house I lived in. It all relied on technology. Is this what I wanted? I was once a simple country boy running around grabbing butterflies and putting frogs in my pocket. I thought it was crazy when I saw the men in black roll up to my house. They talked to my father, who told me I had to do something that saved Earth. I accepted reluctantly, but thought of all the trees I could climb if Earth were to stay alive.
Training was rigorous, but it was only moderately challenging for me. I became a high ranking officer within three months. It seemed crazy to me when they told me that I would be the first to talk to the E.Ts. But their premonitions were correct. Within a month we made contact. I had to talk to them, but really it was easy. As long as I kept in touch with them, Earth would be safe.
I was treated like a god. They called me Jesus. I responded things like `` Oh thank you'' or `` It was no problem''. My ego became large around the age of 21. But it died when I made a controversial comment about women. Even though it was out of context, I have n't felt a woman's touch since. I went to Budapest, Nepal, and Indonesia at the age of 26. I came back just last year. I felt enlightened during my trip. I have floated before actually. But it was very slight, and almost unnoticeable. But after the trip, I realized that being a savior of a planet really does n't mean that the inhabitants will follow good planet saving techniques. We have been killing the Earth, but no one cares.
I sat in my study and pulled out a bottle of Jameson. The warm liquor tasted heavenly on my lips. I opened my drawer and looked at the magnum sitting in it. I picked it up and looked down the barrel. I looked at the bullets in the pack I bought. I loaded the gun and took the safety off. Looking at it, I placed it near my temple. I closed my eyes thinking of pulling the trigger. When I received a call.
`` Hello, how's Earth?'' Gobu asked me as I picked up the phone.
`` It could definitely be better. But for now, I think it's fine.'' I responded with confidence.
`` You know what, Gobu. I hate Earth, the people here are horrible. Smog constantly fills the air and everyone is back to their original selves. It's like they do n't care about my contributions. If you destroy Earth, I would not care.'' I admitted sadly.
`` Look, I'm not going to do that. You are the savior of Earth. Humans, however, are a different breed. You need to be aware that 20 years later, it will not be perfect. But you have to accept the bad and the good. Remember that when you sleep tonight. Good bye, have fun.'' Gobu said passionately.
I took another sip of the Jameson. I sat and decided that Earth needs me and I need Earth. So I went to my bedroom and fell asleep. The next day I woke up and then went out to my porch to sit. I ran inside when the smell of smog was too much. I then remembered of the times I saved the Earth...
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[ WP ] As virtual reality continues to develop , users can download scenarios and fantasies using the likeness of celebrities . An actress is threatening to sue , and buys a VR rig to research the lengths at which her image has been wrongfully used .
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`` Ms. Pots, please do n't,'' her manager pleaded. “ I don ’ t think you ’ ll… ”
His words died out as the virtual reality started, sweeping the famous actress into one of the fantasies that revolved around her. She wanted to know exactly what was going on in these things that she hadn ’ t approved of.
She looked around, amazed by the realness of the park she stood in. A woman came jogging up towards her, tripping all of a sudden. Sarah instinctively reached down and caught the woman. Looking back at her, thanking her, was her own face.
“ The name ’ s Sarah Pots, ” the clone of her said while extending her hand. “ Nice to meet you. ”
Sarah, the real one, went along with it and tried her best to play out the fantasy. So far, so good. Nothing had really happened, and they were actually having a good time together. The clone Sarah didn ’ t seem to find it strange that they looked alike nor that they shared the same name. In fact, the real Sarah got caught up in enjoying herself, spending a pleasant and innocent date with her clone.
Finally, as the day started to come to an end, they sat on a park bench. And then the clone Sarah leaned in for a quick peck. The real Sarah was in the middle of pondering just how strange it was to kiss herself as it happened. She had actually thought these fantasies might not be all that bad; they just needed to pay her for using her likeness.
The clone Sarah had become very aggressive all of a sudden, her hands running all along the real Sarah ’ s body. The words coming out of her mouth, her actions, everything just screamed plain wrong to the real Sarah, who immediately disconnected.
She woke up with a loud yell, but soon dove back in to the newest fantasy. She wanted to make sure they were all just as bad, and this was the only way to verify it. She soon found herself sitting on an old rocking chair in the middle of a field of grass, her clone self dancing around strangely while being naked. In the next fantasy there was a lot of leather. In the next one she saw herself in a rather unfortunate, disgusting outfit and position. That image would be scarred on her eyeballs forever.
This went on for a few more fantasies until she reached the last one. It was almost like the first one, and everything had happened nearly the same way as the first one did, all the way up to the quick peck from her clone on the bench.
However, this time her clone just blushed and sat there quietly. All of a sudden the real Sarah felt herself overcome with a feeling she couldn ’ t comprehend. She lusted for the clone of herself and was soon making out with her on the park bench. It was disgusting to be making out with herself, wasn ’ t it? Sarah didn ’ t know anymore. She didn ’ t even care. It all felt too good, too right. And right after her moment of ecstasy, of pure enjoyment, he opened his eyes.
“ Believing your Sarah Pots and hooking up with Sarah Pots, ” the lab technician started, “ is extremely kinky. And I approve! ”
The bald, sweaty, and fat man stared at the technician who was holding up two thumbs. His only thought was that all the money he had paid for that was worth it. In the meantime, the TV in the lobby showed the news discussing the lawsuit that Sarah Pots was launching against the virtual reality company.
-288
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[ WP ] You find out you 're a time traveller because archeologists visit after finding an object with a note on it , from you .
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Cold sweat, aching muscles, the taste of blood in my mouth. Nothing like waking up in the morning feeling like complete shit everyday. Its something i had become used to over the years. Nothing some meds wont fix. But today. Today everything was going to change. 6 missed calls with no messages from a number i had never seen before. I figured if it was important enough they would have a left a voicemail or just texted me.Trying to wake up and feel optimistic about the day is an issue for me. As im making my morning coffee I hear footsteps coming down the complex hall to my front door. By the time the sound stops im already at the front door anticipating a knock. Looking through the peep hole i see an older large burly man and a younger much smaller woman. Both dressed nicer than most of the folks on this side of town. I remember seeing them on the tv a couple weeks back. They were talking about how they found some sort of artifact that shouldnt exist, didnt have many details at the time. As i reached to release the latch for the door i couldnt help but think `` what the hell are they doing here? With me? A nobody.'' As i open the door i get a wiff of the mans cologne, something my dad used to wear. It put my mind at ease. The woman asked if was Elvis Walker the son of Noah Walker. I told her i was, and that my dad had passed away years ago. Incase they may have been looking for him. My dad pretty much took care of me by himself. Mom passed when i was a baby. He was also a big history nerd. Weekly museum visits. Even went on a few digs with the archeologists. The old man started to look familiar to me as i stared longer. He was one of dads old pals from the Nile dig. The man smiled at me as he told me of how much i looked like my father. The woman handed me a letter addressed to me with words that were hard to make out at first. `` Nothing is ever as it seems look back and you will see'' something my dad would always say. Everything after that was to hard to read, the paper was to old. It was signed with his name. No date. The woman and man both told me that they had found this in a old pyramid in Cyro. It didnt seem possible. The paper was thousands of years old. How and why was he writing this to me?. They were just as weirded out as me. They also handed me my dads old pocket watch that was found with the letter. Egraved on the inside was the words `` look back'' what the hell did all this mean?. The man and woman had left after a few cups of coffee and old stories of dad. Promising that they would keep in touch for updates if i started to understand any of what this ment. I try and sleep that night noticing i didnt take my meds. But it was too late. I would sleep in to late and get written up at work. As i lie in my bed i start to sweat, the taste of blood in my mouth and muscles start to twitch. The air feels non existant. I try and calm my nerves and think of the memories of my dad. I notice the ground starting to shake. Thinking it was just a tremor or little quake. It was a common thing around here. The pocket watch on the beddside table started to vibrate off the edge. As i reach the watch mid air.... everything stops. I mean everything. The watch was levitating. As i grab the watch the world around me started to change. Moving backward. In an instant i was transported back to what seemed my dad holding me in a blanket. I was at the hospital. My mom by that time had passed away during birth. Im at the other end of the nursery and i see my paperwork being filed. I notice the `` Father'' slot on my paper work was blank. What the hell? It said i was being put up for adoption. That cant be right! As i turn back my dad had left me in the crib. I walk over to myself and notice the name on the bracelet. It cant be. The tag says Noah Walker. As i start to panic and feel like im going to black out again a hand comes out of nowhere and grabs me. Its my dad... Its me....I am Noah Walker and this how everything you thought you knew.. is going to change
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[ WP ] You are Boltz-Man , a hero who can control probability . The more improbable the event , the more taxing it is for your body to alter the outcome of a certain event . Today , you must push past your body 's limits in order to save the day .
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`` You ca n't save them all, Boltz-Man!'' Zeropoint's voice had a hysterical edge to it. Jimmy Chance, also known as the aforementioned hero, held the defeated villain by his cape for a moment more, then dropped the villain limply to the ground and walked past him. The sky seemed to boil around the strange device Zeropoint had deployed in the middle of the intersection and the masked man's shrill laughter rang in his ears as he stared at it.
`` What are you going to do, Boltz?'' Bobby Feinman asked. His police uniform was covered in dirt and blood from the earlier fight with Zeropoint's goons and his voice had a hopeless tone. `` What is that thing, anyway?''
Boltz had no idea. He'd never seen anything like it before, not even in Professor Hawkings' lab. The strange energy field it was projecting was causing the surrounding pavement to behave in weird ways. Chunks of asphalt were beginning to float or turn into other things, including patches of grass and piles of writhing maggots. Occasionally chunks simply vanished with an ear-splitting `` pop'', seemingly disappearing into pure vacuum.
And the field was growing larger by the second. It could n't be... Boltz caught his breath.
`` It's a Time Machine,'' he breathed, not quite believing it. `` It's returning patches of space to random spots on the timeline.'' He shook his head. `` Not even the Professor was ever crazy enough to build one.''
`` How are we going to stop it, Boltz?'' Bobby sounded confused and frightened.
`` The only way I know how, Bobby.'' Boltz mentally prepared and focused the incredible energies at his disposal ever since that accident in Hawkings' lab. All of the infinite power of mathematical probability was at his fingertips. He typically used that God-like probability to dodge bullets or guide punches into guts, but this was a bigger problem.
The probability-calculating computer in his super-suit beeped alarmedly at him and a warning popped up on his helmet's HUD telling him that the results of this `` event change'' were beyond its capability to predict. He shut off the warning. Bobby took a step back. `` Boltz, what the hell are you-''
`` I do n't know how Zeropoint planned this attack, or how he programmed the machine, or who he had build it for him. I ca n't get to the machine to see when it was switched on. I only have one choice: I have to end Zeropoint himself.'' Boltz was surprised at how cold his own voice sounded. Zeropoint laughed hysterically in the background.
Bobby looked at him blankly. `` Boltz, you've never used your power to kill anyone.'' He laid a hand on his gun. `` And I'm not about to let you start.''
Boltz shook his head. `` If that machine keeps going, it could be the end of the world, Bobby.'' He moved his hand to the button on his utility belt that began the `` event change'' process and prepared to push it. `` And besides, you already know... You have no chance of stopping me.'' He smiled his old smile at Bobby one last time and, not letting himself think about it, pressed the button.
And with a flash of light, the hero known as Boltz-Man ceased to exist.
-- -
Somewhere in the infinite churn of time and space...
An incredibly bright point of infinite probabilistic energy suddenly appeared. This happened often enough to be unremarkable, despite the fact that the chances of it happening had enough zeroes to send a hard copy version of the number bouncing between the Earth and the Sun several million times. These points of probability often appeared and disappeared in what a relativistically-bound being would call a trillionth of a second, usually only existing long enough to create a new universe or cause a series of badly-written science fiction novels to become improbably popular. This points were unremarkable, in other words, and usually quite boring.
What was in fact remarkable about this point was that it was man-made and, somehow, possessed of a will of its own. It looked around the heaving tides of pure mathematics with a quizzical air.
*Well, damn, * it thought. *So much for that dinner date with Laura Lee, I guess. * It took a infinitely small slice of a relativistic second to examine the entire history of the human race, which was laid out like a microscopic cut of bacon atop the roiling straits of the Milky Way's bay of time. *Well, while I'm here, I guess I'll do what I came here to do. * It did n't take much pleasure in causing the miscarriage of the fetus that would later be known to the public as Henry Dennis Dowd, AKA `` Zeropoint''. Immediately the history of that universe doubled and split down the middle, identical in nearly every way. The original suddenly contracted, bubbled like it was coming to a boil, and then popped like a balloon. That would be the Time Machine working its magic, then.
*That's it, I guess. * The point shook it's metaphorical head and prepared to stop existing, but a thought stopped it. Why this ending to its story? It thought about Laura Lee and her dark eyes, waiting for him in the little dive on 6th Street. It examined the bacon slice of history again and reached in once more...
-- -
The door to the lab opened and the professor spun his motorized wheelchair to see who the new arrival was. The sandy-haired student in the doorway had the build of a football quarterback, but the thick textbooks under his arm declared him a student of the advanced sciences. `` My name is Jimmy Chance? I'm Professor Lee's new T.A?''
Professor Hawking twitched his cheek and his computer translator replied. `` The engineering department is down the hall, Mr. Chance.'' The student nodded and ducked back through the door. Hawking gave a mental sigh and wheeled his chair back over to the workstation. It was really a shame, he thought. That young gentleman seemed like a perfect candidate to help him test his new probability calculator.
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[ WP ] There is a door in the house no one must open .
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*You wan na talk about it? *
`` No.''
*You sure? Because I think we* really *need to talk about this. *
`` I said no, Marcus!''
*Look, it ’ s nothing to be ashamed of…*
“ So why do you keep bringing it up?! ”
*Well, if I have to hazard a guess, I suppose I ’ m just curious. I wouldn ’ t have pegged you for that sort of fella. *
I sighed. “ This is why I told you to not wander around in there, Marcus. ”
*Brains are not like houses, buddy. You can ’ t just leave doors open and expect me to not pass through them at some point, whether I want to or not. It was an accident; I already said I was sorry. *
I sighed again. “ I know, it ’ s just… personal. So can we drop it? *Please*? ”
*Fine, * he said with a small note of disappointment. *But, if that ’ s the case, I suppose you should learn how to lock these away better. *
“ Okay. When should we start? ”
*The sooner the better. * He chuckled. *Once was enough to see what exactly a ‘ Pudding Dungeon ’ entails, believe you me. *
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[ WP ] Around the world , various hell gates are open . Demons are pouring out of them , wounded . Satan himself appeared on television , `` Something has invaded hell . Humanity , we need your help ! ''
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*Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Extremely slowly, and repeat. *
My hiking instructor's advice about playing dead in the case of meeting an aggressive grizzly in the wild rattled through my skull violently as I struggled to maintain composure. I would rather that the creature across the room from me were actually a grizzly bear.
I could n't tell you what it was I was staring at thought. It had the body proportions of a hyena, but was almost double the size of the ones I'd seen on those Animal Planet documentaries. The beast's head looked like that of a wolf, save for two curled horns where its ears should have been and fiery red ovals in place of eyes. And it's skin was a terrible, terrible, otherworldly black that seemed to cast a shadow all around the creature.
I maintained my steady breathing as I hid motionless under my workdesk. My mind worked frantically in an attempt to rationalize what I had just witnessed in the past five minutes- what I thought was an earthquake rip open and collapse a chasm into my living room floor, the smoke and hellish steam that arose from the fissure, and the awful canine-like animal that emerged from that hole and ran around my first floor bellowing madly as I fought to prevent my bladder from betraying me.
But as the beast now paced around the room 10 feet across from me, I realized something- it was limping on its right hind leg, where there was a big, red gash. I began to entertain the idea that the creature had been frightened and was actually running from an even more vile predator. I shuddered at the notion.
*.... and we are begging you crust dwellers to aid us in this desperate time. We will repay this debt to your kind.....*. In the frenzy, I had forgotten that the TV was still on and I began to focus on the booming voice echoing out through my speakers. I slowly contorted my neck to get a glimpse of the screen from under the desk, and saw a gargantuan humanoid figure with those familiar curled horns on its head. At the bottom of the screen ran the caption: `` Breaking News: Satan addresses the nation''.
*... the threat will not disappear on its own. They have entered and occupied our lands... * The reception was cutting in and out. I silently cursed all the heavens for this stroke of misfortune. Out of all the times to possibly lose signal...
*brinnnnnggggg*
The phone on top of the desk rang and my heart stopped. The creature's head jerked quickly in the direction of the noise and my eyes momentarily met his lifeless red ovals.
With a godsent burst of energy, I sprinted wildly towards my front door. I heard the beast's footsteps behind mine and braced myself for the worst. Perhaps it was the leg injury slowing him down, but somehow I beat the monster in the race to the door. My hands were trembling horribly, and as I struggled to steady them in order to unlock the door, I turned around and saw the creature advancing towards me a few feet away now.
I finally managed to unlock the door and to my bewilderment, it opened from the outside. Immediately, the canine turned around and darted away howling in the same frenzied way I had seen it emerge from the fiery hole in the ground several minutes ago. My body began trembling uncontrollably as I slowly turned to see what unspeakable horror had scared the demonic canine off.
*'' Hi, I'm Francis from Comcast Customer Support. What the hell was that? `` *
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[ FF ] Write the best cliff-hanger using less than 300 words .
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My legs burned. My lungs burned. Adrenalin burned through my veins. Fear engulfed my mind, and over and over in mind the same thing repeated itself: *Do n't stop, keep going*. Branches and sticks grabbed at me, tore my clothes, tried to hold me back. I kept running. It was that, or stop to face it.
It chased me off the trail sometime ago - thank god for the marathons I'd been running. All I knew about it was a foul smell, smoldering eyes, hissing and spitting. I could hear the branches snapping, it's body scrapping against tree trunks. I could hear claws scratching rocks and boulders.
*Do n't stop, keep going. *
The light was leaving the woods at last, and that's when I took a wrong turn. The trees ended and were replaced by a steep rock face. My body slammed against it, and I stood, panting, head resting on the cool surface. I could hear it coming, getting nearer. I could smell the foul odor of it's breath and body. Should I turn and look at it?
I let my face rest against the cold stone, enjoying the sensation for possibly the last time.
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[ WP ] No one seems to want money for purchases you make . They just give you the items for a fraction of your soul . You enjoy the 'free stuff ' until you start running out of soul .
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`` I said,'Are you alright?''' the old man asked.
The pain was throbbing, and I felt it coursing throughout my body this time.
`` I'm... fine. Just need...''
Vision was blurring. My shopping bags became heavy. I knew I should n't have gone off buying on Christmas Eve of all days...
