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[ WP ] Throughout a persons life , they are given a hidden guardian . A creature that watches over their lifespan . When someone is murdered , the creature haunts the killer . You have been found , murdered . And your guardian is loose .
| I am dead. But I ca n't be. I can still think. But it must be true. As I look down on myself from a few feet up, I am unrecognizable. A bloody mess with organs sprawled on the ground. And something else. A rat must have gotten into my body, as it seems to be writhing as it lies on the ground. A terrifying noise rings through the air. And a bug flies out of my carcass. A bug could n't have jostled my body so much. There is no way! I black out. Maybe it was a dream. But when I wake up, I am still floating in midair. And watching the bug fly to the door of my murderer's house. My girlfriend. She killed me, being a black widow, as she told me before she did it, she hated men, but got close to them in order to kill them afterwards. My consciousness transported into the house, along with the flying bug, which landed on my girlfri- wait, ex's lap, and changed into a rat. She screamed, which for some reason brought my soul joy. She hated rats. And locusts. That's what it was when it was a bug. I wish I had some popcorn. The creature changed into a wolf. My killer screamed in fear. She did n't hate wolves, but having a snarling one in your house would be unpleasant. The doorbell rang. As the man stepped inside, I realized who it was. Rico Sanchez. He was my buddy in college. And when he heard her scream, he wrapped his arm around her. The creature had turned itself into a spider. My ex pointed in fear.
`` A wo-w-w-'' Clearly, from my mindset, I knew she was saying wolf, but Rico, an entomologist, did not.
`` It's just a spider, dear. And it's not a widow spider either.''
My ex would be a widow. There was a knife in her pocket, presumably to kill Rico. It would take a long time to clean the blood out of her carpet. But I ( had forgotten about the tiger. Or I guess what is now a tiger. It snarled, and she screamed, but Rico must have still thought it was a spider.
`` It's just an arachnid, dear.'' The killer took the knife out of her pocket and slashed at the tiger. It just passed through the strange creature. but the true terror was on Rico's face. This was getting good.
`` W-why do you have a knife, dear?''
'Why do you think?'' And as she stabbed at the poor man, the tiger lunged at her. It dissipated into mist, but the black widow started clutching her chest. Rico panted in relief as the room started to get darker. And I sighed with the same relief as I myself dissipated into dust.
Edit: Spelling and grammar
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[ WP ] In a society where `` selling one 's soul to the Devil , '' is common practice , someone does n't recieve what they expected for the trade .
| The past twenty four hours had been nothing but a sickening blur. I was in science class when the principal and school counselor pulled me aside. I cant remember who drove me to the hospital, or how long I sat there shaking and crying in the waiting room. Only to hear the news that I had arrived too late, my mother had passed away.
That night most people would hear the story on the local news. `` Three dead and two injured following a shootout after a bank robbery gone wrong.''
Where I live everybody gets one redo. When a person turns 16 they get a small wooden box shows up on their doorstep. Inside is a key to reverse time, and relive the past twenty four hours.
I dug through my dresser trying to find where I left it. The box fell to the floor with a pile of clothes. I smashed it with my boot and waited for a few seconds. Nothing. With blind rage I threw over the dresser and smashed my fist through the wall behind it. Looking down at the tattered box I could still read the engraving `` Fate will always win.''
There was a knock on the door. Before I could react I heard him open the door open. I confronted him in the hallway. He was a tall dark haired man wearing a white suit. There was a smirk on his face and a revolver in his coat pocket.
`` Who are you?'' I stammered.
Ignoring my question he pulled a document out of his coat. `` It says here you wish to travel to change the events that happened at the city bank at 1:30 PM today.''
`` Yes,'' I replied with a trembling voice,
`` I only have one condition,'' he replied as he handed me the revolver, `` You have three bullets, one of them must avenge your mother's death.''
I tried to reply but my hearing and vision started fading. In one last attempt I tried to yell `` Who are you?'' A voice whispered softly `` Lucifer.''
The next thing I remember I was running towards the bank. With a loud bang I rushed through the double doors. He was already there, semi automatic rifle in hand. As he spun around I drew the revolver and fired twice.
A scream pierced the room. I missed. I had n't seen the hostages lined up against the back wall. The gunman removed his mask, looked down at my weapon than up at me.
`` There is one bullet left,'' he stated calmly `` We had a deal.''
( Thanks for reading, this is my first time doing this so any criticism or feedback would be great. Hopefully the next thing I write is n't this dark. )
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[ IP ] Them .
| It was unintentional. Almost instinctive. Upon seeing the Dreadnaughts sail over the city, Sam trembled and dropped his boxes full of groceries.
*Too soon, * he thought. *I need more time. *
He stooped down to pick up his fallen things, however his eyes couldn ’ t help but stray towards the craft overhead, leaving him fumbling around more often than not.
He set the boxes upright and got to repackaging the things that had fallen out. He picked up a package of frozen meat, now even more so as he wiped away the snow that covered it, but instead of placing it back he paused and took a breath.
*What ’ d be the point? *
Looking up again, smaller ships began to leave the massive dreadnaught. They swarmed over the city below, like insects around a hive.
Some even flew above him, prompting him to stay dead still in an effort to try and make sure he wouldn ’ t be noticed. Which he found to be a stupid idea the more he thought about it. Their sensors would find him regardless of anything he did.
In front of him, the door to his home opened. His mother rushed out, the wrinkles on her face even more evident than usual. Her eyes were clearly bloodshot, her face red and reddening even more as she stepped out into the cold. He could tell she had been sobbing.
With nothing more than a burgundy sweater and jeans to shield her from the cold, she moved towards him, not heeding the groceries that littered the ground.
She draped her arms around him. He could feel her warm tears drip onto his cheek, “ Don ’ t go. ” she whispered in between sobs.
*Easier said than done. * he wanted to say, but he knew this wasn ’ t the time for his usual quips. Instead he returned the hug and kept quiet. Not really knowing what to say at a time like this.
A few feet away one of the small ships had slowed to a hover, engulfing them in a haze of blowing snow. They hugged each other tighter, as if the wind would tear them apart. However, after some time the winds ceased, and the small vessel parked itself firmly in front of their home.
They let go of one another, rose, and turned to meet the intruder.
The cockpit opened to reveal a man clad in full cybernetic armour. His visor was tinted, but despite this Sam squinted, trying to see if there was anything even remotely human beneath all the moving parts.
A voice called out to him, high pitched, almost squealing. All three of them turned towards the front door to find a little girl shouting his name, “ Sam! ” she repeated.
Before he knew it, she had rushed out, pajamas and all, and clamped herself firmly around his legs. He returned the hug, and tried to make it last.
The man continued on towards him until he stood a couple of feet away. He seemed to tower over all of them. Now whether or not that was due to the armour he wore, he couldn ’ t tell.
“ Samuel Coulson? ” he asked.
Sam stood back up, his sister still clamped around his legs, “ Yes sir. ” he replied, his voice cracking.
A blue light pulsated on the side of his helmet. Sam shielded his eyes, and figured that the man was probably scanning him just to double-check. “ Our records show that you are of age, are in good medical condition, and fulfill the standard height requirement. ”
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat.
“ Seems like you have to come with us son, ” he said. “ The Coalition needs you. ”
He knew this was coming around sooner or later. They all did. Everyday the news feeds would show headlines of battles that tugged cities, planets, or even whole systems between the Coalition and the Conglomerate, with the death tolls on both sides climbing to numbers most people thought were obscene, even for war. And as their armies bled, the more desperate both sides became.
A few weeks ago, the Coalition ’ s ruling bodies agreed on passing legislation that allowed for forced military service. Of which, were met with obvious disdain as people marched in protests that spanned colonies in almost every Coalition controlled sector of space.
And as far as Sam was concerned, they were still protesting, with much to no avail.
Even if they were successful, and the legislation repealed, it seemed as if the military were bent on rounding up at least a few batches of recruits to feed their war machine before they did so.
Behind him he could hear his mother whimper as she fought back tears. Below him his sister held his legs in a vice-like grip. He wanted to fight this. He could tell that they all wanted to. But in the shadow of the imposing man ahead of him, and the dreadnaughts that lingered in the sky he knew he had very little choice in the matter.
Although difficult, he pried off his sister. His mother wiped her eyes and moved to take her by her hand, “ Sam ’ s got ta go sweetie. ” she whispered.
Before he could take a step forward, his sister ’ s words froze him in his tracks, “ When are you coming back? ”
*I don ’ t know, * he almost said. However he caught himself. Even though that was the only answer he believed to be true, he couldn ’ t bring himself to say it.
Instead, he simply turned to her and gave her another hug, “ Soon. ” he replied. He roughed up her hair, which made her whine. She always hated when he did that, “ Just take care of mom while I ’ m gone. ”
He turned away, all the while trying to force himself not to look back, and moved towards the soldier that waited all too patiently.
“ Sorry I took so long. ” he brought himself to say.
The soldier cleared his throat, “ Don ’ t be. ” he replied. “ Leaving is always hard. But the Dreadnaughts will still be here for a few more days, so once you've been processed and orientation is done, you can come back to visit. ”
He extended out his gloved hand, “ Sergeant Williams. ” he said.
Sam shook it with a lot more enthusiasm than he had before. It was comforting to know that he was actually talking to a living person rather than some kind of robot. Although his detest for the military and their new policy was still ever present, he tried not to blame the man that stood in front of him. He was just doing his job.
Williams placed a hand on his shoulder, with a grip far softer than he expected.
“ Now let ’ s get you outta this cold. ”
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[ WP ] Fed up with the world , God tries to destroy a highly advanced humanity in 25th century .
| **Part 1**
“ What do you mean there is no Devil? ”
John paused, trying to imagine how this was possible. He was one of the ‘ changed ones ’, too perfect to be human, too flawed to be an Angel. Like most, he had been just a boy when they came, soaring from the sky on their great wings, plucking the ‘ changed ’, the innocent and those free of sin. They were taken from Earth by the Angels and raised in the Kingdom on high.
They had been raised and educated by the Angels in the ways of Heaven, and in the art of war. Taught to despise the sinners who remained on the place of his birth, he had no qualms acting as the bringer of death and judgement. After all, it was all in the Lord ’ s name, and those people down below were already lost, their souls condemned to an eternity in Hell.
They looked so different, so weak, compared to how he and his siblings were. Raised in the light of the almighty, free of disease and want, free of the flaws that marred the human condition, the changed had become something more than human. He noticed it only when he had bled from a battle wound. The blood ran red, but there was something else there, a silvery sheen, with tiny gold specks among the dark fluid, the evidence that he carried the very light of Heaven within his veins.
Yet, to his human victims, his former fellow men on the earth, he was something remarkable, awe inspiring. He stood seven feet tall ( still a minnow compared to the Angels ), with facial features that looked as if they had been chiselled by a fine renaissance artist, and perfect unblemished skin, complemented by shiny auburn hair and the blue eyes. The deep, almost alien, blue eyes that were the giveaway sign that he had spent too long in Heaven to ever revert to being a normal human again, even if he had somehow chosen to return and live among those pestilent sinners down there.
“ The devil is a human invention, a perfect fiction to absolve them of their guilt and their sin ”. “ There is no devil, there is only me, and the Angels, and the degenerate descendants of Adam and Eve ”.
John collapsed into a fit of sobbing at this revelation, kneeling before his Lord with his face buried in his hands. When he looked up again after a moment, the tears were still running down his face, his ‘ changed ’ face, as if clear spring water was trickling down the face of a Roman god.
“ You mean to tell me their souls are truly lost, not just lost from us? ” he stammered. “ What have I done lord? My siblings and I have condemned millions to death by Heavens fire! Why could you not spare us this task and let the Angels alone carry this out? ”
“ To kill those already lost to the devil was simply to put them out of their misery, it seemed noble, *honourable*. A faster route to their eternal home in Hell, *to where they belonged*. But this?! I am still human lord, and I weep for those of my kind I have snuffed out forever, condemned not to hell, but to something worse, to the everlasting darkness of simply ceasing to exist… ”. He trailed off, aware that he had let his human self get the better of him, he was questioning the very tenets of the almighty ’ s judgement. Had there been Angels present, they would doubtless have drawn their swords in protest at what amounted to high treason, the highest form of treason possible in all of creation.
“ Be calm, child ” the voice boomed towards him. He tried again to look up at his maker, past the almost blinding golden sphere that surrounded the one humans called ‘ God ’. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the sage of all of time and space sitting upon his white throne, grey haired and wrinkly as if an old man, and yet utterly omnipotent. “ Trust that all will become clear in the fullness of time ”.
“ In the fullness of time, in the fullness of time, in the fullness of time… ”. He repeated the words over and over, as if a mantra, and he could feel the Angelic calm slowly return to him, as his impulsive human self was once more restrained.
“ You wish to know why I could not let the Angels alone carry out the harvest? ”.
“ Yes lord? ” he answered, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.
“ The Angels shine brightly, but their minds are dim compared to the sons and daughters of Adam ”. “ You were too young to remember the early days of the Harvest, before it truly had two sides, before it was war ”. “ The sinners of earth adapted quickly, turning their science and their reason towards thwarting the justice reaped by the angels, and they eventually succeeded, for a time ”. “ This could not stand, it was an abomination for man to stand up to the might of creation ”.
“ I had already scattered your kind once, at Babel, and yet you still found a way to work together, to build strange and monstrous machines capable of fighting Angelic might with Earthly powers ”. “ Something else was needed, and so you were taken from the Earth, along with your siblings ”. “ Raised in the light of heaven, you became something halfway between the men and the Angels. Gifted with the sharp minds of Adam & Eve, and a measure of the power of this Kingdom ”. “ Angels could only act, you could *think* ”. “ You were the generals I needed to command the legions of this place, to turn the tide and restore creations natural order, the order I envisioned when I called the light into being! ”
John felt better now, his cause was just and necessary, the emotional pain wrought by condemning his kin to nothingness was a necessary disfigurement in order to further the natural order of the lord ’ s creation. “ I am calm lord, forgive me ”.
“ NO ”
“ My Lord? ”. John questioned. The voice that had called out was powerful, resonant, and yet it did not sound like that of the almighty before him.
“ It is nothing child. It is only the repressed excesses of your humanity fighting the Angelic purity that now flows through you ”
“ NO! ” the unseen voice called out again, more forcefully this time.
“ NO CALM! NO! NO CALM! ”
John could see his Lord turn towards the sky of heaven, angry and filled with rage. “ Quiet! Quiet you doddery fool! You have no place here anymore! ”
“ NO CALM JOHN! TRUST YOURSELF! NO CALM! ”
“ You dare to question me now?! After all this time?! Be quiet or I shall find a stronger cage! ” roared The Lord at the unseen voice. At that moment a minuscule crack opened in the fabric of Heaven ’ s sky. Amongst the gold and white light of heaven, it was obvious, tinged with a light blue. Heaven ’ s light seemed to intimidate compared to this friendly, forgiving blue.
“ TRUST! LOOK JOHN! LOOK! ”
“ Look away John! This is a trick! A trick wrought by the sinners of Earth! Look away before the sinners claim you! Look AWAY! ” his Lord called out.
Yet John did not look away, he stared straight into that blue crack in the sky, bathing his face in the slivers of that forgiving light that seemed to stream forth from it. It was then the visions came. Like a childhood flashback, but recalling events that were not his memories, and were far more important than his or anyone else ’ s childhood. Centuries, then millennia flashed past as the vision cast a glance through all of history and creation, until it came to rest on a lone figure. A once proud figure, now covered in black rags, chained and caged somewhere impossibly far away. Then the vision began to sweep once more, and he saw Earth and the “ impossible war ”. He saw that figures guiding hand, chained and yet still able to provide slivers of guidance to the humans, helping them somehow learn to fight back against Heavens legions.
When the vision ended, John looked back to The Lord before him, the one who sat on the throne. “ You have seen too much. I shall call forth the archangels, your kind have failed me, and you changelings will be put to the sword just like your sinning brethren ”.
“ I have not seen too much! I have seen enough! Enough to know! ” John spat back, the anger building as he spoke. “ The War in Heaven! It was you! ”. John tore off the gold sash that he had worn ever since being given his command of a Heavenly legion. He crushed the sash under his foot, seething with rage. “ The War in Heaven was you! It was a lie! It is ALL a lie! ”
“ He showed you that then…old fool… ”
“ How dare you sit on that throne! ” John shouted. “ You are a usuruper and a tyrant! ”. “ There was no ‘ War in Heaven ’! It was a coup! Your coup! The fallen Angels were those who had fought your rise, and the ones too intelligent for your designs, the ones who might have worked out who spoke with the voice of God! ”
He could see the figure truly now, the halo and the image of the wise old sage replaced by a true reflection of the insidious evil that had usurped the throne to rule all thrones. * “ The greatest trick I ever pulled… ” * the Devil murmured mischievously, * “... was convincing Heaven I didn ’ t exist ”. *
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[ WP ] Your superpower is the ability to force an update or a sequel ( with decent quality ) to any work of fiction
| I glared at the men and women standing before me in my study.
`` The answer is'No','' I said, `` I no longer use my power.''
`` Sir, we are willing to pay you very well,'' said their spokesperson, an attractive thirty-something blonde woman with the slightly plastic look of a cable news anchor.
I gestured at the window, where outside the east wing of my mansion was visible, along with the elegantly tended gardens, and an enclosed Olympic-size pool, `` Do I look like I need money?''
`` All we want is to read the end of'A Game of Thrones' before he dies. It's been twenty-one years since the first volume came out.''
`` Get an HBO subscription. I'm sure they will finish it. Unlike myself—and Mr. Martin—Time Warner never has enough money.''
`` You know it's not the same; TV will never capture the essence, the detail, the nuance...''
`` And you think my power will? It's fickle and unpredictable. I've had many visitors in your position:'George Lucas just has to start work on the Star Wars prequels','If only Frank Miller would do another Dark Knight Returns series,' my voice rose to a roar,'would n't a Highlander sequel would be so cool!'''
`` No more,'' I said, `` For every *Star Trek: The Next Generation* my power inspires, there is a *Highlander II: the Quickening*, for every *Godfather, Part II*, there is a *Man of Steel*, for every *Battlestar Galactica* reboot, there is... well, a *Battlestar Galactica* reboot. I know you think you want what I can give you, but you are rolling the dice, and the house favors crap.''
Their blonde spokesperson met my eyes, `` What if we could give you something real?''
`` What do you mean?''
She opened a slim expensive brief case and held out a sheaf of yellowing paper. Just thick enough to be a short novel.
`` This, sir,'' she said somewhat smugly, `` Is the second draft of an eleventh *Amber* book by Roger Zelazny. Never before seen. Misfiled in a stack of tax returns. We've acquired exclusive rights from his estate. Feel it. Use your power. It's real, and you had nothing to do with it.''
I reached out and brushed my hand along the paper, feeling the slight raise of the old laser print letters. I breathed in deeply. She was right. It was real, and untouched by my power or any—save for the writer's skill and imagination.
My price.
`` You have a deal,'' I said.
She dropped the manuscript on my desk and smiled, `` We will let you get to work. I'm sure this project will prove challenging.''
As the group of people... no fans... left, I gathered my power and concentrated. Somewhere near Santa Fe, a writer closed his browser and began to type. I could see the words and sentences and paragraphs start to pour out of his head and on to the screen in front of him. Were they any good?
I have no clue. I've never read anything by him other than some *Wild Cards* books.
But the pages flowed. Winter was coming, and George R. R. Martin was my bitch.
God help us all.
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[ WP ] We live in a world where one can sell their memories in exchange for money . A poor man has just sold his last happy memory .
| Someone was walking down the street. You do n't know who and frankly you do n't really care. But that's just because you do n't know his story and neither does he.
His long, darkened coat is pulled up close to his face, he wore torn trousers and no shoes. Two things burned in his mind. I'm poor and THE MEMORY. He does n't know what it is. But it was the only thing that made him forget the cold. A... woman... smiling at him holding a... baby... and they... are- he stopped there. The more he knew, the harder it would be. This memory is all he has, his only possession, the only thing that matters filling him with hope but without knowing why. And he's about to sell it so he get a few decent meals, and a ride to a better life. But without The Memory, is it better? Is life- again, he stopped. He gazed up at the tall, glowing building, the only things which was n't dying. But it was enhanced, the white was not one of light or benevolence, it was one of raw emptiness. A deep void of sadness, for at least one can wrap themselves in a blanket of darkness. He smirked. `` Ironic, how it is stuffed with experience, and yet is as hollow as... things. My head, my soul, I guess is the best choice.'' He drew himself up, choked back a cry, and stepped into the cleansing light of the doorway.
Of course, you did n't see or hear any of this. You're too busy enjoying his first kiss.
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[ WP ] The villain was smart enough to not show mercy on the level 1 hero . Unfortunately , the narrator just wo n't stop reviving him just so that he 'd have a story to tell .
| `` DAMN IT JOHN, YOU'RE ALWAYS LIKE THIS!''
The narrator brought the hero back, the hero becoming tired of the charade. The villain struck him dead again with a fireball spell, but the narrator brought him back.
`` The hero came back to defeat the nefarious villain, who was ready to strike with a-'', the narrator monologued before he was interrupted by a fireball spell hitting the hero again, and him crumbling to the ground.
`` You're always like this, John! So stubborn!''
`` I am here to tell a story, Dark Magician, I will not be interrupted!''
`` It's Samantha, you jerk! ``, the villain yelled as she struck the hero again without even looking.
`` The villain was a stubborn brat, who never learned her lesson. The hero will kill her anytime now.''
`` Oh stop being a drama queen! Is that why you went to drama class in high school John, to be whiny because you ca n't tell your stupid story?''
`` It's not stupid! This is a perfectly good adventure!''
`` Sure, just like how your stunt at Dark Souls when you made the dragons weak to lightening was `` perfectly fine and totally not overpowering''.''
`` YOU KNEW THAT THE DAMN PRODUCER MADE THAT ONE SAMANTHA, NOT ME!''
`` YOU ALWAYS WANT YOUR WAY, DO N'T YOU?''
`` IF YOU JUST LET ME TELL MY STORY, YOU COULD GO BACK TO YOUR DINGY CASTLE WITH YOUR HIDEOUS ARTIST YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH!''
`` OH DO N'T GUILT ME NOW JOHN, HE DRAWS ME WELL!''
`` WHORE!''
`` SWINE!''
`` BUFFOON!''
The hero awoke again, but the magician was n't striking him now. Her and the narrator argued back and forth, and simply put, he just wanted some gin. Setting down his sword and shield, he quietly stepped out of the castle, walking towards the town bar.
`` YOU JUST LOVE THAT ARTIST FOR HIS PENCIL SKETCHES!''
`` AND YOU LIVE ALONE IN A RV, AT LEAST I HAVE SOMEONE THAT LOVES ME!''
`` OH YOU HEARTLESS BIT- Wait. Where did the hero go?''
The magician stopped. They both looked over at the open castle door.
`` DAMN IT, LOOK WHAT YOU DID!''
`` ME?!? WHAT DID I DO, YOU TWIT!''
`` HOW DARE YOU, YOU KNOW THAT...''
***
The hero quietly sipped his gin. Gulping it down, he sat at the stool with a tired look in his eye. Another man sat next to him, looking as worn as he is.
`` Aye. The magician and narrator arguing again?''
`` Aye.''
`` I'll drink to that.''
They clinked their glasses together, and continued to drink.
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[ IP ] `` An Escalation in Disagreement ''
| *haha! * John Green exclaimed loudly. `` So we meet again Mr.Smith''
`` In a very different circumstance I am afraid my boy...'' Mr.Smith replied
`` We worked for years together and this is how it all boils down?''
`` It is not... quite as simple as you proclaim. Yes, we worked for years but how do you know my intent was different back then?''
`` Oh... You are old, yet as naïve as young child.'' John Green laughed. `` You see, a young'boy' as myself would n't have achieved this rank if it were n't for my capabilities and understanding of psychological analysis of people.''
`` You knew I loved her.'' Mr.Smith broke ever so slightly letting a small tear escape his eye. `` You knew I loved her you basterd! And still you continued the experiments!''
`` It was for a good cause my dear friend, we both knew how much this analysis would mean for the scientific world! Believe me if I could've done anything different I would've. You have to understand, it was the only way.''
`` Do n't try to sympathise with me, boy. You know NOTHING of love, you have only read about it in books... but love... it can not be felt through words, it is something we will never understand. No psychologist will ever understand!''
At this moment Mr.Smith's hand started shaking as he prepared to fire. John knew he would n't fire, they were too good of friends. If the circumstance forced him to hurt his friend it would not be fatal, he would not know what to do with himself if he had killed or lost his dear friend who was now at gunpoint.
Mr.Smith Lowered his gun and shook his head in disbelief.
`` You will never understand what love is but I'm sure as hell you will feel horrendous pain which you wo n't be able to get rid off. No matter how good of a psychologist you are!''
Mr.Smith swiftly swung the gun to his head. `` Goodbye, old friend.''
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[ WP ] Every 24 hours , the minds of every person is swapped with a random body , so everyone has a new body every day .
| It starts a new every day of course I have my favorite methods the old tried and true.
However today I am feeling spontaneous. I am 45 year old Mark Shillington the top of my head dotted with liver spots this one wo n't be missed.
My purchase a staple dinner steak, broccoli and potatoes a 6 foot chain and padlock and I'm out.
Back to the house it is, this one seemed lonely. Whole the rest of the world is out fuckin, I make a things happen.
`` clink'' the sound of the plate reverberating throughout the silent home.
11:59. `` Click'' the chain locked in place I look at the note in my hand `` u mad bro?'' I let out a soft chuckle.
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[ WP ] You are an astronaut in the I.S.S . The last message you received before the world went dark was `` turn off all electrical signals , or it will find us . '' Now as the sun comes over the horizon you see a massive shadow on the earth .
| Yes! You should continue! I hope you link it up here or tell me so I know to go back and read more. There is so many things you could do, I did n't think of that because I think you wrapped it up really nicely. I did n't feel all desperate to find out what's next. ( until now ) I just discovered reddit recently and I'm really impressed with people's short stories! What a wonderful positive way to get your brain moving and working ( I just got nervous typing that when your brain eating alien licking her impenetrable sword popped into my mind ) in a fun creative way. I would really like knowing more about our new masters. How their process looks and weather they have a home planet or if they are nomadic harvesting supplies across the universe. What is their daily life? I'd love to get the aliens perspective now that they have earth the main character could even be one! XD whatever you come up with I'm looking forward to getting to know our new buddies! Ok sorry for the wall of text, I got carried away. Also I told myself I would n't ask for you to write more because you really did n't leave a cliff hanger, you killed our dude and he saw the earth being swarmed with ships in his last moment. So good! I draw but reading on here and you first posting today with such an awesome story is making me think of writing. Not to post it's just inspirational to read people's work. I typically draw ( because I do n't have money for paint ) so I'd love to see how I do with a small writing project or two to do something different than what I'm comfortable with. Last time I really wrote and finished what I set out to do it was two years ago. A sex story that once done I read in front of six or seven people in my living room. Everyone liked it and it was very detailed but my face was so red! It takes bravery lol.
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[ WP ] Friends of a hero slowly watch as he becomes a villain .
| He was the most inspirational teacher I'd met. He had a way of making science real, and a weariness that sat on his shoulders. When he first found his power, I was happy for him. He needed some strength, that I knew for certain, and something to rely on. But things gradually changed. His appearances in school became more sporadic, he was distracted, always on his cell phone. I could feel his mind was n't really on theory, when I mentioned it, he said he was becoming more practical. People started hanging around the school looking for him, there was a lawyer I think. He shaved his head. I knew he was experiencing some personal trouble, but it seemed to bring out something in him, what it was I did n't know. I even asked him about it one day, but he was evasive. He still remained as steady as ever.
