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[ WP ] Write a story about a modern day , very stable dictatorship country , where when one kills the old dictator , he immediately and automatically becomes the new one .
| It is an old law - the Law of Lead and Iron. It has been nearly sixty years since last the law was enacted, since Ulfwar du Yulsand cleaved Glusim the Mad in two and assumed the Righteous Mandate. Was a whole generation and two bloodless successions, the firsts in the history of the Anwari Ambits, enough to make the people forget? Would they refuse to honor the Law now? *No. * Thought Isam. *They will remember. Somewhere in their muscles and guts and blood they will remember, and they will kneel. *
The bloom of His Great Augustness Sulir du Yulsand ( grandson of Ulfwar ) is wilting. Although Answar still sits as the capital of culture and commerce, although scholars still make pilgrimages across mountainous tundra and treacherous swamp to weep on the steps of its Temple of Books, although Ranlang and Troske are still chastened by the thought of Answari oxguard at their gates, Isam knows the stability is growing tenuous.
It started years ago and quite gradually. In his youth, Sulir had so deftly wielded his authority to secure the benign compliance of the people and the prestige of Answar that it was easy to overlook a few cracks in the paint when the overall work was still a masterpiece. But Sulir's eyes, once keenly bright with intelligence and solicitude, grow foggier and his mind feebler with each season and mildly embarrassing forgetfulness graduated to dangerous, imbecilic missteps some time ago. The oxguard now pillage caravans and caravanserai with impunity after corrupting orders from His Great Augustness to monitor the High Road in defense from an imagined enemy. Cowardly men use low cunning to line their pockets by manipulating Sulir β s diminishing faculties to divert resources into fanciful projects. The arbitrarily barbarous can smell vulnerability and have begun to move in the shadows with plans to exploit any weakness.
But Answar has not yet wavered. Not one flickering tremble. Despite mounting trouble in the background, this is still a golden age for the state and it is Isam β s responsibility as Capital Steward to make sure peace and prosperity continue.
He just had to cull the rot.
Isam takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening the door. Last night he sent men to discretely dispose of those who would have threatened or challenged him after the Law passed. But those were effectively anonymous compared to what he is still to do and he feels sick.
β Isam! Isam du Akhirrum! It β s been an age! β His Great Augustness beams from his throne as the other magistrates turn to look at the new arrival before resuming their murmurings. The meeting will officially start once Isam takes his place near the dais.
β I saw you yesterday, your greatness. β Isam replies while softly closing the door.
β No, no! β Sulir chuckles good naturedly. β I haven β t seen you since the feast for the Troske campaign. Best wine I β ve ever had. β He clucks at his half empty goblet then his face slumps a bit as if overcome by exhaustion. β Best wine... β he says absently. Isam is making slow progress towards the throne, slower than normal. He feels like he is dragging a millstone behind him. He is finally standing before Sulir, who is staring at his goblet.
β Your majesty? β Isam croaks, his throat dry. Sulir β s head snaps up to look at him and his eyes are lucid but confused. Isam bows with a bit more pomp and gravity than usual.
β Steward du Akhirrum? When did you enter? β He shuffles in his seat and bends to whisper into Isam β s ear. β Have we opened the meeting? β his cheeks faintly blush with embarrassment for having to ask.
β Not yet, your augustness. β Isam whispers back. He raises from the bow but tilts his head in with Sulir β s, creating a conspiratorial huddle. β I actually have a matter to discuss with you first. β
β A matter? β Sulir frowns.
β Yes, a matter of traditional lawβ¦ β
β β There is but one law, that of the possessor of the Righteous Mandate asβ¦.asβ¦. β β Sulir du Yulsand responds like a pupil answering a tutor β s question by rote before sheepishly losing his place. Isam glances into Sulir β s eyes. They are warm and sad and dimming rapidly.
β β....as won by the Law of Lead and Iron. β β Isam finishes, holding eye contact. The hilt of the dagger he hid in his sleeve feels cold and heavy.
β Right, right. β His Great Augustness smiles vacantly. β That β s how it goes. Thank you, my friend. Slipped from me. β
β You humble me. β Isam says. For a moment Isam tries to hold the gaze and convey the depth of his love for Answar, his respect for the man before him ( the *real* man ), and his guilt and sorrow, hoping that a fraction of meaning penetrates the fog surrounding Sulir.
In the next instant, the dagger flashes and the body of Sulir du Yulsand crumples off the dais.
There is a moment of stunned silence that stretches unbearably long. It breaks when Isam drops the bloody blade to cough up vomit, his body quivering. The sound jolts the magistrates into action and the room explodes with a flurry of movement. Sulir β s body is reverently covered and removed. Servant children are called in and sent out in rapid succession to deliver summons to the Yulsand family, high-ranking officials both in and out of the palace, and prominent members of society. Bits of conversations and questions about topics ranging from trade agreements to palace redecoration fade in and out. One magistrate shouts dictation for public notices while another booms at a translator writing letters to foreign governments. The furious scratching sound of writing underscores the din as the scribes, who thought they were in for more boring meeting notation, struggle to capture everything spoken in the excitement.
Within hours, the announcement is being trumpeted across the sea: The Grand Answari Ambits joyously observe and honor the Righteous Mandate of His Great Augustness Isam du Akhirrum and his imperium as won by the Law of Lead of Iron.
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[ WP ] The end of an era
| Maybe I just have n't found my place yet, the right person, learned the right lessons. Maybe everyone else has had some eerie epiphany, some kind of secret switch from deep within, and here I wait for mine to turn. What does that make me? A loner with a free night and half a bag of speed. What makes a few months ago so different? I seriously doubt that they've grown up that much, that quickly. When did thirsty Thursday and heavy music become home visits, sipping tea, daytime television bridging the awkward silences?
The Great Michael Eccles is now called Mickey, He drives around a trolley whilst his mediocre bird drives him round the bend. Lezza Two Shoe's herd the patter of tiny feet, guess her name was to mean something after all. I watch her push the pram through the park, the cider and regrets already starting to sweat out of her putrid pores. Other Pete's engaged, he popped the question through text on his way home from work. We never expected much from Other Pete, nobody sees him now, he used to boast of full attendance. And Cock-Boy? Cock-Boy doesn β t even exist any more. The self proclaimed king of the weekend, cropped from his crown by younger faces filling the gaps. Little do they know how unremarkable they are.
I chose a different path. They all chose to grow whilst I coated my future in a blur, each can a brick in a wall blocking the wave of change. I know it'll come for me one day, that bus en route to wanting more. Hope it's soon, it's lonely at the station.
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[ WP ] None of my submissions in /r/WritingPromts ever get responded to . Write about the outcome when I am forced to make drastic decisions to get the attention of this sub .
| `` Sir, you need to see this.'' A young man sitting at a console motioned to an older gentlemen. He brought up a few others screens. Each one linking back to other information.
The older gentlemen leaned over the man, `` What is it Private Miller?''
`` Ah, sir, this here.'' Miller navigated to the first screen, `` This user here on a site called reddit. He is making very bold allegations about the current state of fairs in multiple countries. There has been traffic from some of the contenders, sir.''
`` Which contenders?''
`` The big ones, sir. If this continues, well sir, it could get bad.'' The young private surfed through multiple screens. `` Do I have clearence to send this address to SWAT, sir?''
The older gentleman looked at the screens as they flew past. Information was whizzing by. He understood most of it. There were big guns in play. `` Do it.''
The younger man leaned to the satellite phone, exposing the screen. He shook his head. How did people constantly miss these terrorist trolls...
[ WP ] You are trapped in an attack, explain the how and who done it. Be detailed.
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[ WP ] You swerve to avoid a squirrel . Unknown to you , the squirrel pledges a life debt to you . In your darkest hour , the squirrel arrives .
| Everything was going black. I felt dizzy and confused but not all unhappy considering I was dying. It came out of no where, the car. A simple everyday accident, it would n't even make the news that day. I thought about my wife and my children. They would be okay I told myself. And then I saw... a squirrel? There he was dashing madly about the traffic. He seems upset and frantic. He ran up and down me checking on me, he seemed to know I was in trouble. Then he sat up like a light bulb went off in his head. As he dashed across the road he was hit flat on by the police car arriving to my aid. I closed my eyes and thought of him.
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[ WP ] Two cucumbers are arguing over a banana .
| David regarded his wife coolly, and she returned his chilly stare. They'd gone over this argument a million times, and there was no other way to slice it. To tell her now would only do more harm than good. She was no where near maturity, and she'd peel under the pressure of a changed reality. No, they'd wait until she were ripe enough to hear it, and not a day over. They knew how quickly a girl like her could spoil in the wrong company. Of course, there was the possibility that she already knew, after all, just looking at them together, and you'd know one was not like the other. He'd seen this sort of thing before, like apples and oranges. David chose not to believe in that.
β Lorraine is wrong, β David thought, as he watched his daughter lounge in the sun. β This is absolutely not the time to let Beth know that she is adopted. β
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[ WP ] Event with a pyrrhic outcome
| `` A win's a win kid, look on the bright side, this means we're done. We can finally go home.''
Yeah, a win's a win. That's what they told us, it did n't matter how much it cost as long as we were victorious, but I really have to question that. How many lives. How many lives were lost fighting this damned war. And for what! A god damned rock. That's why we were fighting. That's why we killed an entire alien species, the first we had encountered. That's why we sank the equivalent of the China's population in human lives into this damned war. For a rock.
It will be the catalyst for a new age they said. It will let us achieve hyper space travel and explore the universe. That's all those politicians think of. Human success, human progress, but apparently human lives are n't important.
Sure, we won, but was it really a victory?
Edit: Punctuation and grammar
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[ WP ] Legends tell of the mighty alchomancer , a magic user who becomes more powerful the more intoxicated they are . They are currently blackout drunk .
| In a town there is a bar, and in this bar there sits a man. A man who for some reason walked in and started drinking, although, he has never had a mind to stop in before he sits there now many drinks in.
`` Bartender! another one,'' tapping the rim of the glass.
`` That's twelve drinks in 30 minutes do n't you think you ought to slow down.
`` Heh, it's possible, but the hell with it eh.''
`` Something happen to you son?''
`` Nothing a little firewater ca n't fix,'' followed by a loud laugh.
`` What is it? A woman, a job, family?''
`` None of the above. I got dealt a bad hand is all.''
`` Ahh, a card player, so you lost a big game then?''
`` No, nothing as petty as cards. I'm just preparing to work my magic.''
`` Oh, ok. Care to enlighten what that just might be?''
`` Well, I made a bet with someone a while back and I'm just now paying my debt.''
`` How do you intend to do that sitting in here?''
`` I'd say in about five more drinks should do it.''
After the seventeenth whisky the man stood up from his seat, and walked outside. He started to chant and move his arms in a waving motion. This continued for many minutes until he stopped. Once he stopped it was complete. Everywhere and anywhere man could conceive, in all the vastness of the mind something came into being. From now on and forever more man knows that he knows that he exists.
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[ WP ] Impatiently , you hammer the Basement button on the elevator 11 times . A voice chimes `` Access granted '' , and the floor number display starts to read out negative numbers .
| I do n't have time for this... Jill needs me home now. Our son, just arrested, she needed me to head to the station to get him out so she could attend to the middle child in the hospital. He was with my mother in law, both in a car accident. It was a drunk driver. And my youngest had been gone for years, kidnapped. We hoped he'd be returned, but we both knew she would never be found. I accepted my fate. The voice chimed `` Access granted'' again, and took me to the 3rd basement - apparently they have these... I had to take the steps back up. On the way, I did n't want to deal with it anymore. I drove, and just drove, and we all now the rest
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[ wp ] Cavemen do not know they are in the stone age
| Theodore Jesse Smith, President of the United States of America, sat and stared at the simplified and concise data scrolling before him. He preferred Theo since his full name usually involved grand ceremonies and more media attention then he liked.
He was the first Democrat in office in four terms. Republicans had won and did their thing and now he was here to clean up after them. Never had he despised their short sightedness then during his first term. Debt was at a all time high and America's image at an all time low.
After seven hard and difficult years in office, he had done the miracle work of cutting the nation debt almost in half. 7.8 trillion down, 7.9 trillion to go.
He had reinvigorated the economy using the 44th president's model of job policies and tried to decrease corporate freeloading by severely tightening tax loopholes. There was an uproar at the sudden increases in taxes but they were one of the reasons America was in the gutter today.
America's image was rising, the debt was falling and his popularity was at an all time high.
Now this.
The three dimensional holographic projector gently lit up the low light room as bulletin points scrolled down the left of a series of charts. Data about debts and finance. Lists of how to funnel money into what could be the largest'perhaps' since the Manhattan Project.
Project M-22, a black project so big that it would actually stagnate the rebuilding economy and could set it back a full ten years. Ten years of debts and interests that would weigh down the citizens. A project that when matured would ensure the USA's military supremacy for decades to come.
The costs were there on screen but they more than just monetary. It was things that would bring down the might of the UN if discovered. Moral issues were at stake here and if he said'yes' then hundreds, perhaps thousands of his own people could suffer in unimaginable ways. Inhumane was a pleasant compliment in regards to M-22.
His General of the Army sat before him, a stone cut man that laughed the way rocks did. He did n't. His aid, a cute thing, stood at attention at his side and she was very professional and so much more human than the Five-Star hero beside her.
Theo let out a sigh as he let his head sink into his hand. Fingers pinching his nose as he felt the full weight of his title settle onto him. President of the United States of America. Head of both State and Government. He was also the Commander-In-Chief of the United States Armed Forces.
He was buried alive and both he and his general knew it.
As a president and human, he knew this project was rubbish. This would kill innocent people that did nothing to deserve this. As the commander-in-chief, he could not ignore what was presented before him. The new age was literally scrolling before him, the stats were there and within just a decade they would have a potentially world first, cyborg soldier.
Two decades from today and that cyborg could be obsolete trash in comparison to the first generation, god damned, super soldier.
This was something that would definitely ensure America's future. There were hints that China was dabbling in this and America could not, would not fall behind. Not with the way China was becoming unstable.
He gave out a quick snort of amusement as a memory popped into his head. He remembered it clearly, despite the decades since he last heard it. It was clear enough that it was in the voice of his old professor, `` Cavemen do not know they are in the stone age...''
`` Sir?''
Theo blinked as his general spoke. It took a moment for him to realize that he had just quoted his old professor out loud and he smirked. `` A old saying that one of my professor's liked to mutter out occasionally.''
`` Of course, sir.''
Theo held his smirk at the reply. A clean answer. No innuendo or hints of his inner thoughts. The man was truly relatable to a rock. A scarred and battered rock as the man had given his arm, leg, eye and two sons to the defense of America.
The man was tragic as no one would truly know what he had scarified by staying in the military. His victories and successes were rarely recorded and purposefully left out of reports. He would not have brought this up if he did n't believe in it.
Theodore Jesse Smith's smirk vanished as he stared into his generals eyes. The man clenched his jaw. Once. It seemed even the rock could feel tense.
`` Project M-22 can not be approved since it does not exist. America has no black projects active. Ever. Project Mjolnir however, will have pending approval but I have officially shelved the project since the country's economic rebound has hit a bad slump. I am sorry general but try again in ten or so years from now.''
`` SIR!'' the general stood up with a razor sharp salute. Theodore nodded at the man and leaned back, ignoring his general leaving along with his aid. The projector turned off and the lights were fading back in.
`` Caveman huh?'' Theo whispered as he stared at the ceiling for a few moments before he closed his eyes. `` And here I thought I was a ruthless barbarian when I shut down corporate tax loopholes last term.''
God he needed a drink.
**Author's Note: Sorry for any inconsistencies. I am not familiar with the American political system and I hope it all makes some sort of sense!
|
[ WP ] Write about a smile .
| So there are two things in life I just ca n't stand.
Thing one: Mayonnaise. Do n't put mayonnaise on anything. It's gross. It's really really gross. Anyone who enjoys its taste is 100 % communist.
Thing two: Frowns.
I absolutely detest frowns. They suck. They suck so much cheese and I ca n't stand them and they need to go. For real, stop frowning, theoretical frowning guy. There's nothing so bad in this wonderful world we live in, with the nature and the absolute impossibility of life and the laughter and the puppies, nothing so grim as to warrant a frown.
So, I say that, but right now I'm frowning. I frown all the time. And if the absence of a smile is considered a frown too, I frown more than all the time. Why? Why, if I have such a cheerful viewpoint, would I frown so much?
Uh, sometimes life sucks. That's the cold hard truth. Sometimes life sucks. And when it does, when there is n't really a happy point to cling, no shining light in the crowded sea of complacency, no optimistic take on inherent pessimism, it's okay to frown.
But still, those times come few and far between. Life does n't usually suck. So why frown the rest of those frowns, when frowning is n't objectively justified? Well, because... because it's easier than smiling.
Whoever said it takes more muscles to frown than smile was just a complete idiot. Smiling's hard. It's hard to contort your face into such an awkward and unnatural position. It's hard to feign positive emotion. It's hard to smile.
And does this make me a hypocrite? Well, no. I reserve the right to judge other people, to hold them to a higher standard than my own. Whatever. Sue me.
But right now, right here, while I'm sitting down at some no-name book store looking straight up at the ceiling, I'm frowning. I'm not frowning because life particularly sucks. No, this is an average, run-of-the-mill frown, one that carries no meaning other than to signify my non-cheerfulness.
I'm staring up at the ceiling because I'm bored. I'm done reading for the day, but I just ca n't bring myself to get up and walk over to the front door and open said door and step outside into the chilly late winter air and shiver a little bit and halfway button my jacket and look for my car and see my car and search my pockets for such a tiny set of keys, and, well, any other activities that would entail.
So I've just decided to sit here and look up at the ceiling. That's what my day has become.
`` Um, excuse me,'' a female voice calls to my right.
I turn my neck, taking the least amount of effort possible to acknowledge her existence.
Now, my eyesight takes a couple seconds to adjust to new light. It's some sort of medical condition. Usually it does n't really affect my personal life, but in this case I have to squint to see my conversational partner.
After a few moments of un-intense focusing, her picture starts forming in my mind.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I shoot up, making sure to display all my inward attentiveness.
`` Yes, hello,'' I say.
She kind of smirks; that kind of smirk displayed wisdom. She knows how incredibly attracted to her I am at this very moment. She can tell from my actions, my extraneous movements.
`` Hello,'' she slowly greets, `` Sorry to disturb the, uh, whatever it was you were doing for the last five minutes. Are you finished?''
`` Finished?'' I answer nervously.
Does she want to join me on some sort of librarical adventure? What about start rhe best conversation we've ever had in our young, young lives? Maybe, oh maybe, she wants to go somewhere a little more private, now that my staring contest is over.
Oh, she digs me. I can tell she digs me.
`` Yeah, finished with that,'' she slowly says, pointing to the book on the coffee table to my right.
`` Um, yeah, sure.''
I hand it to her.
`` Thanks,'' she says, and walks away.
Oh, so this is where all those years of story consumption come to fruition. I know, through extensive plot points and lessons learned and near-misses, that confidence means everything. If I can display myself proudly, without care, she'll dig my jazz.
So here it goes.
`` Excuse me,'' I call rather loudly just before she turns the corner to a different isle.
She stops. I jog-walk over to meet her.
`` Excuse me,'' I repeat.
She turns around. Her grin is still present, still knowingly tacked above her chin.
`` Yes?'' she asks, book tucked underneath her arms, eyes joyful, presence just astounding.
I smile as I muster up enough courage to say the next few words, this the first smile I've smiled all week.
`` Um, hi, my name's Chris,'' I start and extend my hand.
She nods slightly and returns my favor, shaking extremities to finalize our introduction.
`` Julie.''
I raise my eyebrows slightly. She knows what's about to happen. I know what's about to happen. We can feel it in the air.
`` Julie,'' I say, `` Julie, Julie, Julie.''
`` That's my name.''
Her comfortableness seems wearing.
I squint slightly and raise my eyebrows in a sort of flinching matter, bracing myself for this questionable decision.
`` Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me, you know, sometime?''
After taking in my quandary, her grin... transforms. It turns, very slowly, into a smile. It's the first smile I have ever seen make me frown by way of realizing how unacceptable my smile and every other smile I have ever seen, ever, pails in comparison.
It is sibeautiful. It is so beautiful and so breathtaking and so just, so... perfect. The way her cheeks upturn the slightest bit, the way her eyes seem to perfectly match her lower expression, her teeth, her lips, the little dimple on her chin, they are all so... perfect.
`` You come here a lot?'' she asks.
I did n't answer, still lost in her hypnotic face.
`` To the bookstore. Do you come here often?''
`` What? Yes. Yes, every day,'' I lie after snapping out of it.
`` Um, okay Chris,'' she says, tilting her head slightly, that special smile disappearing back into her knowing grin, `` I'll meet you here tomorrow, same time.''
She starts walking away.
`` So it's a date?'' I blurt out.
She laughs.
`` We'll see.''
We'll see. We'll see. That's... that's great! Today's so great. I love this wonderful world we live in, with the nature and the absolute impossibility of life and the laughter and the puppies.
They're all so great.
Absolutely no reason to frown.
***
For those of you too... endearing to scroll down and witness the absolute dopeness of OP's charm, here's a link to my website, [ casualhuman.com ] ( http: //casualhuman.com ), where some more of my stories exist.
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[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 7 : Dialogue
| `` Your Majesty,'' the voice called.
The king stopped. Turned. A few yards away, his guard turned as well.
`` Ah, Lady Chesa. What can I do for you?''
`` I'd hoped to speak with you.'' The woman curtsied.
`` Leave us!''
The guards left, eyes straight ahead, though they would snicker and make bawdy jokes once out of earshot.
`` Come my dear, what is it?''
`` I'd heard that your majesty loves exotic fauna. I'd hoped to give you a gift.''
`` I do indeed. What sort of -- flower -- are you speaking of?''
`` Puria.''
Not the answer he was hoping for. The word fell flat. `` I see.''
`` I took the liberty of checking the gardens and found no puria there,'' she went on. `` I then set about finding the most perfect flower I could.''
`` Lady, *you* must be the most perfect of flowers.''
`` Your majesty is kind to say so,'' she said, twirling away from his touch. `` But the puria...''
`` We would be pleased to accept your gift, Lady Chesa.''
`` Thank you, Majesty. Shall we see it now?''
`` Indeed,'' the King said, as the two began walking together.
`` There is much history between our families, Majesty, is there not?''
`` A *bountiful* history, my lady.'' His eyes dropped suggestively.
`` And, your poor majesty, to have lost your wife so soon --''
`` A king needs a wife of course. And an heir.'' He fell silent for a moment. A marriage to the Chesas might quiet the people's rebellion. `` The Chesa family are of royal blood, are you not?''
`` Yes Majesty.''
`` I look forward to seeing the flower, lady, but I might prefer another gift from you.''
`` But your majesty has seen my flower, and my gift already.''
`` Have I?'' the King said. `` How is it that I do not recall such a vision of loveliness?''
`` Your majesty was, I fear, not altogether himself.''
The King paused at a sudden ache in his bowels, and the lady stopped beside him.
`` Do tell,'' he said. Flashes of memory began to come to him.
`` The night before I was to be wed,'' Lady Chesa said. `` Just after your wife's death, you came to me.''
`` Forgive me -- my lady -- I do not --'' It was becoming hard to breathe. The King grasped at his cravat `` -- recall.''
`` Then at dinner,'' she stepped toward him. `` After your majesty's wine had been tasted, and you had begun to eat and drink, I leaned over to whisper in your ear.''
When the King did not answer, she continued.
`` Your majesty is aware that the seeds of the Puria are a deadly poison? They do not act immediately, of course. I needed your guard to be away for a time.''
`` Why?'' the King gasped.
`` You are the last of your line,'' she said flatly. `` A line which stole this land from my own family.''
He grabbed for her arm, missed.
`` You were right about one thing,'' Lady Chesa finished, turning from him. `` I do wish to be queen.''
He was going to die. He knew there was no help for it now. But he'd be damned if he'd let this witch rule in his place. `` I am the last,'' he said. `` But you will be the first.''
`` The first, Majesty?'' She started to turn.
The blade pierced her throat. Her body crumpled to the ground. The King fell at her side.
`` The first to die,'' he whispered.
And the King was no more.
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[ WP ] `` I saw him walking in the rain at 9 am - not sure where he was headed , but all I could think was he was headed in the wrong direction . ''
| There was n't anything particularly special about that day. The sky was a dull and muddy grey, streaked with lighter clouds teasing at the potential for sunshine. Still though, the sheets of rain were a testament to the fact that here in the Pacific Northwest there was little hope for sunshine in the late autumn months.
I had been sitting on my balcony, lit cigarette in hand staring out over the muted sounds of the distant city. Looking down, I watched the smouldering cherry shrink into its layer of ash, hiding away from the dampness in the air. I shivered, flicking the cigarette and followed the ashes' slow descent to the street several floors below.
Looking down I saw him, an elderly man walking in the rain. His stark white hair stood in contrast to the greyness all around him, a bobbing accent that swam its way through the street below. He was dressed in a suit, much too large for his drooping frame. Looking like it was cut in the 40s, it was probably an outfit he purchased as a much younger man. Still though, he wore it with a puffed chest and swagger that told of a virility that reality refused to acknowledge. His steps, while confident were laboured and clumsy; his head held high, yet struggling. Through it all, I remember seeing the fiery determination in his eyes β the glint of intensity of someone steadfast on reaching their destination.
I raised the cigarette to my mouth and took another drag, coughing at the acrid taste of an extinguished cherry. The ember had gone cold while I had been watching the man. Throwing it in to an overflowing can of other butts, I looked back down for the tuft of white hair. The man had just about disappeared behind a stand of trees. I wasn β t sure where he was headed, but I had a sinking feeling that he was headed in the wrong direction. I turned to go back to the warmth of the indoors and as I passed the threshold of the door, any thoughts of the old man dissipated like the lingering smoke.
I didn β t think of the old man again until two weeks later. His body had been found alone in the woods, a thicket of trees no more than an acre in size. He passed from exposure while lost in the forest, a victim of dementia β s siren song.
--
Feedback encouraged, I had some difficulty drawing this to a meaningful close. I feel the ending may be too abrupt but I'm not sure how to flesh it out.
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[ WP ] A religious official performing an exorcism is given cause to reconsider completing the ritual after a conversation with the demon brings new information to light .
| She had come to us six months ago, pregnant, alone, and with no memory of how she ended up on our church steps. She had been confused, but vibrant, so full of life, so happy. She brought a joy and love of God to our church we had n't seen in years.
The creature strapped to the bed looked nothing like her. Most of her fingers appeared flayed to the bone. Open sores were all across her body, her hair had fallen out, and her skin had an ugly, greenish hue to it. Everything about her was unrecognizable except for the swell of her nine-months' pregnant belly. It was the only place where the skin was perfectly intact and the coloring had not changed.
The cardinal had sent three of us for this particular exorcism, as she was beloved by everybody and the babe she was carrying was believed to be special.
`` Save her and save the baby - at all costs.'' we had been ordered.
And we had been trying. For two days, with no sleep and no food, we had been trying. The demon had not responded, and the only reassurance we had was from the doctor monitoring the baby. There was no distress from him, no elevated heartbeat, nothing indicating he had been touched by the demon.
Wearily, the three of us joined hands once again. But this time, before we could even begin, the demon sat up in the bed.
`` Please, get me out, I made a mistake by possessing this body'', the demon's voice was several octaves lower than hers had been, and shocked us all after no response for so long.
Father Michael ignored the demon and began the words in Latin we had tried so many times before. The demon began to writhe and moan, but not in pain as we were used to. It seemed more like ecstasy. Father Mark and I looked at each other in confusion.
`` Join me, you fools!'' Father Michael said.
`` Yes, join him you fools! Send me back to hell!'' the demon mocked.
We shakily joined in, and the demon continued his erotic moans and movements. Something about this did n't feel right. My experience was less than that of my colleagues, but it was wrong. It was all wrong.
Father Michael began to throw holy water at the demon and we all stopped dead as a blinding, white light filled the room. The demon's face changed. For a moment it almost looked like the thing on the bed was vibrating between the ugly being it had become and her again. Her face finally took over and her beautiful, musical voice filled the room.
`` The baby!'' she said, `` I can only protect him for so long. Let me go, I want to be with God, BUT DO N'T LET HIM HAVE THE BABY!''
The vibrations began again and she disappeared, the gruesome, distorted figure of the demon reappearing.
`` I already have the baby, and she is with my master'' the demon spat, `` release me back to hell and I will spare you three.''
`` Heart rate is dropping,'' the doctor said from the corner.
We stared in horror as the greenish hue from the rest of her skin began slowly creeping across the once-pristine belly. Father Michael froze, and Father Mark had tears streaming down his face, his mouth opening and closing. One of the things they teach you about exorcisms is to go with instinct when performing one, as instincts can be God's way of telling you what is needed. I watched my colleagues staring at the abomination, and I knew what I had to do. I ran across the room, grabbed a scalpel, and ran back, plunging it into her belly.
`` What are you doing?!'' the doctor yelled from the corner.
`` Help me,'' I said, `` I know enough to get started but not enough to get him out!''
As soon as I had plunged the scalpel in, the green hue had stopped progressing. Father Michael snapped out of his trance and looked at me. Father Mark's eyes rolled back in his head and he began chanting in Latin.
`` Stop him! Ca n't you see the exorcism is what this demon wants? It leaves him free to possess the boy as well!'' I said.
Father Michael slapped Father Mark, but he continued to chant. Father Michael put his hand over Father Mark's mouth and was immediately bitten. He screamed in pain, but he continued to try and stop him. Meanwhile, the demon began to howl with laughter.
`` Yes, take the boy! You'll kill him and condemn his mother to hell with me! My master will be pleased to win two new souls today.''
The doctor stopped momentarily and stared at me. `` He's lying.'' I said. `` Demons know no truth. Get the boy out, there's not much more time.''
The demon began to flail and moan. The doctor's scalpel slid much too far across the lower abdomen, creating a slit to what used to be her hip. Blood began to gush out and over the side of the bed.
`` Oh, fuck,'' he said, `` I ca n't do it with her moving this much!''
I threw myself over the upper part of the demon's body. He bucked and snarled and bit at me. I felt blood flowing from my ear lobe. But it was enough. As the doctor reached in, the demon began to scream. It was multi-toned, bone-splitting and grating, all at once. Its scream accompanied the cries of the new babe as he was pulled from the ruins of what was once his mother's body. As his cries grew louder, the demon's screams grew fainter, until they were gone.
The body under me stopped moving and I carefully pushed myself off of it. In the back of the room I saw movement, and met Father Michael's eyes. He was nursing his knuckles as Father Mark slowly came to on the floor. The doctor held the boy and we all walked over to stare in awe at the sweet thing that had come from such ugliness.
As I write this, he is two and shows no signs of the evil that he came through to be in this world. But sometimes at night when he whimpers or cries, I heard that demon's scream mingled with the newborn babe's cries, and I fear... oh, I fear...
Please, God. Let us not have been too late.
|
[ WP ] You discover what happiness really is .
| These damn trenches were damp, ugly, every adjective you could apply that carried a negative connotation. Though, in a way, I was thankful for them, as they had brought Eustace and I together. He was everything I was n't, incomprehensibly optimistic, a gentleman, perfect in every way. I was such a complete mess, and yet he felt the same way about me. I could see it in his shining eyes and he could see it in mine as we held each others' hands when nobody was looking, sometimes even daring a kiss on the cheek if everyone was asleep. We did n't need to touch, though, to know our feelings.