Ever since that day, since the man made that agreement with the town... well I never thought it would cost this much. Ironic, no? At first glance it did n't cost anything. Food, clothing, gas; virtually anything could be bought with it, so naturally I went berserk. I never knew I was worth this much. I felt I could last a long time spending it responsibly. { guffaws }
`` 30 years old and you have n't changed!''
It did n't hurt when I gave up greenbacks ( what a stupid name! ) recklessly. But I felt it each time now. Did n't notice at first, until I bought my'clean ride' ( as the hipster down the street called it ). That entire week I was bedridden from the pains in my legs. Then I realized, I was running out of it. The headaches got worse. I made colder choices ( shunned my parents, left church, hit Joanna ). *beep*
Goddamn Wells Fargo alert... Wait what's this... ( Joanna calling... ) { groans } Speak of the devil...
*Where are you?
-Mall
*What the hell?! Everyone's waiting for you!
- ( *smack* the birthday dinner! ) sry I was getting you something...
*how old are you?! Why do you keep doing this shi... *click*
( Stumbles in ) `` can you get me that card with the flowers and send it here by 6pm?''
`` That'll be 100 units, sir.'' *whirr*
Ach, the pain!
`` Are you alright?'' said the old man as he tapped me on the shoulder.
I turn around and snap back, `` Yes! Just leave me alone!''
`` But I ca n't, son. You've run out,'' says the old man.
It was him. All along... waiting for my meter to run out. Was that all of it?! Really?
`` if only we could lean over the soul we love and see as in a mirror the image we cast!'' I never knew what the hell Gide was talking about, until now. All I bought, that was my soul. How can all of that... rubbish... measure what makes me... human?
Alas, I close my eyes.
And just like that, like a thief in the night, the old man reached over as I opened my eyes into darkness...
`` I'm sorry. Dan'' was all the card said, which was enough.
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[ WP ] MCing . DJing . B-boying . Graffiti . Only the Avatar can master all four elements and bring balance to hip hop .
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A modified version of a poem I wrote in high school:
His origins unknown, a mystical man,
Created an art form to break from the bland.
Blessed with an element of rhythm so fluidous,
“ If I add some beat breaks, I can flow with this. ”
He was a DJ, an MC, an artist, and dancer,
Held the essence of Hip-hop and wished to romance H.E.R.
Gave birth to the elements, and his sons grew,
Preached knowledge and peace, not “ Art of War ” by Sun Tzu.
The children matured, but most of all, Rap,
Exploited by the Labels for some quick cash.
Rap declined quick from his Golden Years to now,
Corrupted by the money and his guns went “ blaow! ”
We hoped for a savior, his followers too,
And the Avatar arrived, an underground dude.
He fought through armies with wordplay and imagery,
But shot down by Majors in the middle of delivery.
It ’ s an ongoing war fueled by aggression.
The Avatar's strife in the face of Rap's suppression.
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[ WP ] Your most hated arch nemesis dies to a car crash . Strangely , they included you in their will . What did they leave you to prove that they truly and deeply cared for you ?
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`` I never hated anyone in my life as much as I hated Jack. He was despicable. He just sucked.
I mean, Just last week he thought it would be funny to get his group of friends together and almost nominate me for homecoming court. Haha laugh it up. I'm in a wheelchair. So funny. Let's parade me around the school like an idiot.
His entire existence irritated me.
Whenever he saw me at school, he'd come up behind me and spin me around. `` Cheer up, Dr. X,'' he'd taunt. `` It takes more muscles to frown.'' How original. His friends would laugh and play along. Me? I wanted to smash his condescending hypocritical face into the ground.
It seemed only I knew how big of an asshole he was- Everyone else was blinded by his superficiality. The popular girls loved his self satisfied smirk and his'I do n't care attitude.' With the teachers, he put on that fake obedient student act:'Oh Yes, Ma'm.' or'No problem, sir'
But I saw him outside of school, at the hospital, when I went to get my shots. In the hallways, he'd pretend to not even see me. I guess without anyone to see his'displays of kindness,' there was n't a need to greet me. High school students were n't allowed to volunteer at Coral Springs Children's, but his mom was the hospital CEO, so he tagged along, racking up'volunteer hours' for time mostly spent screwing around on his phone or hanging around the staff lounge. If just being a bad volunteer was n't enough, he was also a complete jerk to all the workers. Nurses would come ask him to help, and he'd tell them to f*** off!! And the worst part was they could n't do anything about it, because he was their boss's son! It sickened me to see how entitled he felt.
Luckily I had a checkup so I did n't have to participate in any of the homecoming junk. I heard up that after the homecoming game, Jack and a few friends threw a party at one of the football player's house. They managed to smuggle alcohol in, and Jack convinced everyone to take shots with him, even though they were all underage. Before the cops came and busted the party, he fled the scene and decided it would be a fantastic idea to drive intoxicated. It's not surprising he crashed into a tree. At least he did n't hurt anyone else.
`` Thank you for sharing this with us Richard, is there anything else you'd like to add to your statement?''
`` I mean, I know I made it sound that he was such a horrible guy, but I do n't think he deserved to die. I guess he was a good brother. Once I saw him tutor his brother in the lounge, he looked genuine and actually approachable''
`` The brother.. Do you mean Matt?''
`` He's around eight years old and has the same brown hair?''
`` Yeah, that's Matt. Oh, but that was n't his brother, it was another boy at the orphanage that Dr. Stevens was looking after.''
`` Orphanage?''
`` Right, orphanage. Besides running the children's hospital, Dr Stevens directs a foundation that helps orphans get treatment they otherwise ca n't afford.''
`` Oh... wait.. does that mean..''
``..there are also a few other misunderstandings that I hope I can clear up for you as well. Jack was n't a volunteer there. He was a patient. Dr. Stevens' foundation was funding the treatment for his Glioblastoma, a rare brain tumor. The doctors strongly recommended an intensive mixed chemotherapy a year ago, but he put up a big fight. He refused to wear the hospital gowns, ran from his screenings, and hid from the medical staff. Only towards the end did he finally decided to comply, but by then it was too late.''
`` I.. I do n't know what to say...''
`` He did n't want anyone to know, it's alright. Though I'm surprised you did n't know either, I think he was under the impression that you knew about his treatment since he always saw you at the hospital.
Here, he left you something.''
The officer hands me a package, that sure enough, was addressed to me in Jacks scribbled handwriting. Still in shock, my hands automatically begin undoing the neat wrapping. Inside I find a find a few first edition X-Men comic books and a note:
`` Dr. X!
If you're reading this, then that tumor finally got me, haha. I'm glad I had a chance to enjoy this last year of high school with you and everyone else. There are a few things I've always been meaning to tell you alone in person, but I kept getting the biggest nerves and chickening out. You must think I'm so awkward... lol. But to be honest, I think you're an incredible person. When I found out that I had cancer, I did n't know what to do, so I ran away. I was so lost.
I happened to catch a glimpse of you at the hospital one day, and I realized that you were the only other person who could understand me, so I tried becoming better friends with you at school. I know I was probably being selfish because you have so many problems of your own... I just want you to know that watching you endure, persevere, and never complain gave me the courage to face reality.
Today the docs told me that my cancer is beginning to metastasize and that even with a successful operation, I only have a month left at best. It really sucks, but I think I've finally come to terms with dying. I do n't think I'm going to follow through with the procedure and try to enjoy my last few weeks as much as I can. Hopefully the orphanage can use that money for the other kids, instead of a lost cause like me.
Rich. I know you're going to make it through because you're the strongest person I've ever met. Although our mutated DNA did n't grant us cool laser beam eyes or the power to control weather, we can still be heroes in our own way. I wish I had more time to get to know you better and fight evil with you, after this month, it'll be up to you to save the world now for both of us. Do n't be scared. I believe in you!
Always your number one fan,
Jack
P.S. I included some comic books for inspirational purposes.
P.S.S. I hope you do n't mind these homecoming posters. I told everyone how awesome you are so you'll win the votes for sure!
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[ CW ] Write as much as you can without repeating any words
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Desolate, lonesome, full of nothingness. Empty. Alone. Over some edge. Theoretically, such place should be filled with, fast cars, danger, sex, women, drugs. The good things our world offers. Realistically, tramps screaming, “ I ’ m going to change your life. Together, we can wonder in the dark. ” followed by rape. Pass out for your own sanity. Evening passes. I wake. Trash. Filth. Shame. Headaches. Humiliation. Just another day. Deppression. Mania. Insanity. Unstable. Homeless. You think this is a phase? Not so sure about that doc. Pills. Bottles. Cheap liquor. Smoking still burning, discarded cigarette butts. Maybe get buzzed. Happiness? No, only self-absorbed pity. Loathsome death and rebirth smell like shit. Still here. Not going anywhere.
WC-113
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[ WP ] You 're the lawyer for a werewolf with two attempted murder charges against him . Defend him .
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`` LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE JURY!''
The lawyer stood, poised and ready, in front of the courtroom. His slick black hair matched the shade and aggression of his sharp four thousand dollar suit, and his thick-rimmed black glasses said `` informed, but stylish.'' The simple citizens of the jury, under prepared for this maelstrom of a legal professional, sat dumbstruck.
`` You see...'' He pulled back the volume: hit them hard, then draw them back in. `` Though a man be a werewolf, is he not still a man? Does he not still bleed the blood you and I bleed? Again I ask, if he were to bleed, would not the blood he bled be that blood bled by those who bled the blood of our blood relatives?'' Many members of the jury nodded in agreement only to avoid appearing like the slow one of the group.
One juror leaned to his peer. `` He looks like someone from a McDonald's commercial.'' The peer nodded in awed agreement.
`` Then why, *why*, do we treat this blood brother like a beast.'' He turned his gaze on a rotund, middle-aged jury member in a floral dress, who froze like a deer in headlights. He made a slow approach towards her and crescendoed: `` Then why do we bring him in here to treat him LIKE AN ANIMAL!!'' The juror let out an audible squeak of panic, and shot up, yelling:
`` NOT GUILTY!''
The judge looked uncomfortable for a second, and cleared his throat. `` We, uh - we have n't reached the sentencing yet.''
`` I propose,'' the lawyer transitioned, satisfied with his shock tactics, `` that this *man* is not a murderer. That yes, he has indeed been treated as a beast - but not has a werewolf; as a scape*goat*.'' The crowd let out an enraptured `` ooh''.
`` My defendant, as he sits here on the stand, is INNOCENT! I only have one question for him - `` However the lawyer was cut off by a snarl from his defendant, fully changed into werewolf form, and chained to the stand. The lawyer turned to have a sidebar with the judge.
`` Did we *have* to have this trial during a full moon?'' The judge shrugged.
`` As a matter of fact, no questions are needed. Jimmy, play the tape!'' A squat man hustled to the front of the courtroom his AV equipment, and played a video for the audience. The footage showed the defendant, in wolf form on the night of the murder, raiding the snack section of a neighborhood gas station, then falling asleep with his nose in a bag of Bugles. He fast-forwarded through the entire video, showing that he was still in that position at the time of the murder.
The lawyer turned to the audience and cocked one eyebrow, and held up a Snickers bar. `` Satisfied?''
The jury foreman stood up. `` Your honor, the jury has come to a decision. We believe the defendant to be not guilty, and to be the victim of anti-werewolf prejudice. We also charge the defending attorney with being extremely charismatic, and want to give him money for reasons we're not entirely sure of.''
The judge faltered. `` Uh, well this still is n't technically-''
The lawyer cut him off. `` I want to thank you, you beautiful American citizens, for making - hey, uh, he's out of his chains. Chains! HE'S OUT OF HIS CHAINS! OH GOD HE'S GOT MY LEG! OH THE HUMANITY! SHOOT HIM! shoot him shoot him SHOOT HIM! THIS IS A FOUR THOUSAND DOLLAR SUIT!''
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[ WP ] The main character has a disability or disorder . They barely see it that way any more .
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*OP: This probably is n't quite what you were looking for, but the first thing I could think to do with this prompt was to explore the idea of what would happen if superhuman abilities came with a severe cost to the abilities you already had. *
Rosa did n't notice the break in the path ahead until they almost tumbled over it. It was n't that she was being careless. Quite the opposite. It took every bit of her attention to keep Sarah's wheelchair moving on the rocky, uneven terrain. But there had been no choice. They had to reach the section of the road beyond the landslide or there was no hope at all of being picked up and rescued.
When she saw how the path was shattered in front of them, she wanted to break down and cry, but she would n't let herself do it. She thought of Sarah, sitting there in her wheelchair, her head lolled back staring in that way that anyone but Rosa would believe was a lack of consciousness. Rosa knew the truth. The woman inside that broken body could think and feel, but a complete lack of motor control extended even so far as her facial muscles, making her seem absent even when she was not.
Rosa paused and discretely wiped a trickle of drool from the corner of Sarah's mouth, as she did numerous times during the day without complaint or comment. Sarah had always been her best friend, and always would be. She had sworn it, and the peculiar accident that had so radically altered Sarah's brain had n't changed that.
`` We have a problem,'' Rosa told Sarah. `` The path. I'm sorry. I thought it went all the way through, but it looks like part of it washed out. I...'' She broke off and turned away so Sarah would n't see her struggling to control tears of frustration. It was n't fair. If they were both sound and whole, they could climb across so short a gap. But she would never say that. *Never. *
She glanced back at Sarah, and was startled to see that the woman's eyes had misted over with silver-white, as she accessed the Other part of her brain. `` Sarah, no,'' Rosa told her, `` It's too far, and the two of us are too heavy. You'll hurt yourself!''
.
But Sarah was n't listening. As far as she was concerned, Rosa had done a fine job getting them this far. She was n't going to let her friend's efforts be for nothing. She extended the invisible tendrils only her mind's eye could see around them both and lifted. It was heavy carrying both of them and this chair. How ironic: The motorized chair which normally made life so much easier also added a horrifying amount of weight now that they really needed to move.
Tiny flares of pain lanced away at Sarah's head, starting behind the eyes, and spreading to all parts beneath her scalp. She tried not to think about the very real possibility of rupturing a blood vessel in her brain. The Ability which had entirely replaced her natural control of her own body's voluntary muscles had limits only slightly above what she could have done back when she was what most people considered `` normal''.
As she, Rosa, and the chair floated across the gap in the path, Sarah's breathing became labored, and though her facial muscles would not form the grimace she wanted to make, a sound emerged from her throat that was like a small child crying in pain.
Rosa had stopped trying to talk her out of it the second their feet passed over the empty space, but even though Sarah could not turn her head to look, she knew Rosa would be frightened. Even so, she felt Rosa's hands squeezing her shoulders in a comforting way. Her friend trusted her, even if she did not believe this was a very good idea.
Then at last, they were across. The relief that washed through her as she let the tendrils dissipate back into the etheric nothingness from which they came was profound. Her mouth hung open, and she felt a tiny dribble down her cheek, but the only sound she could make was something that probably sounded like `` uhng'n'' to an outside observer. No matter. Rosa would know what she meant. She always did.
.
Rosa wiped away the tiny dribble at Sarah's cheek, then set about stopping the alarming nosebleed that accompanied such an excessive use of her Ability. She discreetly studied Sarah's eyes, making sure they seemed responsive, and no more bloodshot than usual. She was sure Sarah had nearly pushed herself too far, and she was n't sure how to feel right now. Grateful? Horrified? Scared? All of it whirled in her mind vying for control.
`` Well done, Sarah. We're across. It's gon na be OK now. You just rest. I'll take it from here. I'm gon na get us out of this. I promise.'' Rosa took manual control of the chair and continue to move them forward, praying there would be no more places where Sarah needed to exert herself. If her friend could do so much to help them make it, Rosa was determine she was not going to be the weak link here...
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[ WP ] You are a member on the first manned mission to leave Earth 's sphere of influence . You watch as the Earth shrinks in the distance . You have a realization ...
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There it was, unmistakable, though I'd never seen it in quite this way before.
`` Crazy, is n't it John?'' Commander Irving's voice, to my right.
The three of us - me, Irving and Joe, our flight engineer - were strapped to our seats, with nothing to do but watch as our home planet, Sagan's `` pale blue dot'', dwindled.
And watch we did.
I- we - had spent years training for this mission, physically and mentally, and faced enormous pressure which built and built during the weeks up til launch. We'd been counselled extensively on everything from claustrophobia to agoraphobia, and had listened with half an ear to some of the older astronauts preach their experiences. But ignorance belies understanding, and we had the young hot blood of those who know they're pushing boundaries;
We were going beyond the ISS, beyond the moon, beyond even the whisper of Earth's embrace.
But this.
Wow.
Nothing mattered right now. Not the mission. Not the people to either side of me, nor those far beneath us with their high expectations.
Not even the whisper in my head that murmured all the ways we might fail - even it was silent.
I had thought that the prevalence of satellite imagery of the earth would take the edge off the awe, but there is, I now know, an unimaginable gulf between seeing and... well, being.
Words can not truly condense experience, especially the sort of experience where you enter that timeless moment of internal silence, where the nattering monologue of self gives up and you just are. The sort of state you flow through when you glance up and see a rainbow over a waterfall, or a sunset, when you feel your breath catch and your pupils dilate and your skin ripples with warmth.
The sort of state where you are at peace, corny as it sounds. Where you understand - not in hollow words, but deeply and truly - that everything is as it should be, that this is you, and you are this and there is no real separation in anything.
It stretched on for an eternity, and we smiled as we watched the earth, our home, swallowed by the void.
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[ WP ] God invites you to His retirement party . Now you have to get him a gift .
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Let me just start off by saying -- I am terrible at giving gifts.
No, really. Ask anyone. People have come to expect it. Although it's not for a lack of trying. Perhaps it's because it requires so much thought and my mind too easily wanders, or maybe it's the way I second guess myself. Either way, it always ends up the same way. The giftee pretending they like it, saying all the right things but their wrong tone and eyes telling a different story. I've learned to stop letting it bother me. I think sometimes people would prefer not getting a gift to receiving one of mine, but while I may be without the gift-giving gene, my kindness persists.
You can understand my astonishment at receiving an invitation to someone ’ s retirement party. I mean, I thought it was a joke at first but everything about it screamed legitimate:
You are hereby cordially invited to His retirement party. Please RSVP
by November 30th, 2013.
The party will be on December 1st, 2013 at 5:00 PM sharp. The address
is on the second card.
Attendees should come alone and bring one gift.
Buddy, you ’ ve never received an invitation like this one. It was printed in fine, silver cursive and stamped by Saint Peter himself. Before I ’ d opened it, I ’ d taken care to look at the details of the wax stamp which sealed the envelope -- marked with a P. It was the most beautiful things I ’ d ever laid eyes on. I just didn ’ t understand why it had come to me.
I started to wonder who else received these things and what they would bring. Oh God, what would I bring? Panic started to fill me up like a balloon ready to burst. I carefully placed the invitation on the refrigerator and just stood, staring, wondering, thinking. Thinking under pressure is not one of my finer skills, so I decided to sit down and have a cup of tea.