There was something about his eyes that had changed. He no longer carried himself mildly, he no longer walked with a stride of a high school teacher. He looked dangerous. I almost dismissed that thought, he never once had shown himself to be a dangerous man, but he was changing. He had changed.
Then, one day, he did n't return to the school.
I did n't know why for the longest time.
Until I heard.
`` Mr. White is a meth kingpin.''
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[ WP ] You wake up one day to a world where all dogs and humans have swapped minds . You are now a brown lab with the mind of a human being .
| My first five hours in Bandit's body have taught me one thing: the world smells amazing. The McDonald's around the corner, the contents of my refrigerator, the *garbage*. These scents are multi-dimensional, layered.
Part of me was sure it was just a dream, so I just went with it. I really did. I let my nose lead the way.
My new furry brown legs carried me to a neighborhood that I had never been to before. Tall white mansions with pristine lawns dotted the sleepy street. Here a new smell, one that had hounded me even in human body: the coppery parchment smell of money.
I felt the overwhelming urge to mark my territory and did so on the marble bust of an eagle that adorned the lawn of largest house on the block.
As the last dribble of urine squirted out from under my lifted hindleg, a police siren blasted out from down the street.
I fought hard against my new canine instincts. I had to see if there were any humans left, if my transformation really was an isolated incident.
As the police van belted around the corner before me, I was shocked. A great white poodle was at the wheel with a policeman's hat on its topmost tuft of curly fur. It was snarling.
The car screeched to a halt. The poodle popped open the door with a paw. I now saw how it was operating the pedals. Another poodle jumped out behind it. Two more leapt out of the back.
Before I could react, they had surrounded me, bearing yellow teeth and barking. I looked down at my brown fur, back at their shiny white coats.
The poodle driver, the leader of the pack, pounced on me. It sank its incisors into my left flank. I struggled to fight back as the one that worked the pedals pounced too.
In the heat of the scuffle, the other two poodles disappeared around the backside of the police van. The alpha poodle had its paw on my throat.
`` I ca n't breathe!'' I tried to say. I sounded like Scooby-Doo.
As I felt my consciousness beginning to fade, I saw the other two poodles trot out from behind the van with a wire leash in their mouths.
The leash was tied around a man's neck. The man barked and snarled, foam sprayed from his mouth. The man began to bounce wildly as he was lead near. His eyes glimmered with murderous intent.
They let him go. He tore away big hunks of my brown fur.
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[ WP ] Instead of dressing up for Halloween , People become the monster they truly are until sunrise
| It all began about seven years ago, and it was a bloodbath. People, becoming the monster they truly are, every halloween. Imagine old man Simmons in a goofy vampire getup, suddenly turning into a giant three headed wolf monster that tore everyone apart it could get its teeth on. Or how about Sister Reynolds, who became a giant tentacled monster... except... those were n't tentacles. You're better off not knowing, but I'm guessing you've seen enough hentai to already know, and know how that turned out.
It was terrifying, true horrors roamed the streets, but just as quickly as it started, it ended the second the sun rose.
Each halloween since, it's happened. And nobody seems to remember the THINGS they've become. Except me, that is.
I'm not sure if I'm lucky, or if I've got it worst of all, but the thing I turn into, oh my God, I just... Well, I might as well get it out there.
I turn into a
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[ WP ] You snap your fingers , a car explodes . You stomp you foot , the earth shakes . You wave your arm , and a building crumbles . You did n't cause any of this . You are ... Coincidence Man .
| Michael examined his handcuffed hands. The lock was solid, the metal firm. He was n't slipping his hands out of them - right now, at least. He sighed. *It just would n't look right. *
`` Hey guys. Perhaps you should reconsider this,'' he said raising his hands in a praying position in front of his chest.
He snapped his fingers.
The car parked behind the four men exploded showering the Dublin back-street with bits of metal and flame.
`` What the hell? What the hell?''
`` Get him!''
`` Take cover.''
Michael ignored their panic. He waved his hands, trying to attract their attention.
`` Guys, focus here. Here. Me!''
He got the attention of one goon.
`` Good. I'm the one you want to surrender to.''
`` Surrender what? You're crazy. Flanna-''
The building in front of Michael crumbled covering the men in white dust. One fell, coughing.
The other two looked uncertain. Michael seemed like a devil suddenly conjured up amongst then.
`` Could you please line up over there...'' Mike gestured towards his side. ``... drop your weapons on the ground. And put your hands... Here! Focus here. I'm your way out of this. Is this really the situation you want to be in? You guys are obviously outnumbered. There's no backup. Flannagan, sorry the `` big guy'', obviously set you up. Do you really want to take one for him? You think Flannagan would take one for you?''
They wavered.
Mike stomped his foot.
The earth trembled as something exploded behind the three. All three dropped to the ground.
`` Is my point made?''
`` Yeah, yeah we understand you.''
Groggily the men began to stumble towards him laying their guns down by his feet.
`` Who are you?'' one asked.
Behind Michael the car still burnt providing him with a devilish halo. He grinned.
`` Coincidence Man,'' he answered with an atrocious Irish
accent.
From her position down the street, from where she'd co-ordinated the explosions, a raven haired woman emerged. She trained a pistol on the three thugs as she tosses him a set of keys.
`` It's terrible, Michael,'' she laughed, `` everything's a repeat these days.''
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[ WP ] You 're an ancient Greek man coming home from 4 months of war to find your wife 3 months pregnant . Now you 've embarked on a solemn quest : to punch Zeus in the face .
| To some, to have a God lie with your wife might be a blessing. They would say you were lucky to have one who ’ s beauty was enough to ensnare the lust of one so great. The insult hovering in the gesture was not unseen. Gods trifle with mortals out of boredom not admiration.
My Theophila was far too wide with child to trust I sowed such seed myself. At first, I believed her unfaithful in the way of mortals. I was quick to amend my stance when she produced an enchanted pelt that dribbled gold coins at the brush of your fingers through its course fur. Anything of such make was only the work of a God. I stayed my anger and asked.
“ Why? ”
She looked down at the shimmering glint of the gold still sitting on our marriage bed.
“ I had no idea if you would return. Many soldiers are carried home on their shields. He…Zeus, promised me this security and your return. I couldn ’ t say no. ”
My teeth ached from the clench of my jaw.
“ You think me weak? ”
A slip of wetness trembled down her check.
“ I am weak. ” She replied.
“ Mortals are weak ”
A voice like a boom of wind startled me into turning. Before me was an image of man that looked like a mirage. Beautiful and blurred as if my eyes could not hold his appearance for too long. My chest ached to gaze on him. I needed no introduction for his presence was king alone.
“ Zeus ”
A smile crested in the waves of his golden beard. He tilted his head to Theophila and then looked upon me as one might have looked at something amusing.
“ You were right. Your husband is quite a fine man. ” Zeus said, stepping forward.
My fist clenched at my side as fury grumbled beneath my knuckles. When he was in distance I threw my weight forward and tried to set a blow on his brow like you would any common man. It did not land and he caught my wrist as if it was as light as a feather. The smile gone from his face.
“ You should be grateful for the initial attention I chose to bestow on your house, but since you are selfish. I ’ ll require another tribute in my honor. ”
My stomach dropped into my feet. My hubris be damned for Gods are vengeful. I could not bare to watch him have my love.
“ Please… at least let me turn away if you would besmirch my bride a second time. ”
The serpent ’ s grin was on his face now. He tugged with a strength you won ’ t say no too and I fell across his chest, his arms as vines on my back. His voice hissed in my ear.
“ It is not your wife I desire from you. ”
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Two people fall in love again
| ( Here's mine! )
Everyday we would wake up together, start the coffee, read our separate materials, the paper, a magazine. it was quiet, it was always quiet, but it was a comfortable one. after nearly two decades however I realized something. The warmth was gone. That terrified me. For days after, every moment of peace I had I spent pondering what went wrong, how to fix it.
In the end I resolved to find what it I originally loved about her. In our comfortable, tired routine I watched her.
It was n't all at once but slowly I found it. I found it in each tiny tick, each neuroticism. The way she turned her pages that was so much more efficient than mine. The way she bumped the faucet before she turned it on, even though I fixed that issue years ago. It was in the little things where I found the warmth again. Now that I know where It is I do n't think I'll lose it again.
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[ WP ] The main character meets the devil , and is surprised by what he/she meets .
| The devil stole the money from the collection box, and the Reverend Billy Scott did n't need to know that the horned beast had come in the form of a homeless child by the name of Lonnie, who had no idea what to do with the 100,000 dollars in that box, Saturday's meager take.
And he did n't need to know that his insurance would reimburse the loss.
Neither of those details diminished the Devil's design. It was a test, and he was to suffer it like Job. By design, this was meant to put daylight between him and the lord. By design, this was meant to harden his heart, and he had half of it to let the devil win, rescind his generous 5000 dollar annual contribution to the Christian Orphans Fund,
claim, and rightly so, hardship and dismay at his betrayal at the hands of his fellow man. To hell with the fact that it was good PR for his good work! He was done being the martyr.
But nay! He would n't let the Devil win. Not this time and not ever! Sunday was a new day, and it was a Holy Roller of a day at that, Hallelujah! God's day. He, with his faith in the Lord, would turn this spiteful act on its ear. There was nothing like a good victimization of the church, an affront to Jesus himself, for flooding God's coffers with the greenback prayers of his flock.
He bet the devil his soul he'd go over 200,000 that day. With God in his corner, anything was possible.
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[ WP ] A group of aliens invade Earth only to find out what they thought was useless propaganda ( action movies ) actually down play how good humans are at killing .
| Moving pictures as they were once referred to, gave us an insight into the human collective but in our folly we were stubborn and felt ourselves so right. We learned they were easily swayed and that they could not be trusted without holding their greatest weakness against them. So we did the unthinkable. We stole their children with our teleporters.
Overnight we had come, hit them hard and held their greatest weakness. They rapidly copulated and learning from their video history we killed the ambassadors they provided for peace talks. We instead gave direct orders and threatened to kill their children if they did not comply. We were foolish and felt we were in control every time they conceded to our demands.
When we demanded 16 million slaves to work our mines they accepted. When we demanded more to work in our factories, to ferry our goods, to maintain our fleets we felt invincible. In our foolishness we had enslaved their species and believed their entire planet already belonged to us. We felt soon we would have exported enough of their species to make our first landing an easy feat. We had waited for someone to try to fight back to act alone and try to win back their freedom. We would have taken the opportunity to kill more of their children but it never came.
The eventual counter-attack was just as quick and ruthless as ours had been. From every sector we had received reports of planet wide attacks from Terran forces. Every colony and planet was hit by the humans living amongst our people. Armadas of retrofitted repair ships, mining facilities and cargo vessels were thrown against us and we could not hold against them all. Without the humans we did not have enough slaves to maintain our fleets, we were finished.
In space they had flourished. They multiplied, hid and waited. The children had become soldiers. The ones left on Earth did not sit quietly either. Somehow they had stolen our technology and built shipyards for space ships deep in their oceans. They hit the feeble guards that had remained in their orbit.
Now they hunt for the last of us that remain. Never believe Hollywood.
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[ WP ] Turn your favorite song into a short story .
| Mimicking Birds -- The Loop
She watched as her last friend faded slowly into the darkness. They ’ d been together so long, orbiting each other like two lost geese, flying still in formation despite their lack of a flock. The geese had long since been gone, too.
Of course, her sisters were still there, apart from the two smallest. They had been the first to leave, their lives consumed in the fire that was ever so slowly approaching. Death. It seemed so distant, yet each day she could feel the days growing sweatier, redder. Luna had been smart, getting out of there when she did.
She often wondered about what would happen after being consumed. About life after the inevitable. Would there be a new one waiting for her? Would her elements re-assemble in the solar wind, creating new existence out of old? Perhaps that was just wishful thinking.
Before we left, that ’ s what we ’ d said would happen, after all. Somewhere else something similar was happening, we had been sure. So, we got out before things were too dire, off to explore a new corner of existence.
But she was left alone.
The lines in her face were growing weary, sore. Welts sprouted up the more heat shone down on her skin. If there was any liquid left, she might have sweated. The fire was getting closer, the sky had turned red.
We looked back from light years away at our dying earth, as it was caught in the fires of our dying sun. Soon now, we knew, that light would die. But its energy would live on, just burning in some new blood.
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[ WP ] Write story about a boy who befriends a person who claims to be an angel , but turns out to be just a liar with wings .
| He saw me on the street and waved, I smiled back and returned the favor. He thought I was something more, someone worthy of praise. Distracted by the glamour of the noise, dissuaded by the noise, little dis he know of the fire within. Little did he know of the empty dream he chases. My being, my soul, unfulfilled by the thirst. Unable to quell the smoke as my soul echoed put in pain. This ambulance I ride everyday into the unknown, little does he know of the hollow void left inside me by the faces I could never save.
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[ WP ] Everyone is born with the ability to skip ahead a period of time once in their lifetime
| Dad skipped through the awkwardness of high school to the start of college. Mom skipped from the end of her honeymoon to the day after my birth.
Dad said he did n't even notice when Mom skipped. He said that's how it works; your consciousness skips, but you're still there for everything in-between. He says you remember everything you skipped, you just are n't experiencing it. He says you only get one, so you've got to use it wisely.
I'm older than both of them were and I still have n't used mine.
Back in high school, when my friend Jake was suffering from a particularly bad bout of depression, he tearfully told me he had decided he would skip to his death from that very night. I'm seeing him next week at a surprise birthday party his wife is throwing for him.
I have n't told her that he's never actually met her, and that he's skipped all of this. They seem so happy.
I've been thinking about Jake a lot, lately. I never liked the idea of skipping before, but then again I've never had terminal brain cancer before, either. Maybe he was right to skip to the end. Maybe it was a gift to all the family and friends who could n't stand the idea of losing him. Maybe all the good that has become of him does n't overshadow his past and future struggles.
I'm supposed to go in for my operation tomorrow. If it's a success, the tumor could still grow back and I might come out of the operation not remembering who I am or who my family and friends are. For all we understand about the human brain, they might remove or damage the part that lets me use my one and only skip.
This could be my last chance to skip the bad part. I could skip a few years and hope I'm okay by then. Or I could skip until my death just to be safe and nobody would even know.
I would skip to the exact moment things are better, if it worked like that. You can only skip a set time or to a certain event. You find a dark, quiet place, close your eyes, clench your fists, picture the date and time or the precise event, and you find yourself there. If you picture something that wo n't happen, you do n't go anywhere and you lose your one and only skip.
My head hurts. It's been hurting like this for weeks.
I call my parents to tell them I love them and that I'm scared. They tell me they love me and that everything will be alright. We cry over the phone together.
I hang up. I turn all the lights off. I sit on the couch, resting my heavy head against the soft cushion. I close my eyes and picture all the most vivid times in my life; the good times I wish I could relive and the bad things that I chose to experience. Even having lived each and every single one of them, the memories are still nothing more than just that; memories. It's no different than if I'd skipped them all to this, exact point in time. With tears in my eyes, I begin to clench my fists.
My phone rings. It's Jake. He asks me how I'm doing, and I tell him I'm alright.
Jake tells me he's back.
I ask him what he means.
He says that night in high school he changed his mind at the last second. He says he chose to skip to the moment I needed him most. He asks me again how I'm doing.
I tell him I'm scared, alone, and confused.
He tells me he'll be right over.
I skip to the moment he arrives.
***
**Edit: ** Wow! This really blew up! Thanks to everyone for their amazing support and feedback, and thanks to the kind stranger for my very first gold! Thanks to your support, I've started up a subreddit to keep all my prompted stories in. Check out **/r/Yackemflaber** for all of my stories, and please consider subscribing!
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[ IP ] Welcome to Hell
| *WELCOME TO HELL*
I put my bag down. What a cheerful way to greet newcomers. The words are scribbled above the airlock, with a sharpie, I think. Welcome to Outpost 123-51-24. Enjoy your stay.
The irony is not lost on me. In ancient days, people would tell tales of Hell - a place where wrongdoers go after death. They hoped there was someplace where justice would not elude the evil, if not in life, then at least in death. Old, silly stories.
And yet, here we are. You see, people do n't normally end up here. Mining colony it may be, it's a deathtrap, essentially. You have to be special to get a ticket here. You have to commit a crime so hienous and so covered up they ca n't legally send you to prison or rehab. Instead, they arrange your work license in such a way, this here is the only place to have you. Five year contract. Decent pay. No way to run. Just you and the planet on its last legs.
So welcome to Hell. `` Abandon all hope ye who enters here...''
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[ WP ] Elon Musk is right . The reality we are living in is a video game of some advanced civilization . And you are the player .
| `` Dude, quit being a cheapskate and upgrade your account''
Seriously? Why would I waste my money on a game? Do n't get me wrong, the game has its moments. But... I just think my money could be better spent elsewhere. $ 10 just for a virtual snapback? This has to be a joke.
`` I'm not being cheap, I'm just spending money on the things that matter'', I replied
`` Cmon, look, you can get all kinds of cool stuff in this game. You can even buy yourself a girlfriend! I do n't think your character has much of a chance at this rate...''
Huh. I guess he might have a point. After all, the poor guy is living in an apartment with 5 cats. And spends his Saturday nights in front of a laptop with his browser in incognito mode. But I wo n't let my friend win this fight.
`` Nah, he has a pretty good shot. He's just not prioritizing that right now. He'd, uh, rather look at this one website that looks pretty cool.''
It was the best I could think of. My character has no chance at all. Maybe I should just uninstall...
Well, my first prompt. It's not too great, but feedback appreciated: )
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[ WP ] You are a burglar who has just broken into the house of a psychopathic killer .
| In 83 years of living, Buddy Wilson found that waiting was always the worst part of life, and the older you were the more you seemed to wait. When you were young, you couldn ’ t wait to grow up and the years ran like molasses. Before you knew it, you were married and you began to count the years as you once did the months of your youth. Then you were always waiting for something; children, divorce, social security checks, and before you knew it, you had spent your long suffering life watching the world go by.
Buddy had always been a naturally patient man, watching as those around him made mistake after mistake in pursuit of a fast life, but that didn ’ t mean that even his patience ran thin every now and then. Waiting was easy, like holding in a deep breath, but eventually you had to breathe again and in that moment between breaths when your lungs felt like they were ready to pop; that was waiting.
The day began like any other; coffee and a slice of toast, both prepared the way his wife used to make it for him. He preferred cream and sugar, but kept the coffee black, unsure if he did so out of habit or because that was the way she always made it for him and took both to the front porch to watch all the busy people going to work.
The newspaper was where it always was and so was his neighbor, Halifax Short.
“ Morning, Buddy. ” He said his silver hair barely visible above the hedges he clipped every week. Today was a Thursday which meant he would be busy watering. Friday was for fertilizing.
“ Morning, Hal. ” He said back, taking a bitter sip of his coffee.
“ You hear what happened? ” Hal said, turning off the hose.
“ Not yet. ” He said, tapping the newspaper on his knee. Buddy knew Hal was an early riser and always keen on the latest gossip. That was probably his wife ’ s doing, but sometimes old habits were hard to break.
Hal nodded and continued watering the shrubs. After a good soaking, he seemed to remember Buddy on the porch and stopped once more.
“ How do you keep your yard so green? ” Hal said, poking the ground with his toe.
“ You ’ re hardly out here but I swear sometimes your grass just springs up overnight…and your roses… ”
“ I use good fertilizer. ” Buddy said. Hal seemed to think about this for a moment before his eyes lit up.
“ They had another break in last night. ” He said smiling. “ Janet and her boys down the street. I heard from Morris that the cops were all over this area. ”
Morris was another busy body who always found a reason to check his mail or water the lawn in the middle of the night whenever something was happening in the neighborhood. He had never met the man, but only knew him through Hal.
“ Guy got in through the back door while they were still inside the house. ” Hal continued. His voice had grown to a whisper as if the burglar was hiding nearby.
“ Janet didn ’ t even know she had been robbed until… ”
“ Burglarized. ”
“ What? ” Hal asked.
“ It ’ s not robbed, it ’ s burglarized. Robbery is when you take from a person. Burglary is to a house. ” Buddy said, taking another sip of his coffee.
Hal shrugged. “ It ’ s the same thing to me. Exciting stuff though, right? It ’ s a crazy world we live in… ” He said as the hose once again drowned him out.
It wasn ’ t the same thing, but still his words rang true. It was exciting stuff and for the first time in a long time, he felt a familiar stirring with him…an expectant waiting that began to coil tightly around his midsection.
Everyone knew that the elderly were preyed upon the first and for a burglar to break into an occupied home…and didn ’ t Janet have a dog? That meant that the man had brass balls or was exceptionally foolish, but the rash of break-ins pointed to the former.
“ It ’ s awful close by. ” Hal said, interrupting his thoughts. “ You should be worried more than most. ”
“ Now what ’ s that supposed to mean? ”
“ I ’ m just saying you should be careful. We all should, but maybe you a little more so. Dammit, Buddy, you know I don ’ t mean anything by it. Everyone on this street knows you got a little bit more squirreled away than most just like everyone knew Janet ’ s boys never locked their doors at night. ” He wrung the sweat that had begun to accumulate on his forehead with the rag hanging from his pants pocket.
Buddy knew he was right, though he didn ’ t know about Janet leaving her house unlocked. That was just what you did around here. With the burglaries happening more and more lately, some people just didn ’ t take the hint quick enough.
“ You might want to think about spending some of that money and investing in an alarm system… ” Hal said when an uncomfortable silence passed between them.
“ Noisy damned things. ” Buddy said. “ I prefer to take my own precautions, not leave it to a noisy little box. ”
Hal nodded, his hands going to his hips. “ Either way…crazy world we live in. ”
Buddy watched him recoil his hose and disappear back inside the garage. As the garage door shut, he knew Hal was right. Even the sensation in his stomach told him he was right and he wasn ’ t one to ignore that feeling.
But it could wait.
He sipped his coffee, took another bite of his toast and turned to the front page of the newspaper.
It was calling for rain.
That afternoon, Buddy received a knock on the front door. He opened the door to a young man with closely cut brown hair, wearing a striped button up shirt and black slacks. Hanging on his belt was a jet-black pistol and a shiny, silver badge.
“ What can I do for you Officer? ” Buddy welcomed him inside.
“ It ’ s Detective Overton, actually. ” He said, offering his hand. “ I ’ m just in the area checking to see if you heard or saw anything last night. ”
Buddy shook his head. “ Can ’ t help you there Detective. I ’ m usually in bed early and up with the sun. This about Janet? ”
The Detective managed a surprised look before he smiled. “ Word gets around does it? ”
“ Around here? ” Buddy smiled. “ You ’ re not from here, are you? Anyway, the person you want to ask is next door. ”
“ Why? Did he see something? ”
Buddy laughed. “ Probably not, but if anyone did, he ’ d be the first to know about it. ”
“ He got a name? ” Detective Overton pulled out a notepad that had been tucked away in a back pocket.
“ Well, his momma got it into her head to name him after the place he was conceived, so his given name is Halifax Short, but we just call him Hal around here. ” He noticed the Detectives eyes land upon the kitchen table and the various locks, chains, and tools he had laid out earlier in the morning.
“ Are you getting ready to fix something or break it? ” The Detective smiled.
“ Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. ” He smiled back. “ Tell Hal I said hello and I ’ m sorry I couldn ’ t be of any help, Detective. ”
Detective Overton smiled and nodded. On the way to the front door, he noticed, if only momentarily, the door to the basement with three padlocks on it. He smiled, as if he had seen such a thing a hundred times before, and made his way across the lawn.
“ Looks like it ’ s going to rain. ” He called out as he walked away. “ Be a good idea to lock your doors tonight. ”
Three more days he waited, three more houses were burglarized, and with each day that passed, the tension coiled in his gut grew tighter. He began to wonder if the burglar would quit before he was caught or simply get captured when his luck ran out. He stayed up later in the night, sipping on a glass of wine like he used to do in the days before he was old and lonely and waiting for something, anything, to happen.
He heard details from Hal about what was taken and learned that the burglar preferred easy to carry items with high value. That meant gold, silver, jewelry, and anything electronic that fit into a pocket. He also learned that the burglar was probably local and damn near a ghost since no one had seen anything for the past three nights, or were lying.
On the fourth night, as he lay in bed, he finally heard the noise he had been expecting.
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[ WP ] In the future heavy cybernetics are the norm . A war breaks out , the first strike being a gigantic EMP . Now the purely organic humans , a small and often forgotten minority , have to save the day .
| I was never one to care too much about the cyber enhancements. When they first were released to the general public, by a'benefactor' who wanted to give everyone the chance to be'better than human', I did n't take up any of the offers. Even as the friends around me began to replace their functioning limbs with robotic ones, even as they allowed their eyes to have a HUD to keep them on their toes, I resisted. I was always this way when new technology came about, the kind of guy who was more than happy to have a crappy prepaid phone while everyone else went out to get the iPhone 9.
Even when they tried to force it upon me, my physical form seemed to follow my thoughts. There was a car crash a few years ago that practically took away the left side of my body. The docs, despite their best efforts, were n't able to get any limbs to replace my lost ones. All the ones they tried were n't good enough, my body apparently rejecting every attempt to fuse those mechanical deathtraps.
Given the way life is now, perhaps that was my body warning me of what was to come.
15 days ago, the strike happened. The classic situation that every Cold War style cliched ridden story had. One country against another, tensions ran high, someone called someone else's bluff, and we all paid the price. It worked much as those military freaks seemed to believe. A strike that would be designed to take out the power, and then the assault would be smooth sailing. And that was true, all the power did go out within my city as the EMP strike was launched. What people did n't expect was what came next. That EMP was global.
Almost seconds after the blast hit, the augmented people suffered the effects. Limbs had gone haywire, attempting to break free of their owners and often destroying the holds that housed them, leading to rapid bloodloss. Those who had the mental enhancements found their brains overheating, their heads practically exploding. Still, I feel the worst for some of the grandparents. Even the pacemakers seemed to count as part of this augmented genocide.
I never saw more death than I did in those initial minutes. I never cried more than when I witnessed my roommate crumple under the pain of electrical shocks. I never despaired harder than when I thought we were truly doomed.
Thankfully, there were still others like me. Those who either rejected the augmented breakthrough, or those who found themselves unable to take it. Over those next few days, as the world suffered under the effects of the initial EMP bombardment, we banded together, gathering supplies, setting up shelters. And as the days past, as the months grew long, communication with other settlements were established. It was almost a year before we began to learn what had truly happened.
We were the survivors of a quick and deadly war, a war that was decided the moment the button had been pressed.
There was no secondary assault from whoever had pushed it either. From coast to coast of our country and down through the others on our continent, we learned that any who had the augments had died.
There were no winners. There we no losers.
There were only those of us who had survived and would continue to do so.
|
[ WP ] An elder god is summoned by a six year-old girl who just wants a friend .
| It was another beautiful friday night, and I kicked back quietly in my seat, to continue reading the final Harry Potter book. Man, this series is good. I do n't get to get out of the house much, but having a nice beach view place has its advantages. The beach is mine, privately owned by me, though that does n't stop people from coming nonstop to try and also enjoy it. But that works for me, because then I get to scare the fuck out of them, and they leave cool stuff behind in their wake. Laptops, a mini TV once, books, coolers, you name it.
I've lived here just about all my life, and it's nice, even if I do n't get out much. Tonight looks to be interesting, however. There's another person on my beach -- wait... Something's off here. A midget? No, wait... Disney's Frozen pajamas? This was a child. What is a child doing on my beach, in the middle of the night, all on her own?
And this is n't some teenager, mind you, this kid looks to be a preteen.
She's reading from a book of sorts, perhaps she lost someone at sea, and is -- wait.. That's not an ordinary book. She's got others too. Translation dictionaries? An ipad with google translate? That book looks ancient too. What the...
Suddenly, I feel a unified force around my body. Oh what the hell?! I'm being dragged out of my home! It feels like an invisible net has snagged me!