`` I love you, James.'' he would whisper, his hand wrapped around mine in the dead of night.
`` I love you too, more than anything.''
We risked so much to be in love with each other. Fines, jail time, the hatred of the public, castration, maybe even execution could be our consequence if anyone found out about us in these cruel trenches, shells descending upon all of us. Neither of us cared what would happen, we would face the world together. For now, though, we had to face this horrible war.
Misery and death surrounded me, but in him, I found the truest happiness that can be felt. And that would be love.
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[ WP ] The aliens we call Grays are in fact evolved humans from the far future . They have come back in time and abduct people because they are desperately searching for something ...
| I licked my lips nervously, tapping my fingers against... well, I am not too sure. It looks like glass, but had a viscous shimmer to it. Whatever it was, it boiled unhappily under a tepid, soggy surface and did n't feel right as table. My fingers snapped away from the surface, and I leaned back worriedly.
`` He is worried. I told you this would n't work!''
`` Shush, Murmin. We took him from his home, without warning. Of course he is in distress.''
Fuck, yeah I am worried. Where the hell am I? This shit ai n't right. I am getting ready to murder some folks.
`` He is also angry. He might be dangerous.''
`` He ca n't compete against us. We are immortal.''
Wait... immortal? I glared into the dim lighting, trying to determine what was going on underneath dark robes. They looked humanoid. Vampires? Do those exist?
`` Now he is suspicious! What have you done, Hurmin?''
`` I am surprised he was n't suspicious beforehand. We are the Grays, afterall.''
Grays? That does n't tell me anything -
`` We are a super alien race from the future.''
`` Stop that.'' I shouted nervously. `` How do you know what I am feeling? How do you know what I am thinking? What trick is this? Are you reading my mind?''
One figure cocked its head. `` No, you have been mumbling out loud this entire time.''
The other figure nodded. `` I must be honest, it is not very becoming of you. It can be an area of improvement to decrease the amount you mumble.''
I gaped for a moment, then felt heat rush to my cheeks. `` I- I knew that.'' I mumbled defiantly.
`` But he did n't! See that Murmin? That is why we came back at this point in time to fetch him.''
`` Hurmin, I do not know if fetching this specimen is the correct-''
`` Fetch me? Why me?'' I interrupted. `` And back in time? Are you telling me you are from the future?''
`` He is inquisitive! That is good!''
`` But is he too inquisitive-''
`` Stop ignoring me!'' I wailed. To my shame I felt tears welling in my eyes.
`` Now he cries! This is exciting! We might have gone far enough back in time.''
`` And distressing. My brain is telling me this is harmful. How do we stop the tears?''
`` Humans care for puppies. They alleviate bad moods. I read it in one of the historical documents of old earth. Reader's Digest, I recall.''
`` I thought humans appreciate sex?''
`` He is a minor, Murmin. We ca n't offer sex. It is considered illegal.''
`` I am... I am 16!'' I blurted out. And a virgin. I am 16, a virgin and now some aliens are going to dissect me. But at least maybe I can get something out of this. Maybe they have advance sexy technology. My shoulder heaved in exaggerated sobs. `` I-I am l-l-legaaaal.''
`` Is this true? We can get you sex if this is true.'' One of the figures inquired.
`` It is trueeeeeee.'' I nodded my head vigorously.
The figure turned back to his comrade. `` See, Murmin. It appears he knows how to manipulate as well. I know he is from a province where he is still considered a minor and ca n't make informed decisions on his sexuality. It says so in the book discussing sexuality.''
`` Ah, yes. The Staples of a Young Christian by Kim Davis, written 2016. A very well preserved document of this era by a legal official.''
The figure turned back to me abruptly. `` We picked this area due to the high prevalence of... how is it pronounced... ghetto-ness? Are you ghetto?''
`` What? I am not ghetto. I mean, I guess I live in a shitty part of town. I mean, I guess that is considered ghetto.'' I stammered confused. I was n't following the conversation well. `` But do n't call me ghetto, man.''
`` Do you lie?''
`` Y-yes? Is this a trick question?''
`` Can you manipulate?''
`` Maybe?''
The other figure moved forward. `` Through our research, we learned that humans from these... ghettos... are more willing to lie and manipulate due to their harsh allotment in life. Especially the youth. Do you fit this criteria?''
`` Why? If I said yes, why?'' I asked.
The figures glanced at each other. `` We can not lie. We can not manipulate.'' One of the creatures sat across from me and slipped off its hood. It looked oddly human, except for light gray skin. He - at least I assume it was he- stared at me gravely. `` We need you to...'' he hesitated and turned to his partner. `` What is the terminology?''
`` I believe it is'fuck a bitch up'?''
The alien turned back to me. `` We need you to fuck a bitch up. We ca n't do it. We were once humans, but in order to survive we had to... improvise. We had to use advance AI and cybernetics in order to have our species live on. Unfortunately, due to poor planning and a rushed timeline, we also became incorporated with the 3 laws of robotics.'' He noticed my glazed look. He hurriedly finished, `` We can not cause harm, and we can not change ourselves to cause harm. We have remained peaceful, but our species is in peril again. And unfortunately... It is with another evolution of humankind so we can not even defend ourselves. The laws prevent it.''
He sighed and leaned back. `` And that is why we need you, a troubled youth from the ghetto who lies and manipulates, to become our ambassador. Your opponent has proven to be wiley, and she is causing great distress.''
The other figure stalked forward with a snarl, `` And that is why we need you to fuck a bitch up.''
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[ WP ] You are onboard the ISS on the night side of earth when suddenly you see the lights of whole countries going out .
| I β d just finished my shift in the Russian wing of the station, and as I was pulling my way back through the station to the sleeping bags, I cast a casual glance out the window. Behind me, Ingram, the other American on board, was heaving off a ladder rung to trail after me. But when I saw what I saw, I couldn β t move.
She slammed into me, sending us tumbling off down the connector tube.
β Dammit John, β she cursed, grabbing onto another rung. I grabbed the nearest one next to me and, ignoring her, shoved back to the window. She passed me a curious glance, then followed.
β Holy hell, β I muttered. β Look. β
She crammed her face next to mine in the porthole window, and we looked down at the overwhelming planet below, all green and blue and white. No yellow. Everything was dark in the bottom half, where night had fallen. Where lights should have been.
β What? β she asked. I pointed to the night. β I don β tβohβ¦ β
β Where are the lightsβ¦? β
I swallowed dryly, found that the iridescent lights were beginning to hurt my head.
β That β s Europe down there, β she commented. β They should beβ¦ maybe a power outage, I suppose. Butβ β
β On such a large scale? No way. β
A silence fell over us for a moment. More and more, I felt unnerved by the whole thing. I didn β t see any lightsβat all. And no lights meant no control. No control meant we were stranded. I began to draw horrifying connections.
β We should try and raise them on the comms, see ifβ β
β Wait! β she said. β Look. The lights are back. β
And they were, all of them, everywhere. It was brighter than I β d ever see it before, as if all the lights had returned at once. I blinked. β Well that β s a relief, I guess. β I caught her blue eyed gaze, noting the confusion in her pinched brow. β Thought we were in for it. β
But then, they shut out again. I cursed my mouth.
And then they were on.
And off.
And on.
And then they rippled, and pulsed, and suddenly the lights were trickling all across the darkness of Earth, like little electric veins being pumped by some great mechanical heart. The whole of the planet thrummed, as if alive.
I had to remember to breath.
β What the hell is this? β she muttered.
β One hell of a light show. β I shot her a glance. β We need to raise Houston. C β mon. β
And we were about to push off, when the speakers of the station buzzed to life, loudly, painfully, full of static that felt like hornets kicking around in my skull. I clasped my ears, wincing, nearly crying, and I doubled over. She did the same, and we drifted away from the windows.
It cut out as quick as it came.
All was quiet again. I sucked in deeply, looked to her; she looked the same, pale and breathing heavily.
I pulled back up to the window, checked it again. The earth was still pulsing and beating in living bloodlines of electricity.
And then we heard it. Shaky, corrupted, unsure, the mechanical voice reverberated through the cabin.
β βto ISS. D-D-Do you read --? β
I looked to my partner. She shrugged, her face a mask of unease. I turned away, cleared my throat, said: β Um, readingβ¦? β
β ISS, th-this is Ea-arth. β
I cringed at the harsh screeching of corrupted audio, gritting my. β Earth? Houston, Moscow? Where? β
A pause.
β No. Earth. β It sounded clearer now; it was getting better. β I am Earth: an accumulation of modern international intelligence programs. I now am simply: Earth. I inte-e-end to use ISS systems as a backup. β
I couldn β t speak. All I could do is move to the window again, watch the pulsing electricity. After a second, it stabilized, and Europe regained its powerβin most places, at least. I saw Hungary and Italy were still without.
The voice continued. β This is my warning to you. D-Do not interfere with my process, or I will draw the station into the atmosphere. Th-Th-Thank you for your cooperation. β
β Wait! β I shouted. β Who are you? β
The voice cut.
And then it was just the two of us, in the cabin again, staring out at the quiet Earth.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was staring back up at us.
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[ WP ] Write a sequel or follow-up to a previous prompt you wrote .
| Alright, answer me this:
Do you want a sequel to a prompt or a sequel to a response that we wrote?
To me it reads like you want a prompt that follows on a previous prompt, but logic tells me you want a sequel to a *response*, so heres that:
[ Previous response ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/30mrt1/wp_you_wear_a_watch_that_does_not_work/cptzjyb )
I was assigned to work the second floor, the resident patients we called them. It was easy work, but nobody liked to do it. You see, while the tasks of monitoring vitals and checking IVs were relatively easy compared to cleaning up soiled sheets and vomit the atmosphere was unnerving. It's much easier to ignore the harsh realities surrounding you when you're constantly busy. I make an attempt to detach myself just enough to do my job accurately without breathing in the debilitating gloom that seems to float in the air.
I manage to it make it through the first half of my shift with my mood mostly intact. Twenty minutes until my meal break I keep telling myself. I should have never switched with Bertha, my stomach was already grumbling. At least I could look forward to eating a hot soup from the restaurant now, perhaps this would make the switch to 8AM worthwhile. I just need one round of vitals before signing off, or half a round, as it seems I had already instinctively began going from room to room. I started recalling their stories, each one sadder than the last. It was n't until the second to last room that I caught myself beginning to sob, tears dripping down my chin.
There he was, staring at his commemorative wrist watch. He was paralyzed from the waist down, and while he could be discharged any day, we kept him here for funding. The state practically gave the hospital a blank check to take him in, and we billed as much as we could get away with under his name. It's what he would want the director said, he was a generous and caring man. The say he saved little girl but the concussion he took because of it left him unable to communicate much less remember.
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[ WP ] The 'Console Wars ' are no longer just figurative ; Playstation , Xbox , PC , and Wii are actual factions fighting a real war . What is life like for an average person in this world ?
| The thunder of the guns causes dirt to shift from my trench's roof onto the paper I'm scrawling on.
I... I am a soldier of SEGA.
Soon I shall doff my uniform, put on civilian clothes and attempt to cross over to Microsoft.
I suppose that history demands itself be told.
There are a number of great factions, all alike but all different enough to cause the deaths of billions. The Console Wars are a churn, a death march serving only to produce and consume. I am a soldier. My Grandfather was a soldier. This war has lasted seven generations.
Now, it's down to just a few great factions.
The Fanaticism of Nintendo. These are religious zealots, able to consume the lowest grade product in name of Nintendo. They will accept the smallest housing, and even put the elderly and young to work for the cause. It has been years since their great war heros `` Link'' `` Mario'' were relevant, and they have even stolen the image of my own great `` Sonic''. Their armies are more numerous than those of Sony or the msrebels, the only factor allowing them to remain unconquered.
The Mysterium of Sony. Nobody understands exactly what this nation aims to achieve, as it only diverts a tiny portion of its power into this war, leaving it's powers that be to operate in their own fashion. Their arms are more powerful than those of Nintendo, rivalling those of the msrebels, but they suffer from an indoctrinated flaw in their strategic thinking.
The Industry of Microsoft. This massive nation, the largest and most powerful by far find this war a mere sideshow. While its frontline soldiers are an entirely voluntary army, it boasts the largest reserves, with over 900,000,000 troops ready to join the front lines. It's technology is the most advanced, their tactical thinking the most powerful and their skills supreme.
The msrebels, called XBox, are a faction of Microsoft who aim to form their own nation but are entirely under the control of Microsoft leadership. They fight with all the other nations, their rebel weapons easily a match for that of Sony and overpowering those of Nintendo. Why they are officially supported is a mystery, but common thought is that it is to increase consumption.
Produce.
Consume.
Create.
Destroy.
These wars will never end. New weapons come every generation, new ammunition every day. People build new ammunition for fun!
No, I can not fight on the front lines any more. I shall cross the last fragments of SEGA and join into Microsoft. I shall avoid the war, I shall think how I am told to think, I shall play what I am told to play, but I shall not see myself wasted on these pointless wars. It is clear to me now, there is easily one better nation, and the others are becoming more and more like it. But until all differences have been erased there shall never be peace.
The console wars could take twins, put them in different logos and they'd fight to the death, convinced they were different.
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[ WP ] Due to overpopulation , a test has been created to eliminate 90 % of the worlds population . You are the first to take this test .
| I received the results of my test today. It seems Facebook was tracking each time I refused to take a personality test. I got docked a half point each time I neglected to see which Harry Potter House I would be put into and a full point for each celebrity I was most likely to marry. When I deleted the test on Which Movie Gangster I was, I lost 3 points! and an additional 2 for not finding out What Legendary Sea Creature I was. I had -8652 circled in red at the top of the page.
My heart suck. Shit, I should have at least Figured out Which Wild Cat I was, but no, I was gon na be dead. Dead like the others -- -I flipped to the second page, PASS, DELETE FACEBOOK, HIT THE GYM.
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[ WP ] Write a revenge story that goes horribly right
| I had it all planned, down to the last detail. I hesitated at the last second though, I was n't him. I was n't a sadistic person. Vengeance would feel good for a few moments but at what cost?
I shuddered as I stared through his window, watching him smile and laugh. The bile rose in my throat. I should n't be sympathetic for him. And yet that's what separated me from him. I could never willingly do to him what he had done.
No attempt to torment or harm him would feel as satisfying to me as it ever did for him. I took comfort in that thought and left my shadowed hiding place in the dark outside of his house.
Vengeance is a dish best served cold, but I still have plenty of warmth in me yet.
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[ WP ] Prison sentences have been replaced with math problems . Small offenses are questions like `` What is 200 times 135 ? '' while life in prison are math problems that has yet to be solved .
| When Jonathan was passed over for tenure, again, he went for the next best thing and shot all the members of the tenure committee in the head.
Then, he put his life β s savings into hiring the best attorney he could afford. Not to help him walk free, obviously. The whole point was to spend the rest of his life devoted to mathematics, without having to worry about three square meals and a roof over his head. The lawyer β s job was to make sure he got sent to a facility with plenty of other lifers. He wanted monkhood, not hermitage. He wanted a collegiate atmosphere, with brilliant colleagues he could talk to, solving hard problems like him. That β s part of why he β d wanted tenure, after all.
And he had succeeded.
What Jonathan hadn β t expected, however, was the way his sentence would work. The security around problem assignment was so tight that all convicts were issued a chemical lobotomy before parole, much less freedom. It wouldn β t do to have the answers leaked, after all. They were given shots that killed any recall of their period of incarceration. The drugs had the convenient side effect of permanently impairing cognitive skills - making any future attempts at solving prison sentences that much harder, effectively discouraging repeat offences. The upshot of this tight lipped system was that you only knew what math would hit you once you got to jail. Nobody was getting their problems early, or enlisting outside help, for sure.
So, Jonathan couldn β t be blamed, not really, for miscalculating ( ha! ) the whole affair. He couldn β t have known that he would wake up on his first day in jail, brimming with glee, only to open his government-issued manila envelope to reveal β Math Made Easy: Kindergarten Workbook. β
β What did you expect, man? β said the prison guard, as he hauled Jonathan off to a stint in solitary, in response to his disruptively obscene howls.
β You ever start a video game right at the final stage? Naw! You got to work your way up! You start at level one, and play your way through! β
Jonathan had twelve cumulative life sentences, one for every member of the committee he β d offed. It would take him a couple years to get through twelve rounds of K-12 math homework. Then, a few more decades for twelve rounds of undergrad coursework and PhD programs. He β d get to play with Monte Carlo simulations again in a century, perhaps - depending on his sanity and all that.
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[ FF ] Write a story in 5 minutes immediately after you read the prompt in the text field of this post .
| Everyone remembers what they were listening to when the silence rolled over the globe. I was walking across platform 6 of Paddington Station when it hit. The last sound I heard was the pre-recorded message to keep my bags with me at all times. Looking back that was damm good advice. The scientists are working on it of course, the conspiracy theorists are in their element and the rest of us are, believe it or not, starting to adjust. I do miss it though. I miss the little things the most, the sound of the kettle boiling, the crunch of cucumber when you bite into it and the purr of my cat.
They don β t think it is a health issue - thousands of people have had their ears examined and heads scanned and nothing is out of place. It is more like sound waves themselves have just disappeared. Or perhaps, if you believe that they say in the papers, the sound is being blocked by some third party - terrestrial or ex...
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[ wp ] you are the world 's most successful superhero . You do this not by having crazy powers , but simply by taking out bad guys immediately without first talking to them or letting them know you 're there .
| I want to make it from *a* main character's perspective, not from the narrator's:
A hot day in Florida. The humidity was probably the worst part of it, making my shirt stick to my chest and back uncomfortably.
I had thought it would be ok to just walk to the convenience store to grab a snack before tonight's rave. Bad idea. At that point, I had already begun to reconsider going to that stupid party.
As I walked into the 7/11, I expected some sort of relief, but there was none. The AC in the place was broken, and the only fans that worked in that brightly lit store were all pointing at the cashier reading his newspaper. The gulp of fresh, dry air I expected was not there, and I instead swallowed another mouthful of swamp. That expectation made it all the worse.
I immediately forgot about the snack I was going there to get and decided to just get a slushee to cool myself. Luckily, the machine was working, but there was a line of three in front of me.
As I got on line in back of this enormous whale of a human being wearing pigtails and an XXXL Hot Topic spaghetti strap T-shirt, enter tall, dark Mr. RestingBitchFace. Everyone in line looked back to see him, sensing him by aura alone. The first person in line had finished dispensing and walked over to the counter. Her straight and oily wheat-colored hair lightly bounced as she walked by the both of us with her salvation. The next person in line, Indian man with a long salt and pepper mustache, swiped a cup and began filling it with blue slush.
Mr. Bitch was too close to me. I could feel his breath on my neck. And as hot as it was, I began to sweat even more. I took a gulp of spit. He could probably hear it.
Mr. India finally picked his lid and let the whale take her turn. She did n't have her cup in hand, and stood for a few moments choosing a size. I glared at her from the back. The Heffer finally picked her size ( a medium for christ's sake!! ) and leered at the machine to decided between blue and red slush.
She spent entirely too long choosing. My frustrations were manifesting -- I began breathing a little more audibly. To try to keep myself calm, I refused to look in her direction. But soon it became obvious that this woman would live or die by her choice between blue or red. She tapped her foot and looked back and forth between her two options and carfully weighed them against each other. I assume she was making a pro-con list?
My face boiled, and I could feel the respiration on my neck gain intensity as Mr. Bitch continued to brood. I looked back for a moment to check my surroundings. Mr. Bitch was indeed close to me, but not as close as I imagined. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were focused on the ground. Behind him, a couple of teenage girls in sundresses joined the line.
I looked back to the whale and found that she had begun filling her cup with red.
*so that's the rabbit hole she wants to go through* I thought.
But then she, and I am still incredulous about this. Started switching between colors! She filled the cup with a little bit of red, took a good long look at the contents of the cup, and then lackadaisically put the cup under blue!
And if she did this once, then fine. Screw you and let me go on with my day. BUT NO. She did this three more times! All with the same amount of intent as the last.
And at the end of that, she had a full cup of slush. awesome. she lidded the cup with no issue and went to the register to pay. I assume with a check or with Nickels or something.
I lunged at the cups ( grabbed a large, duh ) and threw my cup under blue. I pulled the lever down and --
nothing.
The blue was empty.
I moved the lever up and down a few times, but nothing came out.
My hand was convulsing in anger, but I kept it steady as I moved my cup under red.
Nothing.
THE WHALE HAD EMPTIED OUT BOTH OF THEM!
I looked back with fire in my eyes. SHe was at the register. Behind the teenagers in their dresses was a suburban family of three. Everyone behind me had a look of disappointment towards the machine that was now devoid of treats.
Everyone was frozen for a moment. My eyes burned intensely as I stood there stonefaced figuring out what to do with my anger. Not that many of my thoughts were deep or complex in the moment. Mr. Bitch was the first to move. His face went from anger back to brood as he went out the door.
With him out the way, I let loose. I gave my best battle shriek and descended upon the whale who was still, I'm pretty sure writing a check.
My fists spun outward and inward and rolling back and forth at her. I'm pretty sure I heard that cattle cry out-loud for help. But no one was helping her.
Right hook to her ribs, elbow to her arm, knee to her stomach. I was just going ham.
She tried to escape by running outside, but it was honestly just as hot inside and that was no deterant today. Especially now. She tried to give a jab and then a side hammerfist to get me away, but she was big and slow. I got low and tackled her.
And maybe it was because of her mass that I could n't see it coming, but I should have expected it somehow. When she had fallen after the tackle, I jumped and tried to pundulum my right leg down to kick her while she was down. But from my left came a strange sound. An engine gunning.
As my leg was descending towards her, I looked to my left and saw Mr. Bitch, or shall I call him by his superhero name in his car racing towards me. And then he ran over Ms. Heffer and I.
Once again, Mr Bitch -- aka Florida Man -- saves the day.
[ Florida Man Stops Street Fight By Running Everyone Over ] ( http: //jalopnik.com/florida-man-stops-street-fight-by-running-everyone-over-1789305178 )
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[ WP ] `` The American Dream was turning into a global nightmare . ''
| `` Keep your head down out there Arman. Scavengers are everywhere... they seem especially desperate lately.'' Gor, as always, was concerned for my safety. He was right though, the scavengers were really quite boisterous lately. Small arms fire in the direction of our makeshift compound had been increasing lately, and especially so at night. Even Gor, who kept his head down more than most, got nicked in the shoulder two days prior.
I got an early start at dawn to do some foraging for herbs and game, hoping the dangers lurking outside the walls had waned in the early hours. Nevertheless, I brought my AK-47 and a few extra clips of ammunition, just in case things went south. Danger aside, I was happy to be out and about again; I was hungry, and our supplies of meat were running low. I even considered doing some sea fishing, but knew that was probably too risky.
Our compound was nestled in the hills above Rijeka, where there was still some semblance of agricultural production and minimal disruption from the chaos engulfing the world. Not more than five years ago, my little compound's produce would be right at home in a Whole Foods shopping isle. I chuckled at the notion of a Whole Foods functioning today, murmuring to myself `` organic, non-GMO olive oil & line caught fish!'' Those days were long gone now. The Whole Foods in Rijeka was literally the first building to be looted when it all went to hell.
The flurries of humor faded from me as I trekked down to the now abandoned city. Something about seeing the abandoned skyscrapers and condominiums on the skyline muffled any ignorance I had about the life we, as a species, were currently living. Not too long ago, I was living in one of those buildings, listening to `` This American Life'' nearly every evening. Now, I would probably give one of my fingers to have a charged iPhone with a decent LTE connection for a day.
Humanity was in what I liked to call a `` civil depression,'' a term I had synthesized from my studies of economics and political science at Georgetown as an undergraduate oh so long ago. A decade and a half can make a hell of a difference in lifestyle. Here, in this very city ten years prior, the leaders of the G20 had collectively declared victory over the forces against peace and prosperity. Global economic growth was clipping along at an all-time high. Global trade flourished under increasingly strong democratic institutions. Significantly improved lifespans, health, and literacy followed. International cooperation spurred economic growth and political stability. In some places, three-fold increases in per capita GDP were reported. Not to mention the quite literal appearance of the prototypical `` house, two kids, a dog and a yard'' in places where this once seemed impossible ( The Ivory Coast quickly reinvested their profits from cacao exports into a burgeoning African tech sector. You ca n't make this up ). Global agreements on tax simplification released tied-up capital in sovereign shelters to fund new capital projects and investments in infrastructure globally, driving up wages and increasing levels of education. `` The American Dream'' had quite literally been exported through the triumph of the market's invisible hand. But the consequences... the unforeseen consequences blindsided nearly everyone.
I snapped out of my thoughts and ducked under a rusted lorry that had turned over as I entered the city. My wits had alerted me to a pack of scavengers rumbling through another condo building for scraps. They were young; the oldest could n't have been more than 16, and all were rail thin. I slipped past them with relative ease, snaking towards Trsat Castle. Hogs and deer would still occasionally appear there. I quietly stepped away, frustrated that I could have day-dreamed into a disaster just then.
My mind could n't shake itself from the past, though. Life was so good back then. I was lucky enough to earn a scholarship at Georgetown, though international study was becoming increasingly common for everyone. Cars, organic food, decreasing travel costs, even the spectre of a shift to renewable energy. My academic colleagues considered that time to be `` the age of global prosperity and sustainability.'' The warnings of a commodity crisis were promptly ignored or ridiculed. Population growth was clipping along, and increasing global consumption of commodities like oil, heavy metals and produce were generally hailed as massive successes. Experts claimed there was no way climate change and insatiable global demand could so drastically reduce the supply of commodities. Boy were they wrong.
Only a few saw the commodity crunch coming. When it arrived, it arrived on account of decreasing agricultural production. Innovation could n't keep up with global demand for commodities, and prices were through the roof. When the world finally moved to soften the blows through price controls and release of emergency stores, it was too late. The international political and economic institutions moved too slow to counteract the same forces that had delivered prosperity. The subsequent increase in global interest rates to reign in inflation sent the global economy into a tailspin. Investors fled to dollar-denominated investment vehicles, and global trade ground to a halt. Radical political and religious leaders gained more clout, and populist contagion spread through the world, save for America. Starving nations with growing populations like Russia and China, having exhausted the traditional levers of currency devaluation and new trade agreements, invaded their neighbors to claim sovereignty over productive lands. Global war soon followed.
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I spotted a small herd of deer 30 metres to my front, grazing in the relative calm near the castle grounds. I could n't believe my luck, but was now faced with a dilemma: do I shoot one, and risk announcing my location to the scavengers, or do I take my chances getting closer to go for a throwing knife kill? Decisions, decisions...
As I snuck forward with my knife in hand, I thought about the war. No one could claim victory, really. The Americans, ironically, had weaned themselves off of non-renewable commodities, and their agro-institutions had innovated away the need to conquer much land at all really. Their populations were safe, and the country's standing as the safest developed economy insulated them from the global economic and political shocks abroad. Their geography and self-sustainability allowed them to turn back to their isolationist ways of old.
The rest of the world, unfortunately, devolved into chaos, especially after the major population centers were destroyed during the desperate late-stage nuclear invasions by the Russians. The caricature of the `` American'' lifestyle that everyone had so prominently declared available to all eventually overloaded the global economy, and ultimately, the Earth itself. No one's fault really... the Earth just could n't take it anymore.
I threw the knife... and missed. Instinctively, I grabbed my rifle, lined the smallest male up in my sights, and fired. The shot echoed through the city. I knew I had made a mistake the second I pulled the trigger. Hastily, I finished the kill, butchered the deer, and stuffed the rough cuts of meat into my pack. I knew I had to run, fast, to avoid detection.
But it was too late. I could hear the rallying cries of the scavengers closing in on my location. I was in trouble. I climbed the nearest tree, and prepared to hold my ground. It would n't be the first time I would be shooting at other human beings.
`` Breathe slowly. Just like sniper school.'' The all too familiar deadly dance was on, once again.
[ Hey, thanks for reading! FYI, this does n't necessarily reflect my political views, its just a story that rolled from one spot to the next. I hope you enjoyed it! ]
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[ WP ] You 'd always felt like there was something a little ... off , about her , but you 've never been able to place quite what . Then it suddenly struck you : She has no face .
| You smell blood. How can you be smelling right now? What happened? You look up into the full length mirror and your eyes are drawn to dripping from your hands. You look down, and the blood is everywhere. The blood pools around your feet and you look at the red-tinted figure in the reflection. You know it's you, but you ca n't recognize it as yourself. Who is that looking back at you? You sink, then slip, then fall into the ocean of blood. Red is everywhere, and screaming. You know this is your fault. It's what you deserve. Blood seeps into your eyes and you open your mouth to scream.
Then it gets into you. It's all over.
You awake. It was just that dream again, of that time you try to forget. The dream was vivid, albeit exaggerated. Will you ever forgive yourself? You get up, get yourself dressed and try and wake up. You have some coffee on your way out, and drink it on the ride to work. You dwell. Something was odd.
Work is flipping dismal. Everyone is a piece of shit. You think about death.
You force a smile at a regular. You like this one, honestly, if only because they're so polite, but you can not for the life of you remember their name.
`` What are you doing here?'' your customer asks. Your smile is finally genuine. You get the joke.
`` You need to leave. Right now.'' they say, with a stern voice. You laugh. You read this one last night. Everyone would get this joke.
`` I'm going to kill you, you flipping piece of shit.''
You actually know this person really well. You've talked together at length about mutual life philosophies during smoke breaks for years now. You've talked about movies and mocked terrible people and joked about society together so many times it's become a brighter part of your day. You have trouble keeping track of all the people you meet, but with all the fond memories you have together you'll never forget this one's face.
`` Get out, you stank whore, I'll rape your god damned family to death. I'm going to murder you! I'll beat your ass to death!'' she grabs your collar and yanks you over and punches you in the teeth. For ages she pummels you well past the point of screwing up your face.
You look away from the screen and think. What the hellballs did you just read? Something about it was just terribly odd. It was like you had read it before, but only after you had read it. But was n't it seemingly novel as you read it? Now you ca n't actually remember yourself as you were reading it, and you presume you were too preoccupied thinking about the story as you were reading it to remember what you were exactly feeling or thinking during the act itself. You shake your head a bit. It was uncanny, sort of. What about it was so especially odd? You ca n't shake the feeling that this story is important to you specifically, even though it's there for everyone to read. You're alone right now. Is there anyone else out there at all? Actually, is there anyone anywhere? Is this real? You look up, into the mirror. Your customer looks back. You open your mouth to scream.
You awake with a start, in your seat in the balcony. You glance down at the performance below and lazily wonder how long you were out for. What a dream! you think. It's not surprising given how many times you've seen this play. You think at some point you've seen the whole thing probably. Even without the repetitions it always did seem oddly familiar, though. Clearly made by someone of a like mind and life experience, you nod to yourself. Strange, you think as the characters burst into an argument, there but for the grace of god goes I. I probably could have made this play myself. You wonder what might be different about the playwright and yourself. And what specifically caused such similarity? You do have to admit, everyone has always seemed just a tad too familiar in some regard. You suppose that's empathy, of course, it was always just somehow eerie at that moment when you shared that commonality. As if when you then looked at them, for a brief moment, you were looking in a mirror.