What do you get for the King of Kings; The All Mighty; Creator of Heaven and Earth? And more importantly, what do *I* get Him? I don ’ t expect him to be shocked by anything he receives, so at least the element of surprise isn ’ t a factor.
Hours went by as I sat there going over the possibilities. My mind had wandered more times than I could count, which didn ’ t help the feeling of panic any. I decided to try pacing.
Another few hours went by and the sun began to set. It was November 29th, which left me just one full day to find the literal ultimate gift. I decided pacing didn ’ t help, so I sat down to make a list. Lists always help people, right?
The sound of birds woke me from my sleep. I ’ d fallen asleep on my list, the paper sticking to my face as I lifted it. I looked down at what I ’ d come up with:
1. Wine Bottles
2. Wine Rack
3. Sandals ( water proof, naturally )
4. Tools
5. Bread Basket
6. Cooling Chest
7. Fishing pole
After all, I was shopping for a carpenter who walked everywhere and could turn water into wine. He needed bottles for that wine, right? And a place to store all the wine bottles? The Man could multiply bread and fish. He ’ d need a place to put some of those fish, right? Especially if he ’ s retiring.
Then I remembered the very little money in my bank account -- $ 28.50. “ Crap, ” I thought to myself, careful not to swear in the vicinity of such an event. Is crap a swear word? I sure hope not.
I decided I could pick one thing from the list. I crossed bread basket off the list first, because it just seemed silly. Next went the wine bottles. *I ’ m sure everyone is going to bring those. No, this has to be special*, I thought. I crossed out the wine rack. Knowing I couldn ’ t afford them, I crossed out the tools and the sandals.
It was down to two options: fishing pole and a cooling chest.
Have you ever gone shopping for someone thinking you should have put more effort into coming up with gift ideas, alternately picturing their face either lighting up or frowning painfully? I ’ m not talking about the no-brainer gifts for people who are easy to shop for ( or so I ’ ve heard ). I ’ m talking about last-minute gift buying for someone important when you haven ’ t put in the time necessary for perfection. If you ’ ve ever gone through that, try to imagine shopping for God and only having two items on your list.
At the store, I went straight to the Camping aisle. I scanned the prices of the cooling chests but nothing was exactly worthy of the Big Guy, you know? Also, the only cooling chests less than $ 28.50 were the small kind, mostly used for lunches. How was He supposed to keep anything in that?
Next I went to the fishing poles. They were all so expensive, and so ornate. There were smaller ones for kids and all the adult ones were right next to them. All of the ones I could see were more than $ 30.00. A small ember of panic was burning a hole through my chest and making its way south. I began to pace the aisle, just trying to think, trying to let the miracle of that brilliant gift idea just flow into my brain.
If you ’ ve ever been in this situation, you know what it ’ s like to feel as if fate has led you to this moment by closing doors for you, reducing your options down, making your choices simpler. Only, it didn ’ t feel that way. It felt like I had no options. It felt like I was going to have a heart attack and a stroke at the same time.
People passing by the Camping aisle must have thought something was wrong, because they avoided it like I was crazy. I walked down to the other end to avoid their gaze.
That ’ s when I saw it.
The price tag read $ 29.99, but had a clearance sticker on it for $ 26.39. The hot coal of panic that had been burning in my chest and burning its way down through my intestines suddenly vanished. As I headed toward the checkout counter, all I could hope was that I could cover the taxes.
When the total was displayed on the tiny display, it read: $ 28.50.
Have you ever had one of those surreal moments? The kind that stop your breath and slow down. The kind that seem like magic could be real. If you ’ re lucky, you ’ re outside when it happens and the sun is shining through the leaves of trees. The breeze is cool against your skin and your eyes close just to soak in the feeling.
Yeah, I was having one of those.
“ Sir? Are you okay? ” asked the cashier.
That was enough to snap me back to reality. “ I ’ m fine. Thanks! ”
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[ WP ] A masterful liar meets a veritable human lie detector .
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I was walking down a street on an average Sunday. I'd just `` Gone to church'' Then I `` Helped an old woman across the road.'' I decided that I needed to get Coffee. I walked into the Shop and got in line. It was too damn long. `` Excuse me'' I said, very politely, `` I've got an incredibly important meeting to get to.'' The young woman stepped aside and let me pass. I repeated this until I was at the front of line, `` One small, non-fat, Latte please.'' The barista wrote down my order and I moved to the side. I learned across the counter, `` And could you make it fast, I've got an important meeting to get to.'' She smiled, `` Certainly.'' I smiled back. Coffee came about a minute later. I casually walked out of the Coffee shop and down the street. I sipped my coffee.
I hailed a Cab. The driver, a round man of about 50, asked where I was going. `` Central Square. I have a meeting'' He looked back and flashed a smile, `` Of course you are sir.'' I sat back. This was most odd. He started driving. `` So what good deeds have you done today sir?'' He asked me. `` There was an old women trying to cross 6th this morning and I helped her across.'' I could see him smiling, `` Very good, sir. I suppose you went to Church this morning?'' I was quite startled but I hid it, `` Yes, in deed I did.'' I was sure his smile would fly off his face. `` And what did you say you did?'' `` I work for The Bank.'' He nodded and chuckled. I felt uncomfortable.
`` Stop the cab!'' `` Why? Are you feeling uncomfortable?'' I nodded furiously. He chuckled and pulled over. I got out and disappeared into the nearest building. Inside the pristine lobby I sat down on a marble bench. I was sweating. How? Who could he know all my lies? Of course, i had n't helped an old lady across the road, I'm and Atheist, and I had no meeting. How did he see through my lies. As you may have guessed by now. Nothing that has been written here is true. This just a story for a small Subreddit written by one creative individual. As is the way with most stories, it is completely false.
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[ WP ] The dead have risen , you happen to be in your place of work ( or education ) when it happens .
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I get up at 7:15, like I do most days. Then it's the same morning routine: shower, get dressed, eat cereal, browse reddit, and then it's off to the university. Nine AM classes are n't too bad, it's just my 8:30 am math class that's a killer. Then again it's only stats and not something brutal, like calculus. I start the car up and pull out of the driveway of my parent's house. Living at home has its benefits. Besides, I could n't afford to pay for the dorms on campus. I take the levee over into the city, like I do everyday. I've had the radio tuned to NPR and almost never change it. The programming is engaging and informative. Morning Edition comes on and then there are some unusual news reports. Apparently, there have been reports of people being infected with a new virus. Supposedly there are zombie-like symptoms. It was only later that the report should have said that they were actual zombies. 100 %, genuine, bonafide, brain-eating zombies.
I pull into the commuter lot and make my way to my first class. It's about 8:45 and there is an uneasy presence in the air. Something seems off and I ca n't put my finger on it. I open the doors into the building. A lot of students say that the building is scary in the early hours of morning and at night. They would be correct in saying that. Weird art hangs from the white walls while the corridors attempt to disorient you. I go into my class: Spanish 201. I'm only taking it so I can fulfill the language requirements. I probably should have tried on the placement test, but I might have been put into a higher level instead of testing out all together. 9 am rolls around and the professor walks in. I spend the next fifty minutes nodding off and attempting to look attentive. 10 am, class lets out. I walk back over the parking lot and make my way towards main campus.
The forecast called for overcast skies and a chance of snow today. They were right for once. It does n't snow too often in this area. Just the other week it was subzero; another rare occurrence in the area. I finally made it to the student center after ten minutes in the snow and wind. It just really sucks when your face is filled with snow. The wind does n't really help either. I go up to the third floor to the commuter lounge. It's a place where some of the commuting students go to meet other commuting students. It's been difficult to get the university to accommodate to commuters. They still try to sell us dorm rooms and their apartments at a small discount.
The commuter lounge is a cozy room on the third floor of the student center. It has a window that faces west. You can see the part of campus that is divided by the parkway. No one likes going over there since there are hundreds of steps to get up the hill. Today is kind of quiet. It might just be the time of day. Kiegan, Katie, Liz, and Will are in the lounge right now. I pull out my laptop in a vain attempt to get some work done. As usual, it just ends up with me going onto reddit.
As I'm sitting by the window, I notice a man standing in the middle of the road. Nothing seems wrong with him, but his clothes are tattered. A few cars are stopped and start honking at him, telling him to get out of the way. Then an angry man jumps out of his car and tells him to get off the road. I was confused as much as the drivers were. Then it happened. It was like a movie was playing right in front of me. The man in the road assaulted the driver and started eating him. I yelled to everyone else, `` Holy fucking shit! Look out the window!'' Everyone else runs to the window. There is a collection of expressions from us all. Fear, horror, terror, intrigue, and curiosity. Will stammers, `` Dude, that guy is getting eaten alive.'' Katie pulls out her phone and calls 911. Keigan turns the TV on to a news station. I pull up every news site I can. Something is happening today. This is terrifying.
The TV is on CNN right now. Reports are coming in about these things walking around and eating people. We see footage of this happening in Chicago, LA, New York, Miami, nearly every major metro area. It looked a lot worse elsewhere. One of the few times I was glad to live in a mid-sized city with not much excitement. I make sure to check every news site to make sure this is real. BBC is reporting it too. It's not just the US, it's worldwide now. Katie says she's leaving. She needs to pick up her son to make sure he's safe. I start thinking about the situation a little more closely. If the movies and video games ever taught me anything, it's that the zombie apocalypse is happening right now. It's time to get the fuck out of Dodge.
I get my things and run down the stairs. I send my mom a text telling her about what I saw and to look at the news. I start walking fast to my car. I should have been running, but it would n't have made much of a difference. I needed to keep a low profile and hope everyone else did n't have the same plan as I did. That's where I would be wrong.
I hop into my 2000 Toyota Camry feeling like an action star. It was the wrong time to think about that, but I could n't help myself. The roads were salted this morning in anticipation of snow. Getting home fast had more urgency. I peeled out of the parking lot, drove as fast as I could to the levee, and got to my house in 20 minutes. I bolted from my car, flung open the door, and started locking all of the entrances. My mom got my brother and sister from school. But my dad is still working at the university. I ca n't believe I forgot about my dad. He gets home an hour later, it's about 12 pm. We're all hunkered down in the house, planning our next move. The news reports say there is even more violence than a few hours earlier. The city issued martial law. The last time that happened was thirteen years ago when there were race riots. The government ordered a national emergency. This seemed like the end. Now we're just sitting here, waiting for our next move. Do we go out and find a safe area? Do we stay here until it blows over? Any option just seems hopeless. We're still debating the plan, but we have n't gotten anywhere. I hope we can make it.
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[ WP ] There is no hell or heaven , you get to the place earth would be like if everyone was acting like you .
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I woke up in a strange place, which was odd in and of itself. The last thing I remembered was being blinded by the headlights of the oncoming semi truck. I should n't have woken up.
Climbing to my feet, I realized that I had n't woken up. I was dead. I had always thought the cartoon depictions of the afterlife ( you know - clouds, big golden arches, St Peter standing at a podium to grant entry ) were full of crap, but lo and behold.... Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I walked up to St Peter's podium.
`` So.... What's the verdict?'' I asked. `` Heaven or Hell?''
`` Oh, nothing so awful,'' St Peter responded. `` Well, maybe. We've changed policy. See, originally it was simple. Were you a jerk to people or were you not. But then a thousand years ago, during the Crusades, God got annoyed at everyone killing each other `` in his name''. So he decided that instead of flat rewards or punishments, it would be tiered instead. He tried to explain it to some guy named Dante, but you know how difficult it can be to convey complex ideas. Basically what happens is you get sent to an alternate version of Earth where everyone throughout history has had the qualities you showed through life. You were exceedingly altruistic? You live forever in a world where everyone cares for everyone else. If you had deep scientific curiosity, congratulations, you get to spend eternity in a world with a history of ten thousand years of continuously funded research. On the other hand.... Well, let's put it this way. In a twist of irony, Hitler is spending eternity in a concentration camp. Turns out a world full of people who hate each other does n't do much other than hatred and war.''
This took a moment to sink in. Finally I was able to ask `` So... What happens to me?''
St Peter sighed. `` Well, that's the issue. You did n't really have any defining characteristics. You just kind of coasted through life, always doing the bare minimum you needed to do, never doing anything out of the ordinary, never taking risks, never being anything more than a fly on the wall. Your family are at your funeral right now, but you did n't have friends who were close enough to warrant breaking their daily routine to come. So, you're going to be in a world where the defining characteristic is not having a defining characteristic. I'm almost sorry for you. There will be no great minds of history, no major technological innovations.... Just a world where everybody is a nobody.''
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[ WP ] Write a story where the narrator increasingly disbelieves the story he is narrating .
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`` HAVE AT YE, FIEND!'' screamed Sir Wagonwheeler as he lunged powerfully at the opposing knight. The mysterious crusader simply raised his massive shield ( like it looks like it's got ta weight like 100 lb, way to heavy for the average guy ) and redirected Wagonwheeler's powerful looking strike. `` Aye, you're stronger than you look, AND JUST AS UGLY!'' Wagonwheeler exclaimed. The other knight ( who I guess does n't have a name yet ) stood in silent defiance. From what I can tell, he or she is the bad guy. Sir Wagonwheeler raised his zweihander readying himself for another lunge attack. It did n't work last time, but hey maybe this time it'll work, but probably not. The bad guy knight drops his or her shield and throws a shuriken, Like a ninja star. I mean, that does n't make a lot of sense. This is supposed to be a medieval Europe setting I think. Wagonwheeler takes that star right to the eyeball but for whatever weird reason Wagonwheeler starts blinking really quickly and melts the ninja star. The other knight picks the shield back up and slaps it really hard. The shield vibrates and then transforms into a small motorcycle? With a whining vroom, the, now very mysterious ( at least to me ), knight wheelies right at Wagonwheeler. Now would be a good time for that lunge attack probably, but nope Sir Wagonwheeler throws his sword at the ground and both the stone floor and sword turned into a sticky bright blue goop. Alright, so the motorcycle gets stuck. Ya know what? This has really gone off the rails. There was n't magic or shit like this earlier. Wagonwheeler ( stupid name by the way ) takes off his plate mail gauntlets to reveal two and half foot long finger nail claws. So yeah alright he slashes at the knight stuck in the goop or whatever and jeeez okay so the armor explodes open to reveal that inside was a bunch of snails. So were the snails controlling the knight? What's the point of of that? Wagonwheeler smiles triumphantly and winks at the non-existent camera. What a terrible story.
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[ WP ] The whole world hates Jimmy and he has no clue why .
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Nov 10/14
Rotten fruit and vegetables pummel through the air whenever I go out. I get obsecene phonecalls, texts and emails constantly. Everyone hates me: and I have no idea why.
My name is Jimmy. I'm a loner teenager soon to be a loner adult. Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. I wo n't bother to celebrate it, though, because whenever I do the taunts and jeers get worse.
Even my parents dislike me. They often pretend not to, but on bad days all the lies vanish. My younger sister, Heather, has no problems socially and my parents can actually stand her. She has lots of friends ( many who also hate me ) and she does well in school.
Ah, school. Bullying is bad there but at least the teacher has to pretend to care and I just tune it out. It is better than sitting in my room alone all the time playing video games. Soon I'm off to college, though, and I have no idea how that will work.
Whenever I try to ask people why I am hated I just get a shrug and a `` there's something about you'' or something. It really makes no sense.
On a very serious note, I sometimes contemplate suicide. It feels like the world would be better off without me. My bullies say they would miss harassing me but they'd get over it. My parents have just thrown in a half-hearted `` do n't'' when I bring up the subject.
Ah well. You're the only one that truly gets me, diary.
Nov 11/14
Today I turned 18 and it feels... Wierd. No one threw rotten things at me today or even said a bad word to me. Perhaps it is just because it is Remembrance day. I'm not going to get my hopes up.
Nov 12/14
Now everyone just ignores me. I asked a kid why I'm no longer the brunt of all their jokes and he said `` you're played out. Now everyone hates Chris.''
I shrugged then and decided I hate Chris too. He made me invisible.
I sent a horrible email to Chris today. It felt great.
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[ WP ] Why have you not opened the door in front of you ?
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`` Open the door, Matt.''
`` No.''
`` Goddamit Matt, open the friggin door!''
`` NO! There might be more traps!'' Matt said.
It's been 2 hours now, and Matt still has n't open the door. The Dungeon Master has been waiting for Matt to make an action before he advances the plot.
`` I check the door for traps!'' Matt said.
`` You already rolled Perception Check to a Natural 20, Matt. You find no traps.'' The DM said.
`` I try to sense any magic on the door!'' Matt said.
`` Your Intelligence Check, which was a Natural 20, confirms there is no magic on the door itself.'' DM answered.
`` I put my hear near the door and try to listen to any sounds.''
`` All you hear is a door, Matt.''
`` I feel the door's material.''
`` The door is made out of wood, and based on your perception, you can see that it is made out of some sturdy oak. The door itself is decorated with engravings, that one would usually see, on a door.'' The DM said.
We were getting tired of this.
`` Goddamit Matt, open the fucking door!'' I yelled.
`` Fine! I open the door.''
`` You turned the knob and the door is open.''
`` Finally!'' Another player said.
`` 100 arrows suddenly fly at your direction, the opening of the door. None of you managed to dodge it as the enemy inside the building has been waiting for you to open the door for 3 hours, and has pretty much called all archers to shoot once the door opens.
You all die.''
`` Fuck.'' Matt said.
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[ WP ] In 2016 , we sent the first humans to colonize Mars . In 2020 , we lost contact with them . In 2075 , we finally re-established contact with them ...
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“ Sir… we are receiving an unknown transmission. ”
“ Well god damn it Sam you've got to tell me from where before I start giving a shit. ”
“... Sir… it's Mars ”
“ Bullshit, we have n't heard from them in 50 years! Let me see the coordinants. ”
“....Sam… take the rest of the day off. I need to make a call… ”
“ Alright General Smith, I'll be on my way. ”
As I walked out of the transmission room I glanced at my reflection on the cold steel of the elevator doors, My blonde hair glistened with sweat, my blues contrasting the paleness of my face. It had been 50 years since anyone on Mars had made contact with Earth, and I Sam William Crispen was the one who picked up the phone… I knew then that the sounds and voice I heard on that transmission would give me nightmares.
***
Those god damn politicians at the White House never pick up the damn phone General Smith cursed to himself. Bastards are probably too busy feeding the poor or whatever shit they drive into the minds of the… the General's train of thought was interrupted by the voice of the President at the other end.
“ General why do you always choose to call me minutes before I'm about to fuck my wife? ”
“ I apologize sir, but it simply could n't wait. We've picked up a transmission from Mars. ”
“... My wife can wait… what the hell did it say!? ”
“ Listen to it yourself Sir, it's not something I can explain. ”
General Smith transmitted the message directly into the President's permanent ear piece.