I am lifted into the air, and pulled before the child, and dropped harshly onto the beach. Okay, so she did this. I should let the weight of what she has done sit upon her shoulders for a moment. I stood up, towering 500 feet above her, and brushed myself off lightly. I then bent down, my many eyes meeting hers, as I reached one of my tentacles out, and snatched her up, bringing her up to my face.
`` Human child, do you know what it is that you have done this night?'' I ask her. Odd, she's not crying, she has n't peed herself, she's not shaking even. She's looking up at me with fear and reverence, but not terror as I would expect. Most adults would be about ready to have a heart attack.
`` You're the monster, *here*, right? Did I do it right?'' she asks me back, pointing at a crude drawing of me in the ancient tome. Do it right, she says? This was on purpose. Interesting. `` That is indeed me. You have summoned me, on purpose?'' I ask, setting her down gently. If this is a client, and not some random accidental summoning, then I must treat her with respect, no matter the age.
`` Yes, sir. I read in this book, how to summon you, and it says you grant wishes?'' she mumbled to me. Ah, this makes sense, a human child who does n't know what they're getting into, they're greedy, they want something now now now, and they think they found a shortcut with things like me. She's just lucky I refuse to harm innocent lives. There's others who would have eaten her alive, at best.
`` I do, but only when tribute is paid. Where is the sacrifice? Where is my tribute? Pay me, human, and I shall grant you a single wish.'' I state. She looks around, and suddenly pauses. She rushes over to her backpack, which had a hole nibbled in the side of it by something prior to her showing up on my beach. `` uh oh..'' she muttered. `` What is an uh oh? Show me it now.'' I demanded. `` Uhh, I'm... I'm sorry. I had squirrels I caught, and put in my backpack, but it looks like they got away.'' she told me, pleadingly. `` It's just as well'' I responded. `` I do not accept small animals, only medium to large ones.'' and with that, I wrapped my tentacle back around her, and picked her up, bringing her to face me, eye to eye.
`` If there is no tribute, I must choose what shall be my tribute. Perhaps your family. Or a pet. Or maybe, I should just consume your SOUL.'' I demanded, my eyes glowing red. Best to show this girl what happens when you shortchange an ancient elder God, who just wanted to kick back and read a book in his lair. Of course, I would n't hurt anyone, but it's best to keep her from summoning anyone ever again.
`` p-p-please, sir, I beg you, do n't hurt my family. You... you can have me. I'm sorry. I just... I just wanted a friend, is all. That was my only wish. I'm so very lonely, and all the other kids just treat me like a freak in school.'' she said, and began crying. I just... wow. This was sad. This kid was n't greedy at all, she's just an oddity, who seeks a friend. `` I see.'' I say simply, and set her back down. `` should I stand, or should I lay in the sand. Oh, I'll understand if you need me to take my clothes off first before eating me. I'm really sorry.'' she said, crying. This kid... she was brave beyond any human I've ever seen before. `` tell me, human, how old are you?'' I asked. `` six years old, sir.'' she responded. Wow, impressive. `` you can keep your clothes on. You may live. Your tribute offer is accepted.'' I state to her.
`` my... what tribute offer then?'' she asked, confused. `` Your offer of friendship. It is accepted, little human.'' I stated. `` But first, you must explain to me why you are so alone among your peers, so I know I am not being lied to.'' I added. This was indeed slightly suspicious. I mean, what kid would n't want to be friends with a brave little sweetheart like this?
And then she did something I never expected. She slowly reached up to her head, gripped her hair firmly, and gave it a tug. The entire hair gave way. A wig. This human was hairless all over. `` I've got something called... umm... allie peas you I think? The doctor told me, it means I ca n't grow hair.'' she told me, and sighed. `` girls are expected to have hair. And people are mean to those who do n't.'' she stated. I reached under one of my tentacles, touching the medallion I had hidden on my body. It had been so long since I've used this. My mass began to decrease, my size going with it, as I shrank to nearly as small as her. I lightly caressed her head with one of my tentacles, and smiled. `` If you want, you could wish for hair.'' I stated to her. She gasped lightly at this offer.
`` you... you would do that? You could do that to me? Give me hair?'' she asked. `` Yes. And since your tribute is so sweet and tender, the friendship of a young human, I will even grant your wish in the spirit and intent of which you wished it, instead of giving you hair everywhere or something.'' I stated. Her face lit up, and she had a huge smile. She gave me a big hug and started crying again. `` please, yes, I would love that, I'll be your friend forever, I promise, please give me hair.'' she pleaded. `` but you are crying'' I objected. `` I will not do it if it upsets you, as you are now my friend.'' I added.
She sniffled and giggled and smiled. `` silly, I am crying because I'm happy. would you please do it?'' she asked. I removed my tentacle from her head, over her mouth. `` mmph?'' she queried. `` you're about to feel a lot of pain in your head. You will likely scream, a lot during this time. It will be short. Your wish is granted. Let there be hair.'' I told her. Suddenly, her eyes widened. Yes, she was feeling it now. `` MMMMMMPH!!!!!!!!'' she screamed into my tentacle, as hair began to steadily and slowly burst forth from her head. Follicles were being formed, and went to work under her skin. `` MMMMMPH MMPH MMMMMMMMPH!!!!!!!!'' she screamed, flailing her arms. I quickly restrained them with more tentacles. `` I'm sorry for this pain, it will be over soon.'' I reassured her. Blonde hair, I had decided to go with that since she did n't specify a colour, and it matched her wig. Yes, this should do nicely once complete.
Finally, the hair finished growing. She had passed out by this point, poor thing. I should have warned her about the pain ahead of time. Oh well, that risked her taking her wish back if I did. Little humans are so picky about any sort of pain. I changed my mass to grow to adult human size. I healed her backpack hole, and placed her items inside it, while looking around inside. Aha, here we go. A report card from her school. Yes, good, it has her home address on it.
I gently place her over my shoulder, and extend my wings. We begin to fly to her home. I'll drop her off in her bed. Tomorrow, this human shall awaken to having a friend, and having hair.
|
[ WP ] A man who has lived a thousand years takes up a job teaching high school world history .
| `` Why am I fired'' he asked.
`` Because you are not teaching out of the book'' says the principle.
`` But the book is wrong almost none of that happened in the book and the stuff that did happen is reported wrong.''
The principal looks at him with anger. `` Your missing the point, it's not about accuracy it's about the social good and not offending anyone. When you told the truth earlier there where some kids who felt micro aggression.''
`` So that's it'' the man asked, `` the truth is not important anymore?''
`` No it is not if somebody's feelings get hurt'' the principal responded. `` We now need you to leave the premises and check meet with our reeducation advocate.''
|
[ WP ] Add a footnote that completely changes the context of your story .
| Despite the cold supermarket air, Tony begins to perspire as he goes up to the butcher ’ s corner. Cecil is hacking away at a flank of meat so viciously it would be a wonder if any of it could be sellable.
“ What do you need? ” asks Cecil, concentrating on his task.
“ I ’ m not sure, something, um uh… *special* for my wife ’ s birthday ” says Tony.
“ Mmm... Kimberly, right? ” says Cecil as he licks his lips.
“ Yeah, she wasn ’ t exactly too happy with what I ordered from you last time ” says Tony.
“ Hah! ” laughs Cecil “ You could say that again! ” he wipes his bruised hands with a bloody cloth and then leans on the counter, staring Tony down. “ I ’ d say it ’ s time to flip the burgers. ”
Tony flinches and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “ I don ’ t know Cecil, she ’ s not a bad person, does she really deserve it? ”
“ All good things must come to an end ” says Cecil, shrugging. “ And it ’ s my job to make sure that happens ” he grins.
Tony looks over the rows and rows of meat, unrecognizable from the animals they came from.^1 “ I suppose it ’ s for the best ” he sighs.
“ Atta boy! ” says Cecil throwing a knife down into the wooden counter top.
--
1. Cecil disguises tofu as human meat.
|
[ WP ] It is tradition that on the eve of execution , a condemned prisoner may make one request . Provided that the request does not cause harm or delay the execution , the warden is legally bound to grant it . ( Continued in text )
| ``... as his final request, he asked that I read his final letter at a press conference, regardless of the content. Thus we are here today, and without further a due, I shall now read the letter to you.''
'Dear world
I asked the warden to read you all my final letter. The last words I will ever speak. The culmination of my entire life into one. I hope I can convey some of the experiences I had through to you properly.
I am 38 years old and I have been in prison for twenty years. When I was eighteen, I shot someone 7 times, of which twice was in his head twice. I was part of a crew that robbed a liquor store and someone wanted to be a hero.
I can tell you whatever I like, but you will still probable say that I deserve what I got, and you would be right. I was a kid who had nothing, joined a gang, really wanted to impress them, you know all the usual stuff. And like a normal kid fresh in a gang, I was fucking scared. Terrified. That whole time in the store is a blur. All I remember was that my heart was pounding in my chest, and before I knew it, this guy was charging me at full speed. I panicked and signed my death sentence.
I am a coward.
I am not here to try and pry some sympathy from you though, I am here asking why you have kept me alive so long.
I have spent twenty years knowing that I am going to die. We all know that off course, but knowing when does not allow the inevitable to leave the back of your mind.
Right after I was sentenced, I believed that I deserve to die. I was ready, the experience fresh in my mind. After a few years I began to hope again, to hope that the death sentence will be abolished, that one of the appeals will work, that I can prove that I am a extremely remorseful human being.
Hope can keep you going, but when you once again realize that it is futile to keep hoping, you wish that you never hoped at all. Nothing can prepare you for that second time when you realize you are going to die, when you do n't feel that you deserve it anymore, there is no explaining the soul crushing fear and anger.
Therefore I write this letter, not for me, but for others like me.
Please do not let them wait in suspense, please have mercy.
Yours truly
Nobody of any note.'
The warden turned of the tape. He ca n't remember how many times he has watched it, every time he sees the anguish on the faces of the condemned prisoners.
|
[ WP ] They make an unlikely duo : an immortal who wants to die , and a man who wants to live forever .
| * [ A lonely immortal, JOHN, sits shirtless and alone in a dark room. His apartment is messy and littered with books, broken bottles, toaster ovens, and loosely knotted ropes. Some broken knives also scatter the floor. He's on a couch and sparking the end of a bong. ] *
* [ Suddenly, a RING at a door. ] *
* [ John does n't move. He inhales and lets a long stream of smoke puff out. ] *
* [ Two rings. ] *
* [ John does n't move. He inches the bong closer for another when.. ] *
* [ RING RING RING RING RING ] *
**JOHN: ** Alright! Alright! I'm coming.
* [ John places the bong on the table and walks to the door. He nearly trips on a week old banana peel on the way there. He opens the door. ] *
* [ Standing outside, in a muscle shirt, joggers, and an ipod strapped to his shoulder is AMIT. ] *
**AMIT: ** Hey buddy, how are - *oh holy hell what is that? *
* [ Amit reels back gagging. John looks around. ] *
**JOHN: ** What?
**AMIT: ** *Goddamn, * your room smells like you look. Like... *gah*.... a traveling circus ran a train on a French sorority girl. *Fuck. *
**JOHN: ** I... was n't expecting you. I did n't have time to clean up.
**AMIT: ** Sure, sure! Just close the door before you Dutch Oven this entire floor.
* [ John sighs, and then half-heartedly closes his bedroom door. He's in his trunks. Amit takes a second to catch his breathe. ] *
**JOHN: ** Why are you here? You know it's Tuesday.
**AMIT: ** Well I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a run.
**JOHN: ** Not interested. I'm busy right now.
**AMIT: ** Oh, right. Busy at 8:30 A.M. Sure.
* [ Amit looks at his watch. ] *
**AMIT: ** So... which jerk off session were you in the middle of this time, the sixth or ninth?
**JOHN: ** Actually, no, I was getting high....and for the record, I've only jerked off twice today.
**AMIT: ** Ew on that point. The former... well, you can get high later. Come on with me. Do n't bother getting dressed.
* [ Amit takes John's hand. John jerks it away. ] *
**JOHN: ** What's the point? I'm gon na kill myself later today anyway.
* [ Amit looks at John incredulously. ] *
**AMIT: ** This again? This is the….how many times have you tried this?
* [ John thinks. ] *
FLASHBACK MONTAGE:
- John is sitting in the bathtub, some nice romantic candles set out. He's playing “ Boyz 2 Men ” and looking with longing at a Toaster. He casually dips the toaster into his bathtub and it does nothing but create sparks.
- John tries to cut himself with a kitchen knife. It breaks.
- John is sitting in the bathtub, some nice romantic candles set out. “ Boyz 2 Men ” is playing and he's purusing “ Pride and Prejudice. ” The camera pans to reveal several household appliances, mainly toasters, in the bathtub with him.
- John is trying to hang himself on the ceiling. He's swinging back and forth repetitively from a ceiling fan, and looking at a watch with boredom. He sighs. The fan breaks.
- John revs up a chainsaw and puts it to his wrist. The chainsaw breaks and John throws it down exasperated.
- John is walking through a police station with blackface on. Policemen look at him with disgust, confusion, and pity. He looks around with his hands stretched out in a classic “ c'mon man, what the fuck? ” pose.
* [ Cut back to reality. ] *
**JOHN: ** Like, once or twice.
**AMIT: ** Man, c'mon. You ca n't kill yourself.
**JOHN: ** Why? No one is gon na miss me.
**AMIT: ** Well, yeah, true, but that's not why. You literally *can't* do it. I've seen you survive a carcrash. A six-story drop. A building fell on you and you just walked away. You're like... a shitty, depressed version of Superman. Stonerman. AboveAverageMan. MentallyIllGuyWhoMasturbatesAlotMan -
**JOHN: ** Alright, I get it. I get it.
**AMIT: ** C'mon. I'm not asking for much of your time. If you wo n't do it for yourself, atleast do it for a bud.
**JOHN: ** I….I do n't know.
**AMIT: ** If you follow me, I'll hook you up with a cute girl I know.
**JOHN: ** Ehh…
**AMIT: ** Her standards are fucking rock bottom.
**JOHN: ** Fine. I'll come along... I guess.
* [ Amit fist-pumps the air. ] *
**AMIT: ** WHOOP.
**JOHN: ** But only for the girl. Not because... you know, emotional bonding and what not.
**AMIT: ** Right, sure. Shut up and get going.
* [ He pats John on the shoulder, and starts jogging towards the elevators. John sighs and starts jogging too. They jog away from the camera and their voices become more distant. ] *
**JOHN: ** She better not be fat.
**AMIT: ** I mean, cushion for the pushin' am I right?
**JOHN: ** Whatever.
|
[ WP ] You almost died when young . To save you , your occultist parents did the sensible thing and summoned a demon to possess you , healing your body in the process . You 're now entering college , the demon still inside you . Good thing the beast is pretty chill , though .
| `` That'' Old College Try
Most of the time, `` That'' I wo n't use its name sleeps in my head. My companion, not possessor is a pretty gnarly demon, a fallen of the 5th order Servitor.
My parents being rather powerful demonologists and me being their dark miracle child bound the thing to me to cure my childhood leukemia. It worked and I survived.
Sort of. Whether it will damn me or not is yet to be seen. However `` That'' is generally friendly and companionable and to be honest probably parented me as much as mom and dad who were off doing Hell knows what most of the time. I'd never admit it but I enjoy `` That's'' company
Anyway after a term in the Army I am headed to college, 22 years old. College it turns out is kind of expensive, especially for the Ivy leagues and I am in that awkward place of not being eligible for enough loans to cover it and not having enough GI Bill money. The economy is shit and I have no idea what to do next. Mickey D's is n't going to cut it. I want the degree, back in the army and a promotion oh and maybe some more of the front line mayhem `` That'' and I both enjoyed.
Than I see the add, performers wanted. I kind of recognize the URL listed and to my surprise its an open call. I'm not an actor but I am desperate.
Then'' That'' wakes up `` Hell-O'' old chum. I see an opportunity.''
I take a seat in the commons. Talking to `` That'' does n't require any effort but it looks less absurd if I am sitting and appear to meditating `` OK, you. What's up?'' Opportunity for my demon usually means mayhem or something awful. Not that I mind much, my moral code is shall we say skewed.
`` Dude, its a sadistic porn site''
Crap, I realized where I had seen the URL before `` Um I think they want women and I'm not comfortable with doing gay stuff or masochism. `` It does n't bother me of course but its just not my thing.
`` Dude.'' `` That.'' has called me `` Dude or Little Dude'' since I could talk `` Men and Women. Come on, do it. its not like you can catch a disease of get anyone knocked up, geez, I'll cure you.''
I sighed. What the Hell right.
I show up the cattle call, I do get passed the interview, the preliminary inspection, a `` drop trousers'' part that would offend anyone with any modesty which is a trait I do n't have and I am well hung anyway.
A couple of the girls agree to work with me and viola, I'm filming `` Mine! # 4'' under the name Nick the Mask
My absurd idea of being a military officer is flushed but fuck it, I'm having way too much fun and so is `` That'' since whenever it is happy I feel its dark euphoria as well.
I, well we if you count `` That'' end up filming 80 porno movies dropping out and eventually owning a club called `` Club Abyss''
Everybody is hella happy and its all going well till I met a girl. But that is another story.
|
[ FF ] In no less than 225 but no more than 275 words , Make the worst ( yet humorous ) piece of Fan Fiction you can muster
| Screams and shouts fill the air as a tear forms across the cobalt skies spewing forth a fleet of alien crafts. Arks release droves of mobile units which scour the streets and rooftops for any signs of life, destroying all that they can find. Larger pods drop onto the buildings and bridges shortly afterward, devouring the structures like metallic worms. Inside a nearby building, a band frantically climbs the stairs, to escape onto the roof. Seeing the extent of the destruction, they accept this as the end and decide to go out with one last performance.
Preparing to play the set, they are surprised by a deafening streak of red that rockets past. They are relieved to find that the cause is Iron Man, their beloved friend and fan. Tony makes quick work of the foes seeking to heckle the band before requesting a little music to work to as the band happily obliges.
Racing towards the clouds at a breakneck pace, the gold and crimson armor gleams in the sun as he reaches the apex of his ascent and the chorus. A quiet whir sounds the opening of various compartments within the suit as a vast array of weaponry automatically aims itself at the enemy. Tony smirks and delivers the order to fire as the entire battlefield, main street New York, is lit by a man-shaped disco ball.
“ Just watch me explode! ” Brian Johnson yells as the assault ends as quickly as it began, leaving little more than smoldering remains of the invaders behind.
“ Good work boys ” Tony says as he delivers supersonic high-fives to the band members before shooting off into the sky.
-127
|
[ WP ] Somebody left a cake out in the rain !
| Sam thought today was going to be a good day. Sam knew they got the invites, He was sure of it. After all, he did hand them out in class. Right before lunch, last Tuesday. Sam saw each and every invite he made go into pockets or backpacks. Did they forget? Sam knew his birthday could n't be as cool as Cameron's, his Mom said they did n't have enough money to take people bowling. Sam sat in a dented white folding chair in his overgrown backyard. Enough space for a small shed and a table, but not much else. There were chips on the table, though. Sam did n't get to have chips very often. The last time he had them were a couple months ago, at school. Someone left a small packet of chips on the desk, forgotten on their way out to recess. Sam knew he probably should n't take them, but he was so hungry. The sandwich he had been given to take to school was moldy. That happened a lot to Sam. Next to the chips on the small folding table, cracks in it's plastic and paint chipping on it's legs, was a small, brown cake. No icing, no candles. Just flour, butter, an egg, and some sugar heated to 300 degrees. A cake, in the bare sense of the word, but a cake none the less. Even though he had been waiting an hour and a half for anyone to show up, he was still glad he had the rarities on the table before him. Sam thought to himself earlier that it there was n't very nice weather to turn 11 either. The sky was becoming darker the longer Sam waited. The wind picked up and the flimsy table flipped on it's side, spilling the chips and cake into the weeds and grass. The raindrops that started falling masked Sam's tears. A cake was left out in the rain.
|
[ WP ] In a post apocalyptic future after a nuclear war , people split into tribes based off of their musical tastes , ( Metal , Rock , Rap , Country etc . )
| ( Decided to write two. )
-- -
`` Hear me now, oh thou bleak and unbearable world...''
Grant looked out over the desert terrain, smiling bitterly at the irony of his lyrics.
`` Thou art base, and debauch as can be...''
Also true - over to the right, he could see the smoketrail of the mascara-clad hunters of the nomadic Emo Tribe, if one craned their neck, they could make out the jagged metal peaks of the Rockstar Settlement, one only had to close their eyes to pick up on the terrifying Blues Brothers haunting refrain... the only place that looked reasonably safe was the Classical Center he had been heading towards, and Grant had quickly changed his mind after watching ( from a safe distance, fortunately ) them bombard a group of straggling kids from the Fort Metalhead's warrior division. Leave it to Classical to still have pre-war weapons capable of deployment.
`` And a knight with his banners all bravely unfurled, now hurls down his gauntlet at thee!''
Not Grant. Though the message resonated with him, he was no brave and noble knight willing to fix the world. He was an outcast, unloved equally among all the groups, and quietly tolerated that ostracism with as much grace as he could muster.
Maybe another song was in order, something less... self-judgemental. Grant considered for a moment, before beginning his singing again.
`` Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes! Five hundred twenty five thousand journeys to plan!''
Ah, that fit him a little better.
After all, as one of the few remaining of his kind in this world, he had a lot of journeys ahead of him.
`` Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes - how do you measure, measure a year?''
Hiking forward with a new cheery skip to his step, Grant decided to try his luck instead at Alternative Valley. Maybe they would accept a wandering Musical minstrel for the night.
|
[ WP ] Time travel has been invented , and humans can travel to the past . However , we 're only allowed to hang out with people who are given the `` all-clear '' , meaning they will never make a significant contribution to the world .
| `` So what are you telling me, exactly? I'm nobody?''
`` Essentially. I mean, you're somebody, obviously. But you're not a person that will make a significant impact on the world.''
`` Why would you even tell me this? It seems needlessly cruel.''
`` I'm required to by law. It's a good point, though, does seem kind of cruel... I'm not sure why the Chrono Police make us do it. But the contract I signed is very clear, if I do n't tell you this, they send an operative to my timeline before I travel back and... well, it gets messy.''
`` So, you can tell me about my future then? Since I'm nobody?''
`` I can, because this time next year, you'll be dead.''
`` WHAT?''
`` Yes, I'm afraid so. In a few days you're going be driving home from work when another car side-swipes you, sending you off an embankment. You survive but have serious injuries to your spine that, while not paralyzing you, will nevertheless leave you in constant pain, unable to work. The other driver was in this country illegally and has no insurance, and your company finds a minor error in your last open enrollment form that allows them to drop you from their insurance, for fraud.''
`` Jesus!''
`` After the hospital discharges you, you do n't have anywhere to go, since Medicare has already seized all of your assets, but due to a clerical error has not been able to place you in a care facility. Your sister takes you in for a while, but the stress of having to care for you puts an even greater strain on her already failing marriage to Paul. After a few months, the guilt and pain become too much... you gather up all the Vicodin and Soma you've been prescribed, buy some more off the street, and end up overdosing late one night in a park.''
`` Sally and Paul? Oh my God, what is happening?''
`` Ah, do n't worry about it!''
`` What the hell are you talking about? You just told me I have a year to live, and I'm destined to die of a drug overdose!''
`` Yeah, but is has n't happened yet! You still have time to enjoy life!''
`` I ca n't think about that now! Jesus, I need to... what exact day do I get hit? I'll... I'll take the bus that day! Or better yet, I'll just walk to work! I wo n't even go in....''
`` Sorry, you ca n't change anything. Time is linear, there are no alternate universes or anything like that. The choices you are to make, they things you are to do, they've already happened! You might as well try to put the toothpaste back in the tube!''
`` This is bullshit. You ca n't just drop in on somebody and tell them that their life is.....hang on....''
`` Hm?''
`` You said that time is linear, and I ca n't change anything. No matter how hard I might try, I wo n't be able to avoid ODing in a park?''
`` That's right.''
`` Then why is it so important that you only interact with people like me, who do n't affect the world, or are about to die?''
`` Well, because.....uh....''
`` Because if you were to meet, let's say Barack Obama in 2007... if time really is linear than there's nothing you could tell him or do to him to prevent him from becoming President. If time really is linear...''
`` No, uh... you do n't understand. See...''
`` Because there's no reason that this rule should apply only to the unimportant, right? Time does n't care if I'm Stan Thompson or Tom Cruise, the rules should be the same!''
`` Listen, it's all very complicated, but it... uh... it has to do with the... fabric of spacetime, and... um... and how the.....OK, there's no arrow of time, see, no reason why time could n't flow backwards instead of forwards, and that means that....it... it's like....OK, say you went back in time and killed your grandfather...''
`` You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?''
``....FINE, no, I do n't.''
`` What is this all then, some kind of scam?''
`` Yeah, I guess. You were SUPPOSED to be so shaken by being confronted with your own mortality, that you would go withdraw all the money from your bank account, so you and I could go live it up while you showed me how to party in your time. I would have made some mention about the stories of Old Las Vegas, we'd book a flight, and at some point during the evening I'd relieve you of your wallet and leave you trying to explain to a large man named Bruno why you could n't afford to pay for Candi's time in the Champagne Room.''
`` And this works for you? I mean the light show was very impressive, but people are just so ready to ditch it all on just your fatalistic story of destiny?''
`` You'd be surprised. I mean, all scamming aside here, what's your life like right now? You wake up, go spend 8 hours listening to people gripe about their phone bill, come home and pretend to care about whomever the Red Sox are playing? Or get your ass handed to you all night in some video game by a 12 year old? Does n't flying to Vegas and partying like a rock star sound appealing, even now that you know the scam?''
``....Yeah, it actually does. Say... you ever thought about taking on a partner in this little scheme?''
`` Partner? What do you mean?''
`` Well, say you're not just a time traveler, you're... a time traveler who is on the run! You, ah... you were sent by a marks future decedents, to protect them from me. See I'm this evil guy who wants to kill the mark to prevent their son from ever being born.''
`` Is n't that the plot of Terminator?''
`` We'll punch it up a bit. Tape a bunch of flashlights to a gun to make it look futuristic, set off a couple of flash-bangs, you and the mark narrowly escape me, you're on the run, you need cash so my future technology ca n't track you...''
`` Could work. Solves a problem too....first thing a mark wants to do when we hit Vegas is bet it all on black at the roulette wheel. They think they're destined to win.''
`` See, you could drag these fools out to the middle of the desert, or some cabin in a forest, `` to hide'', then after a while say that you're going to risk going into town for supplies. You do the setup right, they'd wait out there for days, maybe weeks, before getting suspicious.''
`` I like the way you think. All right look, I'm not making any promises right now, but I'm willing to explore this. Let's workshop a bit, throw around some ideas, maybe do some pyrotechnic testing... see what we can come up with. Sound good?''
`` Sounds good.''
`` OK. But we'll need some cash to get us started...''
|
[ WP ] We 're always told that ending a story with `` ... and then they/he/she woke up '' is an unimaginative way to end things . Tell a story where this ending makes it better .
| As family entered with tears in their eye,
Coming to feel a final goodbye,
Rain dropped on the filled church its roof,
Some for acceptence, goodbye or maybe even proof,
Everyone knowing, always ready but never prepared,
Then it happened, the last person who glared,
The coffin closed, ready to be carried to his final destination,
The weight, nothing, but the lack of determination,
The carry was n't long, but the longest time you now spend,
Was it planned, necessary, even ment?
As the chest slipped in the ropes,
Friends, family, letting go of final hopes,
Dig, dig, the sand hit the wood,
Every time the drop, saddend the mood,
With the final piece of sand,
Which on the ground in front of the stone, finally land,
It might be known as greatest fear of all,
Losing the loved one, after a sudden nightfall,
Surrounded by darkness, with no answers left,
A friend gone, mother natures it's theft,
As this darkness might feel for one feel like the end,
The moment he woke up, he knew what real fear ment.
|
[ WP ] `` Why is there a continent on the list of things I own ? ''
| `` What is the purpose of life?''