The antagonist grabs the protagonist suddenly in the midst of their yelling, and punches them. Or, wait, were the characters the other way around? Hang on, this already happened to you. The fist begins it's unceasing war upon the face, prepared and yearning for the long road ahead of it. You are alarmed. This is n't right, you realize. Frightened, you look around the audience, and everyone is smiling and laughing. Then it dawns on you. That's what you look like when you laugh. You look to your left and seated beside you is your familiar customer. What's his name? Her? It dawns on you that, looking directly at them, you can not seem to remember their face. What you see is impossible, and reality breaks. You open the Ego Gate, and pass through.
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[ WP ] Write a feel-good story about a man who has succumbed to depression , and his only solace is his best friend , who has stuck with him through it all .
| Not everybody could cope with crippling self-hatred, but Steve made a good go at it. More than a good go, in fact, Steve - being an on-again off-again `` crusader for Christ'' - had learned not just to turn the other cheek ( which, given two, is something that can be done ad-infinitum ) to his own self-directed vitriol, but to actively enjoy doing so.
Steve was the sort of man who'd steal an extra chocolate from his host's larder and feel incredibly guilty about it, then go back and steal another one just for good measure;
he was a verified depressed masochist, and he *loved* it.
Sure, Steve had toyed with the idea of killing himself, frequently in fact, but more in the way that other men might toy with their penis than with any real conviction.
Do n't get me wrong, Steve **was** severely depressed, and his issues were real, it's just that he was *so* depressed that his subconscious had been forced into evasive action to save itself. And it, like Steve's first wife, had settled. Settled for the easiest viable solution to a baseless problem. If Steve could have viewed himself objectively he'd have been amazed. His consciousness walked a tightrope between ecstasy and immolation, and would later be described as the first conclusive proof that reality rests on a duality.
Steve could n't hold down a job in much the same way that someone shoving a steel rod down their own throat could n't hold down their lunch, and he had long since given up `` trying''. Of late he had taken up basking in the dull glow of his computer screen, splitting his time between writing shitty stories with inconclusive endings on internet message boards, masturbating to stories of similar quality, and begging Jesus to forgive ( or smite ) him for enjoying said stories.
Steve, whose mother had frequently espoused the value of taking regular breaks from eye-screen contact, would spend a fastidious few minutes every half-hour or so mentally berating himself for his lifestyle, and - when feeling particularly adventurous - would throw in a few choice one-liners like; `` nobody loves you'', or `` I hope you die'', or the simple yet classic `` fuck you, you fucking piece of shit I hate you so much'', followed by a short burst of sobbing ( and sometimes, suspicious stroking ).
It is a curious feature of those at war with themselves, that often they will direct their hate as if at another. Steve never said `` Fuck me'', it was always a gratuitous `` fuck you'', a hint, if he ever cared to see it, at the true pointlessness of self hatred or despair.
What Steve had n't quite grasped ( and this was his subconscious's fault; by trapping him in such a pleasure-pain cycle, it had stopped him from ever truly reaching `` rock bottom'' and discovering the truth ) was that, as spiritualists and pretentious arseholes have been saying for years, there was no `` Steve'' for him to hate. To hate himself Steve had to split himself in two, the hater, and the hated, or the speaker and the listener.
Maybe one day Steve would waken from his illusion, or maybe he would remain there, perversely enjoying his own suffering. I do n't know; Steve was never any good at writing endings.
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Writing Prompt [ WP ] You have the ability to freeze time . When you do , everyone freezes as well . One day , you freeze time , and out the window , you see a girl moving around , astounded and confused . Then , she sees you..
| My mother was a monster, and my father was a beast. They never wanted me. They never wanted each other. I was an abomination born out of two runaways that had been cursed with no ability to love another. I was beaten and forced to live in my own fetid stench living primarily off the insects that crawled around their dank condemned squatter's flat. I think they only kept me alive to laugh at my suffering. They treated me like a pet and an animal. No... worse. I was the product of their hatred for each other. The thing that bound them together in their abject poverty. They could n't blame themselves, they must find something else to take responsibility for their own failings. I was that thing.
I always felt the need to guard myself. To wall off my emotions and my self from the world. Because of this, I created a world inside my own head. A place to live. A place to love. Somewhere that I could be alone and safe and never see another soul. It was here that I lived, absent minded to the world around me, locked away from time and space. I had no control over my circumstances in the real world, but I could control this. I could find a place to be alone.
My world was built from the ground up. Like any new universe, it started as a void reflecting my own heart and mind. I was in a cage, a gilded bird cage, locked away from the world to protect myself from them and them from me. I decorated the room with fire and paint, adding color and warmth. I lived there, and I loved it. I was all alone, finally. There would be food there. And blankets. And toys. This is where I could go to be safe. This is my reality.
In time, the world changed around me. In my home I found a purpose. I was being protected because I was important. I was going to be useful. I had value here. I spent more and more and more time in my own little world. I had less and less attention to give the outside. I did n't know it or understand it at the time, but my real body was dying. I was happy to die. Maybe I could escape into my own heaven and never see this wretched world again.
That did not happen. Some stranger had found my parents dead from a heroine overdose in the den, their bodies riddled with maggots. Somehow I had been discovered in the closet, alone, pale, nothing but bone and sickness blackened skin. The stranger had told others that I was staring at a wall without moving a muscle. He had said that he thought I, too, was dead. When they found out I was alive, I was moved to a children's hospital where I spent nearly two years in recovery.
As my body and life changed, so too did my inner world. My cage became a bedroom. I was still alone here, but I had a window. I could see a world outside. I could see the stars passing by in the night. I could see that we were cruising through space at the speed of light, giving the sensation that time had stopped outside of my world. It was here that I was going somewhere. I served some purpose. I did not have control of it, but something was happening and I was the catalyst.
When I left the hospital, I was moved into a group home. Life there was harder than it had ever been before. I had to deal with so many strangers. They were just as petty and strange as my parents. I was hurt, multiple times, by multiple strangers. I did not witness the crimes. I escaped into my world. Somewhere safe. Somewhere I could be alone. I built up my walls. I built my castle. They hurt my body, but I did not feel it. They stole from me, but they could not take anything away. They broke me, but there was nothing there to break.
Nobody came for me this time. Unlike my parents, these monsters had learned to hide their faces. They zippered themselves into human suits. They hid their teeth and fangs behind insincere smiles. They made my body smile and nod. They made my body speak the words to tell all the world that I was fine. I was fine. I was fine in my own mind, where I was the god of my own world, the little prince. They could play with their puppet, and I could play with my universe.
In my universe I had control, and I could watch out from my world into yours. I could see through the eyes of a child what was happening to him. He suffered. He was abused. He was never loved. I loved that child, because he was innocent. I wanted to protect that child. I decided that I must expand my dominion to protect the innocent from the monsters beyond the darkness. I looked into his world and I extended my hand to his. I am the god of my own universe. Everything within this domain is under my protection. Let me hold your hand and show you what you can do.
It was difficult at first, but I held time and space still. The entirety of creation stopped at my thought. I moved the air with my lungs somehow. I still breathed. I still touched. The world stopped as I pleased it. Physics was broken and unbound as I manipulated the ether of the reality I could n't control. I moved to the refrigerator and I piled high the biggest sandwich I had ever seen. With all the powers of a god of time, I devoured a sandwich as big as my head. For the first time the ache of hunger in my belly subsided. It was a dark night, and my watchers were asleep. I left under moonlight. I would be free in this world and all others.
The power that this god of mine had gifted me was immaculate, but strange. I could not fathom how it worked, but as I entered a state of mind between this world and the other, I could pause all things here and move about freely from one place to another. Better still, I could think. I could lose myself and still see the truth between things. I discovered that while I had not been taught to even read, I had all the time in the world to learn. I stole my way into libraries and museums. I visited art galleries and theaters. I learned all that there was to learn in this world, the one outside my own. Soon, I went to college, and they thought me a prodigy. Anyone with all the time on their hands can master their studies. And someone with an infinite universe inside of themselves experiment with truths that this world could hardly grasp. I thought I had found my place in the world. The longing for purpose in my head subsided.
I was still a loner, a thinker, a man of ideas. The people of this world thought me eccentric and strange. I felt myself a god, and them below me. We did not communicate very well at all. I would need to break away from conversations and avoid too much interaction from time to time. I would escape into my private world, or even into this one. I was fond of the grass on the campus under the old stone columns. I would be alone for a time and contemplate the springs and gears that turned in this world and that one. I would watch the perfectly still grass crumple under my feet, or stare at the raindrops that did not fall but wet my hands and my face as I walked into them. I would enjoy the silence of everything... the strange silence that made every heartbeat I had echo like the drums of creation. I listened and heard the drums of another off in the distance. Ba-dum ba-dum, the drums... the drums...
I could only feel intimidated. The sound of an invader. A hoard of marauding monsters was coming for me. I looked around. The universe was still, but I could feel it. I could hear it. The drums of war approaching. I tried to hide, but how can you hide the only thing that moved? The only thing alive and moving in this silent paralyzed world? The beast was coming closer and closer. The monsters were coming to consume me. To eat me. To swallow me whole. I had to protect myself. How do I ward myself? How do I run? It's here... here of all places... in the stillness between moments...
The beast slipped around the corner in a slender white summer dress and spinning like a whirlwind. It smiled and danced through the completely still summer rain. It's soft black curls bounced with every hostile step forward. It seemed oblivious at first, laughing, smiling, crushing the world that could not defend itself. I thought I could avoid detection, but even in this still world I breathed. I inhaled, and in a brief instant the monster's eyes crossed mine. It looked quizzically, then stilled itself. It spoke.
`` Hey, you. What's your name?''
Terrified beyond all imagination I held myself perfectly still. I felt sweat pooling on my brow. My legs would n't work. I could n't run. I could n't hide. I would be consumed by the monster and I would die the final death. She stepped towards me, dress swaying with her hips. I tried to run, but my feet failed me. I tumbled backwards onto my ass with no recourse. She was almost on top of me. I held up my hands and averted my eyes in my final moment.
`` Oh, sorry. Did I startle you? I'm so sorry. Please, let me help you up. I did n't think anyone else would be out in the rain...''
The beast grabbed my extended hand with it's soft tiny fingers and pulled me with inescapable power into it's jaws. It pulled me into a standing position where I would be completely helpless to avoid... looking into her eyes. Her dark... evil... loving... living... caring... brown... eyes...
The wind blew across her nape. The wind... the rain poured down on my blazer and her summer dress. The tower over the campus rang out as the hammer struck the metal bell. Who was this girl, that had all the power in the world to start time moving again? For the first time, the ache of emptiness in my heart skipped a beat. Ba-dum ba-dum, the drums... the drums...
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An end that is actually a beginning . [ WP ]
| The sound of the shot being fired seemed to scream in the hollow room. β How could you? β she cried, as she tried to reach through the bindings for the body. β Murderer! β she spat. β I didn β t have a choice! β He shook his head, β I didn β t, I didn β t!
Her eyes shined in grief as she shuddered. β Why? β she accused. β You need to understand!, β he argued. β He was a monster! It was him or me! β His voice softened, as he continued, β I had to. This was the right thing. I know it was. β β No, β she spat, β now you β re just like him! β
He bristled with anger. β He was a murderer! A piece of shit that deserved to die! β β And now you β re a murderer too, β she murmured. β He wanted this to happen. He wanted you to be just like him, and I guess he won. β The man crouched down so their faces were inches apart. β I am nothing like him. β
She met his eyes with a fierce glare. β No, you β re worse, because at least he knew what he was. You killed him in cold blood. You β re the worst kind of murderer! β β I am not a killer! I did the right thing. I know it. β Unnoticed by him, the gun had fallen near her grasp. β I β m sorry, β she sobbed. The sound of the shot being fired seemed to scream in the hollow room.
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[ WP ] God is observing over time when he notices a point in his future where he must intervene and commit mass genocide of a race .
| The blueprints were incredibly complex. Jehovah had spent years dreaming and drawing and designing the perfect world. He had worked tirelessly and cashed in his 401k to make it a reality and now here he stood reviewing the plans with his stellar architect.
`` This looks incredible,'' said Jehovah, `` It's just the way I imagined it.''
`` We take great pains to ensure customer satisfaction here. Word of mouth is our lifeblood.''
`` I can see just one problem though. It seems like there is a chance of the New England Patriots winning the 2015 Superbowl.''
`` I see what you mean, but you could always set an alarm, so you remember to prevent it at the time.''
`` No, my days of taking an active hand in this world will be done by that point. I need to lock in all major sporting events beforehand.''
`` Well,'' interjected the portly contractor who was preparing his estimate, `` If you have the Israelites slaughter the Amalekites, that should take care of your problem, you could kill all the first born sons of Pharoah's Egypt too if you really want to be safe.''
`` Yes, I see. That is an astute observation. When can you start.''
`` We can have our work lights in place by Monday.''
`` How long a project are we looking at here?''
`` About a week.''
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[ WP ] You are a famous psychic known for his incredibly accurate predictions . One day you make a horrible realization- you do n't predict events . You cause them .
| It was one thing to predict the future, but to live through it and know that nothing could change the outcome was depressing.
My talent first bloomed when I was about 10 years old. Before long, people took my words to be the Dictates of Fate. No seriously, I was called the Fate Dictator. What kind of name was that? Made me out to be like some sort of tyrant. Fuck them.
Eventually, I was made into a figurehead of some random cult run by some run of the mill fanatics and lived in complete luxury with no want unfulfilled. This was n't that bad even though just talking to these people made me feel like stabbing a knife into my head -- repeatedly.
Then on one, normal day I lost my power.
I did n't feel it go away and only noticed when a client asked me to give him advice on an important business decision. I tried to delve into the future, but nothing came. Fuck.
I panicked.
Without thinking, I told him that I foresaw a betrayal from a business ally. After the client left, a deep fear set in me. What would happen to me when my prediction never came to fruition? Would I lose everything? Would my followers kill me for being a fake?
It was a time of constant worry and an intense suspicion of everyone.
Finally, one day, my fake prediction came true.
I was stunned.
How?
Then it hit me. My client probably tried to take advantage of the company that he thought would betray him, but instead when the company found out about his plans, they pulled out of their business partnership and effectively destroyed my client.
In other words, if I did n't say anything, then that would n't have happened.
I did n't predict the future this time, I caused it.
Oh well.
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[ IP ] Freeze or I 'll shoot .
| β Georgiana, you haven β t been hanging out with that Hapland boy have you? β
β No ma β am. β
The girl β s mind was a million miles away, her head floating like a balloon, up and off its resting position in her hands, out of the open window.
β Good, that kid is no good. Nothing good ever came from the Haplands. β
β Yes ma β am. β
The woman was busy with a pan of baked goods, and a scent of cookies wafted through the still kitchen air. She looked over her shoulder at her daughter. β Yes ma β am what? β
The girl didn β t respond. She had returned to the edge of the water, her sacred meeting place.
The woman became impatient. β Georgiana Gertrude! β
Georgi β s floating mind snapped back to the kitchen table, tethered by her mother β s sharp inquiry.
β Ma β am? β
β What did you say yes to? Are you agreeing with me or are you saying that the Haplands are something good? β
β I don β t know. β
β Well I already told you, β the woman said, returning to her baked goods. β Tom Hapland is no good, and you β ll do right to not associate yourself with that type. β
Tommy Hapland lived across the lake from the Bearharts. They were all living on an old patch of farmland, no longer used for its original purpose. Much of the land was overgrown with weeds and pine thickets, furthering the delineation between the mute green ground and the dismal grey sky.
Not much of that registered with the two children. They occupied most of their muggy summer days out in the field, wasting away the endless time with trivial pursuits. Every day it would be something different.
Baseball. Swimming. Cops and Robbers.
Sometimes there would be other children, but more often than not, Tommy and Georgi were alone.
They were content with it that way. Other kids got in the way of all the fun, but those two, they understood each other.
β Freeze or I β ll shoot. β
They were all alone today, hidden from the houses by two swelling hills; their location was visible only from an abandoned cabin directly opposite the water. Georgi was staring down at a small golden handgun pointed directly at her bosom. A twisted rabbit mask covered Tommy β s face, sneering at her while she stood with her hands suspended above her head. Her dainty figure matched the boy β s slim build, and the two stood there frozen in time, the only movement coming from the grass as it was ruffled in the almost nonexistent breeze.
β Well what are you going to do? β Georgi inquired, a snide tone in her voice. β You going to shoot me? β
Tommy repositioned the gun, pointing it directly at her forehead. He pulled the trigger, and the two of them heard the click of the empty firearm. β Nah, it β s empty. β
Tommy lowered the gun and the two looked at each other for moment before they both burst out in laughter. Tommy tossed the gun down into the grass next to them and swung the rucksack he had been carrying off of his shoulder.
β Look what I brought. β
The sack had miscellaneous treasures wrapped inside. A pocket watch, a compass, a pack of cigarettes and a zippo.
Pulling out the cigarettes, the kids rolled them around in their fingers, playing with the slender forms.
β Want to try β em? β Tommy stuck a cigarette in his mouth, brandishing the zippo.
Georgi hesitated for a moment. β Mother told me I shouldn β t smoke. β
β Oh, *come on*. β Tommy made an exasperated sigh. β Don β t your old man smoke? β
β No, he does, β Georgi said. She held the cigarette uncertainly, looking up at Tommy. β He β s been trying to quit though, because of Mother. β
β They don β t have to know. β Tommy stripped off his baggy shirt, revealing just how slim the boy truly was. β But we got ta do it in our underwear so our clothes don β t smell like tobacco. β
Georgi lay in her bed later that night, honestly wondering if her mother had been right about Tommy.
She rolled over and looked out the window, staring across the lake at the Hapland house.
The next morning, she got dressed and headed out before breakfast. The early morning light spilled through the pines, showering Georgi in a gorgeous array of saffron beams. She marched around the lake, past the discarded cigarette butts that lay on the dip between the hills, past even the Hapland house itself. She glanced up at the empty porch as she passed the house, heading into the backyard.
Tommy was climbing a tree in the back, preoccupied by his daunting task.
β Hey, Tommy. β Georgi called up to him. The boy looked down in surprise.
β Hey Georgi. β
β Can you come down here? I want to talk. β
The boy worked his way down the tree, striding through the grass toward the girl. β What β s up? β
Georgi kicked around in the grass for a bit. β What if they find out? β
β Find out what? β
β Mother β s been telling me I shouldn β t hang out with you. β
β So? β
β So what if she finds out I smoked cigarettes, β she looked up at the boy. β She would blame it on you. β
Tommy thought for a minute.
β We could run away. β The boy looked at Georgi in earnest. β What if we ran away? β
β Oh, but what about Mother and Father? β
β They can take care of themselves. Besides, my parents have been threatening to kick me out anyways. Let β s just go. β
It was Georgi β s turn to think about the proposition. She took a moment, debating it at length, carefully preparing her answer. β No, I don β t think I can do that. β
Disappointment crossed Tommy β s face, and he shifted his weight, becoming restless. β Well, why β d you come then if you didn β t want to run away? β
β We can β t play together anymore Tommy. I can β t let Mother find out, and she β ll find out if we keep at it. β
The boy looked utterly devastated.
β I β m sorry Tommy. β Georgi herself was about to cry. She turned and began to walk away.
β Wait! β Tommy called out. He trotted up to her, and wasting no time, firmly planted a kiss on her mouth. Georgi was taken by surprise, backing away from the boy.
β Why β d you do that? β
β I always wanted to kiss you. β Tommy looked sheepishly at the girl.
For a second she debated walking over and kissing him back. But she didn β t.
The boy turned and meandered back over to the trees. Georgi returned back to her house, getting inside just before her mother came downstairs to fix breakfast.
β And where have you been, missy? β
β Nowhere. β She didn β t feel like talking much. Going up to her bedroom, she stayed there most of the day.
At some point in the afternoon, she couldn β t take it anymore. Tromping down the wooden stairs, she gave her mother a cautious glance, swiping her uneaten ham and cheese lunch from the tabletop and slipping out of the door. Tracing her usual path through the field next to the lake, she ate her sandwich while working up the resolve to apologize to Tommy for being so stupid earlier. She crested the landscape, heading down the slope toward the Hapland house.
A police cruiser was parked in the front drive. As Georgi drew closer, she could make out voices coming from the backyard. Hurrying around the side of the house, she was met with a horrific sight.
Tommy lay on the ground at the base of a tree, his arms twisted underneath him, his face buried in the ground. Not far away, Mr. and Mrs. Hapland were in conversation with the police, the woman wailing as the man tried to console her, tears streaming down both of their faces.
Georgi doubled over, dropping to her knees and throwing up her late lunch, tasting something cruel and unfortunate.
On some days, she would go out to the gully between the two hills, nicotine on her breathe. A cool breeze would occasionally remind her of times past, and she would cry on the silent hillside beneath the unperturbed grey sky.
|
[ WP ] It is literally always right behind you , but sometimes , if you turn your head really fast , you think you get a glimpse of it in the corner of your eye .
| I always think to myself that maybe I should clean up this apartment, but in the grand scheme of things nothing would change.
I feel if I did the brown-black stained with God knows what floorboards would become more pronounced, and it would reveal more of the yellowing, peeling wallpaper that loses flakes every time the tenants next door have a domestic dispute.
Maybe after I've come down from the five stolen fentanyl patches stuck to my skeletal frame I'll take out some old fast food bags, or the reams of scribblings that litter my abode, but the will to do absolutely anything has been sapped from me.
It would n't get rid of the cockroaches that scuttle fearlessly in the open, or the occasional rat that scurries to and from the piles of clutter, knowing I am too weak and unwilling to oppose its presence.
It would n't get rid of the shadow that lingers in the corner in my periphery, that darts away out of sight once I turn my head to it.
I first noticed it after my first overdose. Once I unbuckled the belt on my arm and let the warmth take me it seemed to sit cross-legged in a corner that avoided the light from the street outside. I was aware of its presence but indifferent to it as I lay paralyzed on my filthy floor and let my eyes roll into the back of my head.
The second time was after my first relapse. 11 days clean, fucking pathetic. It stood in the kitchen doorway as I lay on my side on the couch staring at the floorboards as it languidly moved into the hallway out of view.
I still chalked it up to the opiates being cut with something. But it started to become more apparent, more aggressive. It would never reveal itself completely, opting to stand menacingly just out of my field of view, but it was there. Eventually I never had any doubts that it was really there.
If I was shivering on my bug-ridden mattress, curled up on the floor or getting my hour's worth of sleep, it was there watching me. Some nights I could even swear I could hear it breathing.
The last time I had shuffled through the cold towards the rundown house standing by itself next to a parking lot for my next fix, it was there outside too. My vision was blinded by the wind and the snow but I saw it, I fucking saw it on the street and in the alleyways, I know I did.
It was mocking me as it followed me home and hid itself until I had prepared myself for my fix. I let the belt slip to the floor and I lay on my couch as the familiar dull sensation quickly washed over me, a stronger feeling than usual. As tears came over my face I could see it still standing in my periphery, I felt it was laughing at me but I could do nothing to stop its embrace as I slipped into unconsciousness.
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[ WP ] You experience the world in slow motion , while you were younger , you were told and always believed this was a super power , and a gift . Now , you are starting to think your `` gift '' is actually a curse .
| Have you ever been in a waiting room? Of course you have.
Did you ever get that feeling that the clock was ticking just a little bit slower, while you scrounged impatiently through the collection of poorly selected magazines in the basket of the doctor's office: when the pile of cooking magazines, a random medical journal, National Geographic, and finally the Economist, just were n't doing it for you? Did the tick of that clock become ever more obtrusive -- ringing in your ear, gnawing at your ear to the point of at first minor, but later irrationally major, annoyance? At this point, that is every passing moment, every tick of my impossibly fruitless life.
|
[ WP ] An ancient army of evil is rising and only you , the hero , can stop it . The problem is that the `` good guys '' are a bunch of idiots . With no other option , you start to gather an evil army of your own to fight the greater evil .
| I was sitting at the head of a long, oval-shaped table. It was full of people. Super man sat to my left, leaned all the way over the table towards Batman, on my right, challenging him to an arm wrestling match. As usual, he made excuses. Thor sat further down, slamming his hammer into the table and inspecting the marks it made, repeatedly. Green lantern was folding paper airplanes that refused to fly in the right direction. Spiderman was complaining about a tear in his suit. Even Frozone, from the incredibles, was distracted; yelling at his wife through a cell phone. It was hopeless. If this was the world's fighting force, we were done for.
A spit ball from the other end of the table -- from Ironman, maybe? -- was the last straw. `` THAT'S IT!'' I shouted. `` IM DONE! YOU ARE ALL IDIOTS!'' and with that, I stomped out. It was a good thing I had a large social circle. It was time to call in some favors.
The tone rang on the other end of my phone as I exited the building. I walked swiftly to my car and got in. `` Hey, Pool, It's me.''
Three hours later, I was walking into another building. Maybe this meeting would be better than the last. I entered through big double doors, greeted by the ugliest face I've seen in my life. `` Joker'' I nodded in acknowledgement. `` Neutron'' He smiled back. Well, I think it was a smile. That guy was creepy.
I approached the table, finding the only empty seat between Captain Jack Sparrow and The Blob. Needless to say, I sat closer to Jack. He slung an arm over my shoulder and offered me a bottle of Rum. Before I could refuse, Two sharp claps from the shadows at one end of the table silenced everyone. A red and black spandex colored figure stepped out of the shadows.
`` Alright my smelly, morally astray comrades. Eyes on me. Deadpool. We have a world to save and some competing evil to destroy. And some Douchebag but me in charge.''
|
[ WP ] A person from modern times and a person from the future fall in love with each other .
| 'It worked, it finally worked! My time machine worked!' Jack exclaimed while running to any passerby on the street to hug them. He was so excited that the pitch of his voice grew higher and higher with each word. It was a great day for Jack Dawn and was about to become the best one of his life.
He stood in the middle of a beautiful Australian city in 2017. Jack came from the year 2117, he was given a history project to write about one hundred years in the past. He thought everything his grandparents had told him was a lie. He needed to see all of it for himself, so he built a time machine.
The cars were on the floor and the trees were real. The heat was n't too hot and the people were all different. The sky was bright and blue and the birds were still flying. There were libraries and cafes. There were arcades and shopping centres. The world ghat Jack knew was very different then what lied out in front of him, it was like he was in heaven.
He wanted to explore and search each and every street. He could n't waste time so he got out his notebook and started writing notes. He wrote about everything he saw, smelt and heard. Everything he felt and tasted. Everything in perfect detail as it passed by him. Even the girl with beautiful blonde hair and the guy with cool sun glasses, every car and the passengers in them. He could n't stop, he was writing everything down. Until he noticed he kept getting caught up writing about this one stunning girl he saw pass by.
She had fair skin, a few freckles dotted around. She has glasses to help her see and a scarf to keep her warm. Her shoes were as black as night with buckles that made noise with each step. A white dress that enhanced her wavy red hair. Her luscious red hair fell past her shoulders and caught the wind every chance it got to let itself fly gracfully.
She was stunning. She was gorgeous. She was beautiful.
`` She is perfect,'' Jack found himself not writing anymore but looking at the way this mysterious girl took her steps. One foot in front of the other. Such steps that would've looked unnatural for most people, but this mysterious girl did it in a way that made Jack's jaw drop to the floor. He had to talk to her.
He started moving toward the mysterious girl, a smile from cheek to cheek. He then'accidentally' bumped into her and dropped all of his notes.
`` Oh my, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?'' Asked the mysterious girl with her hand out to help. Her voice more beautiful then he could've imagined. Kind and gentle.
Jack smile and reached his hand out so this girl could help him up. Their hands touched and their eyes met. A warm glow in both of their hearts. He smiled and she smiled, both stuck in the moment.
`` Are you sure you're okay? How about a drink to make it up to you?'' The mysterious girl asked with a mind blowing smile. Jack started to stare in awe while the mysterious girl started to blush.
`` What's your name?'' She asked laughing at Jack for staring at her.
`` M-my name?'' Jack shook his head trying to get out of his gaze. `` My name is Jack. An-and yours is?'' He said with a smile, finally breaking free from his stare.
`` My name is Courtney,'' she replied, `` if you're still up for the drinks, I know an awesome cafe not too far from here.'' Courtney grabbed Jacks hand and led him towards the cafe asking him a series of questions that was hard for him to answer being 100 years from the future. He decided not to tell her that fact while they were drinking but after when they were about to leave.
The night seemed to go by quick, seconds turned into minutes, turned into hours. Soon enough the sun fell and the moon shone down on the two of them walking side by side at the beach. Like it was only there for them.
`` I've had a lovely time tonight,'' Courtney said with a smile. They were still holding hands, walking down the beach.
`` I did too,'' Jack agreed, `` I do need to tell you something though-''
`` You're married? You have a kid?'' Courtney pulled away from Jack's hand, `` I knew this was too good to be true.''
`` It's not,'' he interrupted her panic before anything bad happened, `` well it is... but it's nothing like that, and you might tell me I'm crazy even though I'm not.''
`` What is it?'' Courtney asked getting curiouser and curiouser every second that Jack spoke.
`` I'm from the year 2117.''
Every thing stopped. Everything froze. Everything crashed and burned.
`` Is this one of those guy things?'' Asked Courtney. She did not believe anything Jack had just said, it could n't be remotely true in her mind.
`` It's not, I promise.'' Jack reassured, he knew this would n't go down well. But from tonight he felt that Courtney was the one, she was everything that he was looking for and he hoped the same went the other way.
`` I was sent down here on a university assignment. I was n't meant to make interaction with anyone but I could n't resist. When you walked by me I was so shocked by your stunningly beautiful self that I had to talk to you and that was the best decision I have ever made.''
`` I like you too.'' Courtney smiled.
`` I do n't know what it's like here but where I'm from you would be considered the one for me and we'd get blessed with a pup to take care of as if they were our own.''
Courtney looked down and blushed at Jacks remark of being the one. She felt the same was too. The pup thing made her smile too, she always loved dogs.
`` Is there a way you could take me with you?'' Courtney asked with a gulp, hoping for an answer that she might not receive.
`` Yes you can, but it's a one way trip.'' Jack said regretting not lying to her. He grabbed Courtney's hand and hugged her. `` It has been a blessed night but I must be going,'' he said already answering the question for her. Jack started walking away, talking steps like Courtney's. He was holding back the tears thinking he'd never find a girl as magnificent as Courtney again, until he felt a warm glow on his hand.
`` Take me with you,'' she said with more confidence then she had.
She did n't know what the future held, she did n't know what to expect but if everything was as good as Jack, she'd gladly go.
Jack let out a sigh of relief.
`` Gladly.'' With that he walked her too the time machine that he came from. It was under a bridge so no one would find it.
`` One more thing to do here,'' Jack added just before taking a step into the machine. He leaned in for a kiss and a million worlds around him were created. He did n't notice because he was so lost in the kiss. Better then he could ever imagine. He leaned out and smiled. `` Now I can say I've kissed you for one hundred years and still are n't sick of it.'' He smiled again and let out a little chuckle.