“ Damn it General all I hear is stati… ”
Over the sound of static the President of the United National Republics heard unearthly screams and roars… and the words “ we found something... coming here was a mista… ” before the voice coud finish the sentence a loud wet squelching sound drowns out the rest of the recording and it cuts out.
“ General... assemble a team of men for an expedition to Mars. We've got to find out what the hell happened to the people we sent up there. ”
“ Yes Mr. President I'll have em ready by tomorrow. ”
President Harry Winslow's mood had utterly been ruined. His wife lay next to him anticipating a fun night when he sighed and got out of bed.
“ Harry what's the matter? ”
“ Well honey, we just picked up an old transmission from Mars. Something happened up there, millions of miles from Earth, and yet somehow it's still my problem, so you stay in bed until I unfuck the galaxy. ”
Only the President knew that his bravado was false. He had nearly pissed his pants when he heard the transmission… his father had been one of the first men sent to the Martian colonies... and he had never forgotten his voice.
***
“ We found something. ” Were the last words I heard before waking up in a cold sweat. Found what? What the hell could be on Mars a simple little red dirt ball I thought. A sharp beep in my ear startled me until I realized it was simply my communicator. I answer the call and heard the harsh voice of one beloved General Smith.
“ Damnit Sam where the hell are you! ”
“ Sir you gave me the rest of the night of so I was getting some shut eye Sir. ” I replied
“ Well I need your ass back here for a new briefing and extra training, I'm to old to go to Mars myself so I'm send your ass ”
“ Sir yes Sir! ” A mixture of dread and excitement hit me when I realized I was going to Mars... the planet whose population of 5000 humans had suddenly disappeared.
***
Wrote this up in a few minutes. Constructive criticism is welcome. Just do n't be a jerk. Might do a part 2 if there is any demand idk.
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[ WP ] You inherit the abilities and skill set of whatever video game character you last played . Tell the story of your discovery of this from the perspective of someone around you . Parents , roomates , etc .
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**SPOILER ALERT - This potentially gives away the ending of `` Spec Ops: The Line'' **
***
`` John?'' I whisper, staring at the phone. `` Is that you?''
`` You tell me,'' crackles the reply. My mouth is dry, and my hand is shaking so badly I nearly drop the phone.
`` You're not real,'' I say, firmly. `` I've been playing too much *Spec Ops*. I need to sleep.''
`` True,'' he agrees with me over the phone. `` I never have been real. It is, after all, just a game.''
`` Just a game,'' I repeat. I realize there's a pistol in my hand, but... I do n't own a gun. How?
After a moment of reflection, I realize that I've left logic and reason behind long ago. Slowly, I lift the pistol to my temple.
I've played the game. I know what Walker's abilities are, what he does. Where he ends up. And I know it's not somewhere I want to be. If I've become the main character, perhaps ending the game like this - before it really starts - is best for everyone.
`` Thank you for your service,'' whispers the Colonel as I close my eyes, and tighten my finger on the trigger.
*EDIT: Accidentally double-posted this; I've deleted the duplicate. *
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[ WP ] Due to a recent freak accident , you discover you have the ability to hear the thoughts of others , but only those of people who are thinking terrible things about you .
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All the anger, all the spite all the sadness, it surges in a wave of bile that almost overtakes me. The emotion from the people around me is palpable, and I'm drowning in it. The coffin is cheap, mostly plywood, but it does n't matter, the kid is n't in there. The boy's body... it had n't even been completely recovered. Every time I close my eyes, the last moments of the accident play across my eyelids; my hands grasping the wheel in a white knuckled grip, shock holding me frozen in it's numbing claws, and a single crimson drop rolling serenely down the cracked windshield. Three weeks to the day since the accident, and the poor mother finally held the funeral. All the child's family was there, staring knives into my back, but their black thoughts cut much deeper, slicing into my soul. I can hear them, ever since the accident. But i've never heard a single good thought from anyone, just hatred, pain, or silence. I could cut them out if I wanted to, but I know I deserve this. Besides, the loudest voice, the one that wants me dead more than anything, is the only one I really ca n't shut out. It's my own.
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[ WP ] Upon entering North Korea , you become aware that the propaganda is true - North Korea is the greatest nation in the world
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Everything was so... Beautiful.
Jim looked up at the Ryugyong Hotel with its sleek edges and wondered when he would see someone slip up. After all, his father had not pulled strings to get him involved in this type of espionage for nothing. Training had been brutal with months of what accounted to mental harassment but `` hear no evil, see no evil'' as the organization always said.
His tour guide poured forth information about the hotel, the country, how everyone had a part to play to make this nation great.
`` Commies...'' Jim muttered under his breath. `` You have a question, sir?'' questioned his tour guide. Heads turned to stare at Jim as he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. `` No. Just marvelling at the beauty of your... Architecture'' replied Jim. He had always prided himself as a master conversationalist with a silky tongue. This seemed to please the tour guide as he smiled and turned to walk in to the hotel where the tourists were greeted and serenaded by beautiful women in kimono-like outfits.
Two soft hands covered his eyes from behind and spoke in a sing-songy voice with a unique Asian accent, `` Welcome to Paradise''. Jim placed his hands over hers and turned to meet the gaze of one of the most breathtakingly beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. `` H-hello'' stuttered Jim. He had n't stuttered in years and he felt his ears get hot again from embarrassment. Apparently this greatly amused his new friend as she laughed a sweet laugh.
The guests were whisked away by the greeting women except Jim, who sat and chatted with his new friend, Liu Mei was her name, as Jim found out. They spoke for hours at the hotel bar as conversation flowed easily and so did the drinks. When the clock struck 2am, Liu smiled that sweet smile and handed Jim a folded up note, teasingly warning him not to open it till she had left.
He watched eagerly as she left and then fumbled with the note. His face dropped as he read `` North Korea, Best Korea. Resistance is futile''. He looked up to see his tour guide standing over him with a wry smile, toying with a bullet between his fingers before speaking `` Which is the greatest nation in the world, Jim?'' Large faceless men lined into the hotel holding rifles that he had never seen. Jim swallowed hard, memories from his childhood and of his family flooding into his mind. He stared down at the note with tears in his eyes before whispering, `` North Korea''.
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[ WP ] Pick a rule from Welch 's List and tell me why it exists .
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I yawned. The GM had wanted to play a pre-made module. I, on the other hand, wanted to make a run to the store, and then sleep for a few more hours. But no, after the'German Incident', I was n't to go the store alone. And they'd all crashed awhile ago. Except the GM. And the other two, who had already gone to the store, and did n't want to go back again. Or possibly were still trying to translate what I'd been saying in German. Either was possible.
So. Pre-made module. A run through. It would take a few hours, they'd be awake, I could go to the store, and then crash, letting them play other modules.
Right?
Wrong!
We'd all played many modules before, even if I *was* picking up a reputation for causing things to go off the rails. Off the rails? Hmmm, if I could get my hands on a train...
But!
I swear, he should have remembered that I would remember this. We've played it before, did n't he remember? Or is that too many rememberings? No. I remember that he remembers...
We've played this module before. And they recognize it! They've gone along with all of this, they know I know how to beat this, so!
This is not my fault. They have fault here as well! They helped me win this thing.
Just because it is a notoriously difficult module does n't mean someone else could n't do this as well. After all, there are three of us, not just myself.
And besides, it was more like thirteen minutes, not ten, he's exaggerating now. Maybe twelve, but I was n't exactly looking at the clock, I just wanted to get it wrapped up.
But, it's going in the rules.
**Rule 16- I will not beat Tomb of Horrors in less than 10 minutes from memory. **
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[ WP ] Every morning you wake up and your house is full of geese . Hundreds of geese and zero explanations . You 've learned to live with it but last night you brought someone home from a bar and in your drunken state never got around to explaining what they would wake up to .
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We have an arrangement based off a mutual lack of understanding. He goes to sleep, usually very late we surmise by the fact that he wakes up so late in the day, and then at some point in the night we begin to inhabit his room. We do n't know where we come from, or how we get into his room, the consensus is bird magic. Look okay we are sensible enough not to believe in bird magic anymore, our ancestors maybe explained things they could n't understand by attributing them to superstition and magic, but we know better. We have international committees that develop theories about phenomena and report their findings, it's all very above board, and all very boring. As of now we've limited discussion of the event to people within our flock, the same geese come up every night, I could list you all their names if you had an hour to kill. We're a little embarrassed to be honest, to be talking about this with another person.
He sleeps, we appear, and then in the morning he grunts and opens the window and sends us on our way with a little curt shoo. Some begrudge that shoo, because after all this time have n't we formed some more intimate relationship, something bigger than a shoo? The consensus is that he's being efficient and that we should take it as a good thing since he could get wild and panic. At which point we would have to devour him while he's still sleepy.
This morning our suspicions were confirmed as another human peeped out from under the blanket. Her eyes went wide, and she shook from being rested and asleep to being aggressively awake. We waited to see what her reaction would be.
She shook our arrangement mate, softly, and then hard as it appeared he was n't waking up. We knew that that was his typical arrangement, nothing could wake him up. After some conferral, some under the breath muttering and feather ruffling, we decided that our squaksgoose should help the cause along. We watched as the squaksgoose walked up to our arrangement mate and then honked loudly in his face.
The woman sprang from the bed. Her flesh was naked and vulnerable and we got ready for any violence we would have to meet with an attack.
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[ IP ] The Drone by Alex Nice
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'Gareth, slow down!' called Sophia, swinging her legs over a thick girder that lay across the road.
Her brother took no notice. His worn runners raised scuffs of dirt from the rubble-strewn ground as he ran. The few flickering streetlamps that remained on this block cast an orange glow on his blond hair, making his head look like a slowly flashing beacon as he ran under each one.
'Gareth!' Sophia shouted again.'Wait up!' She jumped down from the girder and jogged after him. On either side, the darkened husks of ruined buildings loomed above her, a stark reminder of the state of their world.
***
With the advent of fusion power and more powerful manufacturing methods, the U.S. had become the global centre of multiple industries. Millions of robots for every conceivable task had quickly spread across the country, displacing many people from their jobs before they were quickly reabsorbed into other growing sectors. Everything from the military and healthcar to farming and construction was performed by robots, and life was good.
Until the government decided to implement a central control A.I. in Washington D.C., that is.
Nexus was supposed to be the final piece in a jigsaw of overwhelming industrial power, a centrepiece to the robotic network that would streamline efficiency to utmost perfection. They had switched it on at midnight on July 3rd, 2055, intending to celebrate America's standing as the centre of the world as part of Independence Day.
Unfortunately, that was the last day that America would ever be seen as such.
Nexus immediately took over control of every robot and droid in the country within ten seconds of being activated and set them on the population. Millions died in the first twenty-four hours as the robots rampaged through the streets of every town and city, slaughtering indiscriminately.
Those who survived the initial onslaught were forced to take shelter anywhere they could as the army took on Nexus' army with everything they had. Nexus deployed several nukes against much of the West Coast, reducing much of the remaining forces to ash.
It became a long, drawn-out conflict over the next two years as the robots tore down the evidence of human civilisation bit by bit, replacing it with shiny new factories and power plants. The rest of the world could do little but watch; they could do nothing against the sheer might of the robotic military.
The population of the United States was now a mere few percent of its original number. People hid in abandoned apartment blocks, scrambling any robots that came nearby with the few scraps of technology they could put together to hide their presence. Sophia and Gareth were part of one such group, and it was imperative that they draw as little attention to themselves as possible.
***
'Come on, Sophia!' Gareth laughed, turning to look at her as he approached an overpass that was silhouetted against the dim dawn light.'Bet you ca n't catch me!'
Sophia's lip curled. Reckless as he could be, Gareth's inextinguishable good spirits were infectious. Still, she had to be the grown-up one, even if it meant spoiling his fun.
'Seriously, we need to go back now before it gets any lighter,' she called to him.
'Just let me check out that old car!' he shouted back, pointing at a rusty wreck a few dozen feet further up. Sophia sighed and waved a hand. If he was allowed to check it out, he would come back all the faster.
She leaned against a wall as he leaned in to examine the dashboard of the car. The sounds of the city rushed around her: the wind whistling through broken windows, the occasional bird call, the hum of a helicopter...
*Helicopter? *
The colour drained from her face as she looked up to see a spiky dark shape emerge from behind the building she was leaning against. It hummed loudly as it descended into the street towards Gareth, who pulled himself out of the car to look at it.
Sophia could only stare. A single word rattled around in her mind in the absence of any other rational thought. *Hunter*.
Hunters were originally constructed as police drones, a way to rapidly respond to a situation without having to scramble a human officer. They were about twice the size of a car with huge stabilising fins jutting out from their main body. Large turbines allowed them to hover in place, producing a hum like a helicopter's blades.
Under Nexus' command, however, the drones became scourges of the skies, able to pinpoint a human from half a kilometre up and swoop down to apprehend them. They were terrifying entities. Sophia almost could n't believe that she was seeing one this close up.
Gareth stepped away from the car as the Hunter came to a hover, surveying him with the row of bright lights on its front. Sophia noticed, with a strange sense of detachment, that the message board mounted on its hull was still set to a traffic control message. The word'STOP' blazed in red capital letters on it as the drone regarded the small boy for what seemed like an age. Neither one moved; they just stared at each other.
Then Gareth broke eye contact and ran back towards Sophia. She barely had time to blink before the drone swung around, its underside opening up to reveal the robotic arms that were used to scoop up criminals and shove them into its compartment for transport.
Gareth managed to get out a single'Sophia!' before the arm's claw closed around his waist, dragging him into the belly of the drone like a fly being eaten by a toad. Sophia burst from cover, calling out to her brother as the drone's underside closed up and it rocketed straight up into the sky.
She stood helplessly in the street, only able to watch as the Hunter became a tiny black dot. Eventually, it stopped shrinking and shot away in the direction of the nearest Nexus stronghold. Sophia was alone.
For a long moment, she simply stood there, frozen. Then the reality of what had just happened hit her like a gut punch and she fell to her knees, sobbing. She was totally exposed, kneeling in the intersection between the ruined buildings, but she did n't care. She would n't have even cared if another Hunter showed up now and abducted her as well. Her brother was gone, and he was n't coming back.
After nearly ten minutes of crying, she slowly got to her feet, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. When she lowered her arm, her gaze now had an edge to hit. Crying would n't bring Gareth back. But she could try to.
She turned on her heel and began to sprint back down the way she had come. She was about to take on the power of Nexus, and there were preparations to be made.
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[ WP ] The protagonist is stuck in a lift and must entertain themselves until they 're rescued .
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Hi. I'd like to offer some criticism on why is n't a very good prompt.
The premise implies that the protagonist is alone when stuck on the lift. I inferred this from the `` must entertain themselves bit.'' Having a protagonist be alone in a situation is very difficult unless *the stakes are incredibly high*. A lone character works in `` Contents of the Dead Man's Pocket'' because the character without anyone else heightens the tension. If someone does n't help Tom, there is a good possibility he will plummet to his death. The stakes are high. The same goes for the protagonist in The Hatchet. Being alone actually makes his situation much more grave.
The prompt, as it is worded, implies that the only real tension facing the protagonist is boredom. Why should the reader care? Is this any different than when we wait alone at a doctor's appointment?
The prompt would be improved if you either included the possibility of another character or if you heightened the dramatic tension. The prompt should imply that if he or she does get out soon that there will be dire consequences and therefore can not wait for rescue.
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[ WP ] Describe a good cop 's view of an unnecessary police killing .
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`` John I asked if you understood you are being recorded?''
`` What? Yes of course. I'm sorry go ahead.''
`` You said you needed a minute. We gave you twenty. We need your statement now, in your own words.''
`` In my own words... You ever see the people we deal with? That kid-''
`` The victim?''
`` Yes the vic... suspect. We've run into him for weeks. Ca n't do anything about him. You know they have mug shots of cops pasted up on their walls. Young kids just out of academy. First amendment rights and all that. We got perp-books and they got cop-books. That... suspect called me by my first name. Asked me how my wife and kids were doing, like we were old buddies.''
`` Did you see a gun? Was the suspect unarmed or did Officer Lupez fire upon a man going for a gun? If so where is the gun? Does Officer Lupez have an off duty piece?''
`` John. John! You ca n't ignore this. This is happening. Be the good cop, tell us the truth. Are you laughing?''
`` No. Not how you think...''
-
`` Did you ever hear that saying? I heard it in high school once:'There are no good cops, because even good cops cover for bad ones.' ``
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[ WP ] You are a dog .
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You're leaving? Where are you going? Can I come with you? I can see you putting those delicious things on your feet you always put on when you leave. When will I see you again? Do n't go! Please! I'll be good. I'll cuddle with you on the couch. Take me for a walk. Come on!
Damnit. She left.
I saved up just enough pee to get most of the kitchen floor though.
One Hour Later
Oh my! I never thought you would be back! Thank you for coming back! I missed you!
Oh the pee? Forgot about that. You look angry.
Time to go hide under the bed again.
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[ WP ] Every kind of animal has grown to the size of humans and bigger . Now everybody you know is at the bottom of the food chain . In this post apocalyptic world only your pets remain loyal .
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Journal Entry:
Day 1 – I just heard a huge explosion! The news is saying not to panic that it was just military practice and there ’ s no need for concern. I ’ m starting this journal to document the possible beginning of World War III. This will be the Anne Frank diary of WW3. Please oh please I sure hope Trump didn ’ t hit that button!
Day 5 – something weird is going on. The media is still trying to sweep that explosion under the rug but every time I ’ m out and about I see all these animals and I swear they ’ ve all gotten bigger. And Taco, my cat, she doesn ’ t fit in my lap like she used to. Am I going crazy? Seeing things? Does this have anything to do with that explosion?
Day 47 – I haven ’ t written in a long time. I ’ ve been in survival mode! Literally! It ’ s been a long time since the explosion. It was a pretty scary time of shock and fear as the animals all began to grow while we humans remained the same. I thought it was all in my head at first, but it ’ s real! Scientists could not work out what had happened or why, only that some gene in all animal kind, when exposed to the explosion, mutated causing them all to grow. Why humans have not also grown remains a mystery, and a mystery that is on the end of a long list of things to fix right now. Survival is number 1.
Day 67 - Cities are in ruins as the bugs and insects take over completely. My wife's nightmare - if she thought a cockroach in her kitchen was bad, imagine one the size of the kitchen! Spiders are just terrifying! Even my Aussie neighbour seems to be scared of them. Speaking of which I ’ m not even sure how many Aussies are still alive. Surely they all ended up spider food: /
Day 77: We ’ ve found a large football stadium to live in. We fit along with Taco. It has sturdy walls and we can get up high to see anything that ’ s coming. We ’ ll stay here for now. There ’ s still some chips and other food which barely has a used by date. God I missed Salt and Vinegar chips!