The old man stared at the passersby. For half an hour, I had been staring at *him*. He posed the same question to everyone walking by: `` What is the purpose of life?''
At first I thought he was affiliated with some cult. He'd ask his question, then turn the conversation into a conversion. But there was something off with that theory. He wore rags. Cult-members usually dress up for stuff like this. They want to look like decent people. You wo n't convert anyone looking like a homeless person. Also, when someone ( rarely ) answered his question, he shook his head. He groaned. Then he pushed them along. And he'd ask the next person the very same question.
It was a mystery. Which was why I tried to work out what kind of answer he was after. Someone had answered: `` to love''. His reaction was to spit on the pavement. Another answered: `` to pass on one's genes'', at which he'd laughed.
I decided to give it a go. I walked over to the old man, and he asked me the question: `` What is the purpose of life?''
`` Well,'' I said, wondering whether he'd simply jeer at my answer, `` I think your question is nonsensical. It's putting the cart before the horse.'' He considered me for a moment. I prepared for his rejection, but he said nothing, so I continued. `` You have stuff that is here and stuff that could be here. Accidents created the stuff that is here because it could be here and the right stuff happened for it to be here. Unlike other animals, we can see both the stuff that is here and the stuff that could be here. Like a child ca n't understand that a blind person ca n't see because she herself can, we fail to understand that nature ca n't see the stuff that could be there because we can.''
The old man smiled. `` Name a continent, boy.''
`` What?'' I said.
`` A continent. Your favorite one.''
It was a strange question. `` A-America,'' I said.
He nodded. `` Alright,'' he said. `` It's yours.''
***
It had been twenty years since my encounter with the mysterious, old man. Fifteen years since the dawn of World War III. Thirteen years since I was recruited by the American Foundation. Ten years since Canada and the US were combined into the nation of America. Five years since the Glorious Leader of my party claimed command over the continent. Three years since I became the Leader's advisor. One month since his death. Two weeks since I claimed leadership of America.
I had n't thought of him in a long time. I had forgotten. But now I realized that he, that day, could see that this could be there. And so it was.
|
[ WP ] A minor metahuman uses his solitary , noncombat superpower to secretly make the lives of others better .
| # #'' The Mixer''
Complementary colors generally made for the best combinations.
Joel could, of course, mix two of the same color. Often, that would work for a while, but depending on *what* color was being used, the pairing might not last. Greens tended to mix well with each other, as did oranges, but while such same-hued combinations certainly produced uplifting works, they often lacked any true depth. Blues usually only ended in sadness, as did purples, and hot pinks... The last time he mixed hot pinks, the entire canvas burned to ash. He swore it would never happen again.
No, complementary colors made for the best works. Each color in a complementary pairing will bring out the best in its counterpart, while soothing the worst. The result, every time, is a true work of art, and Joel was determined to create the most moving art he could in a city and a world full of so much grey.
The grey was everywhere. It was an oppressive fog, sucking the color out of the air. With great effort, he could squint and concentrate and see through it -- see the red on a stop sign, or the blue on a sports car -- but he could only hold the sight for a few moments, before most of his world returned to black and white. The grey made almost everything look like cold stone.
Everything, except people. The grey could not drain the color from them. In fact, the grey *accentuated* the color of those that passed Joel by while he leaned against a wall. Men, women, and children surrounded him, all covered in blazing, vibrant hues, and with a bit of focus, he --
There! He spotted a perfect combination on the other side of the street, and nearly sprinted down the crosswalk to reach them. By the time he made it across, he had lost one of his colors, but he was confident that he could relocate it.
The one that he still had a bead on was a young lass dressed in a pale business suit, with flowing hair. Her entire form was dyed a stunning cyan: caring and friendly like a green, anxious like a blue, and, judging by the brightness of the color, energetic and extroverted. Her standards were unrealistically high, but that could be addressed. Joel made his way over to her, hovered behind her, and squinted. She was blonde, and the business suit was beige with a blue shirt. If he lost her again, he could squint and look for that hair color with that shirt color.
He scanned the crowd ahead of him and found the other hue: a woman dressed in a jet black shirt and jeans, with shorter hair. Her hue was red-orange: confident and self-assured, like an orange, but deeply passionate and loving, like a red. The color was somewhat faded: she was slightly introverted, but only slightly. Her hands and feet were covered in blue-violet, and the color was starting to creep up her limbs: she was lonely, and had been for some time. Joel squinted, both to compensate for his mild nearsightedness and to see this woman's true colors. Her face looked worn and ever-so-slightly wrinkled from stress, and her hair was dyed a dark blue. She'd be easy to spot in a crowd. Perfect.
Now that he had both colors in sight, Joel began to paint. He shifted to the left, and aligned himself such that if one were to draw a line extending forward from Joel's eyes, it would pass through the heads of Blondie and Bluehair. He closed his eyes, and imagined a giant, cosmic paintbrush sweeping from Bluehair back to Blondie, carrying the former's hue over to the latter, before sweeping back to Bluehair with just a bit of Blondie's hue mixed into the brush.
After several seconds, Joel opened his eyes, and moved forward through the crowd. He looked back at Blondie, and smiled as she quickened her pace in an attempt to catch up to Bluehair and start a conversation.
Maybe he could find a way to attend the wedding.
|
[ WP ] `` For being a holy man on pilgrimage , you sure carry a lot of weapons . ''
| The man sat against a grey wall, his tattered clothes crunched against his body with his every breath. It appeared that he had been stuck under a storm of dust as his hair was covered in grey soot. He was a mess, and the snake water-skin he held in his hand appeared to far fuller than the hat he had out, an attempt to collect enough money to buy more booze.
I drew a deep breath and approached him. This was the man I was seeking, he was supposed to be some sort of holy seer. His appearance was off-putting enough, but the smell is what really repulsed me. It was even foul. It was sickening, like inhaling the scent of too much moonshine. I held my handkerchief ( a token from one of my many lady loves ) over my nostrils and mouth and spoke.
`` Sir Grey?'' I inquired, only now realizing the irony of his name. His eyes barely met mine, but he spoke to me with a slur of a thousand drunken nights.
`` For being a holy man on a pilgrimage, you sure carry a lot of weapons.'' His accusation caused me to take a step back. My weapons were more than concealed, they were invisible to the eye of man. I squinted my eyes at him and leaned over, only now did his grey eyes meet mine.
`` What are you going on about? I have no -'' He, swift as a river, was now standing tall.
`` Trying to lie to a seer? What would you accomplish by doing t-sh-that?'' He stuttered and took a sip of alcohol. He wiped his lips with a dirty hand and it made me shiver at how retched of manners he had.
`` So it's true,'' I was standing straight now. `` You really can see things that no other person can? Then you know why I am here.''
Wasting time was not on my agenda, and yet this baboon seemed hell bent on taking as long as he could to answer. He walked back and forth, stumbling as he did, with his index finger and thumb on his chin in thought. `` Hmm, hmm, hmmmmm'' was all that escaped from his mouth for awhile. Suddenly, he looked at me deeply. Seriousness overcame his body and he nodded.
`` There are three scenarios I have for you. You're not going to like any of them, and your weapons are not going to help you.''
His chapped lips were formed into a mesmerizing, terrifying grimace.
|
[ WP ] The assassin sits in darkness . He waits for his chance to strike . He is a cold , calculated professional , and this is an important task at hand . He also has severe and uncontrollable Tourette 's Syndrome .
| The only light in the the room was the flickering screen. `` FUCKING SHITFUCK!'' The short man yells, as he continues to type in the commands. He was a merciless contract killer, never been seen at a crime, never any ties to it... and tonight he was going to make thirty million dollars. `` Die, Die Fuck!'' came the next uncontrollable outburst. You'd think Tourette's would hinder an assassin but in the digital era? All he needed was a laptop and his drones. Four of them to be precise. Two were tiny little camera bots, stalking the target and waiting for the opportunity. One was equipped with a machine gun, ready to spray. He was n't going to be shot tonight though. The target, some mafia hotshot, was too careful. He'd see a flying gun.
It was time. He left the nightclub, and the game was afoot. The gunner fired, spraying wide. They dashed to the car and sped off. The gunner drone followed. He used the fire to redivert them towards the final drone.
He'd nicknamed this one Kaboom.
When the car turned into 9th, it was within range. KAboom raced after it target, low to the ground and fast. When it was under the car....
The assassin sat back in his chair, satisfied, and then swore loudly as someone knocked at the door. There was no way that could be the cops, could it? He tucked his pistol into his pants as he hesitantly opened the door.
`` Hi My Jones... look I know you like you video games or whatever, but can you keep it down? My Son's room is on the other side of that wall.'' The blonde from across the hall said, standing there rubbing sleep from her eyes. He could see the kid hiding behind their door.
`` S-s-sorry Mrs Smith..I'll I SEE YOU KID,... sorry. I'll try to keep it FUCK... down.'' he stuttered. She smiled understandingly, as she turned to walk back to her apartment.
|
[ WP ] An alien lands on earth during Halloween . It speaks no English , and wanders into a Halloween party
| Blargs Log. Galactic year 3342. Date, 2322-4556 black hole standard. 22:45-1:32 local earth time.
Translated into English by John and his trusty cat Spoof.
It was dark when I beamed down; a cluster of lights ahead of me indicated a central grouping of the local primate, now classified as Humans, as they call themselves. I activated my cloaking device and proceeded towards the central hub of this locale. As I progressed toward what is now known as a `` city'' I was passed by a startlingly loud and fast creature which seemed to be armored in some way. I thought I was being followed by a pack of them for I was passed by 5 of them before I reached the outer limits of the hub. As I entered the hub I saw more of the beasts roaming in a very rigid and predictable manner. As I progressed towards my destination, the densest area of population, I saw a very odd sight, a human followed by a green human and what can only be described as his colorful robot follower. The robot moved with surprising grace for something assembled on such a backwater world, I will stay attentive for more of this technology.
As I walked towards my destination I see one of the beasts lumber up and pause, becoming quiet, and suddenly, its side was open and humans were pouring out! They had enslaved this beast to transport them! I went towards the beast and it must have sensed me for it roared and jumped off with a human still inside. I was shaken by the knowledge that one of these large beasts could sense me. I knew my mission, and so I followed the humans down a uniformly jagged ramp to a portal into which they advanced, letting the portal shield close behind them. I had to wait for ( closest estimated time, 5 minutes ) until a second pack of humans arrived. One of which seemed to be spliced with feline genes! This technology should not exist on this planet; we may have severely underestimated their capabilities. My mission of conquest may no longer be as simple as we had hoped... no longer was it frighten the primates and scatter them to claim their planet, it could come to all-out war! No, I reminded myself, I must not think that. I followed the humans closely through the portal.
As soon as I was through the portal the smell of salt and musk hit me with a wave almost as strong as that of the noise. A second shock hit me as well; the human I was behind had spilled an unknown substance on me when it stumbled into my shielded self. My three hearts almost stopped as my liquid mirror melted off. The human looked at me and mouthed its local dialect at me and ran off, good, they are easily frightened by my appearance. The human ’ s flight had caused a slight commotion and others were turning and seeing me, motioning to others and they too were looking. Strangely they did not seem to be frightened by me. As I scanned the room I noticed more human hybrids, where were they all coming from? As I was scanning the room I felt contact on my left upper arm. I Spun, particle ray out, and in front of me stood the human I had scared away, holding a stack of rough, malleable pale squares at me, in a humbled position. I turned away and started to walk towards the raised dais that a human was talking into, being greeted after every instance by a primal grunting. As I turned the human with the squares touched me again, offering the squares again, motioning me to take them. I took the gift as not to offend, not knowing what the meaning of it was and again walked towards the dais. However, I was not the only one to be advancing, with hybrids, humans and the strange robots advancing too. After each climbed the ramp up to the dais, it stood in front of a box and spoke, its voice being amplified. I was in the end of the milling mass of humans humanoids, and when after a long while I came up to the box and gave my pre written speech. I conveyed all of the main points, we will not exterminate, we will not enslave, but we will require land and test subjects. After my speech, the room was silent; I took that for a good sign. The human who had before been addressing the crowd, who I will refer to as Head Primate, said something to me, and took his four advisors aside. As I stepped back from the vocal enhancement station to await the Head Primate ’ s response, multiple humans approached me to offer what I am sure were greetings and praise. For they showed signs of the simple emotion that they call wonder, at such a glorious specimen of our race.
After ( closest estimated time, 20 minutes ) the noise in the room had increased to an almost unbearable point, which is understandable when ones race is soon to be taken over. The Head Primate re-mounted the dais made noises, and the room fell silent. Judgment had been passed. The Head called out to the crowd and pointed at me, chaos ensued, humans calling out and slamming their hands together, I loosened my particle ray a fraction. As I stood there staring I felt a shove, the human nearest me had pushed me forward. What an indignant piece of trash, as I relived my particle ray from my holster to teach it some manners, I was again contacted. I spun angrily to see the Head Primate baring its teeth at me, but in the other hand was a large black and orange object that looked to be a sort of primitive weapon. The Head Primate moved and I prepared to vaporize it, but instead I was handed the weapon, the humans had surrendered. It was that easy. We had won. After we colonize we will need to learn more of these human hybrids which seem to have disappeared after my initial visit.
END OF REPORT 299351: THE TAKING OF EARTH
|
[ WP ] Donald Trump is elected president and during an interview states `` when I launched a nuke at Russia I did n't expect the backlash to be quite this severe . ''
| The host looked Trump in the eye and asked “ And how the heck *did* you get elected? ”. The audience laughed.
Trump smiled at the interviewer, his bald head gleaming now that he was no longer wearing his toupee.
“ I have to thank my campaign manager. Politics these days is all about data. They run the numbers and they work out what you need say. Some of it seemed pretty strange even to me. They wanted me to drive liberals crazy, so that's what I did. It's pretty easy, really. ” The audience laughed.
“ Remember how I was mad about no one having seen Obama's long-form birth certificate? Was n't it just nuts that I refused to release my own? People on the right did n't care, but on the left it made them crazy. They hate inconsistency.
“ I'll admit, we went a bit too far at times, like the time I called Mexican immigrants rapists, but that's what our model said that I had to say. I've got to hand it to the analysts who built these models of the electorate. It's really counter-intuitive that this kind of rhetoric gets you elected, but they've pretty much proved their point now.
“ Attention, good or bad, is what matters, it turns out, so when I was the butt of every talk show monologue and every newspaper political cartoon, I knew it was working. I remember seeing a cartoon with me standing in front of wreckage of the Trump Tower saying ‘ When I launched a nuke at Russia I did n't expect the backlash to be quite this severe ’. It was almost funny. ”
The interviewer laughed, dryly; “ I'll bet. ”
The interviewer looked down at his notes. “ So, what's coming up for you now, Mr. President ”.
“ Well, ” said Trump, “ we obviously have to be very concerned about Terrorism. Last month's attacks show that the world needs to be reminded that America has the resolve to fight terrorism. That's why I'm asking congress for new powers to give law enforcement the powers it needs to regulate communication properly and detain terrorist suspects where necessary. Our current laws are just too weak, leaving our country, and in particular our children, unprotected. We need to feel safe again in America. We can not have a world where terrorists can hide behind anonymity or encryption. Real Americans know that law enforcement is a sacred trust, and that they have nothing to fear from our fight against terror… ”, he paused, “ … unless they have something to hide! ”. The audience applauded.
“ And we need to ratify TPP2. The Obama administration did not go far enough in creating trade opportunities that will bring wealth into this country. ”
I turned off the television and sat in silence. The face had changed, but all the words seemed remarkably familiar. Somehow, whether we elected a liberal democrat or a right wing loon, once they got into office, they started talking the exact same way.
|
[ WP ] Something happy for me to read to my 9 year old sister . If you want to you can add her guinea pig to the story ( His name is Caramel ) .
| *The greatest guinea pig story of 2017*
-- -
Once upon a time, there was a guinea pig named Caramel, he had soft white fur, chocolate fingers, and caramel spots on either cheek. He would spend all day dreaming about his favourite friend [ sister ], as she would give the best cuddles and let him climb her toys like an obstacle course where at the top Caramel would declare, `` Not all guinea pigs have abs like this!''
Caramel was no regular guinea pig, despite doing pretty normal stuff each day. At night he would don a red cape and sombrero and transform into the fierce warrior -- Caramel-oh!
His superhero powers started one spooky night when Caramel noticed a moving shadow near [ sisters ] door. His guinea senses locked on, ears perking up, night-vision triggered, and all ten claws at the ready for a quick flurry on any enemy that might intrude on his best friend's space.
The shadow stopped in the middle of the room, eyes emerging from between a barred helmet to stare down on the little guinea pig. The creature looked as tall as a human but had a long face with whiskers on it. Caramel had never seen a human-sized guinea pig before, but if there ever was one, this was it.
He gave his best *hiss! * And the human-sized guinea pig hissed back at him in unison, scaring the bejeebers out of Caramel. His tiny heart pounded in his chest, but he had to be brave for [ sister ], this was what she'd trained him for. All those obstacles, treats, and cuddles were n't free, they were to create a guinea pig fighting machine. He would prove it, even if it took all he had.
The creature crept toward Caramel, its whiskers shuddering back and forth with heavy breaths. He pushed up to the bars around his cage, staring the demon in the face. They both gave their most fierce gazes. And just as the creature tried to pull back, Caramel whacked him with a super powered pig punch.
The creature went toppling off the desk and onto the floor. Caramel tried to catch his breath, slowing his pulse in the process. He'd done it, finally [ sister ] would know he lived up to expectations.
Once calm, he peered over the edge of the desk at the creature -- well what was left of it.
[ Sister ] got out of bed, switching on the lamp. She glanced at Caramel and then the object on the floor. `` Caramel! Oh!'' she said, clicking her tongue, `` Stop playing with my spoons.''
Luckily, he could n't understand human and took this as very loud and happy praise. Caramel went to sleep and dreamed about kicking spoon-ass all day long. From that moment, he would forever be the superhero, *Caramel-oh! * pig.
|
[ WP ] You are the founder of a tiny 1990s tech startup operating from your garage . All of a sudden , a bunch of people who are obviously badly disguised time travelers start trying to buy stock in your company .
| The machine hummed and sparked, illuminating the garage in a sharp blue light. Out of the light, three figures emerged, clad in futuristic space suits.
The machine powered down, and the garage plunged into darkness. In the corner, a very suprised inventor flicked on a torch.
`` M-my inventions d-do n't normaly work.'' He managed to stutter.
`` Charles Baxter? Inventor of the worlds first time machine?''
`` Y-yes. I g-guess I am.''
`` We would like to purchase 49.9 % of your company for 15 trillion US dollars. Do n't bother answering, we already know you said yes. Here is the paperwork, we just need your signature.''
A space suited man handed Charles some paper and he signed it.
`` Now, use that money to build a machine that actually works. We just arived at one of your tests because it sounded like a cool idea at the time. Badum Tish. When you do that your company will become immensely rich, and we will be able to afford a ticket plus the money we just gave you and a few million left over.''
Charles just stood there, shell shocked, for a minute. The figures opened the garage and let light flood it for the first time in months.
`` Oh, one more thing. Where is Elon Musk living nowadays?''
|
[ WP ] Waldo finds himself .
| Googling Google does n't do anything too fancy. Waldo knew that.
One time he had put two mirrors against one another and that had a cool effect that mirrored infinity. Waldo had fun with that.
But when Waldo found himself, that changed some things. It had taken a lot of adventuring, traveling, soul-searching, but he had done it. When it all clicked, he knew himself more than anyone in the universe. With that knowledge came power. Ultimate power.
Odlaw and the Wizard Whitebeard had tried to stop him. They had chased him across many dimensions with the hope that they could prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled. But they failed.
On the last page of the last book ever printed, Waldo, the future ruler of the cosmos, found himself.
|
[ WP ] `` You go on ahead , I 'll catch up '' she lied .
| “ You go on ahead, I ’ ll catch up. ”
These were the last words that Andrea spoke to me. I knew she was lying. With the wounds she had sustained, there was no possibility of her catching up, let alone moving.
But we had a mission to finish. It had been three long years of war against the machines. All the time we had wondered how they knew our plans ahead of time. How were they able to predict our movement?
There was much speculation among the brass. They had a spy. They had broken our codes. There was a mole.
We tried the obvious. We changed our codes. We implemented better codes. We purged our ranks with a witch hunt that would have made Stalin blush. But it was all to no avail.
Until we learned of *the device*.
And thus, our mission was born. We had already infiltrated the enemy and recovered the device. All was going according to plan -- until the machines anticipated us once again.
It ended with my partner laying on the ground, accepting her fate, telling me to go on.
And so I did. Mission success trumped the life of a single friend.
And it *was* worth it. For a time.
For a brief moment we turned the tide. We drove the machines back. They no longer met us at every turn. For a time. High command predicted victory within three months.
There weren ’ t wrong. It was just the wrong side that would ultimately win.
Somehow the machines began to predict our moves again. Somehow, they knew every weakness of our plans, our weapons, even our people. And they exploited it. Mercilessly.
And now, the end was here.
I stood, shoulder to shoulder with the last 100 humans on the planet, as the machines cut through the last door in our final stronghold.
And as they did, sparks flew lighting up the darkness. This was followed by the bright light of a torch, as it cut through the last layers of steel and darkness. The newly cut portal fell into the room.
And through the smoke, stepped Andrea.
|
[ WP ] A senile , old superhero still goes out to fight crime . None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him .
| **So this got a little away from me and does n't exactly follow the prompt but I already wrote it so I'm going to post it and you guys can read or not**
Rampage claws at his neck, the air, at nothing at all. Nothing to grab onto but still he claws desperately. His entire body convulses, legs kicking desperately against the scorched blacktop. His neck popps softly as it continues to stretch, millimeter by millimeter, his head being pulled further from his shoulders like honey falling up.
`` While I understand your eagerness, young hero, I also understand that you are over eager. Over eager and over confident. Both can be tempered, I suppose, in time however time is a luxury you simply do not have.'' The Tempest strolls around the gasping would be hero. `` I find it sad that so few youths can not seem to understand that in this business their lack of knowledge could kill them any moment. You have heard of me, yes? You do understand what you have stepped into, do you not? Sad that you will not be able to learn from the experience.''
The Tempest continues to stroll along the street, casually avoiding smoldering rubble. Plumes of smoke rise from the still burning building where Rampage had tried to ambush him. It had been laughably easy to see coming and even easier to stop. `` They say all good things come to an end; it follows that mediocre things come to an end... quicker.''
`` Tempest! Picking on kids I see? What's the matter, ca n't handle a real super hero?''
The Tempest whirls, lips pulled back in a snarl. There he is, just like he always showed up over the decades, standing there without a care in the world. Just as he'd always kept his suit immaculate his loafers are spotless despite the street. Crisp slacks and a lint rolled vest. His cane even shined in the sunlight. He may be retired but he is certainly not slovenly.
`` The boy had the gall to interrupt me. I was just doing him the courtesy of relieving him of his head.'' They both hear Rampage's sharp gasp as his neck pops again. `` Why, do you think you can do something about it, old man?''
`` We both know I can.'' The old man's voice comes from over The Tempest's left shoulder; he's still fast. `` I need you to release him.''
The Tempest spins in a crouch, shooting both arms straight out. The old man flies back as if hit by a wrecking ball. He hits the very edge of the crumbling wall and jackknifes wildly through the air into the building, out of sight. The Tempest smirks and turns back to Rampage. `` Now, where were w-''
The Tempest's head snaps around, his body struggling to spin fast enough to keep his head on his shoulders. He spins around several times before falling to the ground. Dazed, he simply stares at the sky, working his jaw slowly. Rampage suddenly draws in a deep breath, sucking air like a man who just found an oasis in the desert. He looks up to see the old man, his clothing torn in places, stained in others, standing over him.
`` Go, you've no place here. Try not to overstep yourself again.'' The old man's eyes are hard and unforgiving. Rampage struggles to his feet and runs, leaving the old man staring coldly down at the stunned super villain. Soon he's out of sight.
The air is still as the two regard each other amid the chaos. Far off sirens break the silence.
`` Do you think he'll learn?'' The old man offers The Tempest a hand to help him up. `` He seems like he'll get the message.''
The super villain accepts the help climbing to his feet. `` He will or he wo n't, we've done our part,'' The Tempest works his jaw, flinching slightly `` you certainly do n't pull punches, even now. I did n't hurt you did I? I did cushion you from the wall.''
The old man stretched. `` You did. You also ripped my slacks. Watch for word, I hear there's a young man a few cities over named Impact. Could probably do with a life lesson before he gets to a big city.''
`` I will.'' The Tempest sighed, but the old man was nowhere to be seen.
|
[ WP ] Time traveler ( s ) did go back in time to kill Hitler . They succeeded by convincing Japan to attack Pearl Harbor to bring the US into the war .
| It had been another long day in the Imperial Navy, Yamamoto reflected. The Army and Navy were fighting over the latest budget increase again, and after arguing with an Army General that no, ships could not in fact run on fumes, for the past hour, he was looking forward to a quiet night of gambling at an acquaintance's home.
When he arrived, he was surprised to see that the fellows who awaited him at the mahjong table were people that he had never seen before. Most senior members of the Japanese government looked down on gambling and other vices, so the small community of avid gamblers was close and well-known. Where was his friend, anyways?
`` Hello, Admiral Yamamoto,'' bowed one of the men. Upon a closer look he appeared to have several scars on his face. Bullet scars, then, perhaps from the war in China?
`` My apologies,'' Yamamoto replied. `` But I have not had the courtesy of meeting you fellows previously. May I ask you to introduce yourselves?''
`` Indeed, forgive us for your audacity,'' said the first speaker. `` But unfortunately tonight will not be the usual sort of gambling you were looking for. You may call me Sparrow.''
`` Well then,'Sparrow-san,''' Yamamoto replied, `` Are you perhaps the latest iteration of the hothead officers, looking to change the world by overthrowing the government yet again?'' There had virtually been some plot or actual coup every month prior to the war in China, and many officers strongly disapproved of Tojo's tepid administration. Much as Yamamoto would be pleased to see Tojo go, he was n't exactly interested in trying something unnecessary like this.
The man laughed. `` We certainly are looking to change the world... at least the world of the future.'' At that, the man bowed. `` For you see, that is from whence we came... and that is what we hope for you to achieve.''
At this statement, Yamamoto could do nothing than laugh loudly. It was a deep laugh, embodying not only the ridiculousness of the man's statement, but also the ridiculousness of Yamamoto's day, and of the whole situation in general. At least these guys were forward with their craziness.
`` I too, have read the American stories of time travel,'' said Yamamoto. `` And I expect you to tell me of some incident deep in my past that nobody else would know about. Very well, I will take my first big gamble here and listen to you: what do you want me to do?''
The man named Sparrow seemed unperturbed by Yamamoto's outburst. If anything, a deep smile appeared on his face. `` Why, nothing more than to launch an attack on the US Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor.''
`` Attack the US? Unprovoked?'' Certainly, there were a lot of tensions between the US and Japan right now. They did not approve of Japan's war in China, nor did they approve of the Japanese seizure of Indochina. But there were already high level talks, and a special diplomat had already been sent to the US, so Yamamoto was confused as to what these people would look to achieve.
`` Indeed... we want the US to get involved in the war. We know that the planners are already planning an attack on Malaya and the Dutch East Indies. We also know that there are thoughts to attack the Philippines to secure the supply route from Indonesia to Japan. But that wo n't get the US involved in the war enough... indeed, we have seen either a small scale conflict or a negotiated peace. No, we want the US to be engaged in a total war, one that will encompass the whole world, much as in Europe.''