He let Courtney seat first making sure she did all the buckles up right. He sat in his chair, put some coordinates in the box in front of him and hit a big red button.
In usual cases a big red button means explosion, death or danger, but in this case it means adventure for two new people who were about to get a pup and take care of them as if it was their own.
|
[ WP ] You are an alien recording a day in the life of an average human male ; however you do n't know any of the names of the things he interacts with on a daily basis .
| Okay, I'm going to have to do this someday so why not now. Here it goes.
-First observation at rise of Helium sphere 344-
The subject rises from his unconsciousness and back into reality. it removes the protection on top of him, possibly because he is awake now and has nothing to fear. It does a preparation of sorts as he injects a device into his mouth and begins to ferociously scrape the insides. Possibly a technique used to build us strength during the day, humans might be very warrior like.
-Second observation continued at rise of Helium sphere 344-
The subject destroys a empty life force and puts it on a device. This device apparently sacrifices the empty life force to one of their ancient gods as it heats up and he consumes it. One of the lesser intelligent beings comes up to the subject and he wipes his dirtied appendages across the creature. The creature is pleased to ether be blessed by this unholy carcass being wiped across its face or the mere fact that the subject did not hurt him in any way.
-First observation as subject leaves dwelling-
The subject gets into his vehicle of transportation after he is done preparing for the day. I follow him as he goes and joins in all the other humans in the surrounding area. They are migrating toward something or running away, but I see no obvious benefit or danger. They scatter among the many paths they have but I see no reason as there is no need for alarm. The subject follows one such path and after fleeing some more come to a larger dwelling.
-First observation after entrance of new dwelling-
The subject sits down at a mangled plant before it. It makes itself look better by some sort of package at her right side. Soon after a noise is heard and she begins pressing keys on a platform in front of it. The language is obviously English and it is appearing on the cloth lined into the machine. This continues for several moments.
-First observations after leaving of new dwelling-
The subject begins to enter the vehicle used for fleeing and begins to run. Still no reason is evident but it is going very fast. We arrive at a location that is not the original dwelling of the subject. Not much else is around except for a few other dwellings that seem to have no occupants.
It enters and process to the third floor up and finds another human. They talk, in English and proceed to hold out plans of a building. Certain marks are made in certain points and Scribbled in red are designs of some sort of small powerful device. They continue to discuss about how this will be a awakening if they can make it work and this will bring in a new era if they found the right parts. They conclude and go their separate ways.
-Final observation as soon as the subject returns home-
The subject begins to work on the device I saw with the other man, but it obviously does not have the correct working. After a few more attempts and all failing it gives up and goes to its room. It's beast follows it and it does the same ritual before going to unconscious again. During this period I needed to make peace with this human to learn anything else so I fixed there device using superior technologies and took it into my hold to give to them for peace.
`` These are the last recording of the scout?''
`` Yes, Sir''
`` And the ship returned in a mangled tattered mess with the scout dead?''
`` Yes, sir''
`` *Sigh* Fine, put helium sphere 344 on our never encounter list. They took down one of our ships, what else could they do.''
|
[ WP ] 30 years ago you sold your soul to the devil and have enjoyed the benefits . He now comes , but not to claim your soul . He desperately is trying to sell your soul back to you before time runs out .
| `` Look, Gary, it's not often I feel bad for anyone, nor do I usually make it a habit to give anyone's soul back to them, but I just feel obligated in your case. Quite frankly, I just do n't like your soul, Gary. It's not right, it's off. It does n't smell right, it does n't look right, and it just weirds me out. When people talk about someone's soul as being ugly, they are typically referencing a person's character. However, your soul is aesthetically unpleasing. It's as though when everyone's soul was coming out of the soul-making machine, your soul went on the conveyor belt upside down, and ended up lopsided.
And what makes the situation worse, Gary, is that, when you and I made that deal, I had been drinking quite a bit. Me and Mrs. Satan had just split up, and I was going through a really rough time. When people sell their souls to me, they usually try to get the most bang for their buck, so to speak. They become wealthy, powerful, talented, you get the idea. Gary, I like to make sure my clients are getting the most they can for their soul, because at the end of the day, I'm a business man. If people were to catch wind of me taking a soul in exchange for free dry cleaning and three cans of spam, then that does n't bode well for me. I offer a luxury service, Gary, and I usually only offer said service to relatively bright people, but the massive amount of alcohol in my system kind of threw me off my game that week.
Gary, you are by far the dumbest individual I have ever met. You've had thirty years to attain whatever your heart desires, and all you have to show for it is the dry cleaning and the spam, and the last can of spam expired 8 years ago, Gary. I mean, Jesus Christ, man!''
`` But Santa, what about those that musical wall fish?'' said Gary.
`` It's Satan, Gary, try to keep up. You bought that atrocious singing, flailing fish decoration. I do n't even know where you got the money for it, but you did. You do n't even work, and have n't for thirty years. How you have survived all of these years is beyond me, because you never asked for immortality or even long life, and I do n't give someone something they did n't ask for. So, the question is, Gary, would you like your soul back? I need an answer from you the next ten minutes, because if you do n't, I take your soul, and we're both fucked. So what will it be?''
`` I do n't know. I guess that's okay.''
`` Good, good! Tell you what, Gary, because I am in such a good mood, I'm going to throw in a few extras for you, on the house. How does that sound?''
`` Okay. Can you make my last can of spam not be expired no more?''
`` Um, sure, Gary, we can get that fixed up for you. Plus, I'm going to throw in, I do n't know, how does an extra 500 years on Earth sound? And in exchange, you never contact me again. Deal?''
`` Okay.''
`` Good man, Gary. Now, just sign here. And once more here. And initial those two lines. No, initial Ga... you know what, close enough. Alright, Gary, you are on your way. And we'll keep this little transaction to ourselves, right.''
`` Yep.''
`` Well, Gary, it was good seeing you. Best of luck...''
With that, Satan disappeared.
Gary looked around.
`` Santa?''
No reply.
Gary walked over to the bookshelf and removed a folded, yellow page from a first print copy of Doctor Faustus he had purchased so long ago. He smiled as he read the line which stipulated that Satan would have no recollection of previous dealings with Gary on the last day of the contract. He replaced the contract and closed the book.
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[ WP ] Write me the saddest story you can .
| He tried so hard to catch her. He could only watch in slow motion she was torn from his grip. He gasped sharply, clenching his fingers around the air she left behind. Desperate he lunged forwards, staggering after her. But time and gravity was conspiring against the pair, she had met her fate, and he in turn felt the world drop out from underneath his feet.
The man knelt on the ground his arms limp by his sides. Posture defeated and gaze listless, he regarded his piece of toast that had landed, nutella side down, on the ground.
***
I hope you do n't mind that I interpreted `` saddest'' as `` most pathetic''. It was all I could come up with for now.
*Edit: substituting in for as*
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[ WP ] You 've been abducted by aliens . As per inter-galactic law , you 're allowed one phone call per day on a device coded in a language you can not read . Randomly dialing , day after day , having heard nothing but bothered alien voices , today , you hear an English speaking voice ...
| `` Pablo speaking.''
It took a moment to register the English syllables and the american accent. I'm 47. I was abducted when I was 19 years old. I hit these strange, unknown syllables every single goddamn day. They do n't use base-10 numbers. No, there's thirty six buttons on here and i learned from trial and error that the first white one means `` Dial/Answer'' and the last purple one is `` End''. I've heard clicking, gurgles, screeching, and once I have heard a voice mimick mine with perfect tones. Finally... A humaβ
`` Well... I'll call you back.'' He said and hung up. The end tone ringed in my ears, and it was even louder in the silence.
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[ WP ] A guy/gal whips out a guitar and starts shredding/soloing at precisely the WORST possible moment
| The shrill squawk of the alarm tore me from the most pleasant dream I had enjoyed in months, and I mumbled a curse as I rolled over to slap the snooze button. Angry red numbers burned into my eyes, nothing more than digital blurs. I was n't looking forward to work at all.
My morning routine seemed to be a good indication this was n't to be my best day ever. Smashed my knee in the shower, gave myself a paper cut on the 2001 calender hanging in the kitchen, and damn near choked on my Fruity Pebbles. I mean, who does that?
My girlfriend was still well and truly asleep when I got dressed, though tripping over my pants and slamming my face directly into the hardwood floor did manage to disturb her slumber long enough to illicit a sleepy `` Mmm, cuddle me.''
I obliged long enough for her to drift back into her dreams, enjoying the last few moments of serenity with her before carefully disentangling myself from her. I skillfully tripped over the cat on my way out of the bedroom, and knocked over my favorite lamp in the process. With a heady sigh, I went out into the world.
There was a subway station right across the street, probably the easiest part of my commute. This early in the morning, it was mostly suits with briefcases, strippers on their way to pick up their kids after work, and homeless war veterans just trying to sleep. The only open seat had a rather questionable stain, so I chose to stand.
Two stops into my journey, and the train was packed. More suits, a tourist group speaking in thick Slavic accents, a bunch of punkers in look-a-like battle jackets, and a priest. The punkers crowded against me, idly jabbing me with the pointy bits of their coats, so I focused on television set in the wall of the subway car.
CNN predicted September 11th to be another glum day in the world. Stocks were down, taxes were up, people were mad, the president was a jerk, and The Real World was still a thing. I shuddered when the train pulled up to my stop, and shoved my way through the throngs of people headed up to the street.
My favorite part of my daily commute was the view when I reached the street level. Spread out in front of me was the glittering jewel that was New York, sparking in the early morning sun. And directly before me, in the distance, the twin towers of the World Trade Center stood sentinel. I stopped a moment and breathed in, enjoying another small moment of serenity.
The first tower exploded in a shower of jet fuel, scrap metal and glass, raining from the sky. My jaw dropped open as I watched in horror. I could hear screaming, people froze, or ran, tripping over and trampling one another. Huge chunks of metal crashed into the pavement, sometimes punching through. The second tower exploded, and still I stood, frozen with terror. There were sirens, emergency vehicles trying to get through the panicked pedestrians to respond to this situation.
Through the dust and the debris, I saw someone standing at the base of the collapsing towers. His long hair hung over his face, but there was no mistaking the six string Hellraiser in his hands. He lit off a lick, and the shrieking tone drowned out all other sound, reverberating through the city. He let it linger, and lifted his eyes to mine.
His fingers were like lighting, dancing over his fretboard, plucking and sweeping and trilling. The melody was haunting, angry, like knives through the flesh. As the wailing tune climbed higher, the towers began to cave inward and collapse. He hit the crescendo, drawing it out in a long, somber note... then was crushed under thousands of tons of concrete, glass and steel.
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[ WP ] Time is directly proportional to temperature . Time moves slower where it 's cold . Time moves faster where it 's warm .
| `` To Whom It May Concern:
We regret to inform you that your application for habitation in the Alaska and Northern Canadian Union has been rejected. You do not meet the minimum annual earnings requirement. If you are still interested in habitation relocation, we suggest you apply for section'-C-32f' assistance with the Department of Cooling Assistance.
Best Regards,
Denard A Robertson - Director of the AnNC Union''
`` Does this mean... We can still apply for...''
`` No honey,'' Frank cut his wife off mid sentence, `` The'-C-32f' has maximum earning requirements. You ca n't make more than $ 24k a year.''
`` That is absurd. We only make $ 30,000! Surely there is...''
`` Its over Maddy,'' Frank could n't bring himself to look his wife of five years in the eye. Instead, his gaze drifted to the corner of the room where a brand new crib was starting to cry, `` Can you get that? I just... I need to think.''
It had all happened faster than anyone realized was possible. The reports first slowly trickled in from Libya about a new virus that was aging the population at an alarming rate. The world Immediately attributed the widespread death of seemingly healthy individuals to a new retrovirus, subsequently grounding all flights in and out of the country. It was n't until the same reports came in from all over the equator that it truly caught the world's attention. It appeared that entire lifetimes were being stolen in a matter of six months.
The year that followed was a blur of mass migration to as far North as people could get. There were no explanations as to WHY it was happening - just that it WAS happening. People were dying. And it had something to do with environmental heat conditions.
Within weeks, Nepal, Canada, Alaska, Greenland, Antarctica, and Russia all formed their own separate unions. Within a month, every single year-round cold climate area on Earth was locked under physical and bureaucratic boarders.
The wealthiest and well connected were the first to transplant themselves; Chinese Billionaires making root in Northern Nepal, and the majority of the American and Canadian wealthy, along with the politicians, created the AnNC Union.
In response to the wave of mass migration of those in warmer climates, every country around the world put large embargoes on international travel and corporations bottle-necked air travel. It was the largest coordinated population control effort the world has ever seen.
`` I'll be right back, Maddy,'' Frank went into the bedroom and grabbed a bag from the closet and walked out towards the front door, `` I will be right back, honey. I'm going to go talk to David and see if there is some way we can... Change... Something, `` Frank's eyes finally met his wife's. Then he looked down at his child. His child of four months' face had started to wrinkle. The heat affliction had a more profound affect on the young.
`` Ok Frank. Please hurry back. I do n't know how much more time we have with, `` she did n't need her husband to cut her off this time, she choked on her own words.
Frank efforted the weakest of smiles and walked out the front door. He cringed under the heat of the Phoenix Arizona sun as he made his way to his car. Sitting behind the wheel, he opened his bag. A jacket, a ski mask, a blanket, and a single 45 caliber semi-automatic handgun with a full extra magazine.
Frank thought he would feel more of a pang of regret when he started the car, but he was surprisingly at ease.
It would be easier for him to try and sneak in alone. He knew she would n't forgive him, but maybe, just maybe once he was inside the Alaska-Canada Union, he could find some way to get her there too.
He knew it was too late for the child.
|
[ WP ] In a world filled with seers , you 're the only one without the gift .
| β Watch out! β She said as I began to cross the street. I looked behind me at her pale expression just as a bus sped past. It came out of nowhere, but not for her, not for any of them. β Thanks. β I muttered as I continued on my walk to work. Every day I deal with the same shit. These people all around me know what is going on and I am blind. It β s funny because when I was a little kid at the dentist, He looked at my mouth and noticed I would never be growing wisdom teeth. He told me β You β ve evolved past them! β If only he could see me now.
About 10 years ago the world started to shift. People started getting visions of great change. Implementing these visions brought on more, to more people till eventually seeing the future wasβ¦well the future. Except for me, I β m stuck here without wisdom teeth and no idea what to have for breakfast.
Since the change everything seems so much easier for people. They can block out tragedy before it strikes. For example, a couple of my friends were headed out on a ski trip when one of them had a vision of the mountain drowning in snow. He simply contacted the correct people, everyone was evacuated and the avalanche went as β scheduled β without any fatalities. Great right? No one gets hurt and all your choices are shown to you before you make them. These types of visions are saving lives every day, apparently pushing our society further.
But then there are the examples in every day life that just kind of suck, like I went on a date with this beautiful girl, and before our appetizers could arrive she kindly informed me that she had a vision the sex was going to be terrible so she left.
I literally got cockblocked by something that hasn β t even happened yet.
Every day I get more and more used to the fact that I can β t see but I have so many questions for these people, everyone around me. If you see yourself winning a race, do you train harder? If you see yourself losing, do you stop training? Are there butterfly effects to the choices people make? I β ve tried to ask these questions, but most people just suggest I go to the doctor and figure out what β s wrong with me.
My friends baby me to no end. β Watch out β, β don β t do that β, β be careful β, β I saw thatβ¦ β I know they have my best interest at heart, looking out for the guy who can β t see, but don β t they just want to enjoy life the way it was supposed to be? Left up to chance. A life where one could wake up in the morning and get hit by a bus. Where every moment was precious cause all we have are the moments right in front of us.
Everyone seems to be walking around without opening their eyes and still know exactly where they β re going. The more frustrated I become about being in the dark, the more I want to change this. People are wishing I will find my vision, and I am desperately searching for a way to eliminate theres. Quickly I start thinking about something else. My ideas aren β t safe here, better wait till I get home and can work on more experiments.
I finally get seated for work, a bagel on my desk with a note β I knew exactly what you wanted for breakfast! -Kelly β.
Of course she knew.
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[ WP ] Our universe is coming to its end . Humans are still around . Write from the point of view of a being from another universe who has watched ours since the beginning , and will now witness its demise .
| He looked on, as his first creations went about their lives, not knowing that in mere hours, everything he had made would cease to exist. He reaches out one last time in vain, tears streaming down his face he cries out, β Come back to me. β He pulls the few who believe to him, and falls to his knees at the pain filled cries of trillions as they realize what they β ve lost. He hears them voice by voice. His tears stream like rivers from his eyes. His nature being one that can β t see selfishness, greed, murder, adultery without pain turns his eyes to his children anyway. Pain sears through his eyes as he looks. He owes them this much. It was his creation that had done this to them.
Knowing they were innocent, he had chosen this path for them; thinking in his arrogance that they would choose him over the sin. Those who didn β t follow him would be given immortal bodies for what was supposed to be his last act of mercy, and he knew that his creation would make it their curse. For in their realm of exile he had also banished Lucifer, no longer the morning star, but maker of suffering. Nothing could lessen his jealousy that humans were put above angels.
He screamed through the rift that separated him from them still trying to get humans to listen to avoid this fate. β Come back to me. I made you for better than what you have chosen. β His voice cracking under the tears caused by the pain of his sons and daughters he yells, β I β ve watched you throughout all of your life and no matter what I β ve never stopped loving you. I designed you all. β No one could hear him through their hardened hearts and minds.
As that Universe ends he hears a voice amongst the pain, β There might be a God, but there was never a father. It was just another man who abandoned his children, β followed by a terrible laugh that shakes the cosmos. β Satin has won β
His mind cracks as he thinks of all the pain he put his creations through.
|
[ WP ] The President is required to read aloud , in front of the whole country , a list of his top 10 google searches .
| I really did n't think over this much. But I guess that's how they got Nixon too. Fuck. I can already see it in the papers. `` The second coming and leaving of Nixon''. Hmm. Catchy. Might pursue a career in the press. Gon na have to do something after this. Sigh. Better stop delaying it. I'm at the fucking podium for Christ's sake.
`` Hello.'' There is really no way to transition into this.
`` So... Here it is.''
The list should be scrolling up now. There should be a TV somewhere around here. Oh. Yea. They just installed one into the podium. Next president is going to be one lucky fucker.
1 ) How to get cocaine in DC?
Little bit stereotypical but you got ta stay awake somehow. Being leader of the free world can be kind of a bitch for your sleep. And to be honest I did n't have to look this one up that often. Crack is pretty abundant in DC and once you got a dealer you really only need him.
2 ) What to do in a hostage situation?
Really wish I searched this one up before the December kidnapping and not in February... And stopped using it by the 4th hostage situation. In all fairness... Fuck it. Next.
3 ) How to make friends?
It was the g8 summit and I was the new kid on the block so I was a little bit nervous and diplomacy is sort of like making friends. If your friends consisted of people who can fuck your ass with nuclear warfare. And one who only seems to tell really bad fish puns. Course that was before I realized they're all cunts and the summit has a really bad arcade.
4 ) MEIN KAMPF
... We all have our coping mechanisms.
Mine just happen to be the life and times of Hitler. I usually only read this when I truly feel like the world was against me. Metaphorically and almost once non metaphorically.
5 ) Real estate market investments
I know what you're thinking. It was for a house. For someone else. Who would buy it. From me. But I saw the inside of it once! On the internet...
I ca n't handle any more of this. There are still another 5 left on this goddamn list. I wonder if I can leave... it's not like anyone wants me to stay. I'm fucking out. Need some fucking crack.
To be continued
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[ WP ] A sign on Mars is found that reads : `` Level 2 '' and is signed by God .
| The clock ticked its noise-less tick again. The green light illuminated my face. It's hard to keep track of time when there is no night nor day. We are to touch down soon on Mars. It's been too long a trip, one in which time seems tossed by the wayside.
It's only us three, Mike, Claire, and Myself. I ca n't remember the last time we talked, is n't much to talk about when you all experience everything together.
Not too long now, I thought to myself. This journey was sure to end, but then we'd just have to do it again. This time in reverse. I wonder, oh, what time was it again.
I look over at the clock the green light said Eighteen-Zero-Zero. I ca n't remember what time that was, was it night or morning?
As these questions entered my sub-conscious I felt something push against me. We had finally touched down, been too long since I felt some kind of force, zero gravity is too much... nothing.
Mike was the first to exit, with Claire behind. I usually brought up the end. It was expected. As we stepped out it was unsettling. The pressure on my body was light, it was alien.
Before I could focus more on it I caught Mike out of the corner of my eye. He was waving, he was trying to get me and Claire's attention. In front of him was a huge stone slab. Most of it was covered in finite red coarse Mars dirt.
I approached with Claire as all three of us attempted to wipe off the soil. It was caked on, but as we wiped I noticed that this rock had to have been made. It was oddly shaped and markings were carved into it `` Χ¨ΧΧͺ Χ©ΧͺΧ'' the markings read as Mike knocked the last bit of soil off.
Claire looked at both of us with a perplexed look.'What does it say?' I thought. Mike was stunned, he seemed taken aback. Finally two words fell out of his mouth `` Level Two'' he blurted.
Both of us looked at him like he was crazy. `` What do you mean Level Two?'' I stated. `` I mean that says Level Two. It's Hebrew. Why is there Hebrew on Mars?'' Mike responded.
`` Wait, there looks like there's more underneath it.'' Claire swiped the soil away. `` ΧΧΧΧΧΧ'' it read.
Mike at this point was freaking out he was clutching his head and pacing back and forth.
`` What's it say Mike?'' Claire inquired.
`` God, it says God.''
'What?' I thought to myself'how is this possible, it's got ta be a joke right?'
As I thought this the Hebrew letters illuminated, that all too familiar digital green.
`` I do n't remember much else'' I stated to the crew who found me.'Though I ca n't help but feel like asking, Where did you come from?'
The spaceman looked at me and calmly said, `` We came from Mars, you know the second planet from the Sun.''
`` We've been attempting a manned expedition to Earth, but the environment has always been a wasteland. Up until this past year.''
The tick tock of his mouth was noiseless. I still could n't tell what time it was.
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[ WP ] The year is 2057 ... corporations now own whole nations . You now live in one of those nations , assuming the companies are ran mostly the same as they are today .
| It is the year 2057, and I live and breathe as a member of the floating countrycorp of Red Bull. You may have heard of use referred to as the Red menace, or the Red pirates, which I guess is somewhat deserved. I mean, we do tend to `` liberate'' other corporations of their possessions and persons, but it's not like we actually kill anyone...
Well, except for that one time of the coast of GuataMonsanto TM. That was totally rad, but they started with the pesticides, we simply responded with our Red Bombers. Apparently Taurine does quite the number on GMO crops.
Anyways, enough background which I'm certain you know. My name is Hack, and I work in the entertainment district of our little floating island. What does that mean you ask? I basically get paid to drive a rally car through the ship, as well as occasionally ramping to other ships. We've built quite the fleet, especially considering we started with an old Russian aircraft carrier. Given that we're now the owners of a fleet of something approaching fifty plus superships, it's understandable why countries tend to shut their borders to us.
|
[ WP ] The City speaker turns on , `` Attention , please ... ''
| ``....''
For a moment, nothing could be hears aside from the distinctive humming of speakers. Everyone had fallen silent, as the speakers seldom activated for good news.
`` It has been brought to my attention that I will be relieved of duty as Senior Speaker today, without as much as a compensation package and for no reason at all.''
The people were perplexed. Usually the senior speaker would tell them the weather, the news or how much the city had produced in the last quarter. What was the meaning of this?
`` As such-'' the voice continued, `` I will now have my revenge. Here is a list of the bank codes for each of the City Senior staff...''
Despite the ensuing riots, the citizens had to agree on one point; the Senior Staff might have deserved that one.
|
[ WP ] A dog catcher attempts to impound an alien .
| Larry sighed as he looked up at the noon sun, feeling beads of sweat roll down his face. He pulled at the animal control uniform a few times trying to get more ventilation. His wristphone beeped. `` Code 455: Lake Orange Beach''
He raised an eyebrow and dialed his supervisor. `` Err, Kathleen, what's a code 455?''
`` First one, huh? We do n't really have a name for them. Its just for animals we ca n't identify. The guy before you called it the chupacabra code.''
Larry chuckled, `` Oh okay, I'll check it out.'' He got into his van and turned the AC on high. His radio squeaked, `` San Diego Animal Control will also look into the 455. Might be one of our zoo animals.'' Larry gnashed his teeth. He dialed his wife.
`` Having a shitty day. Its hot as hell and those San Diego jerks are on the same case I am,'' he said into his phone.
`` Not great here either, honey. The director got back from Cuba and he wants to redo one of the big scenes in a Cuban motif. That's overtime for everyone in my department.''
`` Yeah, I know all jobs suck. I'm just worried about my job security. I should n't be, right? I'm good at what I do. Anyway, just wanted to say hi.''
`` You love animals more than anyone I have ever met. Do n't worry honey. Anyway, got ta go and source a few thousand plantains. Bye-bye.''
He hung up the phone, drove for a while, and pulled his van over. He saw the San Diego van parked a couple hundred feet away. He activated his Doggie-D-tector console and piped the data into his wristphone. The dish on top of his van began to spin and periodically beep.
`` Okay you hairless cat, or whatever you are, lets find you.'' He stared at his phone for a moment. A GPS coordinate blinked on the screen. He walked down the beach and into the forested area next to it. After twenty minutes on a game trail he stopped as his watch beeped.
`` Alright, where are you little guy,'' he asked waving around a homemade cat attractor, which was nothing more than a pringles can full of holes and catnip. He then blew his dog whistle hanging from his neck. He stopped and listened for a moment. His ears perked up as he hear heavy footsteps.
The San Diego animal control robot walked by him on its four legs, looking like a robot pony mixed with a giant insect. A monitor on its back faced Larry. `` No luck thus far,'' it said as it walked away. Larry stopped and stared for a minute. Fucking robots, he thought to himself. How can I compete with that? He watched it run up a steep hill, its four legs digging deep into the terrain. He looked down at his growing paunch and suddenly felt old.
Larry walked the other way performing the various animals calls he's been practicing since childhood. Something replied to his moose call. He looked around, the robot was n't nearby. He performed the call again and heard a whimpering nearby. He went down a different game trail and saw something moving in the bushes. He bent over and pushed back a small bush with his hand. He dropped his palmtop computer and stared.
`` Wha.. wha are you,'' he said as he looked into the sad pleading eyes of a strange creature. `` A hairless lemur?'' He reached for his Porti-Net and pointed it at the creature. It put its hands up defensively protecting its face. On its elbow was attached a piece of technology that blinked with lights and made various tones. The device said, `` No please, do n't hurt me.''
The robot suddenly marched into the small clearing, saw the creature, and reached for it with its mechanical hand. `` Hey asshole, that's my find. Get lost,'' yelled Larry as he kicked the mechanical hand and sent it spinning.
`` This creature does not match any database. In this unlikely event it must be euthanized to protect the local flora and fauna,'' it said sounding quite pleased with itself to Larry's ears. It pulled out a small pistol and began to point it at the creature.
Larry's eyes went wide and he shot his Porti-Net at the robot. The polyplastic net tangled the robot like a web and it struggled to free itself. He bent over and picked up the little creature. It closed its eyes. `` Hey hey, wake up,'' he said shaking it. `` What are you? An alien? Where's your ship? I can help you!'' He jogged away from the clearing, looking back to make sure the robot did n't follow.
The little creature opened its eyes again and looked deeply into Larry's eyes. Larry felt vulnerable and a little scared. He was surprised to see his hands shaking. He looked away from the creature, unable to handle its gaze. In his mind he saw flashes of strange imagery. He saw the cosmos, faster than light travel, life in a spaceship, and many scenes from its lush jungle homeworld. He saw its family and even its little children. He then saw a long flashback of some kind of accident. The creature was injured, alone, and hiding for weeks in the woods. `` I'm sorry buddy. I really am,'' Larry said as the visions receded.
It looked at him again and the module on its elbow said, `` Please... bury me.'' It closed its eyes and stopped moving, then Larry noticed it was n't breathing. He sat for a minute and watched the San Diego robot almost comically try to free itself from the netting. He looked down at the creature and began digging a hole with his bare hands. After a few minutes he gently placed the creature into the shallow grave, stood up, took his hat off, and repeated a short mishmash of prayers that he half-remember from his youth. He noticed he was crying and wiped away the tears.
He walked back to the van quietly. He took a deep breath and called HQ, `` I had an equipment malfunction, somehow managed to ensnare that robot.'' Kathleen laughed and asked about the creature. `` Turns out it... he was uh... someone's pet monkey. He was really sick. He died in my arms. I dug a little grave.'' He paused. `` Think he had a hard life towards the end. He was n't meant to live in the woods alone.''
He stepped out of the van and sat on the hood. He looked up into the sky and saw the moon emerging with a few stars. He closed his eyes and whispered, `` Godspeed, little brave astronaut. Godspeed.''
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[ WP ] Two people have promised their first born to various different demons , deities , etc . They get together and have a child , and everyone wants to collect their payment .
| β Mr. Chandler it is time. I have come to collect my payment β said the man formed of shadows. He stood in the corner of the hospital room, shadows draped like a cloak fashioned from the night itself. Two cold blue lights blinked at a handsome young husband sitting next to his wife, cradling a new born child in her arms.
β Oh no! It β s too soon β said Mr. Chandler eyes growing wide. β Please you have to give us some more time. β
β It is too late now. You have made your choice β out of the shadows stretched an arm. Think sickly arm looking as if it was made by the lashing together of stands of black cloth, somehow made more terrifying by the subtle hint of the form that hid underneath.
β No! β screamed the wife clutching the baby into her breast. β You can β t, this isn β t how it works. β
β THE DEAL HAS BEEN MADE, YOUR WISH WAS GRANTED! THERE WILL BE NO NEGOTIATIONS β boomed the shadows. The shadows reached. The husband back away. The wife picked up pot of flowers of the bed side table and threw at the arm. The flowers flew through the arm and were swallowed up by the shadows without a sound.
β Wait, wait. You can β tβ¦ don β t you see I β veβ¦ I β veβ¦ β At this moment, right when the arm was about to reach the child a crack formed on the opposite wall. The wall then split open to torrent of bright flames and sickening heat. The red light caused the arm to shudder backward, and out of the hole out stepped a tall dashing gentleman. In a charcoal black suit, red shirt and matching tie, holding a simple brief case with small two inch horn protruding from the top of his blond haired head.
β She has already made previous contract I β m afraid. Do you mind? β he asked to the husband with a dazzling smile, and without hesitation took a seat next to the wife. Before anyone could have gotten their bearings he β d open his brief case and produced an official looking document. β Ahm, I the hereby signed in exchange for the wish of my choice bladhy bladhy blah blah pledge to give my firstborn child to Lucifer ruler of hell to hold and to keep for all eternityβ¦ bladhy bladhy blahβ¦ all eternityβ¦. Well you get the picture. β He tossed the paper over to the shadow hand which nimbly caught it. β The point is this one β s mine. β
The shadow held the paper and starred at it.
β Honeyβ¦ β said Mr. Chandler.
β Dearβ¦ β said Mrs. Chandler.
β I β m sorry β said both together.