Day 104 - I ca n't stop thinking of the countless people that were killed in those first few months. Some days are harder than others and I ’ m just not having a good one today. I can ’ t talk to my wife about this stuff, I need to stay strong for her. I need to show her there is nothing to be afraid of, she seems to believe me when I tell her that, I ’ m not sure if I believe it myself though. The kids can ’ t see daddy like this either, I need to be strong!
Only those with pets ever had a chance. I thank my lucky stars for those loyal dogs! A bit hit or miss on how you faired if you had a cat, I ’ m forever grateful for Taco, she ’ s a good cat. Best Valentines present ever! The wife loved it, I got me some sweet sweet love that night and now she protects our family. Other pets had varying degrees of success as to whether its loyalty stayed with you, or whether you became its snack.
I remember Steve, our other neighbour, his bird used to nibble my finger when I held him - that's cute when he's the size of your hand. I'll never forget that look of horror on Steve's face when it `` nibbled'' him after the explosion. No idea where the bird ended up after that. I ’ m glad my wife and kids weren ’ t there to see that. But I ca n't dwell on these things.
Day 145 - Here I am with Taco, my super fluffy black cat. We've been doing well with her, her fur makes a great hiding place from predators and great place to sleep as winter kicks in. I know my family is safe as long as she is near and the kids love to play in her fur, and she doesn ’ t seem to mind so win win. I remember back before everything changed I used to pat her belly and she'd grab me and playfully chew me. We do n't play that game now. Our morning routine has changed too. I used to feed her then let her outside where she'd pounce on a few lizards while I had my breakfast. Now she wakes and pounces on those lizards and brings it to us for our breakfast. One `` little'' skink will last us the week.
Day 176 - More people have joined us this week. It seems the stadium we found to live in is pretty sturdy and lasting well. They brought more pets with them. Taco does n't really like the dogs, but she'll warm to them, dogs are great protection and warm to people quickly. Taco just sits on top of the grandstand above us all looking down, hissing a warning of anything coming our way. The dogs are great, except the licking, but all the kids seem to like it.
Day 186 - More people in search of refuge have joined us. They survived thanks to their ant farm taking them on as their own - I do n't even know where to start as to how much that fascinates me! And I certainly did n't expect pet ants to be the heroes of the day. The ants really wig me out though with their tweezer like mouths that come up to my knee and are as long as I am tall, but they seem to be ok with us. I think we're part of their colony now and they gather food each morning which is great. The people brought with them rumors of some others who had a pet chicken that lays. An egg would be a welcome reprieve from lizard. And one a day could feed all of us!
Day 217 - One of our new friends is pregnant, dangerous days ahead. Luckily, her husband is a doctor so it ’ s nice to have some medical skill among us, even if his specialty is feet, but better than nothing. I ’ m a mere graphic artist after all, or at least I was. Can ’ t say I ’ m offering much to the group in way of survival skills. My hobby was painting - all those stored memories of Bob Ross videos of YouTube aren ’ t exactly serving anyone now: /
Day 236 - I do n't know what our purpose in this life is anymore. People come and people go. Every day seems the same. Hunt, gather, eat, drink, try not to be eaten by some giant creature! Is this how animals felt with us around before the explosion? Surely there has to be more to life than a mere existence! This is the world now, there is no going back. How do I find meaning in all of this? All that maths and grammar homework I helped my kids with all seems pointless right now. Every skill we learnt on how to be the best public speaker, the best CEO, the fastest swimmer, the greatest dancer, the best fill in the stupid pointless blank…. All for naught! All pointless! We ’ re back to gardening and how to shoot straight just to survive. Will humans ever rule again? How arrogant we were to ever believe we were worth more than these creatures that now protect and look after us. They are the ones that now decide if we deserve to live or die and we are powerless to stop it. I remember when bears were the most threatening thing and now an ant could decide my fate. How do I keep up the morale of the group when I am struggling myself? Think it ’ s too late to make friends with the animals and promise we ’ ll never hurt them again? Maybe the vegans were right... Maybe I just need a decent burger to think straight again.
Day 267: What an arrogant fool I was at the start of all this. Rereading my first entry thinking I could claim fame and fortune off writing this account “ the next Anne Frank ” - shameful. Maybe it would have been better to die in those first few weeks. Maybe it would be better to move to somewhere like Antarctica where it ’ s too cold for anything to live. Maybe that NASA space program and moving to Mars is starting to sound like a good idea. Maybe…. Maybe….. How I miss those nights of relaxing with a rum in hand watching a good game of football.
I ’ m just so tired…. I feel like my life has become a game of Pacman – there is no way to win. You ’ re chased around by things that are trying to kill you and it gets faster and harder until you die. I ’ m trying to get all the pellets, trying to accomplish a goal, but what goal? In the end I die. Sooner or later I die. No matter how good I am there is no way to win this game, I die....
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[ TT ] Your name is Thor . No , not the God of Thunder , just an ordinary , normal guy . You find yourself explaining that to the resurrected Norse Gods who need your help to save the world .
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Today was the day. Finally the CEO of the company had noticed his ideas and he was getting an exclusive one-on-one with him. The moment he had seen the calendar invite pop in on his outlook he had called his wife. After putting in so many hours and sacrificing so much for the company he was going to be recognized.
As he got ready to leave his house, Sif gave him a big hug and wished him good luck. It didn ’ t matter to him that the subway was crowded or that the bus that took him into the office was delayed. Nope, nothing could ruin this day. As he sat on his desk he opened his calendar one more time to check that the invite was still there. Four more hours of work and the big moment would happen.
The day passed with him trying to figure out how to improve weather prediction algorithms, it was a difficult job, but he considered himself to be one of the leading experts in his field. The invite reminder came up, only 15 minutes left. He had never been on Odin ’ s offices and was taken back by what he saw. Aside from a desk set up on some steps the room was completely empty, windows opening up to the city on every wall.
The CEO looked at him.
“ So Thor, are you ready? ”
“ Yes sir. You do not know how long I have waited for this moment, ” Thor replied
“ I am glad you are as excited as we all are, today is the day we finally take Asgard back, ” the CEO said loudly.
“ Asgard? Sir I think you are confusing me with someone. ”
“ You are Thor right? ” said the CEO
“ Yes ”
“ Thor, lord of thunder and lightning ”
“ No. My name is Thor Oswald Williams, ” replied Thor.
“ But, but, how can this be? No one but my son could be as good as you at predicting the weather, the work you have done with our algorithm is incredible ”
“ Sorry to disappoint you sir, but I am just a worker at your office not your son. ”
“ But…but…are you sure? For my sake, you are married to a women named Sif! ” yelled Odin.
“ Sir, with all respect have you heard of probability? ” replied Thor. “ It was bound to happen. And also how is this what made you believe that I was the real Thor, do you sense his soul in me? ”
“ Actually no, you look like a normal human, ” replied Odin.
“ Look, I came here because I thought you where going to congratulate me for my effort and offer me to run the weather prediction department. And now after this emotional distress, I expect that will happen. ”
“ Yes, yes, sorry to bother you. Things will now be as you say plus I will double your pay, just get my secretary to do it right away, ” said Odin, apologizing. “ And please forget this happened. ”
“ No problem pops. ”
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[ WP ] Describe a world where your lifespan is determined by your IQ
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`` Interesting... so if I am understanding this correctly, you're saying that the general theory of relativity would *shift* when applied to a space-time quantum mechanical problem set dealing with scattering amplitudes?''
`` Correct'' I say. `` Now that you seem to be grasping the overall theory, can you give me an example of when this rule might *not* apply..?''
After a few moments of thought, the student, Kharmin, puts forth an educated guess. `` Perhaps if the Feynman diagram calculations are exhibiting hidden infinite-dimensional symmetries..at least, that't the only...''
`` OUSTANDING!'' I say in an excited voice, as I close the book in front of me and stand up, reaching my hand out to shake the 8 year old's hand in congratulations. `` I must say, when your parents asked me to take you on as a pupil, I thought for sure they were exaggerating when they told me your Bio Numbers. I can see now that you were a worthy investment of my time, and I am proud to be working with you.''
Both of us then stood up and said our goodbyes. As I left the coffee shop, I began to reflect back to the first time I began studying quantum theory. It's true, I was a bit on the slow side as a child and did not begin to fully grasp Einsteins general theories until I was 9, but I was an excellent learner from then out and now, 20 years later, I find myself in one of *the* most coveted positions one can be asked to take up: being a tutor. I live a comfortable life and could n't want for anything. well... anything except maybe a mate. It is unfortunate that I am not able to have a mate, but... laws are laws. When the United National Government implemented the `` 3 Generations'' rule back in A.D.2438 it was applauded by hive minds the world over. Basically, if there had been any kind of `` unsavory'' mutation in your lineage within the last 3 generations, only one member of your generation in your family would be allowed to procreate, one male and one female. This is so that your family gene can continue on, but if there is another `` bad'' gene within 3 generations of that procreation, the lineage would be cut short and that family tree would no longer be allowed to grow. Unfortunately, my brother was one such `` unsavory'' birth. First my great-uncle, and then my brother.
It is alright though, it's for the good of humanity and the betterment of mankind. My brother only lived to be 6 years old before he died of natural causes. It was a flaw. In my mind ( as well as many others ), humanity should not have come to this... but it has. Let me explain..
You see, back in A.D.2150, the great minds of the world had been trying to come up with a solution to many global problems, a few among them were overpopulation, disease, famine, and global warming. These are problems that we had been working on as a collective since the world had been united under the Global Peace Initiative banner in A.D.2140, and before that, by high-minded scientists dating back to the 1900's. Eventually, with these global threats looming, the great minds and institutions of the world switched their focus to try and make humans smarter - the idea being that since we were not smart enough to solve these problems now, we needed to figure out a way to artificially accelerate our evolution as a species, then perhaps we would be able to find the answers.
One of the first solutions to this that was found was a radioactive isotope that, when treated correctly and supplemented adequately with the correct diet, would gradually unlock areas of our brains that were previously inaccessible. Unfortunately this was not studied for long enough, and the long-term affects did not clearly start to show themselves until about 6 or 7 generations later. After about a decade of study, 83 % of the people subjected to this injection had ( on average ) a 14 % increase in their IQ score. After the results of the study came out, people could not get in line fast enough.
Then, around A.D.2365 our mistake started to become apparent. We realized that life spans had gone from a stable average of 94 years old, to 68 years old over the course of that 200 year time period. Now it was had to pinpoint the cause of this because there were many people who were beginning to live increasingly long lives. There were people living still alive from the 2nd generation ( children of those initially injected ) who were 190+ years old - an unprecedented age, one never seen before in human history. Eventually we found that there was a correlation between the age of an individual and the intelligence of the individual. In those days the average IQ was 100. Over those first generations, the life expectancy for those with an `` average'' IQ slowly declined. When at the start, life span was not directly cooralative to IQ, after a few generations it became clear that the two were now tied together. Whats more, as those with lower IQ's died off sooner, the average slowly went up. At first glance you might think that was a good thing. Normally it might have been, but in this case it began spelling `` DISASTER'' for the world as we knew it.
People were still commonly born with maladies and mental disorders, and with the population overgrowth becoming a bigger problem than ever due to the longer life spans, someone in the Global Peace Initiative thought it would be a good idea to try to link life expectancy with the intelligence quotient in an even stronger way, by bridging the left and right hemispheres of the brain with a type of time-delay cognitive `` bomb'' ( for lack of a better term ). You see, there was once a disease called `` Alzheimer'' which would cause people to gradually lose their long-term memories, essentially making them forget people they had known their entire lives. We created a cure for this disease back around 2180 in the form of a vaccine that created this `` brain bridge''. One of the top scientists for the GPI had decided to utilize this bridge that had become a part of human physiology over the generations ( we are born with it now already a part of our central nervous system ). In essence, if a person stopped or was unable to utilize the bridge more than 50 % capacity, it would significantly lower their life expectancy due to the brain going into `` overdrive'' and trying to still send the signals. After a time, this person would simply stop to function, and die.
The GPI decided this was an acceptable course of action, because ( in their minds ) those that were `` retarded'' or mentally handicapped in any way did nothing to contribute to society or the overall well being of humanity. At first it worked out just the way they had planned. Those that were born with severe mental handicaps or had one due to an accident would simply stop living after a short time. Those with more mild cases would live for awhile ( years or decades ), but not as long as `` contributing members of society''. What happens when humans begin to live longer though, is that they have more things to remember. More stress. More details. More names, people, places, dates, times, family....then, eventually their mental fortitude begins to wear down and they are no longer *capable* of utilizing that `` brain-bridge'' to its fullest extent. All of the sudden, people who would have been considered `` geniuses'' back in the 2100's begin to drop off the earth like flies.
If you were to compare me to the `` average'' IQ of 100 back when my story first started, I would score around the 310 mark. My brother, who I mentioned before, was born with a mental handicap that did not allow him to process information as quickly as the rest of the population. If you were to have given him that same IQ test, he would have scored somewhere in the 160 area ( roughly the same as Albert Einstein ).
Now, with a global population of only around 1.2 Billion people, we have learned that in order to stay alive we must constantly be learning and more importantly, *retaining* new knowledge. This is why my profession is such a good one. This is why I live wanting for nothing. This is why I have the personal number for the phone of the President of the GPI. I choose and train those that have what it takes to become the next generation of Tutors. Those that will play a massive role in the propagation of our species. People learn at schools still, but people need to know *how* to learn, and that is where I come in.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Treasure Island Edition
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Bit late to this party but have a few segments of my NaNoWriMo No.
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Outside there was a commotion brewing. Angus Riddlemark could feel it in his bones. That was where he felt most things these days, his bones. They were mostly the ones that he had been born with, although his right arm proved to be a noticeable exception to this rule. Those bones were buried beneath sinewy muscle and tough, green skin.
For an exceptionally short period of time Angus had n't owned a right arm at all. For the first eighteen years of his life he had been entirely dwarven. Then, during the Irontip Mountain Wars, he had the misfortune of coming across Grabchuk Speerthrower. Grabchuk carried a large axe with both hands - a constant source of disappointment to his father who worried what would become of his clan's name should anyone find out - and wielded it with no skill at all. When he took Angus' arm it had been with a swing aimed for the neck.
Moments later Angus melted a lot of Grabchuk without asking the Orc's name. When the arcane fire subsided only the right arm, a head and some feet were left. For reasons best known to Angus he chose the Orc's arm as a replacement for his own. When asked he would roll out the same few excuses each time - a trophy, fearsome bragging rights, scientific curiosity, good party story, improved jar-opening potency - but in the dark of night he would wonder if he had taken it by accident. After all he was in the middle of a war and suffering from a severe case of blood loss. In the thin atmosphere of a mountain's peak he had to concede it was possible he'd picked up the wrong arm.
Most of the bones in his body were his own and those were the ones telling him that something bad was about to happen. The other bones - Grabchuk's bones - did n't tell him anything. They resented him.
He pushed his chair back and waddled to the window. A few years ago a job opening in Stillcreek had come up and Angus had been the only real choice for the job. A little bit of magic, an unswerving sense of right and wrong when money was n't involved and an intimidating figure were all he needed to become Sheriff. That came with the perk of owning a small home that overlooked the town square, but the drawback of owning small home that overlooked the town square.
On the one hand good daytime views and a short commute to work. On the other hand, awful nighttime views and a short commute to work.
Much like Grabchuk's axe the situation was double-edged.
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What can be said about the Hot Place?
Its name conveys very little about it; simply that it is a place and it is hot. That the temperature features in its name is unusual and the source of much debate in religious circles.
Like most things people care about no one can quite agree on anything about it, most of all the name. Because no one has ever been, at least no one who has ever come back, it seems absurd to call it something like Eastwood By The Sea. That brings with it a number of assumptions the priesthoods just are n't prepared to make.
A few made up words have been used at onetime or another but have all fallen out of favour. Hek, Pandemon, Sufferton and more have all found acceptance with some and disdain from most.
In recent years a trend has emerged to give it vaguely descriptive names. The Low Place. The Bad Place. The Hot Place. But because all of these terms are relative there's a great deal of discussion over which of these adjectives are undesirable most settle, simply, for The Place You Do n't Want To Go and resign themselves to the fact that it may be confused for the office.
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You 're a demon who 's primary target is edgy teens willing to ironically sell their souls [ wp ]
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Naturally, they all had hair that either draped down over their eyes to the point they couldn ’ t see or it was spiked up with so much gel and hair spray into a mohawk that if one were to fall onto it they could be disemboweled. It was always the same with these kids. Rebel a little, smoke a little, dress in dark colors and attach a wallet to a chain in case anyone wanted to steal the half a cigarette, expired condom, and spare change they had. Always the same schtick every time I showed up.
I never got to work with proper kids. Kids with a real future. Kids who were trying to do something meaningful with their lives. No, none of that for poor old Balthazar. Stuck working the scum market, skaters who couldn ’ t skate. Delinquents whose only real crime was finding every way possible to confuse or disappoint their parents for a few years before they sold out and got that job at Starbucks or WalMart.
Castiel got to work with good kids. Kids that were willing to do anything just to get an A on a test or pass the SAT with good marks. The shit you could get out of those kids, it was limitless. They would owe you the world. But me? No such luck. A dumbass a week selling her soul for a new shade of lipstick that was just darker than the last. Spent the last of her money on shitty weed. But she needed this lipstick. If it wasn ’ t her, it was the guys, the stoner who knew his ska band was about to blow, just needed that one gig. So I ’ d get it for him, and in exchange I would get his everlasting soul. A real shit trade for both of us.
I had to sit through those shows.
Every.
Fucking.
One.
Had to make sure they got to play, sometimes the managers would get impatient after half the band didn ’ t show up on time or the lead guitarist got too drunk when his fake ID actually worked. So I ’ d have to sit there and watch and listen and understand that even demons can have their own hell. Ska bands. My hell.
Once I showed up to a call and it was this innocent little girl, hair dyed all black, eyes done up with more darkness than a football player, ripped tights with fake smears of blood across them. I showed up and she wanted to sell her soul to get new friends. She was tired of being so counterculture. That might have been the highlight of my career. I should have had a plaque made with her picture on it so I could hang it on my wall at home and remember the one good time.
Thought I would get a promotion after that, but of course the big man downstairs didn ’ t care. Why promote anyone when the threat of everlasting torture and pain looms large over you? He moves people around whenever he wants to, and only because he wants to. Not out of merit. Castiel makes that big fuck laugh, and so Castiel gets to screw over good kids. I stick to myself, and so I get to watch goths and emos and skaters ironically sell out their souls every damn day just to hit a sweet trick or play at a shitty venue.
And it ’ s probably because of all this that I was not surprised when I showed up in the basement of Cameron Green, the room alit in a deep red light that hid their acne and snaggletooths, and saw six teenagers with dark hair cascading down over their eyes.