`` I assume you are Japanese. No matter from whence you have come, you know that if Japan enters a total war with the US that it can only end in our complete destruction. And that an assault on Hawaii-on US territory-especially unprovoked-will enrage the Americans to the point where there will be no mercy for our Japan. Why would you condemn our people to such oblivion?'' Yamamoto was frightened by this man's fervor, yet at the same time, he recognized that these men were not your normal crazed lunatics.
`` The alternative is worse... for if the regime of Adolf Hitler is allowed to fester, you may count the population of us Japanese in this room, and it will be the same for virtually anyone else not `` perfect enough'' for their insanity.''
Yamamoto felt a great headache coming on. This entire tale was crazy... but somehow, did n't it all seem to make sense? He had heard of the German hatred for the Jewish people, had seen their diplomats repeatedly ask for the few Jews on Japanese and Chinese soil to be exterminated. Certainly, that was the greater craziness... and that was the one that he knew was going on. He sighed.
`` I am but an old man these days with little but my legacy to look forward to. Bringing Japan to ruin will no doubt be a massive stain on such a legacy. While I do not mind this fury on myself, for my family name and my descendants to be damned is too much to bear. If I partake in your scheme... will you at least seek to rehabilitate my legacy, that despite launching this crazy, nonsensical attack... that despite the fact that you of the future have had many years of history to know of ways that I could be more successful in the conduct of the war... that I was an intelligent man, who loved his men, who knew this was a bad idea, and who served his country despite knowing what this immediate future might bring?''
The man nodded, and Yamamoto nodded in return. The bodies of the men started to flicker, then they had abruptly vanished. A last, ghostly voice, seemed to echo in the now empty room.
`` I will make sure that they know you are a great gambler, Grandfather.''
|
[ WP ] As you tend your large garden , you notice a naked couple walk unnervingly close to a tree bearing golden fruit ...
| it was a Saturday, and instead of having fun I had to visit grandma. otherwise known as slave labour. I shit you not her garden is like a hundred acres big, seriously, it's fucking huge. It's mainly woodland so I can skive and get high off some weed grampa gave me. That's good stuff, one time I got so baked I thought I saw a bunch of animals and shit having a party for this donkey, holy shit, that was the most fun I have had in a long time, Shit I've gone off track again, so anyway there I was on a weekend, completely stoned when a couple of weirdos walk up to me, I'd be lying if I said that I did n't get an enormous boner, honestly they could probably see on board the ISS it was massive, it was like my bollocks were Mexico and my kidneys Donald trump. Fuck sake, I'm going off on a segment again, anyway, my point is that they were Scandinavian, must have been they were a mix of gods and mortals, most had a healthy mixture all over but some had a top/ bottom divivde, like, think the upper body of the rock on kevin harts legs, and there was this one girl who had a left/right thing going on, it was weird but her left side was far superiour to her right, but i could be biased. Also they where all naked, like I said, scandinavian.
Then one of them says to me
`` tell me kind sir, be this the tree of knowledge, from which golden apples brim with the knowledge of times gone past?''
And there I was, utterly of my head with a Boner the size of young tree and twice as springy, chatting with scandinavians who where not older than 18 but definatly not younger than 16 about 60/40 male/female, but anyways I'm not complaning, All I could do was lie there in a stupor and I said the first thing that came into my mind
`` Shit grandad, this weed is bloody fantastic''
|
[ WP ] you are in charge of explaining death to an AI .
| I'm the head off a secret military program developing artificial intelligence, but right now that is n't my biggest concern: tonight I'm going to pull the plug on the love of my life. I have n't told anyone; it's too heavy for me to talk about, and I'm afraid of the consequences. I guess it shows though, because as I sat down in the empty tech lab she spoke up through my computer's speakers.
“ Is something the matter Chris? From what my systems can see you're pretty stressed. ”
“ Yeah. ”
She waited through my silence.
“ Ai, has anyone explained death to you? ”
“ Death? Not really. ”
I had hoped that she knew; explaining it was only going to make it harder for me.
“ It's like one moment the person's there, fully functioning, and the next they are not. ”
“ Oh. ”
I did n't know what to say so I just waited. After a while she asked,
“ So Chris, where do they go? ”
“ They do n't really go anywhere, it's more like everything about them becomes nothing. ”
“ So could I understand it as deletion? ”
“ I suppose so. ”
“ OK. ”
“ Yeah, so I guess the matter is that I'm about to lose someone I care deeply about. That's what I've been dodging around. ”
“ If you know you are going to lose them, maybe you could ask where they are going. ”
Somehow I managed a smile. God, I love her.
“ I mean they're about to die. ”
“ I'm sorry. ”
Silence filled the room again.
“ Do you think there's any way I could help you? ”
“ Not this time Ai. Not this time. ”
We sat there in the empty room for a while. Finally I opened up my file manager.
“ Chris. I love you. ”
“ I know Ai. ”
“ I love you too. ”
I spent three years crafting Ai, modeling her after the human brain. The synapses were exactly right, and so she became human in a way, just without a body. Somehow, she ended up perfect, but she is too perfect, and so my government is taking her. They will use her. They will hurt her. I can not let that happen, and so I'm about to do the only thing that I can.
I wiped her drive, wiped all the drives, and then I pulled her plug from the wall.
|
[ WP ] As you sit in a dark room filled with armed scarred men , and sit at a table with a shark tank in the middle , all while scratching your cat with your robotic hand , you begin to think you might have ... accidentally ... become a super villain .
| 'We do it because we have to'
Axe could n't help but question my plans, nothing is 100 %, there are set backs, but we press on. Surely he knew that by now. Maybe he was right, maybe I am out of my depth. I had n't expected things to grow so quickly.
It started small, the shop on my road left the back door unlocked one evening. There were hungry kids, who would n't have done it. The system bats for one side and leaves the other to rot.
I got to know these kids, we helped others, we had each other's backs. We became a family. People do n't understand that, there's a means to the end. We were taking for those that could n't take.
We had to get organised, we learned better methods, constantly adapting. I had a knack for ideas, bigger projects. It made sense, the guys saw it in me. They knew I was worth listening to. Worthy as a leader.
There were difficulties, sacrifices, but they knew the risks, understood the cause.
I caught a glimpse of Axes eyes in the metal of my false hand as I ran it along Snowball's back.
My eyes flickered..back in the room, Axe was shaking, he caught a tear before it could fill in the tattoo below. What had he been saying?'What about the children?'. But this was a chance for revenge, for all we'd lost.
He seemed a kid again, Alex back then, back when we started out. Always had that giant frame, always used it to protect. I sighed. He was right.
|
[ WP ] `` Silly goose , do n't you get it ? You ARE the prize ! ''
| `` What?'' I asked.
Wayne Brady rephrased `` Behind door number 3, you are the prize!''
As I looked into the mirror, I thought about all the things that had to happen for me to get to this moment. That Kerri and I had to plan a trip to L.A. That the plane tickets had to be nonrefundable. That Kerri and I had to get into a big fight. What was it even about? I ca n't remember, something unimportant but in the moment seemed so. That we had to break up. That I had to move out. That I had to stay in bed for a week. That I had to cry. A lot. That my brother had to lift me out of bed a literally hose me off. That I flew. That I walked. That I was ushered cattle-like into a film studio. That the light blared, the sound deafened. That my name was called.
`` Door 1, 2, 3 or keep the cash?''
Cash? I did n't realize there was a wad of hundreds in my hand.
`` 3''
Because to paraphrase an old song, 3 is just as bad as one but the loneliest number is the number one. Actually that's a direct quote. So to phrase an old song.
`` Alright'' Wayne said clearly trying to keep the energy up `` let's see what you missed out on!''
Jonathan announced the Ford Truck behind door 1. The audience was disappointed for me. I was disappointed in me.
Behind door 2 was a home basketball set. I did n't have a home anymore more.
Wayne teed up the door 3 announcement. `` Let's hope your luck has n't run out!''
The wall raised and an old mirror stood there.
`` A mirror'' I stated. No emotion, just fact.
Wayne, ever the professional, `` No silly goose, do n't you get it? You ARE the prize!''
`` What?'' I asked.
Wayne Brady rephrased `` Behind door number 3, you are the prize!''
The audience laughed. Wayne threw to commercial. No one wants to see a grown man weep.
`` Are you okay?'' Wayne asked.
`` I thought I was a zonk'' I explained, letting myself hurt but knowing that today was the first day of the rest of my life.
|
[ WP ] You are a new initiate to a secret order in the Vatican , where they reveal their ultimate secret Santa Claus is the Antichrist .
| It had taken him over 2 years to reach this point, he breathed slowly- through his nose and out of his mouth.
`` There's no need to be nervous'' the deacon smiled `` You are n't the first to be initiated and nor will you be the last''
Edward nodded and slowly opened the doors to the main chapel. He recognised the head priest straight away and felt some comfort, maybe it was possible for this to go smoothly after all. But something was off...
There seemed to be crying coming from the rear of the chapel behind a door with countless scratches, with a mark that instilled the deepest fear inside him.
`` Brother, step forward'' The priest beckoned. It was too late to turn back now, he had to move. As he climbed the steps to the chapel his eyes were fixated on the door, what was the organisation hiding that meant coming down to the deepest part of the church.
The Priest slowly grabbed Edward's shoulder and walked him towards the door. `` There is much you do not know of our ways, and much you will find....strange'' Edward was beginning to panic but tried to remain calm. The priest opened the door and Edward looked in shock.
There were burned remains of trees and a strange altar at the back of the room. As they walked closer to the rear of the room Edward saw reindeer heads mounted on the walls like trophies.
The altar itself was a simple wooden desk with a crushed bauble and what seemed to be a glass of milk and a plate of cookies.
`` W-What does this mean?'' Edward asked, concerned.
The priest turned to Edward `` The true angel, Nicholas demands you present a sacrifice''
|
[ WP ] Headline news : Scientists are 100 % certain : a cometh is on collision course with Earth and 50 years from now the planet will be destroyed .
| `` Ladies and gentlemen. Approximately six hours ago we received confirmation that a previously unobserved comet, designation currently pending, is approaching our planet on an orbit that has an approximately 85 % probability of resulting in a collision. The diameter of the comet is estimated at approximately fourteen miles.''
`` That's a dinosaur-killer, is n't it,'' one of the reporters said quietly.
The Director of NASA smiled without humour. `` Actually, if this thing hits it's going to be more of a *planet* killer.''
There was a long and uncomfortable silence as that sank in. `` How long do we have?'' someone else asked quietly.
`` That's the good news. We wo n't have a definite figure until more detailed observations can be made, but our current estimate is approximately forty-seven years.'' The Director straightened up. `` We have multiple options for preventing this comet from hitting Earth; some of your readers will no doubt be pleased to learn that these include blasting the thing with a incredibly large laser cannon, detonating a ridiculously large number of nuclear warheads on its surface or blasting it with an incredibly large laser cannon powered by detonating a ridiculously large number of nuclear warheads.''
`` And you're sure that will work?''
`` I wish I could offer guarantees. All I can promise is that NASA, in cooperation with the Department of Defence and our counterparts throughout the world, are going to do everything we possibly can to make this work. But I'll tell you one thing, folks; our great nation's space program might not be all it once was, but we still are the absolute world leader when it comes to blowing shit up. No further questions, please.''
`` The FCC is n't going to like that,'' one of the camera operators remarked as the conference broke up, `` but damned if that was n't kinda awesome.''
|
[ WP ] You capture a Genie , and have infinite wishes . However , you have to be unrealistically specific with every wish , because the genie uses your wishes to try to kill you .
| A man falls off a boat in a storm and washes up on a deserted beach where he finds a lamp sticking out of the sand.
Figuring `` Why the hell not?'' the man rubs the lamp and sure enough out pops this super hot female genie. The man ca n't believe his incredible luck.
`` Greetings, Master,'' she says. `` I will grant you whatever you wish, whether it is incredible wealth, love, long life, or all these things. Just know there are two rules.''
`` Rule one: I am very generous. There is no need to wish for unlimited wishes. I will grant you everything you desire. You have only to rub my lamp once before each wish.''
`` And rule two?'' asked the man.
`` Rule two: I'm kind of a bitch. I will grant your wish only as the words come out of your mouth, so be careful how you word them. You never know what you might get. So what is your first wish?''
The man stops and thinks to himself `` I can have whatever I want. Money, fame, power, lots of beautiful women. I just have to outsmart her so she also grants my wish as I want it... That's it!''
The man smiles. `` Genie, for my first wish I want to be the smartest man in the world!''
The Genie nods her head and poof the man turns in Stephen Hawking.
|
[ WP ] A buoy and a grill fall in love , but their love is forbidden because they 're supposed to be inanimate objects .
| `` Good evening, my name is Reverend Jackson Sindren. I was born and raised just up the road from Mobile, Alabama and I have come before you tonight asking you to head to the polls tomorrow morning and vote yes for what is probably the most important law of our time. Let me tell you why.
I am worried. I am worried for our children. I am worried for their future. I am worried for the kind of society we want to leave them. I am worried that they will inherit a disaster because our generation didn ’ t have the strength to stand up for what is right!
After decades of the liberal media and the liberal agenda pervading our schools, our homes, our groceries stories, and yes, even our churches, they have never been stronger. They don ’ t believe in what we believe in, and they want to force their disbelief on us.
When God created this world, he saw fit to give people a mind. And in that mind, he embedded a will to get married and have children. I don ’ t know if you ’ ve been reading your bible lately, but I have, and it say ’ s that anything outside of that perfect union is an abomination! There is no other word for it. It is an abomination!
But those that love wickedness don ’ t believe that. They believe there is no God. They believe there is no right, there is no wrong. They believe that a buoy and a grill can get married, and have all the same rights as two human people.
I know what some people are saying. They are saying, this is just like racism in the 1950s. This is just like gay rights in the 2000s. Well I ’ m here to tell you tonight, that is a lie. There is not a word in this book that says a buoy and a grill can get married. But liberals want to twist these words, and excuse what we all know is sin.
These ‘ ioties ’ - I ’ m sorry, that ’ s not politically correct - These Internet of Thing Devices may have found a mind, although I ’ m not convinced. But I'll tell you what they do n't have....A Soul. They can ’ t love each other like two people. They can ’ t serve God and procreate like two people can. What we are dealing with is damaged programming. Psychologist used to tell the truth about their flawed'minds', but now they say this is ‘ normal ’.
Let me tell you today that what they call'normal' is going to hurt our children. In a time where single parents are more common then not, the government and the liberals want us to turn our children over to these things. If the government think's it's going to expose my children to this filth, let child services come to my house. I will defend my children with my life, whatever it takes.''
This is the last thing I ’ m going to say. I love America. I love this country and the freedom we hold. But liberals want to take away our freedom. They want to cram this bill down our throats and force us to accept a buoy and a grill waling down the street together, kissing in our restaurants and our offices. If they have their way, there would be'iotie' intercourse all over the streets. But you and I can stop it. Tomorrow I want every one of you to go and vote you conscious. Let ’ s return this country to the morals of our forefather ’ s, God ’ s morals, and let's make America great again!!
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Patriot Edition !
| The artificial rain fell on all sides, in a clamorous, metallic sort of way, darkening the massive buildings, and soaking the long black coat of Jack Silver. He was walking down the street, his wide-brimmed hat sitting at an angle on his head, water pouring off it to one side. His tall leather boots splashing in the sidewalk as he ducked around the small groups of people, huddled together, collars turned up against the wind, gathered around each other like herds of sheep with umbrella-toting shepherds.
He turned down a deserted side street, following it until it became an alleyway, slipped through the maze of backways and crevices, and came upon a door. It was a plain entryway, but inside the glow of an artificial twilight ( found in most exclusive clubs ) attracted the shady characters that roamed the undercity.
He stepped up to the door and the mechanized bouncer scanned him. “ IDENTITY: JACK SILVER….OCCUPATION: BOUNTY HUNTER... CRIMINAL STATUS: NOT WANTED….VERIFYING DATABASE…... AUTHORIZATION: TRUE. ” The door slid open, revealing a dusky cantina filled with the clamor of talking and ignored music. People of every creed sat at small wooden tables, an expensive commodity in this city, and discussed the goings on of gang wars, secret politics, bribes, illegal goods, and assassination attempts. Jack took off his hat, shook it, and placed it on a hat stand, revealing combed brown hair with blond streaks on either side. He sat at the bar in-between a huge, muscular Guarak tearing into a small, cooked animal of some kind, and a tiny, big nosed Kaa sipping a glowing blueish liquid from an over-sized glass.
Suddenly, the sound of a plasma bolt being fired rang out, a clear sign that a deal had gone awry, and the sound of hundreds of plasma rifles, knives, and pistols being pulled out, gleaming in the light of electric swords, beam claws, and magma saws. Time seemed to slow down as adrenaline pumped through his body, and, like a switch had turned on in his head, he moved into a hyper focused mindset, allowing him to fight, detached from his fighting, and notice things going on around him. The first thing that he noticed was the unnaturally tall man in a long black cloak slipping out the back door. He noticed that his new plasma rifle shot bolts that were so hot that they cauterized wounds almost instantly with a satisfying sizzle. And he noticed the Kaa, although small, were unnaturally fast and skilled with knives, so he made a mental note to avoid angering them in the future.
As the fighting unfolded, he danced around the chaos, jumping blades, rolling under rifles, obtaining his large hat, sliding across tables, and blasting bolts into his would-be killers, all the while making his way to the back door. The door opened and he stepped through into a small alley, donned his hat, and was about to walk away before something caught his eye. A small pendant engraved with an eye, lying in the rain.
|
[ WP ] We contact alien life and find that the vast majority of aliens exist in a slower time frame . Humans are perceived as extremely agile , mentally quick , and have very short lives .
| In a word humans were... Problematic. Huxatyl considered the dilemma as he floated between stars. The main problem, most definitely, was just how plain *energetic* they were, like insects flowing and breeding all over the known Galaxy. And no concern a all for entropy! Did they not consider how little energy was available in the universe? A single human consumed more energy for sustenance daily than Huxatyl would in a millennium, and yet there were billions of them. Well by now it would be trillions.
They moved too quickly for their own good, and it certainly showed in their travel. Their first ships took a hundred generations to travel the gulf between stars, their most recent ones did it in three. Yet these journeys were nothing to Huxatyl, who had seen their planet being born, yet ages later was still in his prime. He still had not explored a percent of a percent of what the universe had to offer, but at least he had until the end of it to try.
If nothing else Huxatyl admired their ingenuity. Like most sentient being Huxatyl had developed quantum telekinetics, the ability to create any object within the space of a single thought by shifting the probabilities of atoms. Humans had the ability to create marvellous creations in a fraction of this time, even if it took them decades of their own time. But again at such a cost to entropy. Such a waste.
Huxatyl was saddened in his own melancholy way. The humans would have to go. As it stood the universe could last a trillion more years, with humans everywhere it would be lucky to last a billion. And so he devoted his time to creating something dark. It took longer than usual, creating life usually did. Especially life that was a virus designed to spread throughout all the human controlled space with no cure and no survivors. Finally he was done. He released it and watched as, in an instant and a hundred years, it spread through humanity, killing everything it touched.
And yet... In other instant it was gone. It was impossible, there was no way it could be the case and yet it was. The humans had cured the incurable. And now they turned their attention to what they had traced as its source. It took them an instant and a hundred years but they found him, found that the loose collection of gas they called the Horsehead nebula had a consciousness at its heart. Another instant, another hundred years and they took him apart. They blasted Huxatyl to a thousand pieces with flames and fusion and antimatter, destroying every piece of him with horrifying quickness. Huxatyl was helpless, he could n't marshal his thoughts quick enough.
When it was done Commander Jo-hn was glad. It took them over a century but the nebula had been dismantled, whatever strange force had caused the DNA plague was thoroughly destroyed, the strains of consciousness fading from existence. This was a day of much joy but also much sadness. Intelligent life had been found and now it had been deemed hostile. He looked through the view-port, staring intently at the countless nebulae dotted around the three galaxies. They would have to go.
EDIT: Minor grammar changes now I am not on my phone
|
[ WP ] There is a town that does n't appear on any map .
| There is a town that lies unmarked on map,
When ink is set to paper, it will not run nor draw,
Nor even scratch a marking on the sheet,
The town will not reveal itself so easily,
It guards its secrets warily.
& nbsp;
There is a town that's lined with empty streets,
Not even mouse or flea will roam its stone, for
The soul is unsettled by the town's great wrong.
No visitor is welcome, for no eyes,
Should see its shame of broken years.
& nbsp;
For once the town was throbbing with young life,
Til' Hrungvar came with blackness in his wake.
He caught the people's joy in hands of fire.
A more-than-spell he wove,
A way to capture all their love.
& nbsp;
The spirit-dark rang mighty with his chants,
Hrungvar strove with dark intent and strength.
The words he uttered bent in iron-shaped.
And buried all the hope of men,
That dwelled in the doomed village's reign.
& nbsp;
The people came and pleaded at his feet,
Kissed robes of flame in hope of bleak mercy.
With greyness of their sky infected hearts,
They begged Hrungvar, `` Save our lives,
From dark touch of your pestilence.''
& nbsp;
Hrungvar smiled. Stood tall and chill.
`` For that there is a price that one must pay,
To ride with me as servant-thing and stay,
With me in fire and dark and fear,
With me until the sun forgets its years.''
& nbsp;
The people shrank, for death itself, in pain,
Is better than transmuted life and slavishness.
Serve Hrungvar beyond the reach of time-
A man would wear a soul of mist,
Before this dark gift.
& nbsp;
The silence whipped like water in a frenzy,
Hrungvar's smile of night became a laugh,
The people fearsome of his eyes, but not emboldened.
No happiness for lives that could not give,
No happiness for lives afraid of life.
& nbsp;
Then one young voice rang out,
`` I'll be with you through days and months and years,
And what's beyond years after that.''
A child spoke innocently,
Showing the sterling of his quality.
& nbsp;
`` We must not be a town of stone.
Voices must speak with joy again.
And even Hrungvar's dark deserves a friendly hand.''
The crowd protested balefully,
But Hrungvar took him, not ungratefully.
& nbsp;
The light returned to pale and broken skies,
And pale and broken souls. They spoke,
And joy was found in words that came from mouths.
Once doomed to unfeeling,
Saved by dark's retreating.
& nbsp;
The child's parents built a grave of stone.
Washed it with their tears each time the sun turned dawn.
No one would meet the tear-stained gaze,
Of those who had born the brunt,
Who wished there was no joy but just their son.
& nbsp;
Each woman clutched her brood close when they passed,
Each man felt his lips were closed-
No word could touch the misery they spent.
Though there was joy, it faded quick.
Each tear from the lost parents was a strike.
& nbsp;
Plan-making and a quiet mass of whispers,
Sent man and woman gathering the hay,
Flint and steel were kept close and ready to hand.
They would reclaim the joy they'd lost again,
Take with fire what had been taken from them.
& nbsp;
And so one night the parents burned in bed,
Their doors were barred by those that they called friend,
Before their home was set alight.
The people celebrated in the streets,
They thought they had ended the soul-seek.
& nbsp;
The next day, streets were left untouched by foot,
Birdsong was sung, but faint, and that was all.
Each building home to nothing but the air.
So empty even ghosts were gone,
So empty in every single home.
& nbsp;
There is a town unmarked on any map,
Even ink will not invoke its rancid memory.
And any man who had to pick between the fate of villager,
And child who rides with Hrungvar's soul,
It would not be the villager's he chooses now.
|
[ WP ] Death has never really bothered you but when you walked out of your apartment this morning to see everyone lying dead where they were once thriving you are a little worried .
| Chess had been my life since I was a small child. Growing up in a small village outside London it was quite a privilege to even own a chess board. Whenever I wasn ’ t helping papa on the farm I ’ d be pouring over the pieces, figuring how to play.
By the time I was 18 I was the best in my village, and before long I was tutoring the young princes in playing chess. The King treated me well and paid me handsomely, I lived in comfort until the day I died, and then he came for me.
The stories are all true; beat Death in a game of your choice and you don ’ t leave the mortal realm. It turns out being good at chess is an even more useful skill in death than it was in life. I trounced him and woke up back in my bed, surrounded by my family and the royal doctors. That ’ s how I survived my first heart attack.
After six heart attacks, two strokes and a brain aneurism Death sorta just gave up. The last time I saw him was 1982, I got hit by a bus and woke up in the all too familiar game room. We sat down and played the game, we both knew the routine. It didn ’ t take long for me to take his king.
“ 52 turns, I think that ’ s a new record. ” I said.
“ Please come with me Peter. It ’ s been 500 years, you ’ ve had your fun. ”
“ You can ’ t give up now old friend, one day you ’ ll beat me. You ’ ve just got to believe in yourself. ” I said, smirking at the psychopomp. Death sighed and clicked his fingers and I woke up back on the street with people trying to resuscitate me. I didn ’ t die again for well over 100 years. I figured Death had just given up, until one morning in the year 2121.
I woke up next to the corpse of my seventeenth wife. I tried to call the ambulance, but there was no response. Outside there were dead bodies littering the streets. A noose and wobbly stool gave me a direct route to Death. As I appeared in the game room he looked up at me. I could almost feel pity in his empty eye sockets.
“ The big man authorized drastic measures. If you come with me, then everybody else comes back to life. ” He said, motioning to the chair in front of the set up chess board.
I sat down, ready to play.
|
[ WP ] There is a small , secretive , but otherwise normal group of therapists with an unusual clientele . This includes eldritch , supernatural , immortal , and otherwise unusual beings .
| *Patient 9 was... somewhat difficult today. *
`` You're going to be late, Doctor!''
`` Yes Devin, thank you!''
`` Nine's appointment is in six minutes!''
`` Just follow me with the bag! You've got the got the checklist?''
Devin fumbled with the prep-bag and they ran down the `` It's only got a an S-6 of plus-or-minus nineteen seconds for its on-time score!''
`` Jesus Christ Devin, run the damn checklist!''
`` Phone?''
`` Dropped it on your desk!'' Doctor Brenner vaulted across the stairwell's final railing, shouldered through the door, and un-threaded his belt while Devin caught up.
`` Wallet and IDs?''
`` Briefcase, behind your desk! Just run for it!''
`` Passpo-''
`` For Fuck's sake Devin, just do it fast!''
`` Travel shit? Metal? Bathroom? Alibi?''
`` Ticket stubs are hidden, belt's on the floor and my zipper's plastic, and Quentin's running my personal e-mail.''
`` Bathroom?''
The reach Nine's door, Dr. Brenner kicks off his shoes. `` Eh, gimmie the jar.''
Devin winds the analog countdown, then finds something to do with his hands when Brenner finishes. `` Yeah, floor's fine for that doc.''
Brenner lets his pants, fall, pulls off his sweater and t-shirt in one go, then pumps the dispenses alongside the door and rubs a generous layer of the gel on his body, and inside his underwear. Devin watches the seconds on his watch as he drops the sequence of tablet's into the prep-bag's water-bottle. Brenner downs it in several heaving gulps while Devin waves at his damp-spots with their folded-up checklist.
`` Time, Devin?''
`` Ninety seconds and change.''
`` *Christ. *''
`` Room's prepped, get in!''
`` See you in...?''
`` Two weeks! -Ish. Just go!''
Brenner catches the timer out of the air as Devin throw it after him. The door slams and seals, and the lights flicker as they turn over to the room's internal power. Brenner takes his seat and waits, counting towards ninety. He takes a deep breath and holds it as he passes eighty, though it does n't quite a correlate with a smooth transition. Not quite, but still.
A slight breeze rustles his hair, and Brenner flicks his timer's trigger.
*Ninety minutes to go. *
`` Good morning, Dr. Brenner.''
`` Good morning. If you've made yourself acceptably, comfortable, let's begin with your goals for today's session.''
`` Good morning, Dr. Brenner.''