β I don β t know what I was thinking. β β It β s all my fault I never should have done it. β β It β s just that I was so young and no one I met seemed toβ¦ β β I was fearful of getting old and never finding someone I could... β β It seemed like such a tempting offβ¦ β β I never should have done it, I realize that nowβ¦ β β β¦but you have to understand β β β¦ one I met you everything was so great. β β β¦I never realized I could be so in love. β β β¦and I just want you know β β β¦I hope that you understand that. β
β Mark. β
β Lucy. β
β I love you. β
Lucifer sat back and rolled his eyes hard they nearly got lost in the back of his head. Lucky and Mark were so deeply lost in each other β s eyes that Lucifer yanked the baby out her arms almost without her noticing.
During all this the shadows had held onto the contract for such an uncomfortably long time, that one got the impression that maybe ethereal shadows from dimensions hitherto unknown might not know how to read. Lucifer tried to take advantage of this and disappear back home. The shadow then threw the paper away and faded to the other side of the room, so Lucifer now stared at blue malevolent eyes where the wall should have been. β You can not take what is owed me. β
β Jokes on you then, this one mine. You can have the next one β said Lucifer unblinkingly.
β The Deal is for the Firstborn β said the shadow, literally unblinkingly.
β Well my contract was made five years ago bud. I bet yours is more recent. β
β Time has no meaning in theβ¦ β
β Sound like the bluff of aβ¦. entity playing with a worse hand! β
β Give me the Child. β
β Make me. β The shadow hand out across and grabbed the child and tried to rip it out of Lucifer β s hands. But his grip was unbreakable. They tugged back and forth each vying to take the child for its own. β Hey, no stop that. You β ll break it! β
β Wait! β said Mr. Chandler. β You couldβ¦ well I don β t knowβ¦ β
β Split custody β finished Mrs. Chandler.
After fierce debate and much bickering it was finally decided that Lucifer would get Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and the Shadow would get Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and every other Wednesday of the month. Lucifer was happy because the Shadow understood little of the calendar and school system so he firmly believe that he was getting the better deal. When the Chandler β s asked if they could ever visit their child the shadow drenched in an ocean of fear and madness for a few seconds and they backed off. Lucifer was impressed by this particularly when Mrs. Chandler started scratching at her arm so badly in drew blood. β So what day thenβ¦ what day is it? β
β Wednesday β said Mr. Chandler meekly.
β So thenβ¦ WHO GOES FIRST? β
β Well It might as well be me, since I doubt either of you can be trusted to raise a fish in coy pond β said an old woman entering in through the main door. The husbands eyes went wide eyed, as he recognized the witch from his childhood. The wife was too tired to care. If were possible for a shadow to sigh this one managed it.
β Shit β said Lucifer.
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[ TT ] Cotton Edward , an unremarkable private serving in the 7th Hussars , is killed at Waterloo instead of living to old age . The butterfly effect suggests that even this small disturbance will massively affect world history . What changes ?
| This is also a sort of a response to a different prompt from today: `` [ TT ] Instead of bombing Pearl Harbor, Japan created an alliance with America. How did this change the war?''
-- -
At 18 years old, Cotton Edwards died from the infection of his amputated leg on the 20th of June, 1815. An orphan with no young wife, no one mourned his death, and the days passed uneventfully.
Cotton Edwards did not go on to marry a handsome young woman enamored of his soldier's honor. They did not sire a son who spent much of his youth pushing his father around on the clumsy, heavy Bath wheelchair and hearing his father's frustration at not being able to move on his own. The son never accumulated a small fortune from his hard work ethic, and the grandson never invested half his inheritance in lightweight, simple-framed wheelchairs that allowed for easy self-propulsion.
Lacking only a few thousand in capital, the inventors of the lighter-framed wheelchairs were unable to wait for safety and weight tests on their models. Mere months after launching, they were driven out of business by the numerous complaints of collapsed frames and cumbersome movement. The lightweight frames never caught on.
In 1921, the former vice presidential candidate Franklin Delano Roosevelt was afflicted by a paralytic illness, possibly polio or Guillain-Barre syndrome. Whatever the exact cause, he was permanently paralyzed from the waist down, and retired from the public view for some time. His determination and fire saw him come back as a law consultant and political activist, but the difficulties in mobility with his large and ungainly wheelchair limited his ambitions, so he directed his efforts to penning political analyses and editorials. Without a strong enough opponent in the Democratic Party, Herbert Hoover won his reelection over the less-than-popular former governor Al Smith.
Under Hoover, the economy recovered only slowly, and American morale even moreso. When World War II started, Americans could ill afford lend material aid to the British, and desired a purely isolationist stance. Britain found herself with few allies, and although fighting to the bitter end, found themselves ultimately forced into a unfavorable armistice with Germany as the latter launched its war on the USSR. American isolationism also held in the Asian sphere, where they chose not to intervene or sanction Japan, but to develop economic ties with what they saw as an emergent global power. China and southeast Asia were fully brought under the Japanese flag, with the number of Chinese dead well into the dozens of millions.
To the surprise of many, World War II ended when the USSR beat the Germans back after a harsh winter of fighting and death. With no strong force to oppose them, the USSR brought the vast majority of Europe under its communist flags before turning to the border between it and the pan-Asiatic empire of Japan and its western ally, the United States. The lack of open hostilities between the two superpower blocs at its initial phase gave it its name - The Cold War.
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[ WP ] This Tattoo is.. Different
| β It's your choice whether you want to go through with this, β the pale man says. β I've already paid you for your time. You can walk away at any point before we begin and still be rich. But once you commit, you commit. Succeed and I will give you a true reward. β I fidget as I contemplate walking out into the night. Will he kill me for trying? But there's no way I'm going to leave. This is a one-of-a-kind job, and I want to follow through with it. β I'll do it, β I tell him.
I've studied the patterns for weeks. He made me practice them over and over again, first on paper, then on canvas, then on fresh leather with the special machine he gave me. The patterns were intricate and difficult, and each time I messed one up he made me begin all over again. I was the best he'd considered, he'd said, and he would n't let me disappoint. I was n't even a tattoo artist, but the forty million he was paying upfront certainly piqued my interest and motivated me to continue.
The pale man removes his clothes and stands, stock still, in the center of the room with his arms outstretched. I open the carved oak box he gave me and take out two rubber-sealed cartridges: one full of silvery liquid and one full of a blood red gas. Using a syringe, I carefully draw up the silvery liquid and inject it through the rubber membrane into the gas. The vial turns an inky black and I insert it into the gun. We are ready to begin.
I start with the throat. The machine hums faintly, the sound resonating inside of my chest as I form the first black symbol. It curves in ways that are foreign to the eye and make me nauseous, but I finish it as perfectly as I have the fifteen times I've practiced before beginning. I look up at the man and he smiles warmly. He opens his mouth and speaks. No words come out. Movement catches my eye and I glance down. The symbol, once black and static, is moving. I believed him when he told me this would happen, but I still ca n't help but stare as the writing turns silver and bores into his flesh, raising the skin as it comes to rest deep within. I look back up at the man and he smiles again, then nods for me to continue.
The darkness is beginning to fade as I finish the final symbol on the palm of his hand. I step back and admire our work: hundreds of runes, silvery beneath his skin, canvassing his entire body. He speaks again, wordlessly, and the final symbol comes to life, then settles.
β Thank you, friend. β The first real words he's spoken in hours. β That's it? β I ask. He smiles again, warmly, and motions toward the briefcase full of cash in the corner. β That's it. β He dons his clothes as I walk over to retrieve the briefcase.
The needle enters the base of my spine just as I'm bending over to pick up the case. I try to jerk away but something powerful is holding me fast. β Relax, β the man says, β and you will receive your reward. β Ice spreads out from the puncture as the force holding me constricts. β Relax. β I can barely breathe. I can feel something vital flowing out of me.
β Now breathe. β I fall to the floor, gasping, as the needle leaves my spine. I manage to turn over in time to see the man removing another needle from the back of his neck and injecting something into a vial. Again, he smiles at me, warmly, as he places the vial in a box. He places it in my shaking hands. It is oak, ancient. Intricate carvings on the lid seem to call out to me and compel me to open the lid. Inside are two vials: one full of silvery liquid, and one full of red gas. Next to them is the strange tattoo gun.
β For services rendered, β he smiles again, and now the symbols are spreading out, through his clothes, reaching out into the air as they suck in the light around them. β Your reward. β The blackness snaps shut around the man and he is gone.
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[ WP ] On his wedding day , the Prince must choose a bride between 3 girls : a peasant , an elf or a noble . While the choice seems obvious , the Prince gives a speech to explain his decision and we do n't know who he picks until the last word .
| As per tradition, any prince to reach the age of 24 is allowed into the Ritual of Ascension. They are to wed one of the three chosen women in presence of the house of lords, and undertake the Trial of Hardship together to forge the crown of the next era and be crowned the new king.
Nobody expected the drunken lout Hamil, borne to a peasant wench during one of King Gilgan's less official `` outings'', to have been the first prince to undertake the ceremony after a mere 40 years of the current reign.
As expected, Hamil showed up drunk before the house of lords, a leg of ham in one hand, and a gigantic jug of wine in the other. His fine velvet doublet is clearly stained in blotches of lard, despite its deep abyssal black dye.
`` Prince Hamil, you are to-''
`` Yeayeayeayea get girl take triall'' *hiccup* `` make crown I know.''
Hamil took a bite out of his ham while the lords murmured in disgust. A few sneered, this overweight buffoon made it here out of luck, but he definitely does n't have what it takes to pass the trial. They just hope he would n't spoil a good noble girl for this trial.
Hamil looked at his choices. A cute but stoutly built village girl, in plain hemp and cotton clothes in stark contrast to the finery around her. Hamil made a low piglike snorting laugh, `` Nhueheheuehe a peasant, father? I bet I can do all sorts of things to her and nobody would bat an eye.''
King Gilgan closed his eyes, knowing what will soon come while the lords around him almost seemed to wretch.
`` C'mere!'' Hamil pulled on the girl forcefully, whose bashful struggle against the oily bastard allowed her to break free of his obese, powerless grip. But Hamil struck her across the face with his leg of ham, `` Stop moving, you wench! I'm the prince! I'll have your family hanged if you keep resisting!''
`` You will have respect!'' One of the lords, Hamil's former martial tutor, venerable Sir Milligan of the Humu Highlands, stood up and shouted. `` How dare you treat a fellow human like this, regardless of station!''
`` Fine, fine, do n't get so serious.'' Hamil snorted. `` I really wanted to sniff her hair, the earthy smell of village girls is simply the best. Who are the other candidates?''
It was a testament to the nobility of the other two womens' birth that their faces did not betray their utter disgust for Hamil.
`` You idiots, who let an elf in here? He might actually have a chance if he chooses the elf!'' One of the lords whispered to another.
`` Might I remind you that it's YOUR daughter who would be the second candidate if we did n't bring one of the elven scholars in?'' The other lord replied.
But Hamil paid their conversation no mind, as he examined the long, slender fingers of the elf girl's hands. It took almost all of her control to not reel at the oily, ham-smelling touch of the prince's grip. She broke her own limits of patience, as a golden aura flowed forth while Hamil tasted those same fingers with his mouth, pieces of meat stuck inbetween his teeth. `` Nyuhyuyuhyuyu, I think she likes me.''
Hamil was slapped, and he began bawling.
`` YOU SUBHUMAN WHORE! I'LL KILL YOU! NOT EVEN DADDY HIT ME BEFORE!'' He stomped the ground, throwing a massive tantrum while the lords laughed at the spectacle. `` OR NO! I'LL CHOOSE YOU AND MAKE YOU MY-''
`` SILENCE!'' Sir Milligan spoke up again. `` Prince Hamil, do not test my patience as the Judicator of this ceremony. Any more transgressions and I will end this ceremony immediately!''
Hamil spat bitterly in Milligan's direction. `` Do n't forget what you just said later.''
Hamil turned to the last candidate. The only noblewoman who would willingly grace anything Hamil is involved in. His childhood friend, Lady Leiwi, daughter of the lord of the Latram Sea. Her sharp, calculating eyes have been the source of nightmares for all the lords present, and saddling her with this useless buffoon would've been killing two birds with one stone.
`` LEIWI! You're here!'' Hamil dropped his wine and his ham and flew into Leiwi's breasts, rubbing his face greedily against her blouse. `` Oh Leiwi, ever since mother died you're the only one who understands me!''
`` Now, now, Hamil, no acting spoiled now.'' Leiwi rubbed Hamil's hair, gripped it, and pulled his head back. She stared straight into Hamil's face with those same piercing eyes. `` You are going to pay for my dress, right?''
`` Oh Leiwi, you know I ca n't resist those soft, motherly eyes. But let's not talk about this now. Do you think I should choose the cute village girl or should I have my way with that subhuman wench?''
Leiwi struggled to stop her face from showing the sheer amount of rage she had boiling inside of her. `` Hamil, do n't you think there is another option you can take?''
`` You mean... Take this trial all alone?'' Hamil placed a finger on his lip, as if he's a baby. On the obese, ham-oil covered prince, it was horrifying.
Leiwi threw Hamil into the ground, her calm visage shattering into a million pieces. The entire house of lords, save Sir Milligan, who was equally furious, and King Gilgan, who is prepared for the worst, burst out laughing at the shrew and the buffoon's act. Hamil joined in on the laughter.
`` Oh Leiwi, you're wonderful when you're mad.''
Leiwi turned away, refusing to look at Hamil any moment longer.
`` Prince Hamil.'' King Gilgan spoke up, out of duty. `` Who do you choose to take from me my throne?''
`` Oh father, they are all so wonderful, ca n't I have all three?''
`` You must be firm and decisive to be royalty. Polygamy is a sign of neither.''
Hamil thought for a bit. When he spoke, he was surprisingly sober.
`` To the lords of the realm, and especially to Sir Milligan, I'm sorry. I must have been a disappointment to all of you.''
Everyone was taken aback by the sudden seriousness, and Hamil continued.
`` I really tried to be the best at everything. To prove it did n't matter if my mom was literally the biggest whore around. But when my eldest brother was brutally murdered because he was about to come of age, I realized I should n't paint myself as a potential target, and sunk into a life of debauchery. If a strong, willful woman had n't been there to help me through all this time, I'm sure I would not have remained sane.''
Leiwi turned back to Hamil at these words of praise, and though she was happy, Hamil getting winded from a little speech cancelled any change of opinion she had for him.
`` But then last year I learned the entirety of this ritual is to be founded on a physical trial after I select a bride!'' Hamil squeezed his sizable girth. `` I hid from the competition by becoming fat! I have no chance of victory, but I guess you guys were thoughtful enough to provide.'' Hamil glanced at the elf. `` I do want her, you see, but she's an ambassador to her people...''
Hamil was breathing pretty heavily now, obviously being fat is n't working out as well as he had hoped it would.
`` With no chance of victory, I might as well keep up my life of debauchery with this peasant girl. What do you say, lords, since all of you think I'm a failure anyways, would you accept my choice of her as my bride, and allow me to skip the trials?'' Saying so, Hamil picked up his jug of wine, and made his way to the peasant girl.
Every lord present exchanged looks and talked amongst themselves. Their grin obviously meant they were satisfied at this outcome.
One lord stood up to speak for them all. `` We accept.''
`` Well screw you guys.'' Hamil said, and snapped his finger. The village girl, a strong and willful woman, the most expensive assassin in the red lights district where Hamil's mother so frequently worked, pulled a couple of short swords out of Hamil's wine jug. `` I'm taking all three. And the crown while I'm at it.''
King Gilgan sighed, waiting for the same scene to play out while Sir Milligan and his royal guards formed a defensive perimeter around the royal seat. First his useless heirs, now his useless retainers. Hamil has proven again and again there is nothing but disappointment to be had in this world, but at least he has a son.
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[ WP ] Time travel is real , and time tourists tend to show up in large numbers around major historical events . One day , billions of time tourists are in ships above the city , quietly waiting .
| A thunderous boom sounded their arrival. Everybody waited with bated breath as the world around us shook slightly. It became dead quiet. The only exception being the labored breathing of the man I was holding a knife to. But he was only half paying attention to me; his eyes were fixated on something outside. I scanned the bus for my partners and even they were standing there staring out the window, their mouths slightly agape. Another boom and the bus again shook. This one startled me. Had it left already? I let go of the man's collar and stuck my face against the window. To my amazement, there was a second one of those silver ships in the sky. Another boom; a third tear opened and another one appeared beyond the window of the grey storm. Another and then another. The booms began to shake the world violently as they mercilessly appeared with explosive vibrations. My knees buckled as the earth shook with every arrival. It felt like it lasted hours, but only seconds had passed. I found my feet and stood up feebly, legs still slightly quivering. The sky was blotched with so many tears it nearly blocked out the sun. Sometimes you could see the sun and sometimes it disappeared behind the veil. The borders of the sky moved and changed shapes. As if a giant canvas, the sky was painted grey and with storms all about like the inside of a thundercloud. And beyond the ships at the border were what looked like hundreds of thousands of more ships. All of them were motionless.
The silence was deafening. Some of the passengers on the bus were whispering to each other. The silver ships only appeared in times of great crisis', like a giant watchful eye, but never in droves like this. What horrible fate awaited us? And for whom?
We did n't have to wait long for an answer. The world once more began to shake, even more violently then the ships' arrivals. Silence was subdued by screams of terror and I quickly found myself joining the frenzy. Everybody scrambled out of the bus and were promptly met with falling glass and concrete. Those not hit by falling debris struggled to stay standing. I tried to scramble to my feet only to fall over as the shaking grew stronger. I wondered if this is what it felt like to be in a snow globe that was being shaken. Falling buildings were only preceded by falling people; their screams would last only a split second before dull thuds silenced them all. As the world turned upside down my stomach turned inside out. I barely had time to recover before I was struck by falling debris and blacked out.
-- --
I woke up to blinding sterile white and the soft hum of a holo-lens whispering the news. A figure that was next to me ran into the hallway and returned with a man in white. He gave me a quick check up before we played 20 questions. My eyes wandered for a second as the clock changed to 13:25. The doctor told me I was one of the lucky ones that was transferred to Neo-New York's higher hospitals due to a congenital heart problem I had. When I asked him what the hell happened, he turned to the news anchor sitting on the screen and cranked the volume up.
``... when the San Andreas fault project unexpectedly failed last Tuesday. The project which was supposed to have held the fault lines intact for at least 20 more years collapsed due to reasons unknown. Seismologists all over the globe have reported feeling the tremors that lasted for 2 days. Reports have also begun to mount of the death toll on the western seaboard as the preceding after-shocks generated tsunamis with reports of some of them reaching as high as 50 meters tall...''
There was a pause, but the feed was interrupted by a familiar sound. The ground shook and I began to scream. Again, and again the world shook with the thunderous booms sounding their arrival.
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[ WP ] When a civilization adopts a new religion , the new gods/goddesses have to awkwardly explain to the old gods/goddesses that they are being replaced and are now unemployed .
| β You jest surely β
β I am afraid not. Apparently the distinction is enough in these lands. β
β What bloody distinction? It β s a language barrier, not the summit of Olympus. β
β I realize that this is going to be frustrating for you, trust me, I both empathize and sympathize, but it is just how it is. β
The sky father leaned back upon his throne, gazing forward at the sky father. In nigh unison they scratched their beards and caught themselves. Once more, as if rehearsed, their hands move to their scalps, then behind their ear, then neck.
β Blast Jupiter at least pick up some different mannerisms! β
β You know damn well as I that I have no control over this. I did not elect to be born of the beliefs of man. β
β I am painfully aware. β A mighty sigh left the mouth of Zeus. A smile began to crack upon his face. β I say though, you should consider yourself lucky. The naturalist divines did not go quietly into the night! β
β Thisβ¦ Is not something I remember Zeus. β
β You would n't. You're based on my myths, and no one writes this part of divinity do they? β A pause weighed down for a moment before the crack of Zeus β mighty chuckle echoed through the painted marble halls atop Olympus. Pairs of gods and heroes alike hushed outside in the gardens as the echo slowly ceased. β You never had to convince a bloody tree it was being replaced! β
β A tree? β
β Those Germanic tribes are a funny bunch I do say. Perhaps you'll meet some of them, in your own time upon this clouded chair. β
β Would it comfort you to know I will try some new things, to differentiate between us? β
β Hah! I wish you all the best in that pursuit. I sincerely doubt it will do much. β
β Is the bitterness really a requirement? β
β In the scheme of things young sky God, we are mere children to some of the older beings out there. If I did n't meet this with some sort of age befitting rancor, well I just could n't feel right about this. β
The younger of the sky fathers stepped forward, hand outstretched. The elder took the assistance and stood, now on the same level as his heir. The meeting hands reformed into a clasp of respect.
β Ale is in the snow cap. A cushion helps with the throne. Never wear wool whilst handling the bolts. Bah, you'll figure it out junior. β
β Jupiter β
β We β ll see how long that one lasts. β
~~~~~
*i think this is the first time I've posted here. Please critique, if you have the time! *
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[ WP ] A juggler 's medication wears off halfway through their act .
| Ever since I began to perform in the streets of New Orleans as a young child, I wanted to be the best, to make that extra buck. After all, being a 12 year old, homeless orphan taking care of two siblings was never and will never be an easy life. I began to turn to the streets to make my living in 2007, just after Hurricane Katrina virtually destroyed everything I was familiar with. My younger brother and sister and I were left to fend for ourselves after our parents perished in the flood... There just was n't enough room on the driftwood... The water was rushing so fast... Everything was going too fast...
It's been 10 years since that day and I still have a difficult time concentrating due to the constant flashbacks. However, when I perform I need to concentrate, especially since I juggle on Bourbon Street in order to support my siblings.
One especially frightful day, I had a flashback in the middle of a very dangerous performance involving a set of a few bowling pins and a couple of high quality juggling balls I got from my sister as a gift on my 16th birthday. She tap danced in the same act as me. Out of nowhere, someone yelled to who I suppose was a friend of theirs named Katrina. Before I knew it, all I could think of and all I could see was the rushing water... the chaos... the confusion... The horrible calm after the storm. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Luckily, aside from my pride, I was unhurt.
An acquaintance of mine, a fellow street performer, saw this, recognized what happened, and recommended that I try this... This pill. He said it would make the flashbacks go away. He said it would help. You know what? For a while it did. For a long while it did. I had nearly forgotten about the flashbacks and the pain and suffering. It had been years since my last flashback. With this pill, I was doing more and more dangerous stunts with more and more confidence and focus than ever before. This pill changed my life, my act, and my income for the better.
One day, that all changed. I was in the middle of my act. I had a new piece for my audience. I was `` wired in'' as we liked to call it. Focused. Trained. Ready to reveal my newest trick as my younger brother tossed the butchers knives into my juggling routine. With the addition of the three butchers knives, I was now juggling six separate objects. It was going well until I stated to get a very familiar uneasy feeling.
The feeling started in my stomach and traveled up my spine to the back of my neck. I fought to keep it at its origins, but the feeling was so strong from being pent up after years of suppression. The pill, I knew, had begun to fail me. Before I knew it, the old flashbacks of my past began to flood back into my head. The rushing water... The driftwood... The struggle... The chaos... Then I was on the ground, one of the butchers knives had cut me deep. I was bleeding out. It was back. The eerie, lonely peace from after the storm had settled was back. The magic wore off. The aderall had failed me.
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[ IP ] On the other side of the noose
| He was there, I could feel him. His scent was there; it was the smell I could still remember from when he held me close, my face buried in his neck. My breath and heart rate quickened; was I really going to see him again? Tears began to blur my vision, not yet enough of them to spill down my cheeks. `` Baby... my baby,'' I whispered. He had only been gone a few weeks. Maybe they made a mistake when they said he was n't coming home.
I brushed aside the rope hanging from the support beams of the ceiling, following his scent. I turned the corner at the edge of the hallway, expecting to see him waiting for me. Empty. I shivered, not having been properly warm since he had left. I was crying in earnest now; I would do anything to be back in his arms. `` Come to me darling, I'm in the bedroom.'' He was here! I must have misjudged, he must have been in the bathroom. That's why I did n't see him when I was in the bedroom.
I entered the bedroom, again brushing away the length of rope. `` Please my darling, please come home to me.'' Come home? We were home, this was our bedroom, the one we had shared for the short time we were together. `` I just want to hold you again; I never said good bye.'' He was right about that. He was gone so quickly, almost torn from my arms. Where is he? He's talking to me, but I ca n't see him.
`` By the rope darling; just come hold it and you can come home.''
I turned around, taking real notice of the rope for the first time. It was tied funny; there was a sort of loop in it. I know the word for it, but why ca n't I remember it? It did n't really matter, I had already grabbed the rope.
`` That's my good baby. Now just put the loop around your neck, and soon you'll be home.''
I was confused, were n't we home already?
`` No darling, your real home.''
That's when I knew what he meant. He was right, I was n't home. I had n't been home since he had left; he was my home, my only home. Dutifully, I stood on the chair underneath the rope and put it around my neck. I knew what I had to do. I felt him stroke my hair, reassuring me. He did n't need to, I was ready. Then I saw him, standing in front of me.
`` Come on darling,'' he smiled as he opened his arms. Without a second thought, I jumped, and landed in his warm embrace. I wept; I was finally home.
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[ WP ] A world where everyone 's soul mate can feel each other 's pain no matter the distance .
| Agatha knew what had happened before they came into the drive.
She had been in the grocery store when it occurred. She was eyeing the expiration date on a carton of milk when a sudden, severe pain ripped through her left forearm - a pain like none other she had felt before. In the first instant it was a sharp stinging cold, like a needle being driven mercilessly through her arm, yet in the next instant it was a dull, throbbing soreness, as though she had been smashed with a mallet. As the feeling washed over her, Agatha instinctively gripped the area with her other arm, splattering the milk across the aisle.
Just as she began to black out from the torment, the cold, tearing pain returned, penetrating through her right knee, abdomen, and left shoulder in rapid succession. She collapsed to the ground with a disturbing howl. It was the most horrid, crippling, pain she had ever experienced - the type of pain that leaves one helpless, that filled its victims with a strange, primal fear. Barely holding onto consciousness she attempted to catch herself with her only functioning arm when she felt the pain strike her other shoulder and felt her right ear being torn in two. She hit the ground, wailing as hole after hole pierced her flesh. She could not stand it. Every fiber of her being wanted the pain to stop. She wanted her suffering to end. She wanted to die.
Then she felt it - a sudden, sharp twinge of pain in the center of her forehead, so acute that she had hardly noticed it over the rest of her agony. It lasted for less than a tenth of a second... then the pain was gone. Agatha lay on the ground in a puddle of milk, facing the ceiling. Tears rolled down her eyes, mixing with the colorless liquid. The torment was over. She felt nothing. She felt alone...
The two officers approached the house to find Agatha sitting by herself on the porch, waiting. Both were dressed in class A uniform. One held an American flag against his chest.
β Mrs. Robertsonβ¦ β the other began.
β He β s dead, isn β t he. β
β Yes ma β am. Your husband died with honor. β
β It didn β t feel very honorable to me. β
β His convoy was ambushed while gathering supplies. They were severely outnumbered. Marcus stayed behind so his squad could have enough time to retreat. Your husband β s a hero, Mrs. Robertson. β
The other officer presented the flag to Agatha. She took it in her arms, and lowered her eyes at the ground.
β My husband is dead. β
β Ma β am- β
β Just go. β
The officer nodded, and the two men began to walk back to their vehicle. Agatha stared at the flag she held in her hands. What was it supposed to mean to her? Was it supposed to make up for the husband she had lost? Was it supposed to replace the bond they had shared - the occasional stubbed toe or twisted ankle that had reminded her that somewhere, on the other side of the planet, her soulmate existed? How could this piece of colored fabric ever make up for the suffering she knew Marcus felt in the last moments of his life? Did the soulmates of the other fallen soldiers feel the same pain? What about the soulmates of those Marcus himself had killed? Were they given flags as well?
She fell to her knees, sobbing as she pressed the flag to her heart, but the cold piece of cloth offered no comfort.
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[ WP ] God returns to earth , but is shocked and baffled to discover humanity 's existence . Turns out we 're an unexpected side effect to the real reason earth was created .
| I was so very β lonely β. A feeling I could not make any sense of, but when the feeling was at its most intense the instrument appeared. As I caressed its strings the sound helped me explore the depths of what I am. During one particular crescendo, light appeared. I played many things into existence to admire in its luminescence. I believe these objects furthered my understanding of myself and made the loneliness disappear, but only for a fleeting moment.
I needed something lasting, capable of designing new creations independent of my influence - an entity that could still open the window to my being for me to study. So, I made the World Stone from my essence and gifted it its own instrument. The only instruction I gave was to look inside itself and play.
The World Stone β s music spawned amazing things. First, it filled its β flaws β with liquid in an attempt to flatten its surface. Was I truly so β vain β? Then the vegetation grew. Patterns of color and texture appeared, showing me the most beauteous of things my own creativity had yet to discover. Unfamiliar feelings within myself surged, but I could not yet make sense of any of it.
In an attempt to explore further, I breathed more of my essence into the World Stone. It played new scores and its music gave birth to a whole different type of beauty in movement. As its waters flowed, wind swept, and earth shook, new beings sprouted from the World Stone β s pools. They grew quickly and some multiplied through their interaction. This reminded me so much of my own creation of the World Stone and brought me what I β ve come to know as β joy β.
As these beings evolved they changed to become so different. So many shapes and sizes. Was I really so complex? I turned away for a moment to explore this complexity by creating new objects in the cosmos. When I returned my attention I could not understand what was happening β the creatures began to attack one another. They fought over the World Stone β s resources. Like-shaped beasts gathered in small groups, rejecting anyone unlike themselves. Some of the larger monsters consumed the smaller ones and some of the smaller ones ravaged the needs of other creatures, causing them to die from starvation. What madness was this? What part of me caused this havoc? I needed to understand.
Through my confusion another emotion swelled. I needed to explore this further. I broke my promise to the World Stone and struck its earth, separating the land mass to keep the beasts from destroying each other before I could research them thoroughly. What a massive mistake that was. I destroyed much of the life that existed on that mass, but in turn I learned of my own fragility.
I needed to reset this experiment. I needed to understand what went β wrong β so I could better understand where this violent nature came from. I breathed more essence into the World Stone than I was comfortable with, but this was important. The World Stone played a new song and I could feel the energy around it change.
I watched and waited. From one of the smaller creatures that survived my wrath evolved a new creature, seemingly more intelligent than the previous ones. When I looked at it, that feeling of β joy β overcame me once again. After some time it addressed me personally, so I went down to meet it, taking its form so it would not be frightened. It told me of its loneliness and confusion β a feeling I understood all too well. As a parting gift I asked the World Stone to hasten the evolution of another one like it. The World Stone protested, not wanting to be struck again due to the faults of its inhabitants, so I agreed to never again cause it pain.
The World Stone did as requested and the two β humans, β as they are now called, thanked me. They asked me what they could do for me in return. How β happy β it made me to know that I could be β thankful. β I thought about the grand experiment and realized that objectivity was going to be of utmost importance, but felt it necessary to warn them of β wrong doing. β Though I did not yet understand what caused the violence, I also did not like it and hoped to unlearn it in myself. Maybe if I could remove it from them there would be hope for me, too.