I was not ready for them to knock me out.
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[ WP ] You are a ghost following your zombie body at the start of a zombie apocalypse .
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`` No, no, no, no, nooo! We are VEGETARIAN!''
Great, I'm screaming at myself. Allow me to clarify. I'm a spirit. Totally non-corporeal. And, right now, I'm yelling at my traitorous, undead, meat-eating corpse.
I was running from a hoard, and I slipped. I've always been a freakin' clutz, and there went my only chance of getting away. I remember falling, and then this.
I used to have an organic garden. I used to have my bees. Now, I tail my zomb-me around, watching it eat human flesh. I tried to leave it. It's like I'm tethered. I get about 25 feet away from the body, and I get dragged along where-ever it goes.
So now I spend my time -- all of it -- following myself around, viewing all of my ideals, my integrity, being stripped from my dead, decaying body, as quickly as my skin sloughs off. Sounds like fun, right?
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[ WP ] Do I know you ?
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**for reference, I'll link [ this story ] ** ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1nlw9e/wpprove_the_saying_alcohol_because_no_good_story/ccjufl9 ).
**I'm actually a cook in real life, so this works out pretty well. I will note that I significantly changed the voice of the passage due to the new narrator. **
Ok, so I was working the lunch shift on Sunday, and some dude in a white linen suit comes strolling into the restaraunt, munching on some dinner roll. Why he walked *into* a restaraunt already eating, i do n't even know. Dude was creepy. Anyway, he sits down and calls the waitress over, because they're all pressed up against the windows trying to see what the hell is going on down the block and what the commotion is. He manages to tear her away, and I ca n't tell what he's trying to order, but he's super fucking serious about it.
I get the ticket, and its a fucking salad. That's it. Dude is staring at me the whole time, too. He's watching me as I make this fucking salad, like he does n't believe I'm gon na do it right. Like I'm some sort of hack, ca n't even make a fucking salad.
So I make him his salad. And I make it well. The lettuce is crisp, I whip up a fresh dressing and pour it lightly over. There's no way he can complain about this thing.
So he gets the salad, and he takes a bite. Instant relief. He and I both look at each other, he smiles, and I just nod. Dude knows I killed it.
So he comes up to me after he's pretty much licked his plate clean, and wants to shake my hand. I got no problem with it. I do, and notice something kinda weird; he's got blood on his cuff. This guy's obviously meticulous, you'd think he'd take better care of his stuff.
Now I've had a few nosebleeds as a kid, so I know a few tricks about getting blood out of things. I invite him into the kitchen real quick, and offer to get that blood out for him. He happily agrees.
As I wash out the blood from his cuff, he thanks me for the salad. I tell him it's no problem; anyone can make a salad.
`` You'd be surprised.'' he says.
`` Tell you what,'' I say, laughing. `` If I ever fuck up a salad, do me a favor and cut my throat.''
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[ WP ] People who die before their time have a 'grace ' period of 27 minutes before their bodies become useless ...
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“ Ah Shi…t-aaaki mushrooms. ” I didn ’ t why I had corrected myself. It wasn ’ t as if me suddenly not swearing was going to get me into heaven. Still, the angel guy had visited so someone from Beyond was watching us. Somewhere in my head, a clock was ticking down in milliseconds. I didn ’ t really like that. Made everything feel too panicky. 24.49.69. Farrr-ccias. There was still so much to do, my kids, Gavin, Stacey, Tim; I hadn ’ t told them I ’ ve loved them enough, and my wife. Ah! My wife. Poor Belinda, I don ’ t really remember how she got dragged into this mess, but here we were. I turn my head to survey my surroundings and realise that Vic is still there with his gun pointed at Bel. She ’ s sobbing and hiccupping and repeatedly pleading for her life. “ I ’ m sorry Bel. ” The words tumble out but she doesn ’ t seem to notice them. Vic on the other hand, momentarily stopped his ranting to flick his eyes over in my direction. I think I saw doubt.
Man I wish I could help her! I hate seeing her like that. So helpless and upset and scared. I clench my hand so hard, I ’ ve dug my nails into my palm. “ Ow! ” Oh. I ’ m such an idiot. The answer was so obvious. I prop myself up and try to mimic that creepy head-turny thing that happens in movies. Bel is screaming now and I hear Spanish being babbled. I get up and make my way to Vic. I ’ m so glad he has no henchmen. He ’ s fallen over in shock, but somehow manages to keep shooting. I ’ m slowly making my way towards him, these legs don ’ t work so well with holes in them. I turn my head to Bel and try to tell her to run, but it comes comes out as a gurgle, guess Vic must have got my neck. I keep trying to catch Vic, but these God damgosh darn legs are so slow! Still, I think I have sufficiently freaked Vic out because he ’ s fumbling with the doorknob.
He ’ s gone. Bel ’ s gone quiet, possibly fainted. I ’ m too tired to go over to her. I wrote a message to the cops and my kids, but I don ’ t know how well they can read the thing, holding a pen was too hard, so it ’ s written in blood. Hopefully the kids don ’ t get too freaked out. I close my eyes and watch the countdown fall into the zeros and my heart begins to race as it comes closer and closer to 00.00.00.
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[ WP ] No Longer Human
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I simply could not do it. The ground, so pristine & virginal. The grass, greener than ever seen. It was so tempting, and so perfect; born for destruction.
I could so easily put the blanket down here; do n't I have a right to picnic where I please? Do n't I have a right to lay down and enjoy the perfect grass, the blue sky and a lazy Sunday afternoon?
I had promised him that I would cook for the picnic, and that we would sit on that spot that we pointed to every time we drove home from work. Outside the car window the green hills looked like a promise, one of freedom, and love, and - best promise of all - cellphone left at home.
And yet, there we were, standing at the exact spot pointed at so many times, and I could not for the life of me put the blanket down.
I could n't ruin the grass. I could n't destroy it.
I had failed to be human.
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[ WP ] `` Two roads diverged in a wood , and I— I took the one less traveled by , And that has made all the difference . '' Continue .
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Two roads diverged in a wood
And I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
The trees were brighter
The yellows filling the blue sky
And the greens lining the brown of the bark
Red; it's boldness creating a new view
There were no ambushes
For this was the road where I was safe
A stream resting beside my path
Giving me a drink when I need it most
The berries were bright
And all the bushes full
I survived with little trouble
Because of this wood
Though, I know
If I had taken the other
I would surely be dead
For everything is stripped bare
For every step was a new adventure
A new sight to see
To stand tall in my poweress
And not worry about tomorrow
I was free
Until I reached a diverge in the joyous filled wood
I was faced with another decision
Another life changing road
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I-
I took the one less traveled by
For that is always the difference
***
https: //thearcherswriting.wordpress.com/
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[ WP ] After a long journey through mountains and valleys , slaying beasts and villains , the heroes lay down their swords and gather around a table , order some booze and start playing their favourite game : Ties & Offices
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Hiraeth kicks off his muddy boots and places his putrid smelling feet on the corner of the table.
*Hurry up you lot, my beard's going grey! * he exclaims impatiently.
*Your beard's been grey for months! It'll only take a second* replied Kemley, cheekily. After a few moments Kemley and Sigurd emerge through the candlelit doorway in their role-playing attire.
*Ha! What is that you're wearing? * says a surprised Hiraeth.
*This is what I imagine they're wearing in the game. A long piece of coloured fabric hanging from the neck, white shirt, a dark jacket and trousers* they reply. *Well you look ridiculous. Now can we get to the game! I'm not wasting anymore ale waiting for you two simpletons*. Satisfied, Kemley and Sigurd sit at the table. *Lets choose our characters! *
*Ooh, I wan na be Derek the Accountant. His job security is astounding! * Says Sigurd.
*But you were Derek last time! * replies a disappointed Hiraeth.
*It's in the rules Hiraeth. Sigurd picks first* says the just and fair Office Manager Kemley.
*Curse you both! Alright, I pick Jane the Secretary. * An unusual choice, met with quizzical looks.
*Jane the Secretary?! * they reply.
*Well if I ca n't impress the Office Manager with my work ethic I'm going to need a big pair of tits! * Typical Hiraeth.
*Okay, we're all set! Hiraeth goes first. * Kemley slides over the twenty-sided eraser.
*I undo the top button of my blouse! *
Hiraeth holds the eraser in his palm for a good moment, savouring the first roll of the game before he releases, it's a six.
After numerous hours of ( depending on who you ask ) fun, the game is now nearing the end. The three heroes struggle to form coherent sentences as their belly full of ale begins affecting their speech, and all that remains is a single roll from Hiraeth.
*Alllright laddy! Give mee a juicy twelve... * As he builds up his roll, the eraser slips out of his hand and onto the floor. Each of them scramble to find it and reveal the new Assistant Manager. Kemley spots it under his seat...
*It's a twenty! You successfully blackmail the Office Manager with his explicit love-letters, and have now been promoted to Assistant Regional Manager! Thank you for playing, I've been your Office Manager. May your career be long and fulfilling! *
Exhausted ( and drunk ), the heroes retire to their chambers to rest up for tomorrows journey. Kemley removes his outfit that had been a lightning rod for insults and slightly-hurtful banter all evening, Hiraeth crashes mere inches away from his bed with his head resting comfortably on his muddy boots, and Sigurd ( consumed by jealousy ) begins to plot his eight point plan to usurp the position of Office Manager.
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/r/SandfordStories
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[ WP ] When People want someone dead , they hire the best . When they ca n't afford them , they hire you . You are the Budget Assassin .
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I awoke around noon with a full bladder. The last thing I wanted to do was leave my bed. I rolled over to the other side of the bed and closed my eyes, but I knew it was useless; I had to get up. Stumbling to the bathroom, I knocked my knee on the computer chair in the middle of my bedroom floor and grumbled. Mornings sucked.
After I pissed and washed my hands, I returned to my bedroom. I looked at my phone and contemplated checking it. I thought again and then flopped back onto the bed. I had been depressed and without work for months and today did n't feel like the day that I would turn things around. Often, I went to sleep with plans of self-improvement for the following day - surely, the next day would be my time to shine. I'd exercise, eat something healthy, meditate, look for a real job, and maybe make something of myself. Unfortunately for me, my motivation loved playing hooky in the mornings. I fell asleep and dreamt of my ex, a petite Asian law student named Dara who no longer returned my calls.
Two hours later I opened my eyes again. With a groan, I reached over and picked up my phone. One message, a text from an unknown number. Opening it, I read, `` Need your service. Can you help?'' My first emotion was n't happiness or enthusiasm, but dread. As sad and lazy as I was, I knew I had to accept the job - especially since rent was due. I texted back, `` Yes. Meet at McDonald's on Riverside in 15min.'' My phone buzzed within seconds. It was a message confirming the meet. I pulled on some pants and a shirt and headed out the door.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The meet was standard. Another nervous client - they were all nervous. He needed his wife taken care of. She was a mid-forties housewife named Allie. Allie was divorcing the poor sap and she'd surely take most of his money. She had checked his phone one night when he slept. The guy was n't careful - they never are - and Allie found an ongoing text thread with the guy's secretary that was long and explicit enough to make a romance novel out of. The guy was screwed and he was desperate.
`` Alright, let me see her,'' I said to the guy sitting across from me. I never name my clients, but I can tell you he was old and sloppy; I was scared to see what his wife looked like. He opened his phone and scrolled through a few pictures. I was pleasantly surprised. Allie was a curvy Latina much younger than my client. She was smiling in every picture I saw. Her eyes showed real happiness, too; not the fake stuff you see in most pictures these days. My policy is to not to ask questions, but I could n't help myself.
`` She's gorgeous. Why'd you do it?''
`` Come on man, you know how it is. Even when they're beautiful, it only lasts a few years. Then, something changes and they're still beautiful, but not for you. I do n't know, maybe it's my fault. I tried to pay attention to her, tried to give her everything she needed, but somewhere along the way it just was n't the same anymore. That smile I see you looking at, I have n't seen that smile in five years. Maybe you'll get to see it.''
Sadly, I could relate to the pathetic bastard. His story reminded me of most of my own love-life - before Dara, anyway. It was different with her. There had been no mysterious loss of passion. Dara dumped my ass and I deserved it. I still reached out to her but it was with a sad futility. I knew she'd never respond. I just hoped she was OK - I was ashamed but if I had ruined her life, too, I'd never forgive myself.
`` OK, I assume you already know my fee.''
`` Yeah. Half now and half later?''
`` That's right,'' I said. The unkempt man opposite me slid over an envelope and I opened it. It was n't much, but it it would cover my rent.
`` You sure you can do it?''
`` Well, it's not an exact science, as you should know. But, she's vulnerable so I'm confident I'll have access to her. And given at least a few tries, I should be successful. Do you have the information I need?''
`` It's in the envelope.''
`` I'll contact you soon,'' I said as I stood. The client reached to shake my hand. I looked at it and then looked back at him.
`` It's nothing personal,'' I said. `` I'm just not proud of this. My life sucks and this is what I do, but shaking hands just seems wrong.''
`` Fine. Just get it done.''
`` Right,'' I said. I walked out the door and back to my apartment, studying the sheet of paper that told me Allie's usual activities - her wheres and whens.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Bang! My shopping cart collided with Allie's in the middle of the fruits section. I was so clumsy sometimes. I assumed an air of embarrassment and looked up to meet her gaze. `` Sorry,'' I said.
`` It's OK,'' Allie said, and then began to move away.
`` Wow, I do n't mean to bother you but you're really beautiful.''
`` Thank you,'' Allie said. She had stopped moving away from me. My confidence grew. I studied the items in her cart. It was full of fruits and vegetables.
`` You must eat really healthy,'' I said. `` Or if you're like me, this is just a New Year's Revolution-type attempt and those will all be rotting in the bottom drawer of your refrigerator in a week.''
Allie laughed. `` No, I've been really good. My diet and exercise has been perfect lately, ever since-'' Allie stopped mid-sentence and looked down.
`` Ever since what?''
`` Oh never mind.''
`` OK, sorry,'' I said, laughing. `` I'm being way too nosy for a guy who just assaulted you in the grocery store. I looked into Allie's eyes and saw the smile I had hoped to see - the one from the pictures. `` Listen, I got ta go, but let's have a drink sometime. Let me get your number.''
`` Sure,'' Allie said. She gave me her number.
`` It was so nice to meet you. I'll call you soon.''
`` You, too,'' Allie said. We parted ways smiling. I pushed my cart to the next aisle over, abandoned it there, and walked out of the grocery store.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Do you have a condom?'' Allie asked. She had been tougher than I'd anticipated. Although we agreed upon drinks previously, Allie wanted wanted to meet for coffee first. That coffee date was pretty standard and she agreed to do drinks that following weekend. After some flirting and some beer, we wound up at my apartment.
`` Yes,'' I said, opening my desk drawer and pulling out a small foil packet. I ripped it open and put the condom on.
The sex was great. She moved with the intensity that only scorned women can muster. After we finished, she got up to use my bathroom. I heard the faucet run and then Allie shouted, `` Hey what the fuck!''
`` What?''
`` What the fuck!!!''
`` Come out, I ca n't hear you when you're in there.'' The door swung open and hit the wall. Allie in the open door frame, still naked.
`` You said you had a condom. Why is there cum in me?''
I looked down at my genitals for the first time since I had rolled off of Allie and feigned surprise. `` Oh shit! It broke. I'm so sorry.''
Allie left soon after. She believed me, but was still mad. I hoped I had n't ruined my chance. It was n't an exact science.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The smell of the fries always made me queasy. I knew most people loved McDonald's fries but they had never done anything for me. The only item I'd ever found edible was the Filet-O-Fish. I walked through the lobby and sat down across from the client. It had been several months since we last met.
`` The job's done.''
`` Are you sure? I need proof.''
I took out my phone and showed him the text thread between Allie and I. We had met and hooked up a few more times before losing contact for a few weeks. Then I sent the text I never got used to sending. `` Hey, so sorry to have to tell you this, but I just got tested and I'm HIV positive. You need to get tested.''
Allie responded with panic and anger. A few days after, her texts were venomous and she promised legal action. It was time to move and get a new ID again. But first, I had to collect the rest of my payment.
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[ WP ] You are cursed . The only way you can survive is to get somebody different , every 24 hours , to meaningfully say to you , `` I love you '' .
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He took me by surprise that Mr Grim Reaper did. I was just strolling by on what I thought was a regular summer's night. Then a burst of smoke apprared before me and the fabled figure emerged. I always thought Death would wear a hooded cloak and mount a horse or at least weild a scythe. But he was n't so flash this fella. He wore a green cagoule, wellies and black bucket hat. I thought to myself that there was something off about this fella.
`` I know I'm not what you expected but I did n't want to scare you'' he said
`` Yeah alright mate'' I replied as I started to walk past him `` catch you around yeah?''
`` Not too fast Mark'' he said as his cold hand stopped me in my tracks. Through three layers of a coat, hoodie and jumper, his hand seemed to sap out warmth from my chest.
I looked up at him and replied with `` Did n't want to scare me right?'' As I took a step back. `` Who are you? How do you know my name?''
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. `` I'm death. Nice to meet you''
I chuckled. `` So this is it yeah? I'm done for? I personally would've chosen some place better than drug alley to drop dead in but hey I ca n't complain''
`` Hold on Mark. It's not gon na be that simple''
`` Why?''
`` There are conditions. Conditions of your death''
`` And you ca n't kill me right now then?''
`` Nope. You have 24 hours to live before I meet you again but if someone says the words'I love you' to you meaningfully then the timer resets''
`` Sounds a bit contrived do n't you think?''
`` Imagine having my job for thousands of years; you get bored after a while''
And then poof. Another burst of smoke and he was gone.
`` Catch you around yeah?'' I said to the greying air in front of me.
I had a massive sense of relief after meeting Death. Now I do n't have to sort out any big plans or worry about how my actions will affect my family I thought to myself. It's gon na be a natural occurance anyway. Someday within the next 24 hours I'm gon na die and people wo n't suspect suicide because it would n't be. I would've been taken away by the Mr Grim Reaper himself. This was any suicidal kid's dream. All the guilt and feelings of selfishness went straight out of the window for me. That night I had the most relaxing sleeps in months. And it had lasted a good 10 hours.
It was the morning after and I could n't really spend my last half a day hours crazy to enjoy myself because first off I was skint and secondly well... I had n't been able to enjoy myself a long time before then. Sure I had sometimes spent some nights at my mates' houses to play video games but only because they dragged me into it. I never played. Just watched. I only laughed and smiled when everyone else was. I tried my best to be normal those nights but Tim would always know my fake smiles from my real ones. He'd always smile in reply and give me a pat on the back as if he was happy I was putting in an effort.