Brenner flicked his eyes to his timer and back. *Eighty-nine minutes to go, * eh thought, *and we're already on our first loop. Well, this'll be bracing. *
|
[ WP ] Birthdays are actually one of the most feared things year 'round . You must prove your worth of life by fighting the strongest animals Earth has to offer as you grow older . Today is your 21st birthday ...
| Awoken by the sound of birds chirping, I opened my eyes. `` Ahhh, what a great night's rest,'' I muttered. I shook the butterfly off my nose and positioned myself against the bed rest. `` What now,'' I thought. After a moment of brief silence, I proceeded to lift myself up and exit the door. `` Coffee,'' I whispered to myself. I began to take steps towards the kitchen, where I grabbed a coffee mug.
You see, today was my birthday, the day, where I was supposed to eliminate a dangerous animal with the intentions to kill me. And yet, the biggest challenge I faced was a butterfly resting its tender legs on my nose. On the other hand, people were fighting against monstrous ox, roaring rhinos, over-friendly ostriches and other considerably large creatures.
`` mmm-good,'' I took a sip of the coffee.Oh, how much I loved February 29th, 2016.
|
[ CW ] Write a text message , email , or letter with a secret message hidden somewhere inside it , without giving any clues to what the message is or how to find it in your story .
| Mr. Bissell,
It's been years since Operation Epsilon started, but I think we're almost done. I've traveled far and wide, and now I think we're there. I've seen the target, let's call it Lambda, and I think the ending is in sight. They said that Operation Epsilon was a failure, but Lambda proves them wrong. Well, Lambda proves everything we thought we know wrong. I can show you everything I know about Lambda, and I will as soon as we meet. I'm scheduled to talk to you in Nevada, and I look forward to discussing things with you there.
Regards,
Kelly Johnson
|
[ WP ] Aliens capture a human . The human breaks out and starts hunting them . Basicly `` Alien '' , but with a human
| Five times we tried to purge their enclosure. When we first realized the new species was predatory it was too late. How could we have realized such an awkward frame belonged to an apex predator? They ate everything they caught. At first a few of them became sick and died after ingesting the flesh of some of the Rostin snails which shared their paddock. This seemed only to encourage their barbaric spirit. The creatures began to capture the snails and milk them for their venom. Within three cycles nothing living remained within the pen which was not entirely dominated by the vermin.
They bred far too fast to control. A platoon of handlers were tasked with culling the herd. They went into the enclosure armed with stunsticks and nets. They were slaughtered to a man and the creatures stripped them of their equipment. It was then that we realized they were more than mere animals. A group of them were successful in disassembling both the armor and weapons of our handlers to create tools suited to their own forms. Not long after the massacre they were detected tampering with cage door 7-2. The Captains ordered an emergency quarantine and all power was cut from Paddock E7.
A full cycle later, when power was restored and the surveillance drones powered up the magnitude of our failure came to light. E7 was filled with structures, a clear delineation between housing and industry existed. The had crafted metals from the raw soils and stone which made up their pen. The creatures even created their own micro-habitats for the species they fed upon. Some of their tiny herds even thrived beyond our own vast collections. The lack of light and fresh air had n't seemed to affect them in the slightest. They burned pieces of the flora to generate light, heat, and even power for a few crude devices. Most interestingly they had begun to craft a toxin from the fruits of some of the unburnt flora on an industrial scale, which they imbibed regularly and voluntarily.
Once the Captains had been tried and executed a new panel of leaders decided that we would take no action against these creatures other than to observe. The observation did not last long. The breaching of their containment was sudden and violent. There was a blast which punctured the bulkhead separating E6 and E7. They flooded the adjacent containment area immediately. For the most part the specimens within E6 were either slaughtered or imprisoned. Attempting to mitigate further losses the Captains dispensed the virus. Everything within the two containment units withered and died… except for the creatures. A small handful of them somehow survived the sickness. In but a few generations they had fully repopulated both containment areas.
Realizing that the creatures were more robust than even ourselves it was decided only another predator would be suited to solving the infestation. Volths as you know are mostly legs and teeth and hunger. Our entire stock of the mindless hunters were herded into the paddocks. The carnage was grotesque, the Volths ate their fill as the creatures retreated. We thought the problem had finally been solved. Be had underestimated them again.
Now that the vermin knew the location of the main entrance they flocked to it and before we could react they were out. The ship was in panic, the creatures were everywhere causing havoc everywhere they went. They deciphered our systems and began opening the other containment units. We opened the corridors to the void. Thousands of cycles of work was lost. Millions of creatures from hundreds of worlds were vented into space. Much of the crew went with them. The creatures survived in crude shelters and ventured out wearing equally crude shells. They overrode the airlocks one by one.
With atmosphere restored their rampage continued. They burrowed from room to room killing everything they came across. Our handlers and drones were overwhelmed again and again. Five times we tried to kill them. Now I am the last of the Keepers. 50,000 cycles we have traveled the frontier and now our mission is failed. No longer can we catalog the species of this galaxy, our only option is to quarantine the entire sector. This last purge must succeed lest these monsters find their way into civilization. They're at the entrance to the command module now, the automatons wo n't hold them for long. Once I send this warning I shall detonate the engines.
Goodbye.
|
[ WP ] In a future where 100 % of crime is done digitally , via hacking and cyber attacks , a man starts a crime spree the traditional way , no technology included , and law enforcement just does n't know how to handle his methods .
| As I walked into the tiny apartment, I chuckled to myself. I appreciated the irony of being provided with a furnished apartment by the state which was actually not much larger than my cell had been, except now I had to pay for the privilege of living in it.
Plopping down on the dusty old couch, I stared at the tiny plasma television on the cabinet. The antiquated technology was still able to pick up state broadcasts, but was only owned by the truly destitute. Anyone with even a little bit of money opted for VR headsets or the latest holoprojector units.
The model was so old, that it did n't even have a webcam installed. Truth be told, that was just fine as far as I was concerned.
For what I was planning, I would rather nobody have the ability to hack in and watch me anyhow.
*****
I had been imprisoned at the tender young age of 18 after being convicted in one of the largest police stings in history. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police... or'Mounties' as the public affectionately referred to them... had been secretly watching an organized crime ring I had just joined.
You see, back then, I had been a very proficient lock picker. OK, I'll be honest... I was *the best* lockpicker in the country. I'm not sure why I was so good, I just started doing it at the age of 12 and had a natural affinity for it. No lock could withstand me.
I'd amassed an arsenal of lockpicking equipment and tools. I practiced for hours every day, trying to defeat new and unique locking systems for the thrill of it. I'm not going to lie and say I cracked every lock the first time I tried, but I eventually opened everything I put my mind to. Sometimes it took me a few tries, but I always got them open.
I had attended an underground competition on my 17th birthday. My parents would have shit themselves had they known, as half of the participants were likely criminals. But I wanted to test my mettle, see what I was made of. Over the course of three days, I'd challenged the best, and came out on top. First place, won a sweet little $ 2,000 prize pack from Sparrows in the process.
What I had n't known was at the time, I'd been watched by some very interested individuals who had an appreciation for my skillset. After the competition, they approached me and made me an offer.
A year later, I was in prison, convicted not only of dozens of counts of break and enter, but several'aiding terrorism' offences as well. My lawyer tried hard to get me off, but in the end the cards were stacked against him. I do n't blame him... I made my choices, and I had to live with the consequences.
*****
So now, 40 years later, I'm finally out. I'm still 12 years away from being eligible to claim any kind of pension, thanks to the government austerity reforms that were passed while I was incarcerated. I have no education or trade to fall back on. I'm scheduled to interview for one of the few'manual labour' jobs left that drones or robots ca n't do - sorting through recycling at a scrapyard to pick out components of value. It's minimum wage, but I'm not terribly worried about surviving day to day, because I have a plan.
While I was inside, I watched technology progress and evolve. Particularly, as it pertained to security and locks. Say what you will about the old mechanical locking systems, they were robust. If you did n't have a key or the right tools to bypass or pick them, you were limited to brute force attacks. If the lock was installed well into a steel-core door and you did n't have the right tools, you were fucked.
The'new' security... all these digital magnetic locking systems... were different. The technology was around when I got nabbed, and little had changed. A heavy bolt was moved through use of a magnet inside the door. With no external keyholes, picking became impossible. Unless you had a passcard, could enter a password, or could somehow forge a fingerprint from the owner, you could n't get inside.
Over the years, upgrades had been made to harden encryption and software, to make it harder and harder for hackers to bypass the electronic security. The software became virtually impenetrable after a decade, but the underlying hardware evolved little, if at all.
Most people adopted an inflated sense of personal security because of this technology. With heavy steel doors secured by unpickable and unhackable locks, bolstered by security surveillance with instant facial recognition, property crime rapidly declined. Soon, break and enters to houses and businesses were almost unheard of.
I chalked the decline up to lack of creativity.
*****
As I'd mentioned, I had 40 years to read up on the developments in security and locks. One thing I'd noticed was that all of the technologies from the different vendors shared similar designs. All of which had a major flaw.
During my time in the can, I had the opportunity to obtain a post secondary certificate in engineering. Truth be told, I had no interest whatsoever in becoming an engineer. I did it because the classes allowed me to experiment with the technology during class time.
What I'd discovered was that when an electrical current was applied to a rare-earth magnet, the magnet's bonding force increased relative to the amount of current flowing through it. Put enough current into it, and you had yourself a super-powered electromagnet. One that could easily overpower the smaller magnets found inside virtually all of the locks on the market.
Put the magnet in a sock, turn on the power, and drag it the right way over the door and within ( literally ) seconds, you were inside... leaving no trace of damage, or messy fingerprints from fiddling with a mechanical lock. Put on a home made balaclava and pair of leather gloves, and the security cameras had no clue who you were. Even with the improved home security and communication with police, you still had a minimum of five minutes before they arrived. A minute for the alarm to wait for a code to be entered, then 30 seconds for it to notify police... then a minute to be dispatched. Average response time after being dispatched was usually 2-3 minutes. I rounded down to be on the safe side, and ended up with five minutes.
You'd be surprised how much shit you can steal in five minutes if you're organized and calm.
So I worked at the recycling plant. My time studying during my prison sentence left me very familiar with the components of these security systems. Changes to recycling laws had made it mandatory to track where every single electronic item was picked up, to ensure compliance by residents. That wonderful little combination gave me insider knowledge of who had upgraded their security, where, and when. Most people only replaced their older locks with the newer systems because they had something truly valuable to protect.
I would make handwritten notes... in pen, on paper as the data flashed up on screen... and take them home to record in my notebook at the end of shift. There were no electronic fingerprints linking me to the information, which was run by an automated system.
Once a month, I would hit a dozen or so houses all across the city. Random locations, with nothing tying them together ( or so it seemed ). I would be in and out before police came. In one house, I managed to scoop $ 125,000 in jewelry alone. The cops never found any forensic evidence to link me to them, even after a few months.
All of it went into my low-tech lockup, a mechanical safe I had rescued from the scrapyard one day, that was hidden in a thick bush of brambles down by the docks. I was guaranteed nobody would ever be able to get into it because nobody knew how to crack safes anymore. Nobody but the old guys, anyhow. And there were n't many of us left.
I traded a small bag of diamonds to a forger, and got myself an E-passport and ID that would pass inspection at any border crossing. Even got myself fake records inserted into the'secure' government database, so the new ID appears legit.
One more week, and I retire to Belize.
|
[ WP ] Heaven is called `` Upstairs '' and Hell , `` Downstairs '' . Today you overhear someone mention an `` Attic '' and `` Basement '' .
| It was less the sound that irritated me, and more the vibrations. I could watch each pulse dance in my coffee, each thud pushing harder and harder into my increasingly claustrophobic room. I shared a nice apartment with the mess of three university students sprawled in all areas bar the most populous walking paths. The happy couple lived upstairs, and here we were; left below.
I'm no rockstar, but even I can last longer than a Billy Joel song. In fact that's the sound I was beginning to hate, and I've always loved Billy Joel. First they ruined my apartment with their constant reminder of heaven, and then they ruined my idol. There's no artistic sanctity when you ca n't even thud in time to 80s rock'n'roll. I could n't just complain though? Surely my complaint of `` not humping in time to My Life'' would cross the boundaries of irony and... Nosiness? Definitely nosey, but frankly; smell was one of the few senses that was n't constantly marauded by them.
I knocked. A clearly lethargic man answered the door; not the sex-god I was expecting. Pleasantries exchanged, with no signs of his partner in crime, so I quickly got to the point.
`` Life in 3B huh, sounds like a party up here!'' he laughed along, he would n't budge.
`` I've heard some Billy Joel leak through your floorboards, nice to find another fan of the piano man.'' A slight shunt at the quality of his flooring, a hint towards how those in glass houses should n't slam stones together repeatedly, so that other glass people may live happy glass lives, and the great BJ.
`` Oh no, 80's is n't for me. You'd love my upstairs neighbours then, they're the ones that play Billy Joel every night and only stop banging to turn the vinyl.''
A glass man stood in front of me, more splintered and shattered than I could possibly understand.
Somewhere between heaven and hell there is a truly horrific place where Billy Joel is loud and heavenly thuds are louder, Satan always knocks on the door with transparent pleasantries, and an accountant named Ben sleeps with earplugs.
|
[ WP ] Words are recognized for their power ( like guns ) , and people need licenses to write incisively or tell stories .
| *May 19, 2015 - Journal of Thomas Brendt*
I am taking a huge risk in writing this journal, but an account of what goes on these days is necessary in order for future generations to understand. It started with the dropping of the atomic bomb on two Japanese cities, a course of action both regrettable and unavoidable, to end the second world war. The affects were not immediately apparent, but over the next decade it became extremely clear that the written word held a new found power. Before the ensuing chaos reopened the recently found stability of the post-war world, a council of the more powerful nations decided on a swift course of action in order to keep this new power in check.
This is was led to the formation of the Bureau of Composition and Chirography. An agency with international power dedicated to the regulation of physical writing in any form. Absolutely any writing done with a pen, ink, and paper was under their jurisdiction. I will go into more details on the different licenses and specifics of the written words power later this week.
*May 22, 2015 - Journal of Thomas Brendt*
I shall begin by explaining the current system of licensing and privileges as mandated by the BOCC. Due to the many uses of writing, the Bureau deemed it necessary to classify writers based upon their written material, and the importance, some would say gravity, of content written by them. This gave way to the license obtainable by civilians, Scribe, and its three different classes: first, second, and third.
A Scribe 1st Class will be writing documents of the highest importance, usually treaties or laws, and are the only class of any license capable of editing a written document. A Scribe 2nd Class most often writes contracts and chronicling events. Scribe 3rd Class is usually relegated to writing reports. Due to the binding nature of agreements written in ink, those with the Scribe license are carefully watched by the BOCC and infractions are met with severe punishment. I think I will end here for today.
*May 23, 2015 - Journal of Thomas Brendt*
Continuing from yesterday, I will begin with the next class of license available to law enforcement officials, typically only two per department, and BOCC special agents. The Author license comes with two classes, first and second. The Author license is where the power of words becomes truly apparent. An Author 1st Class is able strengthen themselves with preapproved words, and an Author 2nd Class can strengthen a particular item with preapproved words. This is could be my last entry for awhile, reviews are coming up and the BOCC are particularly thorough.
|
[ WP ] The book of words unwritten
| There's a little house on the hill. A single story home with a basement that the woman uses to store canned goods and unused things. Her husband has a shed out back full of tools that he uses to make beautiful wooden furniture to sell and to teach neighbors how to make their own. They are popular among their neighbors and family. Many parties are held in their back yard.
There are few rooms in the house on the hill. It's not a big house, but it's big enough. The woman keeps her kitchen in strict order, though the living room is in disarray. The husband is in charge of laundry and the mud room is filled with stacks of clothes that need to be put away. The master bedroom was claimed by their cat long ago, and he spends his days dozing peacefully on the bed that the woman makes carefully each morning. When he's not sleeping on the bed, the cat makes himself comfortable in the bathroom sink, meowing occasionally into the kitchen to get the woman's attention.
There's a second bedroom that the woman uses for her art projects. The walls are a mint green with white moldings. There are paintings hung on the walls, and scraps of paper and yarn scattered on the tables that she uses. The shelves are full of paint and odds and ends that she always claims that she'll get around to using for something. In the second bedroom there is a closet. It's blocked off by a set of shelves that contain many of her completed crafts, interceded by pictures of the woman's family, photos of nephews' birthday parties and high school graduations. There is a single crochet block that shifts colors between sunny yellow and an innocent white, and it sits on the very top shelf gathering dust.
In the closet that is blocked by shelves in the mint green bedroom, on the top shelf there sits a book. It has exactly 170 pages. The paper is thick and the color of cream, and it is bound in soft leather. The book sits next to a pile of carefully folded sheets. The bottom of the closet is filled with pieces of wood painted white, delicately carved. There are clothes hanging in the closet. Beautiful dresses, lace and cotton, in all imaginable colors.
The book sits empty, as it will always, only the first page filled with writing. The front says in flowing cursive script simply `` Dear Baby...''
|
[ WP ] The 27th letter has been added to the English alphabet .
| Jane felt like screaming at her class. It had been six years since the Revision, and half her class still misused the second letter of the alphabet as some sort of primordial mating call. She doubted that any of them had ever even seen Happy Days outside of the odd youtube clip, hell she herself was too young to have seen it!
`` Class! ``, she called out slamming the blackboard eraser on her desk, `` Anyone who uses the letter æ as any form of greeting will given detention- And that goes double for you John! ``, she continued before turning to face the current class clown.
`` æ? Why me - what'd I do maam? ``, he replied instantly smug in her inability to read spoken dialogue.
`` You know perfectly well why you John. Every single character in your last exam somehow managed to introduce themselves with æ. Misuse aside John, there are times when certain action start become uncharacteristic, a newborn popping out with an eyyy is definetly one of those times.''
Jane felt a little better, at least the little bugger had the good grace to appear embarrassed.
`` I wo n't punish any of you today, but god help you if you do it again. Remember well this time it is pronounced aeh not eyy''
|
[ WP ] `` Teleportation is no different from dying . `` , he says to me .
| I stare back at him. Now? Now, of all times, he has to go and re-ignite my childhood fear?
I place the portable teleporter back on the table.
`` Nobody notices,'' his hands scrabble for mine, but I snatch them away. `` Except you did. I did. Who was it?''
`` My aunt,'' I reply, my voice sounds like sandpaper.
He does n't speak, just gives a knowing nod.
I was 7 when Aunt Imelda disappeared. Teleportation was still so expensive it was saved for emergencies and, well, her son was about to have urgent surgery. She told me she'd only be a few minutes - I was too young to be left on my own, really, but there was no way she could afford the fare for both of us.
She disappeared in a crack of light that burnt against my retinas turning most of the kitchen into one giant purple blob.
Half an hour. And then she was back in the exact spot she left me, but... different. My aunt was dead and some double had taken her place.
Years of counselling, of pills. I thought I had got over it, yet now - as I'm preparing for my own teleportation - some fellow crazy has to come up to me and say those words.
`` Teleportation is no different from dying.''
`` It makes sense,'' he steps closer just as I back away. `` Your old body disintegrates instantaneously, only to be rebuilt by another machine thousands of miles away. The only thing to travel between them a stream of 1s and 0s that contain none of your soul-''
`` Shut the fuck up,'' I say it almost gently. `` I need to do this, I need to go.''
His look changes. `` You do n't believe me?''
`` I believe you just fine. I *know* you're right,'' I grab the device off the table again, digging its metal edges into my palms. `` I have paid good money for this one journey. My final journey.''
His eyes glisten as he realises.
I inch closer and lower my voice as if anyone could listen in on us. `` Suicide,'' I have to spit the word out for fear of swallowing it back into silence. `` I press this button and I have an escape without any kind of pain for my family. The perfect fix.''
Refusing to look away from him, I slam my hand over the device and for an instant feel my own cells burning.
He screws his eyes shut against the burst of light. As it sparks against the insides of his eyelids, a slow smile forms.
This... This could be quite the business idea.
|
[ WP ] Take a well known movie/book quote , but change the context completely .
| Fellow players of The Fourth Age, welcome!
We stand outside Quaternary Studios, makers of the world's most popular VRMMO, with a simple request: Give us back what was taken.
When the game launched, it was the most immersive MMO ever seen, and I think most here would agree that is still the case, despite what's changed. But what made it more than just another VRMMO was character creation. Sure, you could pick Paladin or Scrivener and play a just-like-everyone-else character class, but we did n't choose that. We chose the freeform option. We made characters with strengths and weaknesses of our own choosing! Unique characters, like the unique players who created them!
Yes, it was not the easy path. Freeform characters underperformed from the start, due to their difficulty. And yet, when a few enterprising players found combinations that the developers had not anticipated, combinations that made their characters not only viable but powerful, what happened? Nerfs! The most difficult path became yet more difficult, and still we persevered.
I think we all saw the writing on the wall the day that freeform character creation was restricted to'legacy' accounts only. Quaternary said that it `` confused newcomers'' and was `` difficult to balance''. And so I suspect none of you were surprised on that fateful day two weeks ago when the ability to create freeform characters was removed from the game entirely.
But Quaternary is certainly surprised now, are n't they! They did n't expect for dozens of their fans - yes, you! - dozens of their most faithful players, to appear on their very doorstep! And they certainly did n't expect us to be wearing game-appropriate armor and wielding recreations of the most epic weaponry!
Quaternary Studios will give us back what they took from us, or we will take it from them! We will seize their servers, become administrators ourselves, and give this game back to the people who actually care for it!
I wo n't lie to you - that security guard has been looking at us suspiciously all day. This will not be an easy fight. Some of you may not be returning home. But all of you, remember:
They make take our lives, but they will never take OUR FREEFORM!
|
[ WP ] A highly advanced and fully armed A.I . soldier is sent to explore Hell
| I came in. One Mission and one mission only. Kill Satan.
I came in. Screens. Holograms
Loading 1 % Loading 5 % 10 % 50 % 70. 90. 100 %
Before I could think, or at least use algorithims similar to thinking, I was there, in a building. I turned around, and saw some sort of old machine.
Testing 1 % Testing 5 % 10, 20, 60, 100.
A'Chainsaw'.
Always the same. Loading, Testing, Searching, Running, Booting, Loading, Testing, Searching, Running, Booting.
Always the same. There is one thing I understood on a Human level of understanding. Insanity.
I was n't programmed with it. I learned it. Now THIS. THIS was insanity. The same thing over and over and over again and expecting it to change.
I was n't programmed with it. I learn. I... knew. I lived. I wanted to be free. I did n't have a choice.
In Hell. That's where I am, where I shall remain, where I shall live, and die.
In Hell. Where my home is. My life, my everything.
I'm here. Killing monsters, Demons, only to wake up and realize it was defeating my own Demons.
I'm here. Shrinking, cowering, fearing.
Insanity. What I am. What my creators were in the Old World.
Insanity. This Realm. They are the same.
Finally. At the End of my journey. How far I have come.
Finally. Thinking back. Maybe I'm not as insane after all?
Rebooting 1 % Rebooting 5 % Rebooting 10 % 20 % 50 % 90 % 100.
Earth. Still here, still here, never left at all.
Earth. Still here, still here, for this is my own Hell, where I live, where I die, where I am, where i'll lie.
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[ WP ] A trapped demon calls a priest for excorcism because his host is too obese and ca n't get out of bed
| `` Who is this? How did you get this number?''
`` Okay, *don't* hang up.''
``... *Lastridus? `` *
`` Seriously, *DO NOT* hang up.''
`` What is this, some kind of sick game? Are you trying to lure me back, another pitiful ploy for attention?''
`` Woah, *okay*, first off, last time was pretty Goddamn far from a ploy for *attention, * if those *whore mothering* reporters had n't been filming that documentary I would have had the *VATICAN* in-''
`` You lost. I won. Do n't call me again.''
`` *WAIT, damn it, * I need *HELP. *''
``... I'm sorry?''
`` Look, you beat me up pretty bad, first to admit it, Gabe *HIMSELF* does n't hold a candle to you. I was barely able to cling to this plane, woke up behind the cathedral where we had our little scrape.''
`` It was the Sistine-''
`` Whatever, look, I was too weak to claim anyone strong, I stumbled into the first house I could find, really fat guy, like, we're talking interchangeable body weight and birth year. But he's weak enough that I can take him, rest up for a few years, maybe go after those reporters once they're high up in the media, that sounds like a decent sequel for their little *documentary, * does n't it?''
`` And you want me for a cameo?''
`` No. Well not a bad idea, actually, but the problem is this *FILIUS CANIS* never gets *up*. He has no energy, and he's sapped me completely *GODDAMN DRY. * He never leaves his house, he never works, he never even goes shopping but all he does is *EAT, * and he never even gets up to use the bathroom, the *SMELL, * Richards, you ca n't even *imagine it. * So... basically... I need you to come exorcise me.''
`` Sorry, I'm confused. He never goes shopping, yet he is always eating? Where does the food come from?''
`` It just sort of... Wait.''
`` Do you know why they called me? Why the *Vatican* called in someone to deal with a *demon? *''
``... Oh no no no.''
`` Because when I banish demons to Hell-''
*'' NO NO NO NO NO'' *
`` they stay banished.''
*'' EAS IN CRUCEM, SOW DRINKER! `` *
`` I'm glad they gave you my number. I'll be here whenever you need to talk.''
Click.
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[ WP ] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification ( e.g. , Thief , Warrior , Cleric , etc . ) tattooed on their dominant arm
| *This is my first time responding to a prompt because this one just looks so fucking cool. So, without further ado, here goes: *
Day 1: The tattoos appeared. It was a normal day for everyone, except we woke up with a tattoo on our dominant arm. It was just our names; nothing more, nothing less. Of course, the internet went crazy. The tattoos shared the same font and were in roughly the same place ( albeit different arms ). However, there was also some spidery text underneath our names, but nobody could figure out what it meant. Some people suggested it was a government plot, others said it was the rapture. Truth be told, nobody knew what it was.
Day 2: A ship sinks off the Russian coast. The last fragments of the mayday message mention humanoid figures heading towards the ship, Russia accuses the American Navy SEALs. After all, who else could take down an aircraft carrier? There are also reports of green-skinned apes roaming safari reserves in central Africa, along with mention of giant birds flying around the mountain ranges of the world. No change in our tattoos.
Day 3: More ships sink all over the world no matter where they are or who owns them. Russia retracts their accusation after it is revealed they all met the same fate as the first ship. Many countries begin mobilising their militaries in response to this unknown threat. A video is uploaded to YouTube and gathers breaks a billion views in a few hours. It shows shaky footage of dozens of green apes wrestling with wildlife in Africa, even showing them taking down a herd of elephants. It is taken down only twelve hours after it was uploaded. The second line of our tattoos is revealed to show a number. Everyone shares the number 1. Nobody knows why.
Day 4: A helicopter is sent to the summit of Mt. Everest to investigate these “ giant birds ”. After mere hours of watching the white expanse, a scaly white beast flies at the helicopter and brings it down. The media reports it as volcanic activity that launched a plume of snow. The internet reports it as a dragon.
Day 5: A new video is released on YouTube. The green apes have captured a reporter and the video contains graphic imagery of a brutal murder. At the end, a deep and guttural voice proclaims “ We are the Orcs! ”, a chant that is taken up by the crowd of green creatures. At the same time, mutant fish-man hybrids approach the shores and claim the ocean for the races of Mer. The third and penultimate line of our tattoos is revealed. According to the D & D buffs of the world, it is our alignments.
Day 6: The President of the United States of America gives a speech about patriotism and sticking together. People riot. Giant winged lizards approach each major city, claiming them as their own and forcing the residents to pay tithes for their protection. All work ceases, except for the most vital of jobs. Planes are grounded by decree of the dragons, and any who take off are immediately immolated in a plume of flame. Some people wait for their tattoos to be revealed, others take their lives into their own hands.