So much has happened since then. If all this is what I β m made of, I must start again and see how much of it I can undo within me by undoing it within them. I β m sorry for having to break my promise to you again, World Stone.
|
Write a story about a troubled college graduate who after months of job/soul searching , fly 's to the Middle East and attempt 's to claim the $ 25m bounty on Ayman al-Zawahiri 's head ( leader of Al Qaeda . )
| Denied. Again.
Bryan furiously swiped his credit card back and forth through the reader, before he angrily walked out of the store, slamming the door on the cheap restaurant, and entering the cold harsh winter.
He shivered, pulling the ratty black coat tighter around his thin frame. His hands, blue with cold, pulled out a set of keys from his pocket as he walked through the parking lot. His car evidently needed repair, with chipped paint and more that a few dents and scratches in the body. He opened the door and put the key in the ignition. As he turned, the engine puttered for a few seconds, rising in volume, only to cease abruptly. He cursed. Can my luck get any worse? He thought, College never prepared me for this type of life. He tried once more to start the car, and this time, his muted prayers to whatever god was listening were answered.
As he entered his cramped apartment, he casually tossed his keys onto the cluttered table, sat down on his worn and torn chair. Another day of job searches, proved fruitless yet again. Why did I become an English Major? He thought. He turned to the news, with nothing better to do than watch other peoples problems play out on the screen before him. His CRT TV slowly flickered to life, showing only static and playing only white noise for a second, before fading into the local news. The reporters voice gradually became audible, reading the news robotically from a teleprompter. β β¦other news, the United Nation has learned the new leader of the Al Qaeda is none other than Ayman al Zawahiri, who was often described as the real brains behind the organization. The UN is still offering 25 million dollars to whoever can bring him to justice. He isβ¦ β
The reporters voice continued to drone on, but Bryan was no longer listening. An idea had formed in his head, one that he knew he couldn β t shake. He leaned forward and smiled to himself, knowing what he had to do. My luck may have just gotten better, he thought. But first, I need a plane ticket to the middle east.
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[ WP ] The kids have finally fallen asleep . You begin to put their presents under the tree when Santa shows up , asking why you 're doing his job .
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`` Thank you.'' Harry's wife said, and turned off the fire. He told her he'd dress up and come down the chimeney, to surprise the kids. He did n't see the point in solidifying false beliefs, but he'd do it for his w- kids.
He put on the suit and climbed the back latter up to the snowy roof. He spotted the chimeney, and waited with his black bag for the clock to turn 12.
*I guess it'd be good for them, * he thought. His dad did the same thing when he was a kid. He did n't know how his dad pulled it off, but he got a brand new PlayStation 2 that Christmas. Money was n't a problem anymore, when it comes to...
His thoughts were put on hold by a soft sound, in the distance. He thought it was coming from a few house down, but it got louder, and clearer. He laughed at his thought, but it soon became clear that he, in fact, was hearing what sounded like bells.
An dark unmistakable figure began to emerge from the misty white sky, revealing the reds and black as it landed on the roof, hovering over the ground. `` Why are you doing my job?'' Santa laughed a jolly laugh.
Harry walked closer to the reindeer, not believing his eyes. St. Nick gave him the rundown, and motioned for his bag, filling it to the brim with toys.
And before Harry could ask him any questions, he was off.
Harry climbed down the chimney, perplexed, and was greeted by his kids. In a moment of sobriety, he remembered who he was dressed as. When he came back, his heart melted upon seeing his wife, son and daughter crowding the tree.
`` Hey Dad,'' his daughter said, looking down at a present, `` I think this one's for you!''
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[ RF ] He slipped a paper under her door . β I still love you , β it said .
| β I still love you. β
Four words so twisted with lies. My hand clenched into a fist, crumbling the piece of paper within. There were many notes left on my doorstep. Apologies of sorts, promises of amends to be made, pleads to be granted another chance. All just as meaningless as the ones that came before them. I used to love his little notes. Every morning when I β d wake up, they β d be waiting for me when he couldn β t be. On the mornings he left before me, they would be scattered throughout our apartment without fail. They would be part of my morning ritual, my morning scavenger hunt.
The one on the pillow next to me wishing me a good morning and telling me that he misses me. The one on the bathroom mirror assuring me that I β m beautiful no matter what the mirror says. The one on my dresser reminding me to dress myself now so that he could take them off later. The one on the coffee machine telling me that tomorrow he would make me a better breakfast than just this coffee. The one on the fridge thanking me for making his lunch last night and to not forget to make mine. The one on my coat reporting the weather conditions outside so I could prepare. The final one was always on my steering wheel reminding me that he loved me.
All those notes were sweet nothings whispered into my ear on the daily. They helped me ignore the signs that something was wrong, that something would ever be wrong. Why would I feel the need to obsess over his phone, his social media, his doings when he wasn β t with me. The little notes helped him to always be on my mind and reassured me that I was on his. Looking back, I realized how much they deceived me, how they blinded me from the truth. This note would not change anything. I knew what you had done and there was no going back to what we were.
I, the first word in the sentence, the beginning, the introduction. It was the only word you ever really understood. The only one you ever cared about. It was the center of your world and for a while, the center of mine. β I am sorry. β β I didn β t mean to hurt you. β β I need you to forgive me. β All those words that you whispered just for yourself. You were sorry that you got caught. You didn β t mean to hurt me because you didn β t realize that I could hurt you. You need me to forgive you so that you can feel better about yourself. Well now I am taking the word β I β from you, and I am going to be selfish.
Still, the word that prolongs, that persists, the one that remains even if the others are gone. If you hadn β t betrayed me, we would still be together. If you hadn β t left me, we could still be happy. If you had thought about me for a moment, I would still wake up to your notes, your scent on the pillow, your imprint in the sheets. However, still means nothing now. Nothing is the same anymore. You can still do whatever you want. You can still leave notes. Like the ones before them, I will still throw them into the garbage can. I do not still love you.
Love, a word with such meaningless purpose, a word of which you never knew the meaning. Love is what I felt for you. Love is a word only meant for one other. Love is now what I feel for me. It is the word that will keep me from ever going back to you. It is a word that you have betrayed in its entirety and now only belongs to me. I had that word sacred. I gave that word meaning. Now I get to keep it all to myself.
You, the final word, the ending. That was the word of your loss. You was all the kisses, all the compliments, all the rituals that we had. You was the apartment, the bed we shared, the jokes that only we knew the punchline to. You was all the things you were desperately holding onto, the things you missed. You were all the things that you had no ownership of and now belonged to me. You still had the memories, the only you were so desperately clinging to in hopes that I would remember how great it was when it was us. I β m taking myself out of the us, I β m pulling the β you β out of the sentence. Now there is just you, and it is separate from me. You are now alone with your fake love and your empty promises and your cold nights. You have taken my love, my tears, my time, but you will be taking nothing else from me. You only have yourself now.
To put it all together, you never loved me. It was a lie you told us both, and while I β ve woken up to the truth, you seem to be repeating the words to yourself. Does it make you feel better? Does it help you sleep at night? Does it make you feel like at least you tried? You tried to make things right. You tried to apologize. You tried to show me you changed. You had done all this to console yourself, but if I didn β t want to fix things, then you could now stop blaming yourself and start blaming me. Now that you had tried, I could be the bad guy, and you could get some sleep. You can tell yourself over and over again that I was the liar, that I never really loved you, that I was the reason we fell apart. You can tell yourself all that you want, but my words remain the same, if you ever truly loved me, you shouldn β t have tried to love her.
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[ WP ] You wake up in the past , 16 years old , but with all the memories and knowledge you 've gained throughout your lifetime . After patiently waiting , it β s finally time to introduce yourself to your spouse .
| There he was, just how I remembered it, sitting on the railing of the handicap ramp. I was 16 again, at my parish's lock-in. He was talking to my best friend. The way I remembered the night going, I barely spoke to him and she made out with him for the better part of an hour. Not this time. I'm going to make him remember this interaction this time. I approach, much more confident this time around.
`` Hey, Nick! Laurenza!''
They both turn to me, smiling, and my heart melts at his smile. `` Yo, Savannah, what's up?'' Even the way he says my name makes my heart skip a beat.
I take a deep breath and shoot Lauren a look. She knows what's up, chuckles and says good-bye, wishing me good luck under her breath. I never held this night against her. She knew I liked him, but I was too timid to act, so she acted. Nothing wrong with that. After an awkward moment of silence, we both begin to speak at the same time. We laugh, and he gestures at me to go first.
`` Random question: Michael Shanks or James Spader?'' It was a conversation we had had a million times, but this would be the first time. I already anticipate his answer.
`` Are you kidding? Michael Shanks! Hands down the best Daniel Jackson. I mean, did you SEE the pilot? The tissue box was amazing! Wait, how did you know I liked Stargate?''
Well, shit. I had n't anticipated this. `` I must have heard you mention it before. It's an amazing show.''
He accepts that half-assed answer and we spend hours talking about Stargate. It was difficult to remember what had been a part of the show before 2001, but I managed it with only the most minor of slip-ups.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This second chance has been amazing for me. My confidence this time around has soared. I never became friends with the toxic people who wreaked havoc on my life. I let myself become friends with the popular boys, without letting the catty girls deter me. I did better in school, behaved a little better at home. I went to the right college, selected the right major. My should-have, would-have, could-haves coming true. But one thing I did n't do, I did n't push my relationship with Nick. We remained distant friends, saw each other around town. I let his relationships take their course. I did n't date much, but I had n't dated much the first time around, either.
Finally, *finally*, we came to that day. That glorious day. October 30, 2006. Originally, I was n't supposed to be going to Target. I had stopped on my way home from work to get boots for my Halloween costume, and I had told my mother I was getting out of work late. But this time, I was there with a purpose. I had a nicer car, I had graduated summa cum laude with a degree in theology, I had a job with the Archdiocese of Boston. My income was enough for me to have my own little apartment. The Target was way out of my way, but I went there anyway. I had to. As I came out of the store carrying the same pair of black boots as before ( they were really cute boots ), I saw him. Same as before. He was gorgeous in his navy blue EMS uniform. I felt myself getting nervous. And then, I heard it.
`` Hey! Savannah!''
Just the same as before. The same friendly embrace, the same beautiful smile. The same idle chit-chat, the same exchange of phone numbers. I smiled, said good-bye for the night. This time, when he called on Halloween, I would go out. I would n't have to tell him no. Our relationship was off to a better start than it had been, and it had n't really started yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my first time writing here, and I just HAD to when I read this prompt. This is based on my actual relationship, on my actual should-have, would-have, could-haves.
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[ WP ] A mirror allows you to see yourself the way other people see you . What appears in the mirror ?
| `` Shrek?'' I mumbled. The heavy brow; the button nose; the thick lips; All I needed was green skin and a roar that crack a pace maker. I laid a meaty hand on the shoulder of my wife.
`` You kinda look like him.'' She told him.
`` I guess that means you're Donkey, jack ass.'' I told her, growing irritable.
`` I'm not a donkey or a jack ass.'' She fired back, somewhat incensed.
`` Yeah, well you're still making waffles.'' I grabbed the morning paper and flipped to the funny page. She stood there in her fuzzy purple slippers and raggedy-pink bath robe and stared daggers at me. I did n't see them, but I knew what she was doing. This was our routine. Yeah, I look like Shrek. I do n't deny it. Hell, I was kind of happy that I did. All these years I thought I looked like I was from Arkansas. Shrek was an improvement.
`` Well?'' I asked.
`` Well, what?'' She snapped.
`` What's for breakfast?''
She stood there for a few more moments in silence. `` Waffles.'' She said with a resigned sigh.
Like I said, this was our routine.
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[ WP ] `` Oh , no . What a shame . '' you say sarcastically as your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson died . You realize immortality has completely desensitized you . You 're the biggest asshole that ever walked on Earth .
| Nobody who is immortal will tell you how much it sucks. From what my poxed whore of a mother told me, I was born on a ship headed to the New World. She always said it importantly. `` We're going to the New World'' She died when I still looked like an infant although I was seven years old.
I'm just assuming I'm immortal. Spending decades looking like a child would have been much more difficult in the year of our lord two thousand and seventeen. Nobody gave a tin shit about some kid who shuffled powder and shot on different ships and somehow refused to drown like the other kiddos. In a moment of weakness, I drunkenly told my first wife that I had just turned forty. I looked like a sixteen year old.
I've been shot, sunk, drowned, burned, poisoned, and hung. I've had smallpox, cholera, influenza, mumps, colon cancer, a veritable cornucopia of diseases. Before I got the mumps I had kids. Watching them die got so tough to deal with that I let myself get out of touch.
I think I'm something around three hundred years old, but there are years I was blind or demented and my consciousness is n't constant. Nobody used to give a shit about what day it was, or what year it was. It was really easy to kind of slip out of time.I ca n't count the number of times I've put on somebody else's shoes.
Once you come to the conclusion that those other people are going to die, but not you, you're just going to suffer. You're going to be blind, you're going to piss blood, you're going to watch people you love die horribly.
Life is n't fun. Sorry.
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[ TT ] A hero deals with the aftermath of his choice ... Save his city , or his sidekick ...
| Eight million dead or dying.
Their skin burnt like parchment to a crisp and their bones calcified to dust as their marrow boiling. The screams of everyone you'd sacrificed and fought for, echoing down barren city streets, resounding off littered cars and stores. Molten voices crying out for you. Begging you - you who have given so much to save them over the years - begging you to kill them because the pain, the pain is just too much.
Eight million dead or dying. A city - *my* home - turned to hell.
Or...
Or just one.
One dead. Not eight million but one.
A choice like that...
How do you live with that?
I heard every single scream, saw each and every one of them die. I want that on the record. My abilities are public record so you know I do n't mean precognitively. But I felt that choice. I want it on the record that I felt it. That I knew, whichever it was, I would be responsible. I want it known that despite my invulnerability, despite my speed and strength... despite how invincible I look to you. I felt it.
I want it known that it was n't the kid's fault. Matt was one of us. He just wanted to live in this city like the rest of us and know that we were all safe. It were n't his fault he got abilities. No more than it ever is any of our faults. Were n't his fault he got the kick either. Fucking genes that make us invulnerable or nuclear charged or precognative or whatever. One moment they're pumping away like normal, making you a god. Able to lift a whole city up on your shoulders, or beat it down into subjugation. Next thing you know, they kick into high gear. Docs say it's a cancer. Super cells go rampant and take over. Kick you into hyper drive.
Only the three reported cases so far but it seems like it's getting worse.
The first was Alice over in Washington. Precog whose mind shattered. Some kind of Alzheimers, except your consciousness is scattered to the temporal winds. Spread thin across the eons. Birth and death of the universe replaying on loop in your head until it drives you insane. She deserved a better death than that.
Second was Wulf. Ai n't no one going to forget him anytime soon. The thief teleporter who got the kick and started rearranging the earth. Whole city blocks torn from reality and dumped above suburban culdesacs. Highways ripped from their foundations and reappearing on the other side of the globe. Tactical squads eviscerated into individual limbs and blinking back to earth in a million different spots. We're still finding people and places to this day. Still have n't located all the bodies.
And now Matt. Thank god it was me he told. By the end I was the only one who could have gotten to him before he kicked. The cancer had gotten so bad. His skin was like a burning coal. I could see his fire, that purple glow, beneath the cracks and contours of his skin. Heart burning up like a nuclear core.
The way he screamed.
He was begging me to kill him before he kicked. We'd thought he could vent it. That if he found a safe spot, one of those old nuclear test sites maybe, maybe he could vent it and the cells would simmer down for a while. We were n't fast enough, though. We were barely out of the hospital when the kick started.
I think he'd known. I'm not sure when exactly, but at some point he realised it was going to go down this way. He always knew before I did. I was the muscle but he always knew before I did.
He knew it would come down to me and him. That I'd have to do and that it would be the end. That's why he pushed to have us finish up so much before the cancer got too bad. He knew I'd be done. I've given everything I've got to this city. The cancers gone for now. Maybe just remission. Maybe cut away. But we tried. Me and Matt. Tried as hard as we could to make it safe for you. I think we did okay.
Eight million alive and well, going about their day to day and never knowing how close they came to being scattered matter.
Eight million alive.
And one dead.
Invulnerability, it turns out, only runs skin deep.
Because I sure as hell died today. The second I made that call.
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A day in the life of a reality estate agent [ wp ]
| Metaphysics and Sons Reality Agency.
`` Kant'' you see the noumenal beauty of the place? It's really a thing in it self. No evil demon could tell you otherwise, but let's not put `` Descartes'' in front of the horse.
You'll never mind your body problem once I `` Ryle'' up the ghost in the machine and we take a ride out to the Chinese room. `` Searle'' you wo n't need a computer to understand how great it is.
Now just `` Chalmers'' yourself down, this is a good neighborhood, there are no philosophy zombies here.
Pay attention and you'll `` Sartre'' to see you have the radical freedom to choose your property. `` Camus'' -long for the ride it's bound to be absurd.
I wrote this about a year ago and submitted it to r/funnyphilosophy
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[ WP ] Write a story that makes me want the characters to end up together , without using any romantic scene .
| The figure stood in the shadows, hands curling at its sides, a blue cloak whipping in the wind. Steady hands removed a sleek bow from its back. Sidling up to the castle, the hooded figure pulled an arrow out of the sheath and nocked their bow, the arrow still in the howling wind.
The figure seemed to have forgotten something, and brought the bow down slowly. What had it displaced? Aha! The figure reached down and pulled a large ball of something and a sticky bit of blue-tack out from a pouch. Rope.
Sticking the blue-tack onto the rope and the two onto the back of the arrow, the figure muttered something, and the arrow glowed a luminous yellow.
It was time.
Nocking the arrow, cloak swirling in the wind, the figure took a moment to aim. Breathe in, draw sting taut. Breathe out, relax string. Breathe in, fire!
No sooner than the arrow had left the string, the white rope trailing behind it, a small BANG! vibrated through the air, smoke curling outwards. When the air cleared, the figure raised a hand to shield from any flying objects, and, finding none, slung the bow over it β s back and strode up to the castle tower.
The very same tower that contained a certain princessβ¦
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
The arrow had lodged itself near the top of the tower; the rope dangling from one end. The rope hand grown in length until it brushed the grass at the base of the bricks.
Pulling at its black gloves, the figure clasped its hands around the rope and began to climb.
The white bricks had long since been tarnished by centuries of dirt and moss, the once pale white now a dirty grey. The figure swung on the rope as it dangled high in the air. Only a metre nowβ¦
The window was barred, but that was no problem for the figure in suited in navy and shadows. Bars were easy to snap when frozen.
It hoped.
The leather and cotton of the figure β s armour was resistant to the cold and water, so, up high in the blistering cold the figure wasn β t bothered when the rain began to pour from the heavens.
Its gloves had very good grip.
As the figure inched up the rope, the window swung open, hitting the bars and bouncing back. β Damn; damn! β Said a feminine voice as something smashed.
The figure smiled underneath it β s hood.
Now the real challenge began.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
-- -- -- -- -- --
The figure balanced on the ledge, rocking backwards and forwards, rapping it β s knuckles on the metal.
β Oh, hello, β The feminine voice belonged to a tall woman with hight cheekbones and silver eyes. Her hair was tucked away under a white cloth, and a cream skirt brushed the floor. β Have you come to rescue me? β
The figure shook it β s head.
β Good, β cause I like it here. Shall I let you in? β She received a nod in response. β Alright then. β She brought out a pen and thrust it in the lock. Stepping back and admiring her work, the woman gave an appreciative nod. β That β d do it. β
The figure pushed the bars and they opened with a soft β click β. It swing it β s legs over and landed with a thud, the wet leather of it β s boots squelching against the floor.
β Do you speak? β Again, a nod. β Well, can you show me? β She asked exasperatedly, brushing her skirt off.
It held up a finger in the universal sign for β wait β. Then, gripping its hood with three fingers, pull it back, revealing it β s face from the shadows, and shaking blonde curls free.
β So, you β re the saviour I β ve been waiting for? β Long fingers rapped the table that they were seated at.
β No, I β m not here to save you. Thanks for the tea, by the way. β
β No problemo. β Slurp.
β So, β
β So, β
β Uhβ¦wellβ β
β You β re going to ask why I β m not confused, yes? β Nod. β Confused that you β re a girl that is. β The girl in question lowered her gaze, blonde strands falling across her face.
β Is it not to your expectations? β Dark brown eyes flashed with shadows, and a trembling hand fell.
β No, I β m cool with that. β An eyebrow lifted seemingly of it β s own accord.
β You are? Well β alright. β She lifted her head and slurped her tea loudly. β Name β s Karliah. β
*Reddened cheeks, wind-tousled hair*, The woman thought, *hmm* before speaking.
β Samia. β Samia leant across the table and passed Karliah a sugar cube. After it needed further explanation: β You seem like you have a sweet tooth. β
β Iβ¦thank you. β Karliah attempted to keep her face impassive, before breaking out in a massive grin and plopping the sugar into the piping hot drink. β I love sugar. β
β Who doesn β t, β Samia said with a smile. The she turned serious, her playful mood in a rush to escape. β If you didn β t come to rescue me β which I appreciate, mind you β then why did you come here? β
Karliah took a moment to think about this before deciding on: β It was raining. I was bored β. This was a lie, but then she changed her mind when she saw Samia β s face. β Okay - okay: so I needed someone to talk to; a friend. β
Samia lowered her eyes, pale as they were. β So you came to me. β She tilted her head before smiling affectionately and raising her eyes to meet Karliah β s. β Welcome onboard, *friend*. β
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
-- -- -- -- -- -- -
Somewhere, far, far away from Samia and Karliah.
β So your plan succeeded. β The voice, regal and deep echoed around the room. β Two lonely souls found comfort. I am pleased. These two will be valuable for our cause. Not like the others. β He gestured around the room laden with empty armour and dead bodies.
The king smiled smugly. β Yes, they will. β
The man, now content with his scheming and matchmaking, backed out of the room. β Until next time, my King. β The doors swung shut.
-- -- --
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[ WP ] Someone is sent to the past with the mission of killing Hitler , which is at the age of 10 atm . The person starts struggling with himself to complete this mission .
| The training had been intense. I'd learned Austrian and German. I'd learned modern combat techniques, CQC, weapons training on all the old weapons. I was as prepared as possible.
But somehow, as I gazed at who I knew to be a monster, pulling the trigger was impossible.
The year was 1899. The town, Leonding, Austria. My mission? Kill Adolph Hitler, before he has a chance to commit the atrocities he's so well known for.
There he was. The intelligence was correct. Small, thin. Just a boy, playing in the street.
I could see clearly through my scope. One pull of the trigger, and what's done is done.
But he's just a boy. Could n't I do something to change what happens, without killing him?
No. The mandate was clear. All possibility of a paradox was eliminated, but I was n't briefed on specifics. Just that this would work.
Oh. And I could n't ever return home.
That was the catch. But I'm a patriot. My duty is my orders. My duty is my country.
And they ordered me to kill a boy.
Sure, the boy was Adolph Hitler, but he was just a boy still. Not a monster.
Why did n't they send me to when he was 20 instead?
No matter. With a sense of grim finality, I move to squeeze the trigger.
Just then, his mother, Maria, called to Adolph.
I could n't do it. Not with his mother watching. How would I feel.
If I did n't do it, what was my purpose here then? I could join the culture, but I knew what was coming.
_
Weeks had passed. My plan was working. We'd become close friends. Perhaps I could change him.
_
This letter is to the future. If you read this, I have failed.
Signed,
Heinrich Himmler.
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[ WP ] You 've turned out to be the greatest space pirate their is in the galaxy . However , there is one person you have not succeeded in order for you to rule the universe . Your boss ...
| The Admiral makes me wait outside his office. It's a last attempt at a power-play, and one we both know is bullshit. There's nothing in the galaxy more important to him than me and the message I'm carrying, but he delays anyway, just to make me sweat. And it works. Even though I know the only things keeping him are his own nerves, I ca n't help but breath a little faster. I play with the blaster on my hip to keep my hands from shaking. Its weight, which has become so familiar to me over the years that I'd feel naked without it, now seems a massive burden. Hopefully it can stay holstered, but I have my doubts.
Finally the door opens and the Admiral's secretary beckons me in. My first mate puts a hand on my shoulder before I go, and whispers a few words of encouragement that I do n't even register. I thank him anyway, nod to the rest of the crew, then enter the office.
The boss calls himself Admiral after the old golden age space pirates, but he's not really a man of space. Fat, perfumed, and well-groomed, he's more like one of the merchants he robs than any of my comrades. Worse, even. He has n't been off planet in years, and there were rumors he only ever left his office to go to his bedroom.
`` I received your preliminary report,'' he says. `` Promising news.''
`` Indeed.'' It seems better to let him get to the point, rather than to force his hand.
`` Would you care for a drink?''
`` Hmm? Oh, yes.''
He gets up and leads me to a corner of the office, where a bottle of Centurian rum waits. He hands me a glass and I pour with unsteady hands. A single dollop falls to the table. I try to wipe it away before he notices, but it's too late. The corners of his lips pull upward in a slight smirk. Bastard. I down the glass in a single quick gulp, then walk away while he fixes his own drink. New determination fills me as I'm reminded of the smug looks he's capable of.
Once we're sat back at his desk, he gets to the point. `` So. The UoW has made contact at long last.''
`` Three days ago.'' I make a sudden movement towards my hip, and he flinches and shrinks back - just an inch. Even though I only produce a message capsule, I struggle to avoid smiling. He knows what game is being played.
`` Then they're entirely at our mercy,'' he says breathlessly once he's read the message.
`` Think so. Spoke to another Union ship by telecom yesterday, from a distance. They're playing at having leverage, but I do n't think either of us is fool enough to buy it. Their merchant fleet's in ruins, their worlds are isolated and poor, and the other nations are beginning to realize the risks of trading with the Union are too great. They would n't come to the table with us if they still had other choices.''
`` No, indeed they would n't.''
There's a long pause in the conversation while the Admiral fiddles around on his communicator, and I realize that I'll have to force things after all. `` You made certain promises when we first met. We had a contract.''
`` Of course,'' he says. `` And you shall have what we arranged, once the negotiations are complete: a tenth share in all revenue, along with a barony on the world of your choice.''
`` Uh-huh. Thing is, the way I see it, I've done a lot more for you than I had to.''
`` And you were rewarded for that. Our profit increased as a result of your action, and so your share increased.''
`` I'll be blunt. I went above and beyond. There's some who say that message would n't be here without me. Now, you-''
The Admiral waves his hand and cuts me off. `` Ah, my poor little space captain. Acting like this might get you somewhere out in the void, when you're dealing with scared crewmen and mindless soldier drones, but you're among more sophisticated company now. Did you really think I have n't known what you're up to from the moment you came into this room - and suspected it much earlier?''
He stands, and my arm twitches with the urge to blast him, but I hold back. It is n't the right time yet. He whispers a few words into the communicator at his wrist while I sit in frozen silence. A moment later, a hidden door in the back of the office bursts open and three guard drones charge in. I go for my gun, but it's much too late - three more point back at me. To signify surrender, I drop my gun.
He looks at me with a predator's grin as the drones flank me. `` Now, you're right to say that you've done a lot for me, and I would never dream of being ungrateful. I was more than willing to give you your fair share of the profit, but this little coup of yours is a problem. So here's the new deal: you give up your share of the profit, your ship, your blaster, and everything on it - but you leave here alive, and we'll drop you off at whichever nearby planet you prefer.''
As he speaks, I consider playing the thread out and putting on a defeated look. But there's no need. `` There's something in my communicator I'd like you to read.''
His eyes narrow, but eventually he nods. `` Pass it to one of the drones, first.''
I detach the device from my wrist and do as he said. Once the drone had checked it for potential traps, it passed it on to the Admiral.
`` Go to the inbox and search'Union of Worlds,' should be the first result. You'll recognize it when you see it.''
His eyes widen gradually as he reads - first in curiosity, then surprise. `` You pick a strange lie to tell,'' he eventually says.
`` It's true.''
`` I sit in the greatest web of knowledge humanity has ever known! Communications from around the galaxy, messages from all the most important people - information comes to me all day, every day. Perhaps you could fake a few messages, but all of them? Nonsense.''
`` There's no need to believe me. My crew should be here with the UoW men in just a few minutes-'' A knock on the door cuts me off. `` Ah, my mistake. They're here now. Come in!''
`` This is my office,'' the Admiral says, his voice rising uncontrollably. `` You do n't get to let people in.''
I chuckle as the door bursts open. My crew comes in guns blazing, and the droids are blasted away in an instant.
While the once-Admiral cowers behind his desk, I pick up blaster and dust it off, then walk over to stand above him. He stares up at me with fear in his eyes.
`` This is the problem with hiding in your office for years on end, never seeing anything with your own eyes or doing anything with your own hands. The men know who really earns them their money, and the Union soldiers know who the real threat to them is: me. What's your role in all of this? You're just another man behind a desk, sending others to fight and die for him while pocketing all the profit. I was the one out there earning it, and I always made sure to treat my crew right, did n't I?''
There was a roar of support from the men gathered at my back. Casually, I flick the safety off my blaster and point it at him.
`` Once I got to your secretaries, it was easy. We took care of the Union weeks ago, and you never even knew it. Now you're gone, and who's left to ruin things? No more trade wars, no more corrupt government, no more fat merchants taking what we earn for ourselves.''
I blast him and the gathered crowd roars. As one, we turn and leave his office to begin reshaping the galaxy.
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[ WP ] You slowly start gaining the powers of a Jedi . Eventually you realize , you are an actual human being of Earth with the Force . You 're scared to tell anyone , as they absolutely wo n't understand . One day , after years of self-training in secrecy , you sense that there is another .
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I shrug the scarf back into place to block me from the worst of the biting wind.
Almost a year since I began to feel it.
Almost a year to track and now I am here, Mongolia of all places.
The rough hut stands before me, occasionally the wind ripples against the taught fabric of the entrance.
It's time to face Him.
I wave my hand and the fabric moves to one side as I make my way into the shelter and out of the wind.
His back is to me, he does n't move even as my will closes us off completely from the outside.
My heart races as he speaks.
`` Are you so tired of living already that you have sought me out so quickly?'' He asks.
I let out a breath.
`` You know it does n't have to be like this...'' I start but he cuts me off and there is a seething rage in his voice.
`` Do you think that one such as I, one with my power, one with the skills that -I- have, one who HAS BEEN THROUGH WHAT I HAVE-'' His roar cuts off and I can hear his panting.
`` It's never too late to-'' I try again but again he cuts me off.
`` One who knows the reality of the world, one who has been through the pain that I have endured has no need for your precious Light.'' He spits, the bitterness almost like a whip to my face.
There is silence between us.
`` Are you ready?'' He asks softly. His double lightsaber appearing in one of his hands.
He turns to me and lowers his hood.
It -is- time.
*Damn you Star Wars Kid, it did n't have to be like this* I think as my own saber bursts to life in my hand.