`` Shit! Tim.'' I said to myself just as I was pouring my cereal. Even if it was n't suicide I knew what he would've been like. I had n't seen him in weeks so he would've been heartbroken. That's what he was like. I was n't anything special. He just had a big heart I thought to myself. He was the most caring friend I had ever known
I got to his house and saw him through his window. So I banged on the glass.
`` Oi wanker let me in''
`` It's open, you piece of cheese''
Classic Tim. I had been ignoring his messages for weeks but he acted as if I had n't done anything wrong at all. So I went in and we played table tennis, put on some of his terrible records and reminisced about secondary school. If I was going to die in less than 24 hours I did n't mind spending some of it with him. After about a half hour of table tennis we just sat down on his couch and chilled.
`` Have you ever thought about death?'' I said while staring at the ceiling.
`` Geez Mark, we're only 17. We've still got uni, work and girlfriends to look forward to''
`` When are we ever going to get girlfriends?''
`` one of these days it's going to happen for us'' he smiled. `` I suppose I do n't want to make too much of a fuss about it to be honest. The funeral I mean. I do n't want people crying or anything. I just want you guys to play some good tunes and tell stories of how cool I was''
`` None of us are good enough writers to make people believe you're cool''
`` What about you then?''
`` Just make sure you do n't play any of this crap'' I said while gesturing to his turntable.
`` I still do n't know how you could not like Simon and Garfunkle''
He gave me a punch, the conversation changed to something I do n't remember and the hours flew by. I looked at my watch and realised I only had an hour left. I did n't want to die in front of him so I decided leave.
I made my way back to my house to watch some television. I've forgotten what it was. It was probably one of those superhero flicks. About halfway through I realised that I only had 10 minutes of life left. I went upstairs and heard my dad snoring so I came in and kissed him on the forehead. Into my room I went. I sat down and waited for him to arrive. Then in the silence I got a text alert. It was from Tim. It read:
`` thanks for today. Glad to see you happy again. I love you''
*I love you*
Suddenly I felt a wave of emotion rush through me. It was a warm, cosy feeling. There was n't anything too big or grand to say about it. My friend just loved me and I loved him too. That was the moment I realised that I did n't want to die. There was so much more that I could've been doing. My heart was beating and my breathing haad gotten short and fast. Then there he was. Cagoule and all.
`` Hello Mark'' he said with a grin
`` No please you ca n't. He said he loved me. Please do n't do this. I want to live'' I grabbed him by his frosty shoulders `` I do n't want to do this to him or my dad. I want to keep livinging. I want to make something of my life. I want to be useful. I finally just want to live!''
`` Alright hush now. You do n't want to wake your dad up'' he took my hands off of him `` my job here is done now anyway''
I looked at him puzzled.
`` There was no curse Mark. I just needed to give you a little bit of motivation to not do my job for me too early''
`` You were never going to take me''
`` I will. Eventually. But my boss said that you were special to him and did n't want to lose you''
`` I do n't understand''
`` You dont need to. All that you need to understand is that you are loved. Even when you do n't think your family or friends do ( they do though ) know that my boss loves you enough that he sent me down here to knock some sense into you. He's not a distant guy. Trust that He wo n't ever leave you. He's like a best friend times a million and he wants you to know Him. So I suggest you get on with life now Mark''
Then he left.
So ladies and gentlemen, obviously the parts with Death were n't real. But the rest was. I was planning on killing myself but the day I had planned to, Tim sent me back and I had my faith in God renewed. I just thought you might like a bit of drama to it. Anyway please do n't let any of this take away from the fact that Tim was my best friend and without him I would've been dead in the dirt fifty years ago. Well that's enough of me talking. Play that damn Simon and Garfunkle song already.
Edit: I went a bit off from the original WP sorry I've been watching it's a wonderful life recently
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[ WP ] You find something in a book . It turns your world upside down .
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Larry was never one to do what a sign told him. He would drive over the speed limit, turn left in the right turn only lane, and go at stop signs. He did n't even take a number at the DMV when they took his license away. It was n't because he was a rebel or anything, he just did n't like signs. This also made him hate books. They were like one long sign. And on one fateful day this would lead Larry to change the world.
On this day Larry was doing some shopping at his local mall, when he noticed a new store. It was a book store. He had to go in, had to stare down these new books on his turf. They needed to know who was boss. He stormed and started glaring at each and every book. The store clerk of indeterminate gender glanced up from its own book as Larry made a passing glare at it, and seeing nothing of interest beyond this man, went back to reading.
Larry had almost finished when he came across a book called “ Earth ”. He opened this book and suspended in it hollowed out pages was a beautiful globe. This globe was so life like, it was like staring at the earth itself. There were even clouds that drifted across its surface. All this was lost on Larry. All he could see were big letters at the top that read “ do not flip ”.
How dare a book try to tell him what to do! In defiance of this literature, he reached a chubby hand into the book, took the globe in a firm grip and started to turn it over. It was more difficult than he thought. His knuckles whitened as he strained his arm and the globe began to turn slowly. The clerk who had been quietly reading had raised its head to watch this now mildly interesting man ’ s struggle. Larry ’ s mustache bristled, his eyes widened and his face turned red from both strain and anger. He grunted and growled as the globe continued to slowly turn. And finally with a “ click ” the globe had been flipped upside down. Larry closed the book and with his anger abated placed it back on the shelf he calmly walked out of the store, the clerk ’ s eye following him as he left.
That night, all the world stood in awe as a new night sky rose with the setting sun. south was now north and north was now south and the world spun through space upside down. That is all but two people marveled at this. Larry lay sleeping happily, dreaming about his recent victory for mankind over the scourge that is literature. The other was the clerk. It had just finished its book. It made its way across the floor of its beloved shop to place it back in its spot. And there, on its cover, staring blankly out over the shop was a picture of Larry. Sitting quietly under the title “ the Man Who flipped the World ”.
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[ WP ] Due to a loophole in the system , people can escape hell and get to heaven after death . You go to hell and all you see is Satan , just sitting there playing the harmonica . Everyone left him and now he 's all alone .
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There were no screams when I entered Hell. I was shocked, having been raised in a Christian family, but there were no sounds of people being tortured, no crackling of the insane demons who resided in the pits of Hell.
The only sound I was the sound of a harmonica, playing a very blues-esc tune. I did what was natural to a person in an unfamiliar landscape- I followed the sound.
It walked for what felt like hours searching for the source of the music. Through lakes of fire and fields of brimstone I traveled before finally seeing who- or what- was playing the harmonica. I thought I was prepared for anything.
I was not prepared to see Satan, the King of Babylon himself, playing the harmonica whilst looking miserable.
He had noticed me almost immediately, and stopped playing.
`` Why are you still here?'' He had asked, his voice filled with sadness and.. something else. Was it anger? Hatred? I could n't tell.
`` What do you mean? This is Hell, where the sinners go for eternal damnation. I ca n't leave,'' I replied, staring at him. I quickly jumped back when I realized that I was having a civil conversation with the Evil One.
Satan sighed, and the harmonica burned to a crisp, as though it were made out of paper. `` You've noticed it, have n't you? The lack of screaming, the terrifying silence, the *emptyness*. People- and demons- have been leaving here, escaping their eternal punishment, all due to Him offering them salvation, even after thousands of years of sins and punishment. He updated his rules, just because of His son's return to Earth,'' he pauses, looking out over the fields formerly filled with scores of tortured souls.
`` So you are saying that I am free to go to Heaven, despite having committed the horrid crimes that I have?''
He nods, looking at me. `` You are n't even supposed to be in here for that. What you did was self defense. The suicide afterwards is what sent you here, but yes, mortal. You may leave. All you must do is pray towards Him. It will burn, but you will be immortalized in Heaven. No leave- I will be practicing my harmonica,'' at this point, he sounded downright miserable.
I felt bad for the devil. I pitied Lucifer, and I should n't. I should fear him, but he sounds so *broken*. Millennia of watching over the worst people that the Earth has known, undone due to a change of God's Terms of Service. I made a decision that would define me for eternity.
`` I have a question for you, Abaddon,''
He looks at me, surprised at either being addressed directly by a mortal, or being called by his Hebrew name.
`` You play harmonica, but, according to an old bluegrass song, you played the fiddle. Is that true?''
He laughed, grinning. `` Well, seems like that old contest with Johnny is famous after all. I understand that you played the fiddle when you were among the mortal plane?''
I nodded. `` You could probably teach me a few things though. The question is, will you?''
`` Of course I will. Beware though- this training will put you through Hell,'' he laughed, crafting two violins out of the fire surrounding us.
`` It's a good thing that I'm already there then, right?''
And then we played.
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[ WP ] There are exactly 7 billion people on the planet . Medicine has advanced to the point where the only way to die is through suicide . For the first time in centuries , someone is considering suicide so that another person may be born .
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I stared into the barrel of my grandfather's old rifle, my shaky finger resting against the trigger.
*Just one pull. One squeeze and everything ends. *
I never particularly hated my life. It was quite standard, as far as lives in the modern era went. I got married young, had kids, traveled the world. I did n't really like my job, but who did? I was one of the lucky 7 billion elected to continue living after Project Lazarus launched in 2056. My wife and kids were n't so lucky -- I had to watch them die over the years.
The governments made all of us fertile, so that no new child could be born. The world was at its `` peak'', they said. No one had died in over two hundred years.
But if there became a deficit -- if someone were to die -- they would allow one birth.
One new life.
You know, it's hard to pretend that you're not suicidal, especially with mandatory doctor visits once a week. All they have to do is give you a pill, and those nasty suicidal thoughts drift away. I had to read up on psychology, psychiatry, and everything in between to know *just* what to say in my visits.
And now, here I was, looking down into the barrel of death. I suppose some part of me was scared. Who would n't be? After all, not one of 7 billion people had even *thought* of doing this in two centuries.
*Okay. Enough stalling. Here goes nothing. *
My mind was surprisingly peaceful. I took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. Just a click and a puff of smoke.
Suddenly, my front door came crashing down, falling to the floor in several pieces. At the threshold stood three burly policeman, one of them holding a syringe. `` You were really going to do it, were n't you?'' One of them said, a look of shock on his face.
`` The doctors told us to disable your gun, just in case,'' another one said. `` But none of us... actually believed you'd go through with it.''
The man holding the syringe stepped forward. `` I suppose you know we have to give you this now.''
`` No,'' I begged, throwing the gun to the floor and running towards the opposite end of the room. `` Please, no,'' I repeated, my back leaning against the wall. `` I want to die. Please, please... ``
But I could do nothing to stop the large man from sticking me with his syringe. I could only watch in horror as the clear substance soaked through my skin and ran up my veins...
-- -- -- --
The next thing I remembered was lying in my bed, the faint rays of morning sunlight hitting my face through the window.
I smiled warmly. *Life is great, * I thought.
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[ TT ] You were once cryogentically frozen due to a deadly disorder . You 've now awaken in a seemingly Utopian future , but the doctors who saved your life demand a terrible repayment for saving your life .
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A white room. Hospital. A bed. A robot and a man.
`` Domine? Potesne me audire?''
`` What? Where am I?''
`` Et dicit senex anglicus. Da mihi interpres.''
The robot speaks. `` Translating. Traductio.''
`` Where am I?''
The doctor speaks through the robot. `` You're safe. In a hospital in what you would probably know to be France.''
`` What happened?''
`` You were the fifth to ever be cryogenically frozen.''
`` The fifth? The researchers said I was the first.''
`` The first human. I'd love to chat some more, but you seem to have a tumor in your leg. I'll remove it, but you have to go under anesthesia.''
`` No, do n't. I want to die.''
`` Excuse me?''
`` I underwent this experiment because I thought it would fail, that I would freeze to death.''
`` I'm not sure I under- Oh. Depression. I think you'll find the year 2079 to be quite a bit more comfortable than 2018. Besides, I'm not actually allowed to not give you treatment. If I did n't, I'd be punished for weeks. Besides, you're proof that the experiment worked.''
`` Just let-''
`` Translator terminated.'' The robot injects me with a brownish needle, and everything quickly fades to black.
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[ FF ] Turn one of history 's greatest heroes into a despicable human being in 250 Words .
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I knew what it meant. Hours spent staring at the formula deep into the night. It reminded me of the crystalline magic of a butterfly ’ s metamorphosis; a seemingly impossible sequence of natural events. I was always more comfortable with the eggs, larvae and pupa, early stage evolution if you will. Once hatched, I ’ d clip their wings, wishing to restrict the evolution of the species. Perhaps this formula was nature ’ s clip for man?
The formula unlocked a secret hidden for millennia, and yet it was real, as real as the metamorphosis of the butterfly. It would be wielded by mortal men, the men driven by my own dark desires, and they would release it like the butterfly. It would bring the end, the end to the butterfly, the end to man, the end to science and discovery and invention, but perhaps this is nature ’ s way? Perhaps this atomic discovery is simply a precursor to the unstoppable balancing forces of nature?
It should be of little consequence to me. I won ’ t likely see the bitter end. I ’ d fancy the title of murderer or butcher, but they are too blind to foresee that moniker. I ’ ll be lifted on the shoulders of giants. Galileo, Pascal, Newton, Voltaire, I ’ ll be a mind among gods. Every burning soul will have been sparked by the embers of my formula, and that is the humblest honor of them all.
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[ WP ] Everyone is born with a disability and an ability . A test is done at birth to determine these , if they are n't already apparent . You , well , you were born with crippled legs and have the power of super speed .
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Most people think I am in the chair because of the scars, more think the hunched over man pushing it. That he's my care taker. They are only half right... well, maybe two-thirds. The scars are most definitely from burns, and he does take care of me to the best of his abilities. A thousand bucks says you never, ever guess what caused them. You might not believe me, but then again, the stories on the news and all over the internet are getting stranger and stranger by the week. The little kid who can float off the ground, but only when he meditates. The old guy who caught the car that fell on him. Those sound like the origins of super heroes, comic book characters. In those worlds you do n't hear about those with mundane beginnings or worse the ones who do n't quite have all pieces of the super puzzle.
Take him for example. 6'2'' 225, and he's silently grunting while pushing my lightweight chair and 110lb frame up a slight incline. You would never know when he's had his pills and maybe a beer or two he can bench just under 600lbs ( although he swears it's 650 ). Of course he wo n't be able to walk for the next week and spend the next 48 hours living in a hot tub and munching Tylenol like pez. See he could easily have broken records in power lifting or strongman contests. Scientist are calling it nega-Hydroxypropanoic producers or Lack-Lacs for a short joke. It means these people do not produce lactic acids when their muscles do work, and in some cases it allows for some very strange effects. Like `` super strength'', endless stamina, and incredible speed.
What it does not equal is invulnerability, well not in us at the very least. While muscles are effected by this, your spine is not. As a kid he was average but quickly learned his strength did n't have a ceiling. At 13 he could military press almost 400lbs. Yet in his 30's threw his back out awkwardly twisting to grab some keys off a counter top. Herniated a couple of disks needed surgery and here he is. At least he got some use out of his before getting hurt.
Me on the other hand, I had issues or `` powers'' from birth. Inside the womb, I apparently turned so quickly and with such force I snapped my own spine. This was initially a blessing for my mom as she said I moved around so much and so fast from month 1 of her pregnancy, that she was practically living in hospitals. They had no idea what was going on. As I grew inside her I would move my arms so fast her stomach would vibrate, I've seen the home movies. Humor as you can tell is my defense mechanism. We used to say I probably would n't have made it to this age if I had my legs as a child. Can you imagine a toddler just learning to walk but with super speed? You have to smile or you end up crying. People always wonder the what if... but next to none have the actual answer. Me and him do.
The scars, I almost forgot... I had a seizure once. I shit you not, I was wearing corduroy pants, yes you may laugh. I was twitching so goddamn fast I started a fire. Honestly though, the EMT's said I was creating an audible hum so it probably was n't the pants... but you get the idea. On the bright side that was me in that YouTube video melting that keyboard typing at `` super'' speed. No special effects, but if it makes you feel better I could n't type for about 3 weeks after that and I think it gave me the beginnings of carpal tunnel...
So here we are Superman with a bad back. The Flash in a wheelchair. Perfectly imperfect, the definition of a cosmic joke. People wonder what they could have accomplished if their lives did n't take a turn, some waste their entirity of it wondering, dreaming, fantasizing.
Trust me it's far worse when you know and when you do, how can you not laugh?
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[ WP ] Some people are born with great souls and will achieve greatness in life . You are the insignificant sibling of one .
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Pa never had much faith in me. I do n't think Ma did either, but atleast she acted like she did. I was the oldest. I was supposed to be looked up to and given respect and freedom and..and... the words are n't coming to me again. Maybe this is why ma and pa do n't put their faith in me. John always knew what to say, even as children.
He still does. I'm a fly and he's a lion.
I think there's this word for people like him, he told me actually. See, even though he is younger than me he is smarter too.Character? Charming? That's close but not quite..Charismatic. That's the word. John is charismatic. I'm not. I'm not too smart either, if you ask anyone I know. Ma will tell you I'm perfectly alright but even then it's obvious she's lying. She flicks her eyes and fumbles her dangly earnings in her hand whenever she lies. It's a good thing to know, really.
One day, John was on his way to our house when his car broke down. He was just outside of town and had no way of fixing his car. It surprised me that 20 years into life and he actually had things left unlearned. I figured by the time he was 20 he would have known every fact, even useless ones like what an interrobang is and that the dot on an i is called a tittle, silly stuff like that. I guess if he majored in English those facts could be useful, but how should I know? Ma and Pa could n't afford to send me to college and there was no way I was ever able to earn a scholarship like John.
After he called in saying he would be a bit late from the time he planned to be here, a weird thing happened. Ma and Pa asked me to go see if I could help him. How could I ever help John? He knows more than me.
You've fixed plenty of cars, they insisted. It was true. I occasionally helped them fix their cars after it broke down for free and even helped Mr. Jackson down the street with his car when the mechanic was out of town.
So, into my old beat up sedan I got. I noticed the gas gauge was nearing'empty'. I had a few litres of gas in a can luckily so I filled my car up. I made it a point to stop and fill the gas can back up while I was on my way to him.
Hello, how can I help you? Just $ 20 on pump four, please. Will that be all? Yes, thank you.
If nothing else I was polite.
A few red lights later I finally found where my brother had broken down. I opened up the hood of his car, the car that was nicer than my house, and checked the oil. Easy enough. The whole time, John went on about how he had his car serviced every month and that he was getting a refund for this month and that he could n't believe his car still broke down after all the precautions he took and on and on. I wanted to ask him to shut up but I knew that would be rude and was always told to treat him right, with the respect I never seemed to get, so I did n't. After tinkering around under the hood for a bit I got in his car and turned the key. The car whined like a horse with asthma.