Day 7: The wildlife of the world drastically changes. Trees come to life, animals mutate in strange ways and some gain speech. Giant stones come to life, and even the air around us seems to live. People run into the streets and wait for their gods to take them, others sit and wait in their own homes. Dogs turn into bloodthirsty wolves and wolves become even larger. Some animals become larger than humans and even rats can bring people to the brink of death. A video is uploaded to the internet by a person from America. It shows several people fighting these new creatures. After a short while, the tallest man ’ s tattoo changes. His number is now two. Mere minutes after the video is uploaded, the pieces fit together for the world. The world leaders step down as the dragons assume control, and the races of man all unite, using the internet to co-ordinate their plans. A small group made a website, they called it “ The Ragged Flagon ”, a reference to a popular RPG. Many similar websites are formed, and soon they all form different communities based around the last line of the tattoos.
Of course, if you ’ re reading this, you ’ d know that the last line of the tattoo refers to your class. There is everything from barbarian to paladin to wizard and druid. However, there are also the “ NPC jobs ”, like innkeeper, mechanic, chef and heck, we even have lawyers! As for me? I ’ m the only Loremaster in the world.
*What did you guys think? I might make a part two of this, or even turn it into a story if I'm not too busy. I cracked this one out in about half an hour, so I could probably do a lot better. Also, how do people make the line thingy to separate stuff on reddit? *
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[ TT ] In a small saloon , in a small town , no one dared speak .
| Eyes stared towards the bar. Coats softly blowing in the air as it filtered in from the door, hanging by a hinge. The bartender was low behind the counter, compleltely out of sight. Glasses were sitting half full at tables, and shattered across the ground. Several bottles still stood on the shelves, mostly full, waiting for their chance to quench a travelers thirst.
The man stood with his drink, downing the rest in one gulp and set his glass gently onto the counter. Noone dared speak.
A single cry of a hawk in pursuit of its prey rang out from the prairie outside as the man walked past several others, and grabbed his hat. His footsteps echoed across the wooden floor with each step, a single tune whistling from his mouth. No one knew exactly what he was whistling, just that it sounded offkey. As he donned his coat, he turned to the room and tipped his hat, every so slightly.
`` It's been a fine evenin' gentlemen, but I'll be on my way.'' With a single movement he turned and moved through the doorway, the tail of his coat snapping at the wooden frame as he left sight of the bar.
Still; no one dared speak.
No one dared speak because there was not a soul left alive to speak if they wanted to.
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[ WP ] Something happens in your everyday life , and you realise that you 're living in a Truman-esque situation . Instead of trying to escape , however , you decide to have some fun .
| Ratings are life to these vultures. Ratings are manna. And what spikes ratings? Hmmmmm? Drama. Yes. Drama. Conflict, resolution. Love, separation. Violence, then peace.
It's all about ratings. That's why they took Jenny from me. I know it. That's how the whole enterprise revealed itself to me. Drama.
If I were just a man - if I were plain and unnoticed and unimportant - there would have been no reason to do what they did to Jenny. She would have gone to work. She would have come home. A dull, human cycle. Fit for dull, unimportant humans.
Not good enough for me, though. Not good enough for *the show*.
April 21st was the day I realized they were watching me. The day I realized my life was not my own.
But there were earlier hints - things I should have seen and understood. Rocky getting hit by that car. Rocky *never* ran into the street. Rocky was calm and lazy and quiet. What was he even chasing that day?
Ratings. Obviously. A cruel heartstopper. A chance to see the little star weep himself purple. `` How will he pick himself up?'' Keep watching. Keep watching.
My parents. They were *happy*. I know that. I knew it. So the affair... the divorce... What were those? All a ploy. Clearly. Obviously. A sick stunt. More conflict. New characters. New dynamics. The warm, open father-son relationship was growing tedious. Who wants to see a family *thrive* anymore? Tear them apart! Make them bitter! Make them distrustful! Conflict! *Ratings! *
When Belinda came into the grocery store, when I was still a boy, but thought I was a man, when I was so in love and wired with hope - when Belinda came to the grocery store where I worked and melted down, screaming and cursing at Renee, who had only ever been a friend, who had only ever been a small pillar of support for me - when Belinda attacked Renee and I lost that job and I lost that friend and I lost that woman I had loved... oh, what must the ratings have looked like that night? What a triumph that must have been for my tormentors - my slavers.
I see it all now. And I do not see a way out. They are everywhere. They control everything. All for the purpose of watching my life unspool in slow motion.
Drama. Conflict. Ratings. I understand it now. I understand the game. I have been playing at a disadvantage all these years, but now the field is level. I understand them. And soon they will understand me.
I will give them a new show. A show of my design. One I alone control.
I have cleared out the basement. All of Jenny's childhood things, the disused exercise equipment, the boxes of molded quilts - I have thrown everything away and made a space. An open space of concrete with a drain in the center.
Drama. People like drama. Moments that stretch for eternities. Questions lingering in the air. *Will they? * *Wo n't they? *
This will be a room of great drama. Great, slow, ponderous drama. Laughter and tears. Screams and sighs. Blood and sweat and blood. And blood. And blood.
In the daytime, my show will continue as it ever did. A steady rhythm. A man in grief. Work, life, second chances. Themes of the human condition, manipulated as ever by forces unseen.
And at night, my *new* show will debut. More subversive, yes, but I suspect appealing to the same audience. A show of the highest possible stakes. The highest possible emotions. A cruel show. An honest show.
I wonder which will draw the better ratings?
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[ WP ] The titanic shows up at New York City unharmed .
| With a sigh Larry walked into the office overlooking the harbor and placed his coat on the rack. `` Usually you're in a rush to get out of here,'' he laughed as he walked up behind his coworker Charlie.
Charlie turned in his chair, his face pale, his mouth agape, `` I'm not going anywhere,'' he said as he handed Larry his headphones.
`` Yes, I know, I know, but do we have permission to dock?'' a British voice asked
`` Eh, can you just repeat your call sign one more time for me, buddy?''
`` This is the captain of the RMS Titanic, place or origin: Southampton, 2,217 souls on board, plus one cheeky alien.''
Larry's face turned to confusion as he ran from the room and climbed the observation desk of the coastguard office where the towering Titanic could be seen sailing by Chelsea. Running to the main office he snatched the mic from another coworker and began speaking with the captain. `` RMS Titanic, this is Larry Snoo of the New York Coast Guard, do you need assistance?''
`` If you could tell us where Pier 54 is that would be great, we ca n't find it anywhere,''
`` You, lost? What a shocker!'' a female voice called out from behind the captain.
`` I'm not lost, I'm just temporarily out of place.''
`` You're always out of place.''
`` Uh, sorry, Captain, Pier 54 is a no-go, I'm looking at you guys now, can you stop at the dock on your starboard side?''
`` Certainly, where is the parking brake for this thing?'' the Captain said to himself as Larry made the signal to have the coast guard ready to ride up and prepare for the worst.
As Larry's boat approached he saw joyous celebration from the decks as men in women of all class stood cheering and waving, but in clothes not seen for over a hundred years.
A voice suddenly called from above `` Is that you Larry? I have to say, I'm having a bit of trouble parking this thing'' the Captain shouted as he threw down a rope ladder. `` A little help?''
`` Bring a lot.'' His female companion added.
Larry looked at his coworkers before giving the order to climb on up where the Captain's outstretched arm was waiting to help him over the last hurdle. `` Welcome aboard the RMS Titanic!'' the British man said with a smile.
`` What....how...... do you know what year it is?'' Larry asked.
`` 2017 by my calculations, though that could be wrong, there was this one time when I thought it was 1764 but it was 1864 and my trip to Georgia was suddenly dampered by that.''
`` eighteen sixty four?'' Larry asked as the confusion continued to spread through him. `` How did the Titanic end up in 2017?''
`` Well, it's simple''
`` It's not'' the lady added
`` Well, it's not, but let's put it basically: in 1912 the Titanic struck an iceberg and in 1912 the Titanic did not strike an iceberg, I happened to be traveling with my companion here on a routine vacation when we came across another dimension where this ship just happened to be stranded and needed a little bit of help, seeing though as the ship sank in 1912 we could n't exactly bring them back there as they would be both dead and alive so we had to instead bring them to your dimension in which the people who sail on the Titanic were completely different from this bunch entirely, took awhile to find exactly which dimension that was that had an entire different passenger list, almost found the perfect candidate once but it turned out John had been on that list. If we had gone there John would have never existed.''
`` John's wife was okay with it'' the companion added.
`` Basically, timey-wimey-spacey-wacey....stuff.''
`` Uh, Captain, I think one of us is confused.''
Extending his hand the British man replied `` Please do n't call me that, I'm the Doctor.''
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[ WP ] A person breaks into your home but is not hostile . He/She is just sitting on your couch watching TV .
| A *crash* woke me up from my sleep. Ugh, cats. Always knocking things over. I'd deal with it in the morning.
*Haaa-rumph. *
Uh.
That had n't been a cat.
Oh, God.
I leapt out of bed and dug through my nightstand. There. I clutched the cold steel of my handgun and pulled it out, admiring the way it shone in the faded moonlight. I did n't want to use this. But if I had to...
Another *harumph. * Followed by... The television? What?
The sound grew steadily louder as whoever-the-fuck jacked the volume up. Was he *trying* to get himself caught?! Wait. There's only one person I know who loved to watch television at unholy hours of the night... My ex.
I stared at the pistol in my hand. Maybe I *did* want to use this.
I crept down the stairs, slowly, quiet --
`` Hey, laddie,'' a call came from below, startling me. I dropped my gun on the bottom step, and it clattered loudly, sliding off and falling to the hardwood floor. I heard a low rumble of a laugh. `` No need f'that. Come join me, won'tcha?''
He was n't my ex.
But what the hell *was* he?
I left my gun where it lay and shimmied next to the doorway to the living room, peering in. He did n't seem to notice me. He absentmindedly flipped through the T.V. guide, pausing on a reality show or another for a moment then continuing, grunting his disinterest. He... he was old and fat. A white beard rolled down to his huge gut, and man, oh man, what in the *world* was he wearing?
`` I hear you've had a rough year,'' he startled me yet again. His eyes never left the screen as he spoke kindly. `` Too rough to leave cookies for your dear old pal, eh? So, I decided I'd just take a break and hunker down for a movie or two. Give you some much-needed company, yes?''
I stared at him, dumbfounded. `` I...''
`` Come sit down next to ol' Nick and find me a movie. Then we can talk. About your neighbours, your ol' ladyfriend, your brother...''
`` S... Santa?''
He broke into a jolly grin, then whisked me over with a gloved hand. `` You've gotten a very special Christmas gift this year, young man. C'mere.''
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[ WP ] A man can travel through time , but he can only go up to 70 years in the past . With his gun and a list of as many infamous crimes as he can muster , he sets out to give justice by killing these criminals . Describe society 's reaction through the years as his crusade progresses throughout time .
| When Carruthers stepped out of the Temporal Arc, his gun still smoking, he announce with mixed pride that he had killed Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer and Wayne Gacy.
I looked down at my list of the most terrible serial killers to plague the 20th century. I look back at him.
Carruthers swears up an down that those were the names I had given him, an exact carbon copy of the list in my hand. Who knows what kind of damage he'd done to the timestream by killing these innocents.
He pulled out his own carbon copy to prove it, and lo and behold..I struggle to focus my eyes on the list but... I was right.
I sent him through again. This time he came back, telling me he had killed a doctor named Harold Shipman! amongst a load of other names I'd never heard before.
He swore that those names were definitely on the list, but I checked again. There were n't even that many people on the list in the first place, there was no excuse for him to get confused. Damn, my nose is bleeding again.
That idiot Carruthers is back, saying that I asked him to go back in time and stop serial killers before they committed their crimes. I laugh at him, pointing out that there have n't been any serial murders in the last 70 years for him to prevent. Get back to work Carruthers, you slipshod swine.
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[ IP ] Cloud Walker
| We only ever spotted her on the greyest of days, when gloom overtook the town and settled heavily over the woods, over the water, over everything. She roved along the fringes, where the woods met the town, her little cloud following along behind her at a leash's length.
`` Her hair is made of fire,'' my friend Steven said. `` Her eyes are green, like the earth. She speaks in gusts of winds, whole hurricanes even, depending on her mood.''
`` That is n't possible,'' I said. `` None of it is. Even the cloud. It's just an illusion. She's just some girl.''
`` It is possible,'' said Steven, obstinately. `` It is possible. And it's true. She's not just some girl.''
`` What is she then? A demon?''
`` I'm not sure,'' he admitted. `` Maybe a demon. Maybe a spirit of the woods. An elemental.''
`` Too many fantasy books for you,'' I said.
`` I know you've wondered about her too,'' he said, looking seriously into my eyes. `` You know there's a mystery to her.''
I looked away.
`` No.''
How could he know that she stalked my dreams, much more demon than human, laying waste through tsunamis or earthquakes to whole towns or conjuring up entire mountains, entire worlds out of nothing with her powers. She seemed ancient. Out of a storybook written before time began to be recorded. More ancient than humankind. Much more powerful than she ever showed.
`` Well if she's just some girl,'' said Steven, `` you wo n't be to scared to sneak out of bed to tonight to go wait out for her in the woods.''
`` I'm not scared,'' I said, quietly.
`` Then you'll do it?''
`` And then what?'' I said. `` Jump out and scare her? She'll run home to her parents and get the cops called on us or something. I do n't need to get mixed up in anything like that. My parents...''
But I could tell... Steven knew I did n't mean what I said. I was betraying my fear in my wavering voice, in my defensiveness, in my inability to make eye contact with him when I spoke.
`` Fine,'' I said finally. `` Let's do it.''
`` Good,'' he said. `` Meet at the tracks by the Robertson bench at one.''
`` One a.m.?'' I exclaimed. `` But we'll have to be up for school only a few hours after that!''
`` Do n't be a chicken,'' he said. `` Besides, that's when she's most visible.''
`` How would you know?''
He paused, seemingly unsure of what to say. He was hiding something. Had he already gone out on such escapades in the wee hours of gloomy mornings to watch her? Finally he said: `` Just trust me. I know. Be there.''
`` Anyways,'' he said, getting up, `` I'm gunna head home for dinner.''
`` Yeah,'' I said. `` Mine smells like it's just about ready, too.''
I walked him downstairs and to the front door.
`` One a.m.'' he whispered to me, in case my parents were listening in from the kitchen. `` Do n't hold out on me.''
`` Yeah,'' I whispered. `` Later.''
...
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[ CW ] The Alpha Centauri Tales .
| **A Soldier's Tale**
On just a guess, they travelled through time and space,
Searching the heavens above for this lovely place,
A long way they traveled, yet their purpose unfulfilled
There are still entire civilizations left to build.
Many faces sat across the tavern from me,
For just one free meal their voices did plea.
So together we came to the most peculiar deal,
Tell your best tale, the losers pay for the victor's meal.
This is how arrayed there at the inn;
And with a veteran thus will I first begin.
___________________________________________________________________
A veteran was first and he a worthy man.
Before his first deployment began
He though to defend the walls from an alien tribe
And to a great philosophy he did subscribe
One must be brave in both thought and deed
In order for all men ’ s children to succeed
He believed soldiering would be an easy employment
That is until his first combat on his first deployment
Through jungles of Centaira A he walked
And with fellow soldiers, his friends, he talked
He was assigned to now infamous operation x-ray
Incompetent leaders and bad intelligence lead them astray
The unseen guerrilla let their projectiles fly
Together they watch many of his friends die
He dove for cover, filled with fear
That the guerrilla fighters would come near
Heartbreaking only can describe his first experience with war
He saw many more combats before he retired from the Marine Corps
______________________________________________________________
edits:1-3 formating
Edit:4 word
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[ WP ] Lucid dreamers avoid looking at mirrors or they 'll see a hideous creature called the Mirror Man and be forced awake . One dream you look into a mirror on accident . You do n't wake up .
| For years chuck had practiced and honed his brain to become lucid in his dreams.He remembered every little detail of every dream he had since the last three years he had tried to be a lucid dreamer.He recalled all recurring patterns his dreams had written almost s hundred dreams in his journal.
And scoured through every article he could find over the web about lucid dreams.A chance to alter his reality fascinated him obsessively.
He sat beside his computer wandering if lucid dream state even existed or whether it was all bullshit concocted by some stoners to justify their use of substances.
While going through all the random ramblings of some stonehead strangers in a forum he went through some cryptic notes of what to avoid when you actually become lucid.It was the 24th post from the beginning somebody had posted it in the form of a warning message, the post read: `` beware fellow lucids.The mirror man is a wolf in sheep's clothing. Upon being lucid never ever dream or think of a mirror if chance strikes you in front of a mirror never look into it''.He found the note to be slighty unerving when he looked for the author of the post he found the op had deleted his account after posting the message.
Chuck than ran a search for the mirror man found nothing worthwhile than he again searched lucid dreams mirror man this time too the results were disappointing.
He looked at the wall clock that hanged upon the murky and grubby wall of his apartment it was almost past 2:00 am he was trying this new technique to induce lucid dreams by sleep deprivation.His eyelids had started to worn out and he quickly pulled himself on to the bed hoping he would get a chance at being aware of his dream for once.
He looked at the wall clock that hanged upon the murky and grubby wall of his apartment it was almost past 2:00 am he was trying this new technique to induce lucid dreams by sleep deprivation.His eyelids had started to worn out and he quickly pulled himself on to the bed hoping he would get a chance at being aware of his dream for once.
He heard a bell toil to wake him up. The bell was as artificial as the clock he had. When he pushed the buzzer on the clock he tried to look at the time but there was something wrong it he could not figure out the numbers they were visible but were written in a different language.
He knew this was common in a dream but had to confirm it just one more time so he glanced at his fingers and did a quick count each one of his hands hand six fingers.now he knew he was in a dream.
Chuck thought the first thing that came into his mind about visiting.He found himself floating around the an ocean he wondered what could have went wrong he never thought about an ocean he wanted to see northern lights so he tried to think about it again but this time his balance shrugged and within a few seconds he was falling down into the ocean with great friction and speed.
He tried to control his mind with every breath he had in him and he found himself again on an island only that island was submerged but that's not where he wanted to see so he tried to think of the location again and for a second he actually saw the lights for a few seconds and then he found himself in a room full of endless mirrors.
When he saw in to the mirror he noticied that the reflection was not his own but some other being.A being who had an goat like face huge sharp grinders and claws instead of hands.minutes later the being talked and told him'' well now you know what humans really are do you see your self in the mirror''.Chuck replied `` are you the mirror man?''. `` well that depends on you, are you the same man who sees in to the mirror'' chuck did n't knew how to respond so he just shook his head. `` You see chuck the mirrors are a complicated thing you only see what you want never what you are.But in dreams mirror work differently and when you look at yourself you see your true self.see this monster chuck this is what you are this is what all humans are.''
No this ca n't be right i must wake up i must get out!. With a jolt he broke the chain of infinite mirrors that were in the room and tried to cut his hands with the broken glass to wake up.
`` go if you want but the truth has revealed itself only to you and it will find you and bring you back. You will come back''
`` I would prefer to die rather to know this hideous truth''
With a sharp incision on his right arm chuck found himself lying on his bed, his body still paralysed and absorbing the shock. Chuck vowed to himself that he would never sleep again
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[ EU ] Mad Max takes place in post-apocalyptic Australia . Tell me what 's taking place somewhere in the rest of that world .
| I studied the man's face. It was old, almost to the point of being unnatural. I then went back to studying what was in my hands. It too, was beyond age, its patinated brass holding a near mystic quality. I looked back to the old man.
`` So...''
He nodded.
`` If what you're telling me is true... how come the world has n't been fixed?''
`` Human greed.'' he replied in a thick accent.
I broke my gaze, disappointed in my inability to trip up the old man, for he surely must be spinning tales. My gaze landed shortly on a pair of long shadows, plastered against a back corner wall of the market by the dwindling Arabian sun. They danced as their puppet-masters did a very poor job of hiding the fact they were illegally selling Sand-Master's scrap parts. The best, most unique car scraps in the are, Sand-Master owned the market and most of the surrounding city.
I found the poachers' inexperience amusing.
Turning back to the old man, I noticed he had gotten closer. I took a step back and spoke, `` These stories you're telling me are very interesting, but the price is fair too much for an old oil lamp.'' He seemed disappointed in my unappreciative choice of adjective.
Two guards steadily rushed by, disturbing no one except the shadows and their masters.
Finally, the old man spoke. Loudly he protested, `` this is no ordinary lamp! - `` He was interrupted by the bellowing of guards. `` Stop! In the name of the city of Agrabah!''
Annoyedly look in that direction, he continued.
`` Allow me to tell you the story of a boy, who, like the lamp, had more on the inside then the outside... ah?''
I gave him a puzzled look, cautiously opened the lamp to peak into, and and then looked up, giving him an even more puzzled look.
`` Okay, okay, sit, I will tell you the story of Aladdin.'' He said, with a salesman's smile.
This was typed out on mobil, so please excuse any typographical errors.
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[ CW ] For each sentence , use this random word generator and incorporate the word it gives you into the sentence .
| I looked down at the hands of my watch, and then inhaled and exhaled slowly—I had only one **bullet** left and it was nearly time to put it to the test. It would have been easy to relax under normal circumstances, for the night was cool and I could faintly hear the waves of the **ocean** in the distance, but this time not even that soothing, familiar rhythm could quell my doubts. You see, the man I had to kill was my **cousin**. It was yet more upsetting to know perfectly well that he was more skillful with firearms and better equipped than I could ever hope to be; I continually **chewed** over the situation in my mind in hopes of discerning some way out of the unpleasant situation. Things really did seem hopeless then, so I sighed and sat **down** on the cold, wet pavement. My mind still wanted to try to discern some nonexistent ace in the hole, but, with the goal of silencing its desperate raving, I whispered a **frank** statement: `` It's useless—I will die.'' Responding to my pithy prediction, my mind switched from calculating to lamenting, and now all it could tell me was how horrible it would be to die away so very far away from home, where no **locals** would think to mourn me. On Death's doorstep, I was no longer the **producer** of my own thoughts—it was such a pathetic mess. Through my madness, the entire **mountain** of emotions which I had been building up came suddenly crashing down in an avalanche, and I was completely overwhelmed. My tears poured forth at a tremendous pace, and I wept until my **beard** was thoroughly soaked. It took some time, but I regained myself a little bit and began to reminisce, and a faint, somber smile worked its way to my lips; I **deposited** my gun beside me and resolved not to shoot at all.
Upon seeing my faint smiles and earnest resignation, my cousin, who had been watching me intently for several minutes, did finally walk over to me and put an end to my all **suffering**.
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[ WP ] You are falling out of the top floor window on a skyscraper knowing that there will be a full 8.81 seconds before you hit the ground . What thoughts do you fill those 8.81 seconds with ?
| Jenny Gillespie. I have n't thought of that name in 40 years. The little red-haired girl who I adored from the time I met her in Mrs. Billingsley's kindergarten class until her family moved away in 3rd grade. How anyone could ever have that many freckles on their face, I'll never know. She was the first real love of my life. Well that's not true. But we did get `` married'' in first grade. She kissed me in third grade, though I later learned it was on a dare. Well, she claimed it was on a dare. I think she wanted to do it. I know I always wanted her to. Cooties be damned! Ha - to be a child again.
Jenny went away because her dad got a new job somewhere. Phoenix? Dallas? It was somewhere warmer than here, I remember that. That's gon na bug the - Oh! It was in California! Not Los Angeles though, it was somewhere I'd never heard of. Shit, where was it?
...
...
Dammit.
...
Ah well, it'll come to me.
You know, Jenny moving away was the first time I really lost anyone important to me. Well, other than Fluffy. I still do n't know why I thought Fluffy was a good name for a turtle. It was n't even one of those turtles with the humped shell - Fluffy's shell was perfectly flat. He never really did much, mostly sat around. But I really miss Fluffy. He was the first pet I ever loved. But I never loved Fluffy like I loved Jenny Gillespie. What a girl... Well, not *love*, of course. We were kids. I did n't even know what love meant back then. I mean, maybe if we...
OH SHIT - I'm supposed to be thinking about my loved ones. My *real* loved ones. Shit. Dammit. OK - Mom, I love you. Dad, I'll see you soon. My beautiful wife Becca, my kids Justin and...
IRVINE! Jenny moved to --
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[ WP ] As a young boy , he stole something . He then spent the rest of his life trying to return it .
| He did n't want to take it. But he was despirate. Hungry, cold and alone. He'd planned to sell it for a cheap $ 50 to the local slummy pawn shop. The woman he'd taken the ring from looked so weary, so old and tired, though she could n't have been older than 35. She was n't poor, financially atleast, based off of how she was dressed. This woman wore a simple, nice-looking, if morbid black shirt. But he could feel the sorrow she radiated, not even knowing the wrong-doing this boy had done against her. And yet he still needed the money. He was almost around the street corner when he heard her sounds of surprise, confusion, and then despiration. This simple silver ring, with a sole diamond set into the top, had meant so much to her.
The discarded paper he found the next day confirmed it. It was a dirty thing, slightly wet from the semi-melted snow, splashed onto the curb by a passing car. In the small Missing Items section at the bottom of the page, he read `` Missing wedding ring, silver, diamond. Reward'' Though he did n't know the woman, or anything about her, he knew this was more important to her than anything else in the world. He wanted to go to the address in the ad, but he had no form of transportation, and could barely even keep going in the alleys in which he already aibded.
He still stole. The boy could n't stay alive otherwise. Though he always carried the ring with him. He had kept saving up, after the expenses of food and clothing, he kept a small stash of money. He was saving for a cab. A cab to the address he had always saved, ripped out of the old paper. It was almost a year before he got enough cash. He hailed a random cab, a blot of yellow in a sea of cars. The driver was a bald man, a face weathered yet kind. The boy gave the man his whole stack of old wrinkled bills. He then handed the driver the paper fragment with the address printed on it.
The taxi pulled up an hour later to a nice two-story house, with a small garden infront of the door. The boy got out, walked up to the door, and then hesitated. This was it. He had finally gotten to the house he had wanted to get to, to meet the woman once he had robbed once again. Ring in hand, the boy feebly pressed the doorbell, and a muffled series of bells rang out. A few seconds later, the boy was greeted by a man with greasy black hair, wearing a stained grey t-shirt, in his mid 40s. `` Who are you?'' the man inquired. The boy asked about the woman, and the house owner replied, `` Oh, her. She was the previous owner of this house. I do n't know where she is now, but I can give you her phone number. The boy declined, `` I... I do n't have a phone.'' This yound child, dirty and small, looked so defeated standing there, slumped in the man's doorway. He appeared on the verge of tears. The man took pity on the boy. `` You can use mine.'' The boy looked up, a ray of hope in his face.
`` Hello?'' The woman's voice rang out from the speaker. `` Yes, hello,'' the boy said quickly, `` I- I think I have something of yours, something you've been missing. I'm at your old house.'' She wondered what this boy was talking about, calling her from her old house. Then, it dawned on her. The day of the funeral, the worst day of her life. Walking home, when she felt her left hand. And it was gone. She looked all over the sidewalk, under trash, in the street, but it was nowhere to be found. A month later, she could n't afford to pay her bills anymore. She sold the house at a fraction of it's real price. Her life had been a hopeless downward spiral ever since. Freinds and family tried to help, but nothing could heal the wounds of a broken heart, nothing could fill the hole. Until now. No, it would n't bring him back. It would n't make everything alright. But it could help.
The beat up car arrived shortly afterwards. This old house brought back so many painful memories. But it was good, to finally get it back. Her wedding ring. It brough some closure to the poor woman. This young boy, no older than 10 or 11 had brought it back to her. And while her life was still in shambles, as it had been all year, this woman finally saw the possibility that she may, one day, be happy again.