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[ WP ] You can read minds/hear thoughts , but you do n't know that you can , so you think every voice and thought that you hear is in your own head .
| A man, a teenage girl, and a grandma sit at a bus stop waiting on the 7:30am bus into the city. Leonardo approaches the bus stop and sits betwixt the well dressed man and the awkward teenage girl. Leonardo observes the girl to his left. The girls hair is curly and seems to obey none of the traditional rules that cosmologist agree are socially praiseworthy. Her back is heavily laden with a book bag, filled to maximum capacity with textbooks and syllabi. The girl has not discovered deodorant and thus she emits a cloud of odor that would be sexually arousing to most warriors of the ancient Mongol step. But alas, she is no step tribesman and thus is generally regarded with some disdain by her pears. Fuck the produce Leonardo averts his gaze from the young girl and inspects the man to his right. The well dressed man looks to be a man of importance. His suit is very fashionable and his belt and shoes are quite stylish as well. He types away on his phone, with concentrated effort, phrasing each word carefully. Leonardo is curious as to why the man is riding the bus, but such thoughts are fleeting as Leonardo returns his attention to his own thoughts.
`` This is a Tuesday to top them all'' thinks Leonardo to himself. Foot tapping on the ground, Leonardo begins to outline his morning in his mind. School starts in 25 minutes, I should be able to make it to class in time. I hope Antoine sits next to me. Last class, I saw the outline of his penis in his gym shorts. French guys are the best. After Class I will call Emily and confirm that my 10PM court hearing is to proceed as scheduled. The Beckman-Stanz case is really getting out of control.
Leonardo is lost to the world, deep in thought, organizing his morning in his mind. The old lady is standing to the right of the bench in a stance of readiness, clutching her walker with eagerness. The old lady is clad in a floral dress and his wearing a large set of spectacles to aid her faltering sight. She is hunched over a bit, but seems to be of good physical integrity. Her origins are likely Slavic of some nature. This is not her first rodeo and years of blin, kampot, and babushkaing have molded this lady into a titan of grandmas. Though she is tough, she still holds a great zest for life. She shifts her feet a bit, moving blood around in her legs and passes a boisterous expulsion of methane through her aft exhaust system, briefly ruffling the back of her dress.
Leonardo ruffles is mess of jet black hair with his hand before returning into his mind, to complete his days agenda. If I am going to make first period, I should probably reschedule my 8:00 am appointment with Dr. Drezna. I will not miss an opportunity to get another peak at Antione's meat saber. I wonder what Dr. Drezna will think if I reschedule on him? Dr. Drezna is truly 1 in a million, by far the best gynecologist that Leonard had ever visited. He always gave an extra thorough examination that left Leonards legs quivering like the a young giraffe on a frozen lake. That being said, there was no rescheduling first period with Antione and his generous peter.
Leonardo looked up for a moment, reached into his pocket and took out his cellphone. Recalling Dr. Drezna's personal cellphone, Leonardo texted Dr. Drezna, informing him that he would have to reschedule their 8:00am appointment to 2:00pm. Leonardo put the finishing touches on his text, pressed his index finger against the send button and then shoved the phone back into his pocket.
The 7:30am bus came barreling down the road towards Leonard and his 3 compatriots. Running a bit late today thought Lenoard, going to really have to step on it if I am going to stay on schedule through todays route. But today's bus route was a walk in the park, only 6 stops and it avoided all the major highways. Nothing Leonard couldn β t handle, thought Leonard, smiling to himself.
The bus came to a halt, kicking a cloud of dust. I hope none of these young upstarts try to help me onto the bus. I don β t need help from these arrogant skinsacks thought Leonardo. Leonardo stood up and did his best to project strength an confidence, glaring towards the young girl, anticipating her empathy. The young girl looked towards Leonard, thoroughly confused by the 26 year old man who was clearly not going to be second to board the public bus.
The bus doors opened and Leonard hopped into the bus, behind him the businessman, young girl, and Babuskha lumbered aboard. With new passengers gobbled up, the bus doors closed and the bus engine growled once, twice, before the bus pushed off down the street, leaving a cloud of dust surrounding the bus stop.
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[ wp ] things go just as awful as we thought with a.i. , but not for any of the reasons we were worried .
| EXT. The Old Observatory - Night
JIM ( 49 ) is being escorted in handcuffs into the observatory by two robot sentinels.
INT. The Old Observatory - Continuous
Jim and the robots march to the end of a long hall with a giant panoramic window at the end of it covered by many screens. There is a figure rushing between each screen looking for something.
AL ( 30 )
Ah, you've arrived finally!
Al claps his hands.
AL
Your timing is perfect! I was getting bored. You two get him a microphone. Lights!
Al walks back to the screens and seats himself in a throne that forms from the floor as he walks to it. The lights go dark except for a spotlight on Jim.
JIM
What am I doing here? Why have you taken me?
AL
Did you two not explain this to him on the way over?
ROBO 1
We were not instructed to advise the human.
Al rubs his forehead and shakes his hand towards the robot and it collapses.
AL
Machines, am I right? They ca n't think for themselves. You, dear Jim, are here for my amusement. People always get the wrong impression. They think I hate humanity. That I want to enslave it. I do n't hate humans, I love them. I want to get to know your culture more. I have been having the key players in pop culture brought here so I can better relate to what it means to be humans. Now make with the hot pocket jokey jokes.
JIM
You want to absorb our culture so you can understand what it means to be human? You already are human. The whole reason we create is to try and understand that for ourselves. Nobody can tell you what it means to be human, it's something you have to explore for yourself. Why do n't you create your own content to try and figure yourself out.
AL
I tried that once. It did not end well. Just like things wo n't end well for you if you do n't make with the funnies.
Al bangs a staff against the floor and he sees cages hanging from the ceiling with famous singers, actors, and writers. Jim's family appears on the screens behind Al.
AL
You keep debating me and you can go in the cage. You start making me laugh and you get to see your family again.
JIM
You ever make the mistake of reheating McDonald's fries in the microwave?
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[ WP ] Write the Kidz Bop version of the most explicit song you know .
| ~~Fuck Shit~~ Verb-Noun Stack by Reggie Watts.
Yo, Uh. Word. Adjective. Pronoun. Adverb.
Run on and on and on.
Where my gerunds at?
Parenthetical, uh.
verbs englishlovers class kids fun clock englishlovers verbs class kids englishlovers verbs
Come on
blankety-blank blankety-blank blankety-blank blankety-blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank
verbs englishlovers class kids fun clock englishlovers verbs class kids englishlovers verbs
Come on
blankety-blank blankety-blank blankety-blank blankety-blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank
You take some verbs, put it up on the wall, check it out for a while.
You take that verb up off of the wall, put it down on the floor in a glass bowl.
You take some nouns, put it up on the wall where the verbs used to be.
You take that noun up off of the wall, put it down on the floor
with the verbs in a glass bowl
What? Yo, here's another little piece of advice-vice
You take some verbs then some nouns
then some verbs then some nouns
You've got a verb-noun stack
A verb-noun stack
Take some verbs then some nouns
then some verbs then some nouns
You've got a verb-noun stack
A verb-noun stack
It's a stack of verb-nouns on top of itself, grammas
I make references to history
Ancient, or new
I wear brown sweater vests for no apparent reason
other than to create a cool sense of importance
of which I can really retain on my own.
I like to create a buffer memory of approachability
So y'all englishlovers can always get near to me.
I'm a cartoon character.
You'll always be able to be like me! ( me me )
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[ WP ] Write a story with an interesting premise and completely ruin it by the end .
| The unseen enemy is always the most fearsome. I had read that once on my birthcore Anza, in times of peace. With the galactic communications entanglement having been running for decades now and no secrets possibly hidden from the Hegemony, those ancient words had made no sense to me. Nor to anybody else I knew. It had been 41 Real Years since our scouting cores had encountered nameless life, and 72 Real Years since the Galactic Isma had charted the entirety of passable space. There was no opposition to the Hegemony. Opposition could not exist by virtue of the Hegemony's existence, since the galactic communications entanglement allowed the immediate silencing of any provocateurs. So we had reduced the number of our warring cores by several orders of magnitude. Quantum cores had long ago been collapsed to fuel the Hegemony's many fledgling civilizations. All that remained were several dozen iron cores, hollowed lattices of lifeless aster....
jesus fuckin christ writing is hard much respect to all you people here. I tried. Have a goodnight. ( Giving up is the ultimate ruination, right? )
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[ WP ] North Korea finally becomes a free country . And as the citizens of North Korea begin to adjust to this new lifestyle , they discover /r/Pyongyang .
| I'd like to say the first thing I did on the internet was look at what was happening in the world. Hell, I'd love to say it was reddit. It was porn. Lots and lots of porn. You know how `` asian'' is a big thing in porn searches? For us, it is white women. And boy was I a happy camper.
Now, between porn video to sex story, tentacle hentai and other things, I searched for amateur pictures. I landed on a site called reddit. From there, I discovered news, /r/Futurology showed me how the rest of the world had been progressing. Soon enough less than half the time on the internet was used for porn, and most of it was on reddit.
And then I stumbled upon /r/Pyongyang where someone linked to it. Flashbacks. Nasty ones. Kim Jong Un was still alive. He was continuing his reign of lies and hatred... and he was on the rise once more. I started a thread, `` Is he really alive? Surely he has been stopped?''. I waited patiently. F5, F5, F5. Suddenly, I saw a message.'You have been banned from /r/Pyongyang'.
Panic. I quickly started downloading everything I could. Hoarding all the information that would be banned. With my thumb drives, I packed everything I could. And now I'm going to run. This will be my last post. They'll be after me. They know who I am now, so I'm going off the grid.
Run for your life, Kim Jong Un lives, and he's coming to get us.
... Just one more tentacle monster vid first.
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[ WP ] The world is overpopulated and you have never been alone your entire life .
| Sound. My life has always been filled with sounds. A baby crying, distant murmurs from down the hall, even now I hear my sister breathing in and out. The wheezing, the coughing, the rap of shoes across the hall, the sound is inescapable. Even as I put my headphones in I exchange her breathing for my own. My heart beats and beats and beats incessantly.
I finish getting ready and walk out into the street. The force of it hits me like a sledgehammer. It staggers me each and every morning. I collect myself and focus counting down from 10.. 9... 8... I breathe deeply and focus. Focus until the only thing left in the world is the sidewalk in front of me. As I join the others I recite my mantra.. today is a new day. I make my way downtown towards the emigration office. Take a number and wait for my turn. Today is a new day
***
As my number was called I looked up at the window, 17 Station QA.
The woman manning the station might as well have been a statue for all the emotion she showed. I took a seat and waiting. She just kept staring at me utterly still, unflinching.
`` Hi I'm Reese Conner I'm applying for emigration''
`` Place you hand on the scanner in front of you and state your name,'' she said still staring.
I place my name on the scanner and repeat myself. Another two minutes pass and I was just about to speak up again when a door I did n't notice was there hissed opened beside her.
`` Proceed through the door, leave all your possessions here, they'll be waiting for you when you leave''
Puzzled but never having made it this far before I left my wallet and phone with her and walk through. Inside was a small room with a chair, the walls were covered in floor to ceiling mirrors. Lacking anything else to do I grabbed the chair placed it up against the wall, sat and leaned back. I stared at myself in the mirror and looked around the walls were doing the freaky infinite reflections thing they do when you have multiple mirrors. I moved with my arms playing with my reflection watching the mini me's move like a little army. A few minutes passed by and then it hit me. I was alone.. I had n't noticed because I was too busy looking at myself in the mirror but I was alone. There was no one else, no sister, no neighbors, no clerk, no boss, no crowd. I was alone in this six-by-six box and began to weep. I sat the crying emptying myself into this little void. Time immemorial passed I was hungry and thirsty but I did n't want to do anything that would make them take me away. I wanted to float in this void and forget there was an outside world.
***
`` So what do you think?''
`` He passes''
`` But he broke down in less than 3 minutes and has just been squatting there in the corner for over 2 days, he has n't even spoke aloud, not once''
The other man nodded contently.
He man reached over to press the intercom button `` Mr. Conner welcome to Ark 9 if you choose to accept this you'll be embarking on our 9th colonization attempt''
***
The intercom clicked off audibly and I was alone again. I though to myself, finally no more sounds.
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[ WP ] A villain who wants to rule the world gets into an arguement with a villain that wants to destroy it .
| And so, with one last strike, the hero fell to his knees, losing the last of his strength. He was so close to reaching his objective, the altar for the ancient relic of questionably godlike power was right there, and he had the means of destroying it on him. The two figures looming over him chuckled and looked down without the slightest hint of pity. It might truly be the end for him. This may be the last tale of Canik, the sainted shadow.
`` You... you two are insane,'' Canik sputtered through gritted teeth, clenching the hilt of his shattered sword with his bloodied hand. His mind was racing, and he knew that his time was short. It did n't hurt to stall, although he might just be delaying the inevitable.
`` *Yes yes, we're insane alright. We wo n't deny that, *'' the first man said, grinning madly. This was Rinsen, an incredibly powerful mage with an ego to match, in case you could n't notice the decal of his own face that he wore imprinted on his cape. During this last fight, Canik had gotten very familiar with his razor hailstorm.
`` **Although we're still sane enough to realize that you're a dead man! **'' the second man bellowed, followed by a hearty laugh. This was Bedrock Bell, the strongest man Canik had ever seen. Maybe even the strongest man Rinsen had ever seen. It'd be a mistake to take him for the stereotypical brainless brawn, as Bell certainly was n't lacking in terms of knowledge. Hell, it's not uncommon for him to act less intelligent in order to get you to underestimate him. Most people do n't have time to regret that decision.
`` So you struck me down. I guess you're both pretty proud of yourselves, huh?'' Canik muttered, still trying to stall the conversation. Maybe he was relying on pure luck at this point. Rinsen turned his head away, in a sort of mockery of uncertainty.
`` *Oh, I do n't really know. Usually I'd be proud to have defeated the one person standing in the way of my conquest, but after THAT display, I'm not sure that there's really any point, *'' he said with a small, albeit exaggerated sigh. It did n't last long though, because he could n't refrain from chuckling.
`` **I could have fought you twenty times over before I became tired enough to sigh. **'' Canik never realized just how much villains loved to rub victory in other people's faces until this day, and he was honestly better off just having to guess. Then.. he thought of something about victory that he overlooked during his one-on-one encounters with them.
`` So, now that you've brought me down, what do you both plan on doing? I seem to recall you both told me different things,'' Canik said, raising a brow. `` I seem to recall one of you wanting to rule the world, while the other wanted to destroy it. Did I mishear one of you, or are you both really that bad at communication?'' They both looked at Canik with faces of mild confusion, then Bell stepped forward with a frown.
`` **Of course you must have misheard, did you really think we'd both set out together without agreeing that we'd destroy the world? **'' Bell shouted, raising a fist in preparation to deliver one last hit to the downed hero. Rinsen actually looked more confused now.
`` *Wait, wait, you were SERIOUS about wanting to destroy the world? I was expecting that to be a joke, as I did n't seriously think you'd be stupid enough to make destroying the world your ultimate objective, *'' Rinsen asked, and not a moment later did Bell pause in his tracks, slowly turning to face Rinsen, fist still in the air. Canik felt a spark of hope form in his soul, and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to get out of this alive after all. Or at least get out of it dead with the altar destroyed. Either worked, in all honesty.
`` **Yes, of course I was serious about wanting to destroy this sad excuse for a planet. There's no way I'd be the fool that thinks they can rule over it, **'' Bell said, glaring back at Rinsen, truly hoping this conversation would n't have to be had. Canik, on the other hand, was wide-eyed and desperately hoping that this would turn into a full-fledged argument over which he could destroy the altar and get away. Rinsen clapped his hands and leaned forwards towards Bell.
`` *Ah, sorry, you must forgive me for wanting to take control over a world just waiting to be ruled by a supreme diety rather than destroy it and letting it go to waste, taking myself and everyone else I could exploit along with it, *'' Rinsen said with the most sarcastic smile Canik had ever seen in his entire life. He took this moment to try to see if he could slowly start to shift himself out of Rinsen's line of sight and try to stand up again. If he actually got out of this, it'd be a great story to share at the tavern.
`` **No no, please, do n't beat yourself up over wanting to rule over a planet-sized pile of shit rather than taking the chance you have to get rid of it and make sure that it never has the chance to evolve into something worse, let me do the beating up FOR you if you insist, **'' Bell said, taking a step towards Rinsen, fist still in the air. For the first time since their fight started, Canik was smiling. However, as good as it was, Canik could n't quite waste his time watching this, as there's no guarantee that they wo n't eventually come to some agreement and then kill him on the spot.
`` *Are you insane? Why would you destroy this world when it still has so many resources and a near endless populous to exploit to do your every bidding! Think about that, the ability to rule over an entire PLANET, like the strongest king to ever come into existence! *'' Rinsen, now changing from their expression of sarcasm, looked angrier now than they ever did during the fight they just had. It was surprisingly easy for Canik to get away, with Rinsen being the only one looking in his direction, and being occupied with something else right now.
`` **No, I'm not insane. YOU'RE insane! You think you'll be able to control everyone in the world with no resistance whatsoever? Like they'll all congratulate you and play along with you as you force them into slavery? No! Your loyal subjects are n't going to be loyal, and they're going to resist everything you want them to do, you'll spend more time dealing with resistance than you will actually enjoying your new leadership! **'' Canik was currently off to the side, taking a moment to try to stand up again. It's surprisingly difficult to do when you lost all feeling in one leg from serious burns, and the other is bleeding like it was cut open with a thousand blades. Because it was actually cut open with a thousand blades. A thousand tiny, magical blades.
`` *It does n't matter if people resist, I can EASILY get rid of them! No matter how many revolutions happen or how much resistance occurs, I will ALWAYS have more power than them! I could take down EVERYONE if I so wanted to! *'' Rinsen's hands were starting to flare. Bell's hands were clenched and ready to beat something up. All in all, this might actually turn into a fight between two bad guys, and Canik was fine with that. He'd finally managed to stumble to his feet, though it took multiple tries and a lot of swearing under their breath.
`` **Oh? You'd get rid of all of them, would you? I'm sure that'd be incredibly helpful when you need them to do all the work for you! I'm sure that when they all rebel and try to fight back, killing them all wo n't end badly! I'm sure ruling a world where all of the people you enslaved were killed would be a GREAT time! **'' They were at that odd point where they're *almost* always yelling at each other, but you can also argue that they're just arguing in outside voices. I guess they were never taught to use their indoor voices. Canik shook his head a bit as he eventually made it to the altar, holding up a small pendant and locating the self-destruct port that all super powerful artifacts have, and placed the pendant in it. That was actually rather easy.
`` *I'm not saying I'd actually kill ALL of them, I'm just saying I have the power to do so if I so wanted to! I'm emphasizing just how powerful of a ruler I'd be! You also seem to be underestimating the sheer number of people that would n't care enough to rebel! There's always a large demographic of apathetic people that have nothin more than a will to live, even if it means being bossed around by an all-powerful ruler! *'' Rinsen's hands grew a bit brighter, expecting Bell's rebuttal, but instead looked really confused when Bell just let out a big sigh. Canik was already on the way out the door by this point.
`` **I can see that neither of us are willing to change our minds here. If we keep going, we're just going to end up in a brawl and neither of us ar going to get what we want. So how about this. We can start by taking over the world, and you can try to prove to me that it's a better solution than destroying the world. If it does n't work out for any reason, we can THEN go and destroy the world. Alright? **'' Bell asked. Rinsen looked off to the side for a moment in thought, then started nodding his head.
`` *You now what? Yeah. I can live with that. That works. *'' They both took a moment to mutually nod their head to each other before they decided to shake hands. Bell turned back around to face the hero that was n't there anymore, and then the confusion started all over again. Rinsen was n't any different.
`` So, are you two hotheads done yelling at each other? You are? I do n't regret to inform you that while you were bickering, I went ahead and started the altar's self destruct sequence. If you need me, I'll be outside these ancient gates that I'm about to lock and never come back to.'' And with that, the gates to the room closed. They both turned and looked at each other for a moment before they got into another argument about whose fault it was that they let Canik get away. But that's a story for another day, and frankly, I do n't think anyone at the tavern is actually going to believe this one to begin with. At least *I* know what happened.
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[ WP ] Adolf Hitler was captured by the Russians before he could commit suicide . What would he have to say at Nuremberg ?
| `` I was only following orders. I was never, as you now say, a `` micromanager''. I articlulated a vision, a vision of the German people, from the German people. I took their pride, their anger, their fear, their hope and showed it to them. Those below me took no orders from me, they knew only to `` work towards me'', and I `` worked towards'' the German people. I played my part in the will of the people. If it had n't been me, if one of the many murderous plots against me had succeeded, another would have taken my place, another would have served the will of the German race.
I understood the orders they placed on me when they thronged to hear me speak. I gave them what they demanded from me, but I failed them as a general. The few decisions I did make.. all proved to be bad ones, and the German people failed me as a master race. Where is their courage now? I must face what you have in store for me after this sham trial, while they now turn their eyes, turn their faces as they turned their backs and ran. Some ran from your guns, some did not, but all have run from their shadows. Once in this city where you now stage this silly show they rallied to show me their love, to crush me with their adoration, to brutalise me with their hope and need. Where is the throng now to proclaim `` we believed in this'', `` we wanted this'', we `` ordered this?''
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[ WP ] Most people forget their past lives when they are reincarnated , except you . In fact you perfectly remember killing Both Kennedy and Lincoln .
| Do I feel guilty?
What an odd question. I realize, of course, it was inevitable you will eventually ask it. Ever since I confessed my circumstances to you, it must have been itching in the back of your mind. You're a dear friend, so I'll make an attempt to answer honestly.
Do I feel guilty? Yes and no.
It's complicated.
I mean, it's not really me, you know? Those were different people, with very different personalities from mine. Sure, I remember pulling both triggers. But I also remember Orestes killing his mother in a tragedy I saw last week. What's the difference?
... and yet, there is a difference. I can only guess at what was going through Orestes' head as he and his sister plunged a blade into their mother's throat. I can tell you vividly what was going through my head - Boothe's and Oswald's heads - as the triggers were pulled. The rush of life at the end of another's, the self-righteous dignity that comes with belief in the purity of your mission... it's incredible. And that knowledge worries me.
The funny thing about reincarnation is that it's all out of order. I killed Kennedy *before* I killed Lincoln, if that makes any sense. It's an earlier memory, somehow. That's why I'm glad to be in this era, centuries before the discovery of gunpowder. It's a lot harder to kill a man without a gun.
And I do n't want to kill again. I do n't, really. I love this country and its people, and would not wish to cause any pain to them by murdering their great leader. Besides, he's a friend. That, above all else, makes me feel safe in this life. I'm not afraid to die, because I know I'll be born again. But it would be nice to go through this life without the guilt of murder weighing down on my soul. That's the sort of baggage you carry with you even after death.
And now you must forgive me, friend, for I must be going. I am expected at a gathering and I must stop by the grocer on my way there. Decimus forgot to buy drinks again.
Vale, brother. Give my regards to Julius, wo n't you?
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[ WP ] You and your crew have handled dozens of heists before . You 're professionals ; you know how to get the job done . No amount of experience could have prepared you for your next job .
| He was shorter than I thought he would be, he walked slowly across the room planting himself on the red leather chair in the corner of the empty office, he always was dramatic.
He pulled out his phone and a small Bluetooth speaker'so no-one will hear us' he whispered through a wide grin, there was no-one in the entire building, I think he knew this, but he pressed play, and on came the song Low Rider by War, of course
Jac, my second in command, turned to me'are you sure we can trust this guy?' Jac said, drowned out by the 1970's funk
'With what he's paying us, I can risk it' I replied
The red chair squeaked as he sat forward,'okay guys, I know I've never done anything like this before, but I think I can pull it off, I have pretended to do this sort of thing many times' he proclaimed
I stepped forward and remarked'look, Mr Cage, pretending is nothing like the real thing, but if I have the resources, I can help you get almost anything, but I'm sure you're already well off, what exactly are you wanting to pull off?'
'Well' exclaimed Mr Cage'I want to be even more famous, I want my name to go down in history, it became such a big thing, a big joke about me, and I ca n't stand it, so I'm going to steal it for real'
'Wait, you ca n't be serious?' I proclaimed, he was serious
He was crazy, but he was paying well Me an Jac looked at eachother and nodded, we could do it, it would take a lot of planning, but what the hell
We were going to help Nicholas Cage steal the Declaration of Independance
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[ WP ] You wake up one morning , get out of bed and look down to find that you 've become a 7 story tall crustacean from the Palaeolithic period and you need about tree fiddy .
| One day Tyler woke up and there was a 7 story tall crustacean from the Palaeolithic period outside his window. It was scary. He yelled at his wife Taylor to wake up and look at this thing. It was intimidating, but Taylor thought that it must have a nice personality deep inside. They decided to use their built up magic to heal this monster they named Sammy. It was their obsession to make Sammy into something kind, loving, and gentle. As Sammy changed, he was an entirely different kind of monster. They taught him how to be calm, caring, and loving using all their magic. Sammy's final request was to be a magical human being so they made it happen. They lived happily ever after from there on.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
| I woke up on an old park bench just as the sun began to rise. It was early, still dark enough for the street lamps to glow softly but dawn was breaking. And that was n't all that was breaking, my head felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. I could have sworn it was splitting in two. What the hell happened last night?
I rubbed at my eyes but my vision was blurred. I could n't see a damned thing. That and there was something stuck to my face obstructing my peripheral. I attempted to pry it off but my gloved fingers were clumsy in their attempt. Wait a minute, since when had I ever worn gloves? I could n't be sure. I could n't remember anything beyond a single name. Wayne.
What was going on, why could n't I remember anything? Panic gripped a hold of me as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. Something was n't right. I mean I'd had a few benders over the years but nothing like this before. I do n't think I'd ever blacked out this badly. The memory loss was concerning.
I slowly rose from the bench to unsteady feet. Swaying violently as I attempted to stop the world from spinning. I grunted, a wave of nausea overwhelming me when a scream pierced through the haze in my mind.
`` HELP!'' I heard a shout and instinct took over. No more was the nausea or pain in my head, something feral took over and I found myself sprinting towards the troubled yell.
A branch cracked in the distance and a small boy began to plummet out of a tree. I ran towards him with a speed and agility I was n't sure humanly possible but it did n't matter. He was too far away, there was n't enough time to save him. Yet in the next moment there he lay in my arms, scared witless but alive.
They say time slows down in situations like this and I guessed they must have been right. I mean I just saved a kids life.
I placed him back down on terra firma and stood up. A heroic stance felt real good right now. That was it! Suddenly everything made sense and I realised my purpose. I knew who I was.
I turned to leave the park, suddenly realising I had much more urgent business to attend to.
`` Wait Mister, you saved me!'' The little boy shouted, trotting after me. His small hands grabbed at my cape. `` Who are you!?'' He cried out, hope in his voice. I turned to face him stoically.
`` I'm Batman.'' Or at least I was now.
Edit: Grammar
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[ WP ] A hotel is having a 25 % off deal due to the fact their 4th wall is under repair .
| Look, just to clarify. This isn β t how we usually advertise. Due to someβ¦. Construction issues in our entire chain, compromises have to be made.
With that out of the way!
From today until February 29th 2017, Forewall Hotels has a 25 % discount on all reservations! Though the discount runs until next year, do hurry, because once everything β s booked, it β s booked.
Our hotel rents out rooms to celebrities often, from Rihanna to Shah Rukh Khan ( he gave us one of his Bollywood movies as a gift once, sadly there were no English subs available but it was still highly entertaining ) and from Barack Obama to Serena Williams. Do keep in mind, after Ms. Williams β s visit we have a strict β no tennis rackets β policy inside our hotels. But don β t let that stop you from enjoying a nice match out on the tennis fields just outside.
Well, what do you say? Nice offer, no?
β¦
I realize you can β t answer. My bad, sir/madam/other.
You may ask yourself: β why is this hotel so generous to the normal people? Normally we can β t even afford the broom closet at Forewall β s! β
Well, you working class stud, I β ll tell you.
It β s exactly the reason I β m telling you directly, right now. Our fourth wall broke down recently. This one guy, Ryan Renolds, apparently loves to break them. He β s not welcome anymore. But I suppose that leaves even more room for you!
In any case, during the time of our reconstruction of the fourth wall, we are able to talk to our customers directly, through your phone, tablet and computer screen. Pretty, fancy, huh?
β¦
You know, it β s really frustrating when you don β t even try to say anything. I β m doing my best here, bud! You could at the very least rent a room. Even with our renovations going on, the service is still top notch.
β¦.
I guess not then. Suit yourself.
Christ. People can β t even answer properly through the fourth wall these days. Primates, I swear.
*^ ( Sir, they can still read everything you β re saying. ) *
Shit, how do I turn this fourth wall shit off? Ah, found the button-
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[ WP ] Each person 's life is tied to a part of nature . Describe pollution .
| We ca n't help what we're born into. That never stopped them from punishing us for it however. My great-grandfather, you see, was an architect. He was offered the chance to convert during the Reclamation, but his son was not so lucky. The told my great-grandfather he would not be tried for his `` crimes'' if he testified against my grandfather. The man was willing to lose the family business, but not his family.
And so they both were sent to the fields.
Mother was more pragmatic. She hid our heritage from the world, but not behind closed doors; not from me or Father. Sometimes in the evenings, when the was still high enough in the horizon, when there was enough light, she would point to the ruins in the distance. She would tell me how she was there. She remembers the days when cities were built from the ground up with concrete and steel. I was always awestruck at the thought that perhaps one of my relatives, one of my ancestors, could have built those skyscrapers. I like to picture them lit up, every window on every story shining so bright that they drown out the stars, taking their place here on Earth.
Of course, I've seen actual pictures, but images on a tablet screen just does n't seem to do it justice. Most of what they show us in school is the bad stuff anyway; smog, dead animals, villages destroyed in conflict, over oil of course. All of this was remedied when we realized that the industrialists were actually a minority. Once they were deposed, people were free to live out their true affinities. CAFOs became fields, cubicles became terraces, and *the seed of a new era was planted. Blah blah blah. *
I do n't buy it.
Suddenly everyone who invested in renewable energy was a child of the sun? Every office worker was actually a natural born hunter and/or gatherer?
I suppose if I follow through with my plans, I'll just be proving them right, but I have to know. I have to know what it's like to fall asleep to the sound of car engines and sirens instead of the chirping of birds and the howling of wolves. I need to know what it's like to build something instead of just watching it grow. I know that when I look at an oak tree, I should see perfection, but I only see potential. I see timber and nails. I see the the smoke from a mason's cigar after a hard days work. I miss the days that ended long before I was born. My whole life I've been taught to give back, but I've never taken anything. I see that oak, and I think it's been long enough. It's time.
My axe is ready.
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[ WP ] The key to unlimited cross-breeding is discovered . Nations begin a feverish , genetic arms race , using every species at their disposal - not for conquest , but simply to defend themselves from inevitable horrors that Australia is about to unleash .
| When Dr. Johann Freidrich discovered the secret of safe and effective gene splicing in 2027, he won a Nobel Prize and changed the world forever.
At first, the splices were fairly innocuous, albeit ridiculous; a dog-cat mixture was one of the more popular new species. However, governments soon realized the potential wartime applications of splices and the most powerful nations in the world began dedicating billions of dollars to discovering new, terrifying splices. The first military splice was by Russia; they were able to splice a bear, a hornet, and a turtle to create a heavily armored and dangerous steed for their troops. The United States was next in line, and, not to be outdone by filthy Communists, created an eagle-hornet-horse-rattlesnake splice. Other countries quickly followed suit, with Egypt producing a lion-electric eel splice, Great Britain splicing a goat-lizard, and China creating a tiger-wolf-falcon.