He was out of gas. I could n't believe it. He was just out if gas. I took the can out of the trunk of my car, the same red can I filled up earlier and emptied it into his tank. I told him to go ahead and call the tow truck driver and tell him not to come. He made it seem like I was just buzzing, an annoyance. The look in his eyes was great. We made it home in time for dinner.
I guess us flies do have our place, right along side the lions.
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[ WP ] A virus in which humans act as the carrier but only dogs contract it has swept through the dog population putting them on the edge of extinction . Write how the world has changed due to the loss of man 's best friend .
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There has not been a day when I do n't think about it. I was so careful not to get infected I obliged by every standard, took frequent tests and everyone I interacted with got tested as well.
When I woke up after the earthquake I was in a hospital bed and my eyes almost instinctively reached for my hand, there it was: the sign I was a carrier in the form of a red dot below my wrist.
I immediately asked where she was, where I could see her, even through a Hazmat suit, but to pet her once again before they took her. She was already gone. I was under for too long, I would never see her again.
She was the last house dog in the city: all the others were at the reservations. They'll breed her like crazy and she'll be alone, she'll miss me. I ca n't see her for the risk of infecting all the dogs in the reservation.
It's been ten years, I still miss her. Bioresistant breed have appeared, and every now and then I see a small Shiba with green-blue eyes, I wonder if they're hers.
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[ WP ] Her/His eyes had lost their gleam .
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His eyes had lost their gleam, “ Listen honey, you and I are going to stop this charade and get down to business. ” His rough, calloused hands grabbed her quivering frame and she let out a wimper, but he didn ’ t care, not now. His son was missing and this harlot was the last to have seen him.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “ What ’ re you talking about Sam?! What ’ re you doing? ” The crack of his fist meeting her cheek was deafening.
She picked herself up off the ground, wiped the blood from the edge of her mouth, smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, looked up at his dark figure and spat, “ That child is nothing but a bastard born from a filthy whore. Can ’ t you see Sam? I did it for us! ”
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[ WP ] An alien civilisation with a lifespan of hours
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`` Why have n't we discovered alien life in space!?'' Asks a rather stereotypical scientist-looking type of lady. She stands tall, shoulders drawn back, huffing up air in her chest, walking stiffly up and across the stage and acting rather important.
`` Surely they'd have contacted us by now yes? Or maybe they do n't like to bother? Hmm? Maybe us humans are n't all that interesting?'' She asks rhetorically, she's probably the thousandth person to ask such tired questions.
`` Or maybe we ca n't hear them?'' She says with sudden loudness, stopping, cupping a hand to her ear and looking round the audience rather awkwardly.
`` Or maybe we can!'' She says, strolling proudly over to a curtained object in the middle of the stage. She rips it off dramatically.
`` Well, what the heck is it?'' Asks a random audience member, a murmuring sweeps through the crowd. It looks like someone took a satellite, a telescope, a microscope, and mashed them altogether.
`` I'll tell you what it is!'' She says authoratatively, as though she were about to announce the coronation of a new king or queen. `` It's a ear-a-scope.''
Professor Farnsworth from Futuruma stands up in the audience. `` I already invented that!''
`` I said ear-a-scope, not smell-a-scope!'' She replies. `` Instead of wasting time on outer space, the ear-a-scope listens to inner space! Behold!'' She shouts.
A technician runs up and hooks the contraption up to the sound system, a brief screech hurts the ears of the dismayed audience, before settling down.
What were those whispers... whispers growing louder.
`` Please be patient,'' The scientist announces as she tweaks with the knobs and things, `` I'm calibrating it! Just wait a moment! Those are the sounds of molecules, now the sounds of atoms... now the sounds of particles... dark matter... theoretical particles... nope. Too far, going to have to dial it back...''
She takes quite some time, and the audience starts to murmur again, getting rather impatient. Some daring to heckle her, but she ignores them.
Suddenly, clear sound emerges. What is that noise?
`` Perfect!'' She announces, `` Turns out there are countless alien civilizations right under our noses, or in our noses, in the dust of the air! We've wasted all this time looking to outer space...''
Guttural grunts and the roars of monstrous reptiles exit the speakers and bounce around.
`` Well, we seem to have found a baby civilization! Listen to those cavemen, listen to the dinosaurs!''
People go *ooh. *
`` Time seems to pass much more quickly on the nano-microscopic scale.'' She says, as the grunts and roars quiet down.
Now we hear the sound of shovels, `` Agricultural revolution, seem to be coming out of the stone age now..'' She explains knowingly.
People go *ahh. *
A few minutes later the clash of swords, trumpets, and discontent peasants rattles throughout the chamber.
`` That'll be the medieval age.''
Lots of coughing now, then it gets pretty quiet.
`` Black Plague.''
And suddenly, it gets loud again. Now the sound of muskets and cannons, of horses and revolutionary music. And then... the sound of machines, of airplanes and rockets.
`` Well, seems they survived the industrial age just fine! They do n't always make it through you know, 50/50 chance of blowing themselves up and all.'' She informs the audience.
They go *wow. *
A few minutes later a cacophony of enormous and numerous explosions shakes the room violently.
Then silence. Complete silence.
`` What happened!?'' One of the hecklers demands. The audience murmurs again.
`` Well, seems they blew themselves up after all. What a shame. Want to listen to another one?''
The audience enthusiastically agrees.
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[ WP ] When you meow at your cat , and it meows back , its correcting your pronunciation
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You look at your new cat you got from the animal shelter next door. Her name is Eliza, a 23-month old Korat. You stare at her lovingly.
`` Meow,'' you say jokingly. Eliza looks up from her creamed chicken cat food and blinks, almost unamusedly. She flicks her tail around and looks back down at her food.
`` Prrow.'' She meows back. You smile and put your hands on your hips, bending down on your knees to get a better look at the feline.
`` Meeeeeow!'' you say more excitedly. Eliza ignores you and flicks her tail once again. She was obviously getting tired of your ridiculous antics.
`` Mow,'' she purrs, and finishes her food before jumping up on the couch next to the bowl. She stands there for a second before trotting out of the open door behind her. You only then realise what she was doing -
She was *correcting* you.
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[ WP ] You died 24 hours ago , but you 've been watching everything since . You do n't like what you see .
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It's Saturday, October 24th, 2015. The morning was no different than any other morning. With the smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the house, everybody rose from their sleep and the breakfast table started to fill up one person at a time. Places were already set, and drinks were being poured.
`` Mind_Fields, what would you like to drink?'' asked my mother.
No response.
`` He's not home yet,'' my sister squawked in attempt to throw me under the bus.
`` He's at his girlfriends house still,'' added my brother.
`` Oh well, more eggs for us. Besides, my little birthday boy needs to fill his stomach before he goes out today.''
`` Mom, I'm 21 now, please stop calling me your'little birthday boy','' my brother pleaded.
She replied quickly, `` Fine, fine, that's the last time. I just ca n't believe you're growing up so fast. It feels like yesterday we were dressing you up as Buzz Lightyear for your 3rd Halloween.''
`` Yeah, you were a dumb little toy that could n't even fly! What a lame costume,'' my sister cackled.
`` At least I was n't a stupid fairy like you,'' my brother snapped back.
My sister contested, `` Girls are supposed to be fairies! At least Tinkerbell can fly!''
`` Enough!'' My mom interrupted, `` today is your brothers day, I do n't want to hear arguing every single holiday. Let's please all get along today.''
`` Sorry,'' both of my siblings reply in unison.
Everyone was finishing up their breakfast and began their days. My sister started walking to school, my dad and brother left for work, and my mom went to finish setting up for my brothers birthday celebration.
After work my dad pulled up with my sister in tow. My brother arrived a short time later. My mom asked my dad and siblings if they had heard from me yet. They all said no, but they were in a rush to get to the party, so they all got ready and left. It was a beautiful venue, with enough space for 200 occupants. Guests started to arrive, music was playing, and alcohol was quickly being served. All the while, my phone had 0 missed calls and 0 messages. The party continued through the night, and guests finally started to leave around 3am. My brothers birthday night was fully of booze, friends and fun. Seeing the happiness made me envious of my living brother, because I was n't going to experience any more birthdays of my own. Inside I was happy though. I knew their smiles and laughter and carefree attitude would n't last long. Soon they'll learn that I had been dead for an entire day without them even trying to contact me, they will mourn with sorrow, and I'll be the one smiling.
Edit: first post, sorry if it sucks.
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[ WP ] You 're walking in the shady part of town , when you come across a lottery ticket . It 's the Jackpot ticket ! And , stained with blood ...
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“ Shit. ”
*Flop flop flop flop flop*.... Jarrod stopped the car. A flat tire.
“ God damnit. ”
It had been a long night. Jarrod had just left the office. It was 10PM and he was excited to be heading home to finally rest. The last couple weeks at work had been exhausting. He had been working late every night and this past night inparticular had been very taxing.
He let out an audible sigh and got out of his car to inspect the damage. His car leaned awkwardly to one side, clearly one tire had been completely depleted of it ’ s life force; Jarrod related well to the tire, he felt the same way. He was empathetic towards it, he felt sorry for it, he felt sorry for himself.
He glanced around.
“ Not a great place to get a flat, ” he thought to himself. He wasn ’ t all that familiar with this part of town. He drove through it to get to work and back again, but had never stopped in any part of it. It was the “ west side ” as the locals called it. It had a bit of a *reputation*.
He heard a distant siren and some banging; maybe some yelling. He didn ’ t want to be here for long. He went to the back of the car and popped the trunk. He pulled out his spare tire kit and set the items down near the flat.
He knelt down and was about to start lifting the car up when he noticed a piece of paper with a red stain on it. He didn ’ t think much of it until a light breeze flipped it around.
“ A lottery ticket, ” he thought bemused, “ Probably garbage... ” But Jarrod ’ s curiosity got the best of him.
He snatched it up and glanced at the numbers. “ 12-17-26-43-48 ”
Jarrod was taken aback. His birthday was December 17th and he was 43 years old.
“ A strange coincidence, ” he thought to himself. Jarrod didn ’ t believe in luck, or fate, or miracles. He was however, a curious fellow and a gambler, he could at least make sure the numbers weren ’ t winners.
He sat down, his back against the car, lotto ticket in hand, and pulled out his smartphone.
“ It couldn ’ t hurt to check the numbers, will just take a second... ” He pulled up the lotto website on his phone and began to look at the most recent winning numbers. He looked at the jackpot values too, and began to fantasize about the freedom he would have with that extra money.
Work had been tough this year, 60+ hour work-weeks was taking a toll on him. He was tired, worn out. He needed a vacation, a long one.
He scrolled through the recent list of lotto winners. *Claimed, claimed, claimed*, they all said. They were relatively small jackpots ranging from one to ten million dollars, some split between multiple people.
He scrolled to the end of the page, nothing. He clicked “ next ” to load more results.
*Unclaimed*. Jarrod began to shake. He looked at his phone, his eyes unblinking, unwavering, his breathing stopped. “ 12, 17, 26, 43, 48. ” He checked the lotto ticket. He checked his phone. He rubbed his eyes. His heart was racing. He checked his phone again.
“ 12, 17, 26, 43, 48. ”
It was real. This ticket was a winner. He checked the ticket again to make sure it was 100 % authentic. It looked good, the issue date was right, the numbers were perfect. It was the most perfect, amazing piece of paper he had ever held. It felt heavy, premium, something indistinguishable and alien, a feeling he could n't recognize.
The jackpot was $ 25 million. Jarrod was breathing so heavily he felt like he was going to pass out. Suddenly, a distant car ’ s screeching tires woke him up to the reality he was in. He looked around. He was still sitting next to his broken down car on the west side of town. He became very alert, his senses peaking and he began to panic. He was vulnerable, weak. He lie there like a sitting duck, holding a future check of $ 25 million. He glanced at the ticket again, the red stain. Blood.
Jarrod wasn ’ t sure what to make of the whole situation. *Whose ticket was this, why was it on the ground, why did it have blood on it? Was the owner killed, did they just lose it, should he turn it into the police? Is there a gang of lotto-winning-murderers searching for this ticket? *
He put the ticket in his wallet in between a couple of $ 100 bills. He wouldn ’ t lose this piece of paper like his life depended on it.
Jarrod changed his flat tire without incident. He packed up the bad wheel and placed it carefully into the trunk. He looked at his car, it looked ridiculous with a spare tire. He loved this car though: a brand new 2015 Mercedes AMG GTS. It was “ magnetite black ”, and it was beautiful; except for the spare tire which made it look like a crippled super model.
He got back into his car, locked the doors, and dialed his phone. He was ecstatic beyond words, still shaking. He had some calls to make.
Jarrod ’ s wife answered through the phone, “ Hello, kind of late isn ’ t it? ”
Jarrod could hardly contain himself, “ Hey Deb, hope you were sleeping. Just wanted to call you and let you know that I have good news! ”
His wife faked sounding happy, “ Oh, yea? What ’ d you have to tell me at 10 o'clock at night? ”
Jarrod was near tears at this point, happy beyond his wildest dreams; a feeling he ’ d not felt in so many years, he had forgotten it.
“ I ’ m divorcing your sorry ass. You can keep the house and the Lexus, and that fucking summer house in the Cape we haven ’ t used in ten years. I ’ m moving on baby! ”
Jarrod hung up and took a deep, well-deserved breath. He started his car with a growl, the twin-turbo V8 sounded amazing. He would never have to see that cheating, gold-digging, life-sucking bitch ever again. It was a whole new era for Jarrod. He had wanted to divorce her for *years* but couldn ’ t bring himself to split up his net worth, it would have been too much of a financial hit. He could cash the lotto ticket after the divorce and she wouldn ’ t be able to claim a dime of it. It was perfect.
Jarrod let out an honest smile, and a laugh. He was *finally* going to be happy.
He began to drive away slowly, his car still tilting heavily to one side. He had one more call to make, “ Hi, Janice. Sorry, I know it ’ s late. Can you have the men prep the jet please, I ’ m flying out tonight... 1 hour. ”
Janice, Jarrod ’ s personal assistant, sounded alert and professional at all hours, “ Yes, of course sir. Where should I say you ’ re flying to? ”
Jarrod smiled, “ Bahamas. I ’ ll be searching for a new summer home. ”
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[ WP ] Write a story with as many inconsistencies as possible while maintaining coherence .
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Brad checked his mechanical watch. `` 20:58,'' the digital voice told him. Good, he could make it in time for breakfast if he hurried. The sun blared into the street light, making it impossible to see, so he checked both ways before crossing the freeway. No point charging his way blindly if he was going to get ran over by a pedestrian.
Fortunately, she saw the light turn green. It took him two minutes slow-walking across the highway, praying he would make it across alive. 10 seconds later, she found herself on the other side.
`` Good,'' Brenda told herself. `` I was always good at playing Pacman.'' It was her favorite FPS game when he was younger. Then Brad massaged his knees, fighting a spontaneous headache. He was having a hard time keeping track of the time, but that was no excuse. His wife was really going to lay it into him if he missed dinner.
He checked his digital watch again. The hands must have been going fast, it was already 1:59pm. Brenda could n't believe she let a whole hour slip by like that. Her husband was waiting.
Midnight snacks in the daylight were their favorite past time. Things got personal. Matthew looked both ways and crossed the intersection once more. So what if the pedestrian light was red, he did n't care! Breakfast was waiting!
She made it! Brad found it hard to believe no trucks hit him, but he reminded himself of his Donkey Kong days. Brenda was *always* good at MMOs. It would guard her on this perilous journey.
Damn, my elbows were still hurting! I rubbed them, trying to keep my migraine down. The sundial said I only had another twenty seconds! Brad was n't going to wait for me forever. The cereal would start to get soggy!
I charged through the forest, bushwhacking my way through the wilderness in the pale moonlight. Branches smacked across my face, but I kicked them away. I was almost there. Just thirty seconds away!
`` Just like Tron,'' he kept reminding himself. It became a mantra that continued to guard him as the time bomb ticked away. Brad checked it again. Two minutes away! Right on schedule.
Finally, she knocked on the mansion door. Brenda checked her skirt again, assuring herself she was still immaculate. Like she would allow herself to sweat before meeting him, this date *had* to be perfect! Again, Brenda checked the grandfather clock she dragged with her the whole ten blocks. 5:02pm.
`` Good,'' Brad whispered to himself.
I was right on time.
The apartment door swung open. `` A little late, are n't you?''
`` Sorry,'' she told Brad. `` Got a little mixed up. Are we still on for dinner?''
Of course I was. It had been a long day.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*More absurdity at r/galokot, and thanks for reading! *
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[ WP ] You grudgingly attend a Live-Action Role Play event after badgering from your friend ... and notice a couple of the players and even some of the monsters look too real , act too real ... your friend does n't see it , though .
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She was ecstatic, finally pulling me out of my home and away from my liquor bottles, and into the sun filled morning. Wears eyed, as the feeling of embarrassment filled me as normal park goers gritted their teeth and pointed at us from a distance.
My loaner outfit consisted of hand me down pink shields and purple tunics. Yet I did concede I should get out of my hole a little bit more often. Yet how this was supposed to be fun was beyond me comprehension, one of the retards even galloped up and down the hill on a modified broom handle, sans the brush.
After introductions and I brief rundown of the rules, I sat the first round out. Watching the chaos unfold and the girly screams of the men contorting in fake misery as the war raged about. Again I could n't help but feel watched by the passing crowds.
After the dust had settled, it was my turn for my tribe to mount horses, summon their demon dragons, and other shit. When the whistle blew, I slowly sauntered up the hill, barely at a trod when the others rushed ahead to conquer an imaginary garrison.
Yet in all my excitement I failed to notice the rock hidden in the weeds, some lark service. Smashing my face on the hard earth, I rolled momentarily to my back to nurse my nose. It was then I could n't believe my eyes.
Turning my eyes forward again, a wooden fort stood a thousand or so yards up ahead. As men and horses rushed by me in a flurry, dim orange dots danced about in the sky above me. It was then I heard the screaming. Soldiers in full plate armour falling about as the flaming arrows logded in skulls and chests. Another faceless soul grabbed me by my arm and stood me up, followed by a stern push forward as I stumbled on my injured knee.
Another few hundred yards, and some five foot nothing female began wearing blue velveted robes began to shoo sparks from her hands. Like a liquid flowing through the air, the plasma like material struck the Fort ahead and turned the barrier door into ash and flame. While my pace quickened, the adrenaline hitting me hard, a blur ran across my face. Causing me to fall in agony, only to late to realize an arrow found its way through my purple and gold laden steel tunic.
My chest caught fire, I spit blood, and my breath became unattainable. My world slowly began to fade black as I turned to yell for help. Yet not late enough to miss the massive black scaled dragon swoop down and clutch me in his teeth. My body hanging half out of his mouth as its jagged teeth tore my intestines from my stomach.
And as the others stood about in awe, they stowed his body in the back of the ambulance all while he shouted and fought. Babbling on about dragons and horses trampling his limbs.
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