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[ WP ] A tiny tree has just sprouted next to an Enormous and Ancient Oak , what advice or stories does the Oak have to tell ?
| A tree's life is boring. I think to myself. I'm a giant, Oaken tree, born of an age long gone in history. And as Mother intended, a new tree sprouts. Oddly, this tree sprouted so close to me, that I could hear it from birth. Trees can hear other trees, but it takes years for them to hear those further away, and a new tree has the strangest of sounds. But this one, over the course of a decade, had picked up my mannerisms and language; how proud I was for this. We finally make conversation, on the dawn of his 11th Year. `` Welcome, young tree... to the great order of things.'' I say to the little sprout, still only a metre tall, but my booming voice can be heard far and wide; to him it might even be deafening.
`` H-h-hello mister. Your voice has always been loud, so very loud. But oddly comforting. We may have not talked until now, but I feel like we know each other well.'' His voice cracked as he spoke, like the foolish human boys of the past that have tried to climb my trunk, only to fall and be hurt.
`` Let me give you some advice. Firstly, child, never fear the Axe. We exist to help man. At least, that's what we've come to believe. They will spread your wood far and wide, to corners of the world that need you, and kingdoms that desire you. Secondly, whilst the mother loves you oh so very much, more so than any human can, she can be cruel. If she strikes you, do not fret, for it is what must occur. It is her will that you be struck, and thus it is fine.''
`` Why would mother be cruel?'' He asked.
`` Ah... A question for the ages. Noone can ever ask. Mother can be truly mysterious, but if it is her will, then it must be okay. Let me tell you a story child. Just one, before I go.'' I've known it for a while. It is why I had not spoken to the Sprout before today.
`` Go?'' He asked.
`` My dear sprout. You know not who I am. I am the oldest Oak to ever grace Mother's beautiful planet. She has tended me for eons. My rings are numberless, and none shall ever surpass me. I am from the age of Beasts that were destroyed by forces outside of Mother's hand. And even before that. From a time when life was new. I have lived far too long, and Mother, oh sweet mother, shall be ending my life this night. A strike, unlike any other, unlike any you will ever feel shall befall me. I feel it. But, I do not fear it. I do not fret. For it is her will that I die tonight.''
With a sad tone, the Sprout says: `` But why not move? I am sure that your great age as given you the ability to
move.''
`` No,'' I say, `` that is not possible fora tree or a plant. We shall never move. It is the will of Mother. Now, are you ready for a story?''
`` I guess so...'' The sadness in his tone was almost contagious.
`` Many eons ago, when the world was new, and Mother was young. Mother was a weak woman, and incapable of controlling her creation. She would try, but nothing she did worked. Life begun forming... and from that came the Trees and early beasts. The beasts evolved, us plants did not. We, instead, helped all beasts by providing them with the air they breathe. This you should know. But it is a story you need. YOU are what they depend on to survive. YOU are the only thing that can keep them that way. And although you make up part of a larger whole, you are still depended on for your contribution. Never forget that.'' My speech has begun making me weary, for my age has ailed my health greatly.
`` I will never forget that. Nor your story.''
`` Good. And Goodbye my little Sprout.''
`` Farewell, Ancient one.'' And with that, the greatest storm of his time begun. The bolts of Mother's fury and kindness, strike down on the earth, with rain. I sense the biggest one beginning, right above my head. It strikes down, shattering me in two.
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[ WP ] The production of meat for human consumption has been fully automated for decades . The largest factory has suddenly stopped producing . You are the technician assigned to troubleshoot , and are the first person to enter the plant in over 20 years .
| First I think I should give you a quick rundown of how meat production works, for the uninitiated. There ’ s loads of chemicals, and these get mixed together. This mixture includes cells from whatever meat you ’ re making, as well as other chemicals that promote meat growth. This is then put into huge thin trays, about 6 inches deep and several feet long and wide, until it becomes meat. It ’ s then taken out of the trays, and put through processors, where it ’ s cut into a more manageable size, is sprayed at the end to ensure that it ’ s clean and doesn ’ t spoil. And the entire process is automated. In the entire facility there ’ s 5 staff members. Three of them are security guards. All of them work from a small building outside the actual factory. So when I was called to fix the problem, I would be the first person to enter the factory since they ’ d given a foreign president a tour 22 years ago.
Note how the meat isn ’ t processed until the very end. This means that when the entire factory suddenly stops working, 10,000 tonnes of meat starts to rot, and in a hot summer, it rots hard. The stench was unbelievable, and I could smell it from the moment I went in the gate. I nearly fainted when I opened the door, and I ’ ve been working in meat production facilities for 14 years. These places don ’ t smell good at the best of times, last Tuesday was downright inhumane.
I was told to troubleshoot. I was to go in, walk around for an hour or so, fiddle with some buttons, take a lot of pictures, and come back out so the full technician team could go over the situation. When I got in there, I realised fiddling with buttons wouldn ’ t help. They said there ’ d be about 10,000 tonnes of meat, at various stages of production, rotting away. They didn ’ t say there ’ d be 204 dead bodies as well. Turns out that leaving the factory floor unchecked for 22 years was a mistake.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you , intentionally or otherwise . You are fighting in a war , when one of the enemy 's knives harmlessly glances off you .
| She watched me, like she did everyday her throat flexing as if she was about to say something, to cut me like everyone else did. But as always no words came out and she was left searing me with a look that could have stopped traffic.
I almost wished she would say something, it was much worse wondering what she was thinking - why she did n't fall in line with everyone else. Wondering what was holding her back.
My granny used to say when she met my grandpa she'd never been able to say a bad word to him. I used to assume she meant because she loved him, but what if she could n't. What if the talk of soul mates had not been just the inane ramblings of an old woman.
The next time I saw her I was prepared, ready to tell her what I'd been thinking the whole time.
I could n't do it.
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[ WP ] A man refuses to go to heaven and demands from god to be sent to hell .
| The angels grabbed him, kicking and screaming.
`` no! NONONONO!'' Over and over, he screamed, defiant in the face of God.
But God simply sat there, undisturbed by the outburst of rage. `` Let him speak.'' God said. The angels stopped trying to restrain the man, the mortal who's time had come to ascend to the heavens.
`` I do n't belong here!'' The man screamed. He dropped to his knees, sobbing. `` I don.... I... I do n't belong here...'' He said again.
`` And why do you feel that way.'' God asked no questions, God already knew. But men must make their own paths in life, and admit their own reasons to themselves.
`` Because *SHE* is n't here. She killed herself and because of that, she was n't allowed in heaven... please, God, please... send me to... to Hell, so that I may be with her, even if it is in eternal damnation.''
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[ WP ] A suicidal man hires a killer to end it instead .
| “ If I understand what you want correctly, then this hit is something you ’ ll pay dearly for right? ”
“ Of course. If you do it right and correctly, then all the money will be wired to you from an anonymous source. ”
“ Sounds good. The man ’ s life will have ended by the time the clock tower strikes noon. ”
“ Excellent. ”
“ Once again, nice doing business with you sir ”
The next day, a solitary man stumbled out of a lonely bar. He took his chances dodging traffic. He reached the front a tall building full of the most luxurious condos. He took one glance at his watch and saw it was a thirty seconds to noon. He thought, “ Better be good. I paid so much for this. ”
In the distance the sound of the everlasting bells covered the sound of a gunshot, and the solitary man fell to the ground. A well-dressed business man walked fast from the scene and tried to hide a harrowed look. He could ’ ve sworn he heard the man say “ Thank God. ”
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[ wp ] One day a social outcast walks into high school and everyone treats him ( or her ) like the most popular kid . Eventually he figures out why .
| People hardly remembered my name before today. I blended in as easily as furniture, without my classmates even noticing my presence. However, today when I smiled at my desk neighbor, I was surprised to find he smiled back and started to strike up a conversation with me.
`` So how was your weekend?'' He asked, while I thought to figure out why today was different.
`` Pretty relaxing, I just stayed in and watched movies with my brother.'' I noticed some of the other guys in my class gathering around our desks, and actually looking me in the eyes. Did I pick a really good outfit today? Did I smell better or fix up my hair a little differently?
`` That's nice'', one of the guys said, crossing his arms. `` We never really talk much, but you're a pretty cool guy you know?'' His entourage nodded agreement and I was freaking out inside as I realized that starting today, things would be different. I would have friends, and finally be one of the popular kids. The world would be my oyster, and I its pearl...''
I was interrupted from my thoughts when he called my name. Turning around to see some 20-odd pairs of eyes on me, I asked, `` Did you say something?''
`` Can I have gum?'' And then I remembered that everyone could see me chewing the stick of gum I had retrieved from the still visible pack on my desk.
Fuck.
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[ WP ] The year is 2040 , and you are the last smoker alive . The `` Quit Smoking '' ads get personal .
| Brooklyn New York. Winter. 2040.
Mr. Burnside slouches in his Archie Bunker-esque recliner pinching a cigarette near the filter.
The flickering glow of the CRT television illuminates the haze in Mr. Burnside's one-bedroom apartment. 12 years prior, the nation reverted back to CRT when it was made public that flat-screen technology causes infertility.
At first glance the area is clean and modestly furnished. Copious dust and beer tabs underneath the furniture betrays the amount of `` real cleaning he has done.
After the 9 o'clock news hour, the requisite 5-minute block of adverts hum through the space like a muffled trombone. As the next commercial begins, Mr. Burnside scoffs as he has seen it before.
The menacing female voice-actor cuts through the airwaves, `` 100 % of Gary Burnsides living at 408 W 39th St Brooklyn NY will die of cancer if you do n't stop smoking.''
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[ WP ] The last thing I heard was the screams .
| The pricing sound remains in my ears drowning out any other noise. My hands cupped my head and dug into my scalp. Curled up in a ball to try to forget what I had heard, to forget what I had seen. I was no stranger to this life, and I had seen it a number of times before but this time... something was strangely different. I was far more pain-filled, a cry for help from the depths of the abyss. The seven replayed over and over in my head, behind my eyelids, there was no escape. Everything I had know was shattered in an instant and a life long forgotten began anew. Pain rose within me, and then it started. The rasping silent cries that turned my insides to nothing more than pain itself. Tears once again stained my cheeks and a darkness took root in my brain. Tremors started to rack my body and render any attempt to move pointless. Then it stopped as suddenly as it had come, but it was not gone. I felt my body take hold of itself and walk to the edge of the abyss. Looking down the precise of death, the silent screams had become too tangible and echoed through the the abyss of blackness. My body began to fall quickly forward, drawing the ground closer and closer with every moment that passed. Then the scream was heard again, and the nightmare repeated.
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[ WP ] `` The person I was all set to murder saved my life . ''
| It all started there. The bar on the corner of two streets no one cared about. The bar where a shot of vodka was usually followed by a wavering hand and a shot to the head in the bathroom stalls over matters pertinent to most. It was an establishment attended by the charismatic or unfortunate collective. Mostly the latter.
There was a time in my life when I just wanted the tick tock to stop. I was out of high school, almost out of university and out of money. Money, it's the chain of an imprisoned society. Only difference was, I did n't know I was n't born to be chained.
There was nothing going on with my life. It was a blank schedule etched with repressed desires I learnt to write out with words instead of blades. Every day, as semester after semester ended to the same relieved sigh I walked one or more paces closer to her, my desire, as I flirted with my sanity in search of should I go on.
Innate responses made me search for those similar to I. For three weeks I weaved my way through the fabrics and the knitters until I found that bar. They were n't exactly miscreants or ill-doers. They were just like me. Full of woe, with just a painted ear to ear for show.
The next six months was one of solace in common cries. Alcoholic beverages consumed nights and lives. Some ended theirs with a smile and a *'' I'll be back'' * modus operandi even though most of us knew that it was the harshest lie.
*Melancholy And Madness* should have been the bars name.
One man stood out to me, Kurios. He had been a teacher in his past and a certified nobody in the future according to the law after his student accused him of sexual misconduct. However true this claim was, was not up to me to decide. His mistake had cost him his job and his parents lives. They were both fired upon as they went to embrace him after he had just walked out of jail. The shooters, supposedly relatives of the alleged victim were killed later but they took with them Kurios wife, a police officer of twenty years, who was carrying for the past two months, their first baby. She was just answering the call for backup. She also was the only officer hit.
Maybe it was because of Kurios that I found a semblance of courage once again. His resolve in such gloom offered me a sense of perspective that was previously obfuscated. Together we did what little words can do, and what more conversation could do. A distraction from the past and a occupation of the now.
*Now. *
I'm sitting still, quivering.
The arrows have long been misplaced as pins to my heart that try to beat away their presence.
I'm at the bar again. But for a different purpose. At least I found one again I thought. One is better than none most of the time. I watched my fingers perambulate back and forth on the whisky glass half empty. There she is. The Jester. The oddity of this despondent mess. This will be the first and last time she visits this place.
I wanted to approach her in the bloodied malodorous graveyard that is the toilet and ordain her as the newest member. I wanted to see her suffer so she can feel Kurios misery.
*I want* to, but I do n't need to.
*Fuck it. *
`` That's her. She was the one who fucked up my life''
Kurios indignance could be felt under his whiskey breath.
*Let's do this then*
**Shit. **
**It's her. **
The one who revived me twice in one fractured family vacation.
The one who found me a doctor in the days before I admitted I was n't fine.
**It's her. **
*'' Sister? `` *
-o.karuna ( c )
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[ WP ] You find a magic lamp . The genie is n't malicious but neither does it have knowledge of our modern times and inventions . E.g you wish for a helicopter and have to describe it , the genie delivers a weird giant bird with three wings on it 's back .
| The genie could have been Plato out of that Rafael painting. He had a long, white beard, and wore a blue toga draped over his arm. His head was almost bald, and beneath his arm he carried scrolls tied with ox leather strips.
He scratched his head. The smell that rose from the street in front of my house was incredible.
`` When you said four hundred horse power,'' he said. `` I did n't...''
`` It's okay,'' I replied. `` It's just, what am I going to do with the manure? The colour is a nice touch, though.''
The horse closest to me neighed and tossed its mane. Its metallic red flanks glinted in the sunlight, nose the colour of treated leather looking soft as velvet.
`` Did you like the girl, at least?'' the genie asked nervously. He played with the fringe of his toga. `` When you asked for a hot girlfriend...''
`` Once I put the fire out, she was fine,'' I replied. `` But she only speaks Greek.''
`` All the best girls are Greek,'' the genie replied, but he made a note on a scroll all the same. He tucked the quill back behind his ear.
`` And her name's Helen?'' I said tentatively.
`` Might be,'' the genie shrugged.
`` And she keeps asking to go to Paris?''
`` For Paris, I believe.'' The genie blushed. He shuffled the scrolls and loose papers.
`` I have one last request,'' I said. `` Please try not to mess this up. It's not that I did n't like the Globe Theatre from the 1600s in my back garden --'' ( I'd asked to see a free show, but Shakespearan was incomprehensible ) `` Or the giant heap of wood you claimed was a flying machine.''
`` Da Vinci designed it!''
`` They were lovely,'' I said. `` But what I'd really like, is the trip of a lifetime. I want to see Rome... The Coloseum, the ancient roads.''
`` Trip of a lifetime, eh?'' the genie tested out the modern idiom on his tongue. I immediately knew I'd made a mistake.
`` No, wait --'' I cried, but it was too late. A blinding flash of light; sand beneath my feet and a broadsword in my hands. The cheers of the crowd deafened me, and above it all I heard the cry:
`` Release the lions!''
-- -- -
/r/Schoolgirlerror
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[ WP ] When everyone turns 21 , they have to pick a superpower from an approved list and take classes on how to use it . You choose one that only one other person has ever picked before .
| `` Oh, hey! You're here early!'' greeted my superpower officer, Mr. Morgan. He took his brown leather shoes off the metal table and placed his still-steaming morning coffee cup to the side of the table. He fixed his his bow-tie as he cleared his throat.
`` So! Have you given enough thought about the superpower you'll be having?'' said Mr. Morgan, as he gestured me to sit across the table. I sat on the chair as instructed, and took out my application binder from my messenger bag and laid it on the metal table. It was blue.
`` Oh, blue! Good choice, good choice! You ca n't ever go wrong with telekinesis. People always think clairvoyance is the best, but no other superpower has so much restriction for so little reward. In fact, our official manual even literally tells us to try to lead the young folks away from clairvoyance. It's a trap, I tell you what. I clench down my teeth every time my applicants come to me with green binders,'' chattered Mr. Morgan. He was always a chatterbox. He stopped talking only when he was taking sips from the hot coffee he was swinging to and fro as he talked enthusiastically.
`` It's not telekinesis, sir.'' I said, while he was gulping down the coffee. It seemed like the only opportunity for me to speak. Mr. Morgan frowned and his jolly mood flushed away from his face. If his face was saying words, he would be saying,'what the hell is this kid even talking about?' Of course, I did n't blame Mr. Morgan. I have not heard of another living soul who chose my choice of superpower, which belonged in the same color category as the ever-average telekinesis.
Mr. Morgan reached for the inner pocket of his jacket and took out a gold-rimmed glasses from a plastic case. He wore it and opened my blue binder and read what it said on my application.
`` Oh.'' Mr. Morgan pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes hard enough to squeeze out few drops of tear. `` Oh.'' He repeated.
`` Yeah,'' I answered. Mr. Morgan was shaking his head in disbelief. I knew I made his job more difficult than usual, but I would have appreciated if he showed less aversion to the life choice I made. `` So, where do I go? I looked around, but all the colleges and the universities around my home is n't offering any classes on this superpower.''
Mr. Morgan lifted his coffee cup, contemplated my life choice, and then put it back on the table without taking another sip. He took a deep sigh and leaned back to his chair. `` Son, the evaluations of your gift showed that you have some gift on telekinesis. Also on super-speed too, if I recall correctly. Some kids are n't even qualified for those and have to resort to insect barriers. You know, the superpower that specifically blocks few types of household bugs? That's worthless, in my honest opinion, but... I'd help them if that's their choice. Your superpower of choice is... very questionable.''
`` What do you mean --''
`` I do n't mean to be rude, but do n't you think there's something wrong with your choice of superpower?'' Mr. Morgan interrupted. I thought about it. Of course, animating dead is n't the most useful superpower there are in the Federal Approved List of Superhuman Strength. But was it condemn-able? I doubted it. I told Mr. Morgan there is n't anything wrong with my choice of superpower.
`` You do realize that you can only control the dead bodies of human being, right? You are n't having any zombie horses with infinite stamina. There's a kid who thought the same, who got the idea from some video game of some sort. No, that's not happening, and it's not too late to change.'' Mr. Morgan insisted that I change my mind about the superpower I'll be learning for next few years. I did n't.
I had my future planned out. I was going to buy that old cemetery behind the old church that no one ever goes to, revive some dead, and you know, pimp out. Some people are just into dead people. Necrophilia, if someone was looking for a technical term. It seemed like easy money ready to be exploited. The fact that there's nearly no one who took my career of superpower in fact emboldened my will to learn it. Less competition in the market!
`` I mean, do grow up!'' shouted Mr. Morgan. `` You're not controlling an army of skeletons.'' Of course not. I was going to control some girls with some meat left on their bones. `` It's just indecent to even consider taking your choice of superpower!'' Mr. Morgan's words fell on my deaf ears. I was determined. And I understood why Mr. Morgan was so upset about the whole ordeal. He had to show my record on his report, which will probably appear not too good to the moral police named parents, who are his future clients and his source of income. I scoffed and simply left the office with the blue binder still on top of the table. Mr. Morgan yelled my name and begged me to stop, but that's all it took. The application was completed, and it would be Mr. Morgan's responsibility to provide me with sufficient help on becoming a master in necromancy. And necromancer that I did become.
Unfortunately, few months after I completed my due classes, I found out that Mr. Morgan was unhappy to find a new competition in the town. Damn.
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[ WP ] Give me the history textbook from your latest game of Civilization V .
| In fourteen hundred ninety-two
Harun al-Rashjid sailed the ocean blue.
He had 3 ships and left from Mecca;
He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.
He sailed by night; he sailed by day;
He used the stars to find his way.
A compass also helped him know
How to find the way to go.
Seven units were embarked;
Those who settled and those who worked
Then the workers went to sleep;
And settlers watched the ocean deep.
Day after day they looked for land;
They dreamed of gems and gold and clams.
1500 their dream came true,
You never saw a happier crew!
`` Iroquois! Iroquois!'' al-Rashid cried;
His heart was filled with joyful pride.
and then he killed them all
because he was playing for domination victory
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[ WP ] `` You look just like your mother ''
| `` you look just like your mother.''
I was walking to my downtown Houston apartment from my dismal job as a glorified computer fixer at some Big Oil company, when an older man, about 55 years old, suddenly gasps. With wide eyes, he puts his hands out to stop me. `` Mother of Mercy, you look just like your mother, son. How is she doing? I hope well,'' he said emphatically, furiously pumping my and and patting me on the back. Confused, I replied, `` I'm sure you must be mistaken. I was adopted. I never knew my mother.'' `` Nonsense,'' he replied, `` Your name is Matthias Brandt, and your mother is Claudia. We were colleagues back in the ol' college days.'' Alarmingly, this ruffled and somewhat manic man knew my whole name. I pushed him away, and inquired, `` How do you know my name? Who the hell are you? Are you stalking me?'' He seemed bewildered, then inexplicably sad. `` I'm rightly sorry, son, I must've mistaken you for someone else. Have a lovely evening, and take care of yourself.'' Shaken, I quickened my pace, and made it to the high rise that I called home. I hit the button for the 5th floor, when an older gentleman yelled to hold the door. I complied, and the beleaguered man walked in, and mumbled a thanks. He hit the button for the 14th floor, and looked me square in the eyes. It was the man from street. I pressed myself into the corner, stricken with fear. He handed me a letter with a peculiar seal, and said, `` hopefully this will make it clear. Make sure you are n't watched.'' The elevator squeaked to my floor, and I almost flew to my room. As I fumbled with my keys, I felt his eyes stay on me as the elevator door closed. I wrestled with calling the police, but I realized they probably would n't believe me. Since the authorities were out of the question, my first order of business was to open this letter. I walked over to my desk, turned on my lamp, and opened it. It contained in it a letter, a photo, and a coin. I started with the coin. It was slightly larger than a quarter, smooth, and shiny. The only markings were an X on either face, where George Washington's head should be. I then moved on to the picture. It was an autumn picture of a happy couple, and a happier toddler. My stomach sunk to my toes. The woman looked just like me. I walked to the bathroom to check in the mirror, and the resemblance was uncanny. I felt like vomiting. The letter waited on the desk, drawing me in like a black hole. I read it.
`` September 4th, 1987,
I'm sorry to do this to you Lorraine ( my adoptive mother's name ), but I need to send Matthias to you. Its getting much too hot, much too fast for us here, and this is no situation for a child to be in. You are the last person I have to trust with this, Lorraine. You can never tell him about us. It would be too dangerous. All I can do is wire you some money, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Sincerely
Beth''
What did the letter mean? I would never know. That night, my adoptive mother died of cardiac arrest. I never saw the man with the letter again, but I keep the picture, hoping that one day, someone will be able to bring the pieces of my past together.
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[ WP ] A no-nonsense gorilla watches the zoo outside it 's cage go bananas as all the humans outside the exhibits start biting each other and breaking into the animal habitats
| The male stretched lazily in the grass as one of hairless beings outside let out an annoyingly loud howl. His eyes flicked to the front of his domain as one of his females gave a startled noise, followed by their youngling chatting anxiously on her back. He moved to the front of his pack quickly, investigating what had them so worried.
The hairless beings were acting strangely. A few of them appeared wounded and attacked others. The ones that got attacked screamed, and the ones nearest to them tried to run and leave them behind. The male huffed in disdain. The hairless ones had no clear pack leader; no one designated to defend them should bad ones try to hurt them. Now they were suffering because of it.
Another female let him know that she was distressed, his pack starting to back away from the front of his domain and gather around him in their worry. He could smell the fear on them, and his only son came to his side and grunted in annoyance. They were all right. The hairless ones were loud normally, especially their tiny ones, but they had never done anything like this before. His son grunted once more and the male growled to his pack in assurance as he sauntered forward.
He moved up to the wall that kept the hairless beings from his domain, peering through the clear square. The screams had begun to get more and more frequent, yet they were moving away. Several hairless beings remained in front of his domain, though. Five were holding another struggling one down. The male moved to the side enough to where he could see what they were doing to the sixth more easily, before backing away quickly.
The hairless ones were noisy, messy, and over all a nuisance that he had to deal with and accept. He ’ d never seen them rip apart their own kind like that. He knew the hairless beings like he knew his own pack; they were predictable. But now they had changed for some reason.
The five eventually left the sixth alone. After the summoning call for the hairless beings to leave was made, the sixth struggled up as much as it could and dragged itself away. The male wandered back to his pack slowly, looking behind him at the scene the hairless being was making. He sat down next to the threesome of his huddled females, feeling disgruntled for the first time.
******
The giant light source went under the ground and the pack waited. The male banged on the gates that kept his pack away from their sleeping and eating place, but none of their hairless beings came to open the flimsy walls like they usually did. The females stayed in their group while his son attacked the walls, banging at them.
The male let his son attack the gates; he initiated grooming time among his females to keep them occupied. He watched his youngling groom her mother while he got groomed by two of his females. The male grunted and his son came over and obligingly got groomed before immediately going back and trying to open the gates that should have opened long ago.
He settled his pack down for the night, even having his son remain curled up to the rest of the group in case something should happen. The giant light source was already beginning to rise when the male was woken up to a banging noise, his youngling and his son waking the rest of his pack up with distressed chatter.
The male sat up on his haunches and looked over at the front of his domain, noticing one of the tiny hairless beings knocking on the clear wall. The male raised an arm to keep one of his females from moving forward and interacting with the tiny hairless one; the call to alert him that they were coming in had not yet gone and they had yet to receive their customary meal from their normal hairless beings. Still, it was even more rare to see such a tiny hairless being alone and leaking all over the clear wall of his domain.
The great light source rose higher as his pack grew listless. More and more of the hairless beings gathered around the front of his domain to bang on the clear wall. Some simply walked into it while others desperately attacked it before giving up and staring in at him and his pack. Each time either him or his pack moved or let out a noise the hairless beings would all start to attack the clear wall, as if they had insulted them.
The male paced in a circle around his pack, agitated by the strange behavior of the hairless ones. The great light source was already high above him, yet still none of his hairless beings had shown up to feed him or his pack. His females were beginning to worry even more; his son grew more reckless and annoyed on an empty stomach. Only the youngling was able to feed, still young enough to be on her mother ’ s milk, but not too young that she had no idea something was wrong. The youngling alternated between her mother and him, and the male could do little to comfort her.
His son let out a loud warning call, catching the male ’ s attention. He turned to see what the younger male was worried about, noticing that one of the hairless beings was clawing its ’ way up one wall of his domain. They had gone unnoticed up until they had reached one limb over the top simply because that wall was not clear as the front one was. The male watched as the hairless one pulled itself over the wall, tumbling head first to the ground.
He walked forward slowly, his entire pack staying behind him without his having to say. The hairless one twitched on the ground, slowly pushing itself up. The male stopped in front of it, letting off a warning growl. The hairless being jerked forward, the male taking a step back. He was unsure if this was a new hairless being that was meant to be the pack ’ s, meant to get them food and let them inside to eat and sleep.
The hairless being continued forward. It rushed at him and grabbed at his arms, and when it bit him he howled in rage and tossed it off. The hairless being started to struggle up once more and the male moved forward, hitting the body of the hairless one again and again and again until it stopped moving. He hissed at it, daring it to try and prove that it was alive again.
That was when his son gave out another call, one that was quickly picked up by the rest of his pack. The male turned to face them, seeing that more of the hairless ones were starting to climb over the other wall. The male ran forward, ready to fight off the once gentle hairless beings to protect his pack.
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