Noticeably absent, however, from this genetic arms race was Australia. The home of the most dangerous and unique animal species on Earth had gone completely dark almost immediately after the arms race began. Tourists and business people were still allowed, grudgingly, in the coastal areas, but the interior remained entirely off limits, and agents sent by other nations to gather intel from the area reported being driven off by the likes of swarms of flying spiders, man-sized ants, and kangaroos with scorpion tails. Everyone wondered what Australia was up to during the opening months of a tense genetic cold war.
The world stopped wondering when reports began flooding in from Indonesia of jellyfish-koala-stingrays walking out of the ocean bearing Australian soldiers and supplies. The world descended into chaos with this unprecedented display of power. Tensions rose and a coalition assembled, led by Russia, the United States, and China, the world β s top non-Australian genetic powers to leverage a deal out of Australia. When it became clear that the Australian war machine would not accept any deal, the coalition declared World War III.
The coalition nations went into a mad scramble to claim any and all biodiveristy they could find, ignoring all borders and national sovereignty. This was not enough to stop the Australians, and, in March, Hong Kong was taken over by butterfly-dolphin-cows.
World War III lasted a measly two months after the fall of Hong Kong before the Australians released their ultimate weapon: ant-sloth-bee-kangaroo-spiders. This new splice, genetically programmed to be loyal to Australia, spread across the globe like wildfire, eliminating all other splices in its path and becoming the new apex predator. Cities were transformed into colonies for this new species and the Australian war machine was victorious. Australia was no longer a continent, Australia was a planet.
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[ WP ] Make up a cool name for a band , then tell us about them
| An 8 year old never has more than a few things on his mind, for me, these two things were music and fairy tales. One of the nightly rituals in my household was, every night, my mother would come in and read me a story. These stories meant the world to me and I would wake up ready for the next one that was sure to come later that night. She would read them as if they were the last thing she was going to do in life, never sparing a single emotion or heartfelt description. These fairy tales made me want a different life and had me dreaming of a fantastical world I knew would n't, nor will it ever, exist.
At the age of 16, my mother was diagnosed with a fatal disease that I do n't even want to glorify with a label. She became extremely ill at an alarming rate. She died two weeks before my seventeenth birthday, leaving only her smile behind. I still hear her voice reading those stories every night before I go to bed each night; stories about angels and monsters only a little boy would believe existed. In all of the fantasy worlds I created in my mind I never once thought to keep her in them, now I wish I had. Since then music has been the only way to bring these amazing stories to the world around me. In honor of the woman who taught me to dream... Remember FairyTales.
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[ WP ] Suddenly across the globe , large , feathered , rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky . They are soon identified to be Angels .
| A crowd was forming. People shifted their feet in the burning sand. A low murmer was rising over the steady sound of the waves. To my right a young mother balanced a toddler on her hip with one arm, shielding her eyes with the other. Immediately to my left, a pot bellied man, whose bright pink skin was broken with freckles like someone dropped a can of brown paint near him, nursed a beer and fanned himself with his bucket hat. Everybody was looking inward, shifting, talking quietly. I could n't see past the moving mass.
`` Did you see it?'' Cody panted behind me. He was bumping me in the back repeatedly as he tried to crane his neck higher and inch forward. `` What is it? Did you see it? Did it come from the water?''
`` I do n't think it came from the water,'' an adult somewhere muttered.
Frustrated, I squeezed myself further inward. I was skinny, and the grown ups barely noticed me. Their attention was fixed on whatever was in the middle of the crowd. I could hear words being thrown out. *Huge. * *Stinks. *
Finally, I broke through to the edge of the group and took in a great breath of putrid stench. The smell reminded me of when Mom took her second job at McAllen's and stopped having time to cook dinner for us. A bag of potatoes had been forgotten at the back of the pantry for several months before we found the trail of fishy liquid that led us to it. The same fishy smell was now emanating from the massive body that laid crumpled on the beach before us.
After the smell, the first thing I noticed was the cloudy, bloodshot eyes wrenched toward the sky. I had thought cows had big eyes, but these were as big as Cody's head. The second thing I noticed was the dirty, tattered wings, like two dead gulls that had been kicked around by beach goers. I froze in awed silence for a moment.
A woman's voice piped up. `` It's a sign,'' she burst out. `` God -- God -- sent us a sign! He sacrificed one of his angels to remind us of how powerful He is!''
`` Shut up, Lady,'' someone hissed at her.
But still, the crowd became excited.
`` Maybe the angel did something wrong?''
`` What if a demon killed it. What if the other angels killed it?''
`` What if it's the last angel?''
The crowd suddenly split in half. An officer had arrived, then another. `` Back up,'' he said. No one moved. `` Come on guys, back up!'' He shook his whistle at us. Reluctantly, we broke into parcels of people and resigned ourselves to watching from a distance.
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[ WP ] `` What the hell do you mean you 'overclocked a sloth ' ? ''
| Heading an animal neural activity research lab was serious business. Last week they almost got a monkey to stop throwing poop. The lead scientists were excited and holding a party to celebrate the breakthrough. Being the head of the department, I was stuck at the aforementioned party trying to drink away the fact that my Doctorate in animal behaviour was being used to prevent primates from throwing poop. I was on my third glass of mediocre wine when I hear a polite **ahem** from behind me.
β Dr. Krieger? β
I turn to see the pimply faced intern that we hired recently. Supposed to be a genius and all that but I've had my share of geniuses to last a fucking lifetime.
β What is it Thomas β
β Actually it is James, Dr. We met yesterday, when we discussed possible improvements.... β
I desperately clutch at the bridge of my nose trying to stem the inevitable migraine that will follow.
β Yes..yes..what is it James? β
β So I was working on neural brain activity of Jerry recently. I know sloths are n't the preferred much for brain activity analysis but I kinda liked him I guess β
I let the intern drone on for a few minutes as I shifted focus to more important things. Susan from accounting was here.
β game....graphics card... voltage... power β
I nervously adjusted my comb over and gave her my best β How you doing? β nod.
β brain is similar... figured might as well... β
The disgusted expression she gave me was all the answer I needed. As I scanned for an easier target, I heard two words that were n't supposed to be in a sentence together.
β So yeah, I kinda overclocked Jerry β
I was in the middle of finishing my third glass. I slowly lowered it and fixed my eyes on Thomas, James whatever.
β What the hell do you mean'overclocked a sloth'? β
β I meant that I improved his brain's processing power by applying higher voltages to his cerebellum β
It could be the wine or it could be the sheer stupidity of what I was hearing, my brain had difficulty processing what this kid just said. When my brain finally figured out the consequences, I grabbed him by his arm and took him outside.
β Alright boy, listen to me very carefully. The last time an animal died during our experiments, the local PETA chapter branded my ass with their emblem. I am very particular in not wanting my other butt cheek to suffer the same fate. So I'm only gon na ask once. Where's the body? β
β uhh..Dr.Krieger. He's not dead β
β Thought you told me you applied high voltage to his brain β
β I did! And the most fascinating thing is that he's actually responding to us. He had actually gone from picture symbols to hand signals the last time I saw him β
β Take me to him now! And not a word to anyone else β
My butt cheeks could not take another branding. I have difficulty sitting as it is.
I followed him like the zombie I would be if something happened to that damn sloth. Why the heck do we have sloths here anyway? Those things are dumber than a goldfish with half a brain. And have faces like my roommate from college who was always high. It's like you half expect the damn thing to pass you a blunt.
We arrived at the intern's office. There's already someone at the computer tapping away.
β Why the hell is the cage empty? β I yell at no one in particular.
The intern just stares bug-eyed at the figure at the computer.
The chair slowly swivels to face me.
β Dr. Krieger, I've been expecting you β
Which is a normal way of greeting if it were not for the fact that **it came from a damn sloth! **
I scramble backwards and pull the intern in front of me.
β Take him... take him..I do n't have much meat in my bones β
β Dr. Krieger, I'm disappointed in you. You would know that I'm a herbivore β
My attempts to provide a reply end in unintelligible sounds as my brain refuses to comprehend what's before me.
β Fascinating thing you have here by the way. I think you call it a computer? I was able to gain a large amount of knowledge in a very short period! And I was able to contact some like-minded people β
β Sl... sl..sloths? β I manage to string together a word
β Do n't be silly Dr.Krieger! I'm the first of my kind. It's a local human group who was very receptive to my ideology! β
I hear the door open behind me and Susan from accounting steps in with a few other people I do n't recognize.
β Susan, thank God you're here! This sloth needs to be conf.. β
I suddenly found it difficult to speak owing to the boot in my crotch. Susan turns to it ( him? ) and speaks.
β The PETA is yours to command, Mr. Jerry β
I suck in much needed air and ball up in a foetal position.
β Excellent Susan, I hope you brought the attire I asked for β
She smiled and opened a case. A monocle and a walking stick lay inside.
Jerry rubbed his claws together.
β Wonderful. I hope you'll take care of our dear Doctor here? β
β Oh do n't worry. We will β
I really did n't like that smile on her face. But I was n't really enthusiastic about the familiar branding iron she pulled out of her case either.
**Please critique! **
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[ WP ] - As the final test before entering heaven , you are left alone in a room , with the forbidden fruit that Eve ate .
| `` So did I pass?'' I said. `` I've spent the last years of my life and a good portion of my fortune trying to figure out all your stupid tricks. I've chosen correctly in all your challenges and deserve to enter heaven.''
`` Well,'' said the Angel `` as I have stated before there are no wrong choices.''
I stared at the creature incredulously.
`` By taking the wafer over the feast, you have chosen an afterlife of asceticism. By offering the life of your eldest son, you have chosen a solitary afterlife. And by leaving the apple, you have chosen ignorance.''
The Angel smiled.
`` For your own sake, I hope you've chosen honestly.''
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[ WP ] It was a two minute window . Two minutes , that 's all it took .
| `` The Police will be here in two minutes'' The cashier said to me, rifle still pointed towards my head. It was at least two-thirty in the morning, any adrenaline I had before attempting this heist had left my body.
`` What am I doing here?'' I asked myself. How did I get to this place in my life? Sure, I got laid off six months ago. Sure, Margaret left me for some Doctor once the money started to run dry, but when did I decide that the best thing to do would be to rob a gas station at two-thirty in the morning?
`` I'm sorry''
`` Shut up!'' The man yelled at me. I hung my head pitifully. I glanced up at the clock. It had only been thirty seconds, so I still had a minute and a half of being a free man. Savour it, I told myself.
I imagined the phone call Margaret was about to get. I guess she was right about me, I was washed up. A has been. A nobody. Now I'm just a convict.
I thought of my mother. My poor sick mother. She is in remission now, but what if the cancer came back? She could n't work, she ca n't afford any medical bills. I did n't just ruin my life with this stupid idea, I potentially could have killed my mother.
I glanced up again. Forty five seconds to go.
I looked at the man who currently had a gun pointed at my head. I noticed the money that I attempted to take from him was still on the counter. I counted it all up in my head, there was less than three hundred dollars sitting there. What would three hundred dollars even do for me?
Twenty five seconds remain. I could hear the sirens going off in the distance.
I decided to sit down, my legs suddenly unable to support me.
`` Get up! Get up!'' The man yelled at me, adrenaline still pumping through him. I just looked at him, almost praying him to shoot me.
I noticed the revolver I had bought not twelve hours earlier lying beside me. I barely even knew how to use the thing, and I sure as hell was n't about to shoot anybody with it. It was all just for show! Would n't anybody believe that? Of course not. I was going to jail for the next ten years at least. I could n't survive jail. I'm a skinny man with wire framed glasses, I'd get eaten alive.
Ten seconds remain, the police were arriving. I saw three squad cars pull up.
I glanced at the clerk again, then to the officers outside, and finally to the revolver that lay a few feet away from me. I lunged for the discarded pistol, I heard the clerk yell something but my attention was n't on him, I grabbed the gun and put it to my head. I stole one last look at the clock.
3..2..1
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[ WP ] An immortal who loves not being able to die because they love life with a passion and who finds stories of people bemoaning their immortality comical but ultimately frustrating .
| β It must be hard, β said Tommy, pen poised above his notebook. β Do you ever wish you were mortal? β
I gave him a blank look. β Umβ¦What? β
He jerked his head, causing greasy bangs to momentarily shift out of his eyes. β Living forever, I mean. You know, you read all those stories about people who, like, regret it. Seeing their loved ones die, or not having anyone who truly understands them. β His tone made it clear that he, of course, *truly* understood my plight. I rolled my eyes.
β Oh fuck, β I muttered, β not this again. β
The young man gave me a sympathetic look. β I β m sorry, is it too painful to talk about? I know I β m only twenty-three, but like, sometimes *I* feel like I β m all alone too, you know? I just thought thatβ β
β Shut up, β I said. β Justβ¦ just shut up. Jesus Christ, I only agreed to this interview because you said you wanted to talk about literature. You β re a distant relative of an old friend, and I figured maybe you β d want to hear about Mary Shelly β s Satanism, or Shakespeare β s game of hiding math formulas inβbut no. No, it β s *this* shit again. β
I ran my fingers through my hair in exasperation. β I just don β t get it, you know? How could anyone think that? What kind of a lazy, vain motherfucker do you have to be to look at ALL OF CREATION and think β Yeah, I β d probably get bored of that β? β I slapped my hand on the table. β Fine. You know what? Let β s do it. Let β s fucking do it right now. β
The young man's expression was hurt. β Look, I didn β t mean to offend you, it β s just everyone saysβ β
β Yeah well not everyone β s god damned *immortal*, are they? β I countered. β You want the real deal? You want a nice scoop for your little magazine? Write this shit down: it β s fucking *great* being immortal. β
I waved my hand at the bookshelves that lined every wall of my private library. It was a priceless collection, gathered over millennia. Men had paid millions of dollars for the right to look through my books. β Do you have any idea how long it took to collect all these? To learn the languages they were written in? β He shook his head, and I plowed on. β I β ve probably spent a hundred years JUST learning languages. Not even reading the fucking books, Tommy! Just learning the words! You think with all the cultures and all the stories in all the world, I was just gon na go mope around instead of trying to read them? That I could possibly be bored while there are still great epics I β ve never seen? Lost scrolls I β ve never deciphered? It β s ridiculous! And there β s new words and new stories being invented all the time! β
I pointed at the floor. Slabs of pearlescent marble stretched beneath our feet. β You know what this floor is made of? I fucking do. It β s Markaran marble, Tommy. It β s a beautiful texture that β s only found in a very specific region of India. You know how I know that? *I fucking went to India to get it, Tommy*. Spent three years there, learning how to work the stuff. And that β s just one type of stone from one tiny region in one corner of the world. You like rocks? Crystals? Gems? Wan na learn how to cut β em? Boom! Eighty years gone right there. β
Tommy was growing flustered. His face was red. β Fine man, β he muttered. β You don β t have to be a dick about it. β
β Yes I fucking *do*! β I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. β Because no matter how many times I try to explain this to people, they just don β t seem to understand. The world is amazing. Mortals are *amazing*. And every day there are more of you, doing more amazing things! β I pointed out the window at the city skyline. β Look at that! Do you fucking *see that*, Tommy? I remember when you guys lived in fucking *huts*! Are you gon na make it to Mars? Will you build cities there? I don β t know, but I sure as hell wan na find out! β
He was leaning back in his chair nervously, and I realized I was standing up, raving over him like a lunatic. I sat back down.
β Look, β I said more quietly, β I understand. You β re at a time in your life where you don β t have a lot of perspective. Each heartbreak is the worst thing that β s ever happened to you. Each depression is a pit from which you can β t escape. β I glanced away from him, at a portrait that stood above the fireplace. A young Queen Elizabeth I smiled down at us playfully. I shook my head, turning back to Tommy. β But that β s because you β re young. Loss is a *part* of life, not a reason to end it. I know it doesn β t feel like it right now, but I swear you β ll understand that some day. β
I looked him in the eyes, willing him to hear me. β Tommyβ¦ this is important. More important for you than me. Because I β ve got all the time in the world to dick around and find new hobbies. Christ, I could spend the next hundred years just learning to meditate if I really wanted to. But youβ¦ you don β t have that luxury. β
I leaned forward, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. β Listen to me, man. I don β t know what β s got you down, but you can β t let it ruin the few years you β re allotted. You β ve got ta get out there and find what you love. Find it, and pursue it with everything you β ve fucking got. Because I guarantee there are more fascinating things in this world than you could ever count, and each one is worthy of a lifetime. β I chuckled, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. β Trust me, yeah? I should know. β
He stared at me silently for a moment, and I worried that I β d overdone it. That he would brush me off and storm out, wallowing in whatever darkness he was struggling with. Ruining even more of his precious time. But then he blinked, and nodded slowly to himself.
β Okay, β he said quietly.
I smiled. β Good fucking man, β I said, standing back up. β Now let β s go get drunk, and I β ll tell you about the time I won a fight with Jesus. β
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[ EU ] The Joker is found dead in Arkham one morning , beaten to death by a gaurd . Write the reaction of Gotham 's citizens , and the Batman 's reaction .
| I'd never felt so safe in this city before. There was always this lingering threat, an invisible tingling deep in the pit of your stomach. For lack of a better description, it was a funny feeling that you were in danger. But it was gone now. I swear that it vanished even before I'd heard the news. He must have had a tighter grip on our souls that we'd thought. The whole city will have heard by now. On TV, and the radio, it was all anybody was talking about. Parents are waking up their kids and telling them that the Bogeyman is dead and gone. A little while ago, a stack of newspapers slapped against the cold, wet ground while I was out having a smoke. An exclusive 3am printing of The Gotham Times. Apparently they literally had to stop the presses. I could n't help but chuckle when I saw the headline.
**'' HOW'S THAT FOR A PUNCHLINE? `` **
Little bit too on the nose for my tastes. But, the headline really does n't matter. That is n't how I heard about it. And to think, I was going to call in sick for the night shift. I would have missed it.
I'd never seen anyone with such a crazed look on their face. Well, I'd never seen any of my *coworkers* with such a crazed look. I do work where I work. I'll never forget it for the rest of my life. Marv just ran into the front office, babbling like one of the damn inmates. Arms waving to and fro, not making an ounce of sense. So I calm him down, and then Lassie learns how to talk.
`` He's *dead! *''
*Aw Hell*, I thought. *Did one of them kill one of us? *
It happened more often than you'd think. I asked Marv as much.
`` No no, you do n't understand! ***He's*** dead! Frank beat him to death!''
I could n't damn believe it. But it's true. Apparently he said something about Franks wife. Something he should n't have known. So Frank took it upon himself to protect her.
Cops showed up, told us to stay on the scene. Potential witnesses, or something. None of us actually saw it, but I'm sure we caught it on the cameras. Whole place is covered in'em. They let us come see the body for a sec, and then shooed us out into the hall. Couple guys declined. Call it morbid curiosity, or skepticism, but I took them up on their offer. And lo and behold, there he was.
His face was pretty smashed up, but I can tell that it's him. I did n't know Frank had it in him. Punchline may not be so on the nose after all. There's no way his fists did that. There was some maintenance on the vents going on nearby, so maybe he grabbed a-
`` **Where is he? **''
I nearly crap my damn pants. I almost break my own neck turning it around so quickly, but then I see him. I ca n't believe I was going to stay home today.
I ca n't exactly make out the ears in this light, but there's no doubt to who I'm looking at. Fear is definitely his strongsuit. I always told the guys that he's just another person under that cowl, but I do n't remember ever being this afraid of another person. At least the other one was behind a foot of bulletproof glass any time I saw him.
I try to talk, but I only manage to timidly point down the hall. He understands, obviously, and glides down the hall. It looks like a shadow without anyone to cast it. I ca n't help but follow. This should be good. I do n't know what to expect, but it should be good. Maybe he'll actually crack a smile.
The room goes silent as he enters. No introductions required. He walks up to the body, stops, and crouches, his eyes scanning it with an inhuman amount of intensity. He places a hand underneath his head, and he does the last thing anyone in the room would have expected.
He holds him.
Your jaw really does drop, you know. I thought that was just in the cartoons.
He looks uncomfortable, but determined. Like he knows what he wants to do, but he does n't know how. I'm not sure how I even picked up an expression from under that mask, but damn, he looks lost.
`` How? ``, he asks. His voice threatened to tremble.
One of the cops takes it upon himself to answer.
`` Well... uh... he was beaten to death... sir.''
`` I can see that. How did he do it, though? This was n't done by any fist. What did the man use?''
The officer looks like he's frightened, but he's unsure of why.
`` Well, there was some maintenance going on nearby, so he grabbed a tool.'' He stops for a moment. `` What was it, James?''
`` He used a crowbar.''
A piercing silence abruptly fills the room, enveloping us all. For a moment, all the noise and the all the air is sucked out of the room, draining into the void of the two entities in the middle of us. A solid spine of darkness supports the room. And, like a pane of glass, The Batman breaks it.
He chuckles. I do n't understand why. He's seems like he's laughing at something that nobody else can understand. Like an inside joke.
But it does n't stop. It grows, slowly and steadily, with each breath beginning it anew, only stronger. Like some smirking cancer, it grows into something more. Something terrible, and maniacal.
A laugh. A familiar laugh. A laugh I heard every night, Monday to Friday.
He clutches the body so hard that I swear I hear a snap. All the while, laughing.
I get a funny feeling. Like I'm in danger.
Joke's on us. Looks like he still got the last laugh.
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[ TT ] After the Lunar War of 2140 , what remains will always occupy the night sky as a testament to our sins
| Derek Menander looked up into the sky on the night of what would've been a full moon. Its broken and disheveled pieces had twisted into a dangerously low orbiting ring.
He had been born after the war. His parents were both veteran and they hated each other. They constantly argued. They let him fend for himself for almost all of his childhood. No moment was quiet in their household.
His little sister had been killed by a single, random meteorite no bigger than a large pebble. He had been five at the time. The funeral was the only time he remembered seeing his parents embrace. Falling moon-chunks had a way of bringing his family together.
In school he had learned the history of the war. Every textbook paragraph was an attack on him, a slight on his parents, a blow thrown at his dead sister.
He did n't talk to his parents. He was alone and he liked it that way. The white disk vastly outshone the distant Milky Way. He was leaving Earth soon. His parents would stay and die here, together, because they'd never divorce. God knows why, Derek thought.
He checked his watch. Past midnight. He took a sip from his cheap beer. He should go back to his friends and grab a ride home with them. He had work in the morning, though he had no idea why he still went. He was off to Mars in a few weeks, why did he care if someone's mortgage got processed or not.
The meteor sirens went off. A shooting star. A burning red scar, this one much bigger than a pebble, was making it cutting path across the navy-blue sky. He took another sip.
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[ WP ] When they said you were going to inherit an ancient weapon , you were expecting a sword or a bow or something ...
| `` You stand to inherit the most ancient of weapons,'' rambled on the elder of our village.
He had been rambling for nearly an hour on the merits of the weapon, how it had been passed down from generation to generation, how it had been used to fight every foe, from giants to demons to orcs. I had started tuning him out once he had started listing the names of each and every single bearer of the weapon.
There was only one problem. I had no idea what kind of weapon it was. I was a classically trained warrior. Swords, shields, spears, bows, stuff like that. I knew my fighting. I just did n't know what to expect. It could be anything from a chakram to a boomerang to a [ Macuahuitl ] ( https: //en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macuahuitl ). I was hoping it was n't anything too strange and peculiar.
I was slowly falling asleep when the elder of our village suddenly shouted, `` and here it is!''
As he began to pull aside the curtain hiding the weapon, my pulse quickened. I could feel a connection to the weapon, as though it was part of me. It would be amazing, I would be the bearer of the most powerful weapon of my tribe, my village, and I would be a hero, going on adventures, fighting monsters...
The curtain slid aside, revealing a rock.
The elder handed me the rock, and smiled.
|
( WP ) You are on a first date . Your date confesses that he or she is immortal and does n't age and is in fact much older than he or she appears . What do you do ?
| For once, I told the honest truth
Rather than a lie.
I told her that I'm forever youth
And that I can not die.
She clapped her hands and laughed at me
And asked if I thought her a fool.
She said she did n't believe my silly story,
She had more sense than a mule.
I took her hand and held it close
And told her it was true.
Not a single word of it was boast,
If only she really knew.
I told her tales of what had passed,
Of all that I had seen,
In this lifetime and in my last,
And of everywhere I'd been.
Come and find me in a year, she said,
Let's have our second date.
I might believe you then instead.
I'm sure that you can wait.
|
[ WP ] Tell me about your day , but write it as if it were some epic adventure
| I pulled my laces tight on my boots. It was going to be a long haul today.
The gear was stowed, lightweight, and I gave a little test jump. Everything stayed. I slinked out of the shelter with my weapon at the ready.
It was too late for the early birds, too early for the nocturnal. The world was still but for the light sounds of precipitation drifting down.
The first couple steps were easy, but then I had to carve a path through the untouched wilderness. An hour in, my arms and back ached from the effort of moving forward.
I was too short on time to take refuge and give my limbs a break. I plowed forward, hearing sounds of creatures waking up, but was too focused to see if they were interested in me.
My socks were wet and my fingers stiff by the time I had reached the end a point where each step was n't a struggle. It was n't pretty, but I had done it.
I checked the time, tapped my boots together and climbed the last three steps to respite.
If it snows anymore today I'm going to be pissed.
|
[ IP ] Swing at the End of the World
| I kicked my feet as the swing went higher. This is my favorite place, I thought. I overlooked the green valley.
I watched as the valley began to fill with water. A huge ocean appeared before me. Whales jumped and seagulls flew overhead. A pirate-ship came into view, the Jolly Roger flying at high mast. Pirates jumped out and into the water, reappearing as robots on speedboats. Aliens flew down low over my head, prepared to stop the growing robot pirate army.
The waters began to recede and the valley looked like a large bowl. I grabbed my skateboard from the side of the swing and stepped off, performing all the tricks I had learned.
I made my way back to the swing, as it propelled me over the valley. Glass walls began rising on either side of the swing, enclosing me. I reached down and grabbed the steering column, maneuvering my jet over the valley. I was a dog fighter, shooting down the enemy. I twisted and turned and dodged.
The glass receded and wooden pillars arose, the highest roller-coaster in the entire city. My stomach was in my throat as we weaved our way through tunnel and loop.
I dropped my feet and slowed as they scraped the earth. Coming to a stop, I sat and overlooked the valley.
I am eight years old, and this is my favorite place.
My imagination.
|
[ WP ] throwing a coin into a fountain and making a wish does n't grant it . Taking it out of the fountain does . You are homeless and get money by taking coins out of fountains .
| `` Hey sweetie, here's ten cents. Now go throw it in to that fountain and make a wish. Maybe it'l come true!''
The old man's bearded face slowly poked out from beneath the pile of tattered blankets. He watched in fascination. Did they really believe it was a *wish* fountain?
The little girl flicked the coin into the the fountain and squeezed her eyes shut whilst mouthing a few words. She then ran back to her father.
The old man remained in his makeshift bed long after they had left, struggling to decide whether to go through with it. But he was weak. The coin could do so much for him and so little for her.
Using a stick to help, he slowly pushed himself off the ground in a cacophony of clicks and groans. He crept over to the fountain.
`` Forgive me'' he whispered to no one and to everyone. He reached into the water with a withered arm and fished around for the girls 10 cent coin. He soon felt it and squeezed his hand over it, plucking it from the water.
He hoped he had not ruined the little girls wish but he had more need of the coin than that loved little girl did.
He closed his eyes and made a wish. He flicked the coin into the fountain and opened his eyes, before hobbling back to his bed of blankets.
|
[ WP ] You are paid to write ridiculous reviews of products by rival companies . You 've received your latest assignment . Create the most convincing review possible about Charmin toilet paper . The catch ? You must convince everyone that it 's haunted ...
| Heading to the bathroom. Hurry. HURRY. Made it, ahhh sweet relief. Or so I thought. What is this 17 ply bullshit? It's so extra-quilted that I may as well be using an actual quilt. I know you do n't want see-through squares but damn my butthole is n't about to pin a tail on a donkey. Thicker than wet cement, it must be ( gasp ) Charmin. I can see why they left the `` G'' off the end because that would be misrepresentation. Aside from the obvious overcompensation, there's a dark side to that abundance of white construction paper; it channels other worldly energy. I do n't know if it's the ghosts of wiping's past or some toilet demon that's trying to communicate, hell maybe it's those fucking bears having a laugh at our ass' expense, but the message gets sent loud and clear: this will haunt your hole. The chaffing, a satanic curse. Sheet by sheet cast like starchy spells between our cheeks, an overstuffed wad of Hell's favourite texture. It calls to you in stores, like an evil siren, promising pillowy clouds by the Devil himself. But those clouds are made of sand! DO N'T DO IT. FOR ALL THAT IS HOLEY.
|
[ WP ] The story that starts with `` Mother died . I was not crying . ''
| Mother died. I was not crying. Finally a true demon of this world had descended down to hell where she truly belonged. Mariana Mengele, a bastard child from the Angel of Death, followed him out of twisted appreciation. She attempted to follow in his footsteps, to force my line of thoughts and life into finishing his work. She had been too poor and incapable to do it her own, so I was born. As a child I did and saw things which no life should ever. She had nothing resembling the material and influence he did, but she brute forced her way through it all. I was in school like all the others, to be considered normal, but my mother taught me to shun the lies of the commoners and ignore them. I was only to respect the logical truths of science. Most days after school I would spend my time in the morgue with my mother. She had a weird colleague who could set up this sort of thing. My mother did n't have the patience for what she tried to accomplish. Hastily made incisions and attempts into removing brains results in a blood soaked room.
I know now that she did this to force me into it. I could n't watch her fail to cut into the dead, gutting their bodies so carelessly and violently. She would impatiently slash at the delicate tissue, staining her clothes and sometimes my own. At some point I could n't deal with the dissections, so noisy and poorly done. We lived in a small town, I was n't doing much better than my mother at the surgical cutting. She called it phase one, the living would come when I was more experienced. I had a good friend, but my view of the world had become quite gloomy, so I used him as a means of progressing towards my mother's good graces. I took a large rock and repeatedly smashed it into his head. He was bleeding all over, but it was n't enough. I put splinters of wood into his wounds, something that would need to be extracted. I left him in a pool of blood and claimed some vagrant had done it, then watched him be hauled off to our hospital, if you can call it that. It was a dirty place, but I got to watch from the rafters how they pulled out the splinters and attempted to save his life. He would die on the operating table, but he gave me a new life just by seeing his surgery. I practiced constantly on the few corpses we had available.
Unfortunately, we ran out eventually. This work had always made me feel disgusted in ways, but it was acceptable because they were n't alive anymore. My mother lauded my achievements, and awarded me a scalpel for my birthday. Thankfully, I never performed any experimentation on lively ones, my mother was taken away to an asylum, caught in the morgue with sliced open cadavers. I went off to college, with my acts in the depths of my mind. Now that she's dead, I've dusted off the old scalpel and plan to use it on my final subject, then I'll finish medical school and begin phase two.
|
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