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[ WP ] In a world plagued by the paranormal , you belong to a secret organization known as `` The Janitors '' . A group with the sole purpose of cleaning up after all manner of ghosts and ghouls . Your designation as a Janitor is E.H.C.C , or Eldritch Horror Clean-up Crew . Today is your last day on the job .
| The day started just like any other day—a cup of coffee and a cheese biscuit. It's the old SSDD as I call it, some might say `` same shit, different day'' but I'm a busy man and I have no time to spare, so I abbreviate when I can because as we all know the supernatural do not sleep. That's only for us mortals.
The drive into work was normal as well. Twenty-seven and three quarters minutes, roughly my average time seventy-nine percent of the time. It's exhausting keeping track of useless stats, times, averages, and whatnot, but for me it's what I do, it's who I am.
My name's Ope and I lead a pretty peculiar life. I stay focused on my job—cleaning up ghosts and the like—but that's only half the story. I'm a modest man, I have an honest job, an average house, one car, and one secret. By day I clean up the messes left behind by the supernatural menace known as poltergeists but by night, well let's just say I live on the edge.
By edge, I mean I am obsessed with edging. If it's not a familiar term for you, well, look it up. A man of my stature can not divulge such filth here in this forum but believe you me, there are two sides to this coin.
I have a particular fetish about me, and it's probably criminal in most corners of the earth, save a few muslim countries and a few tiny asian places. I wouldnt say that I would ever act on such impulses, but nothing will turn my flaccid pole into diamonds quicker than the beauty of my secret pleasure.
The morning was uneventful. Two calls about the same ghost I would wager. The ghost was a bit of a rambunctious one, defecating on elderly women as they wandered off to run their morning errands. He got away. There was however one call that came in that would change the outcome of my otherwise normal day, in a highly dramatic fashion.
It was just before my third cup of coffee that the call came in.
`` Ope, grab your crap and lets go, we have a 622 on Highland road,'' my boss said to me. He was a rotund man who constantly smelled of Mentholatum and bacon. His clothes were stained with sweat, his shoes appeared as though they spent the evening resting in a pile driver.
`` Highland road, wait, I... I got the runs today boss and I feel another trip to the head is just around the corner.'' I was lying. I could n't go there. I would n't. The last time, well, lets just say the last time there I found myself on'edge.' I havent been able to go back since.
`` You're all we got Ope, so grab your shit and lets go!'' His voice was a firm as his collar caused by years of oil and sweat.
Shit.
We arrived on scene to find the 622 hovering in the street. After a small chase it was captured and order was restored, that was until I saw him.
He was leaving his house, most likely en route to school, why he was leaving so late was irrelevant, I'm guessing it was fate. He wore a short skirt with white leggings that showed every curve of his near-perfect frame. His hair was golden and shoulder-length with a pink bow sat atop of his head. The blouse he wore was very feminine—white, silky and showing off his curves in a way that medical science would appreciate. After all medical science had created this work of art.
His name was Briona, formerly Brian, and I was quite familiar with him, having never met him before. See, I have been watching this lad for years now, edging, night after night, longing of touching, caressing, and loving this beauty.
A sudden heat came about me in an intense wave. Blood was rushing, parts were throbbing and a bit of a leak had formed.
We made eye contact. Briona winked at me and my heart had exploded. This was it, now or never said my brain, and in an instant something happened that would change my life forever.
Briona walked over to me, skirt bouncing, hair flowing and put his hand in the warmest of regions looked up to me and smiled. I was frozen. My boss, having just packed up the last of the gear looked over and yelled, `` Ope, my god man, leave that little girl alone and let's go, have you gone mad?''
I said nothing, Briona's hand burned with the intensity of a white flame. A shaking sensation came about me as the milk flowed down my leg. Briona giggled as he knew I was enthralled with what he was doing. He said nothing but grabbed my hand and led me back inside.
That was my last day at work.
|
[ WP ] Everyone who dies reincarnates in Tier 2 universe . People there have all memories from the previous lives , and they suspect there are more Tiers . People live really differently there compared to Tier 1 .
| Tier 2, They call it. Not the afterlife. Because They believe there is something afterwards. The ones who explain. We do shifts. If you get chosen, You stay for a month, Welcome the newbies then you are free to kill yourself again and get to tier 3. If it exists. We have no way of knowing. I am not going to do it. The others do, Almost all of them. On earth something told us not to. Even those who believed the dead are going to heaven felt sad when someone close died. We feel no such thing here. Or perhaps on earth is n't accurate. Tier 1, the entire universe, Can not be compared to this place. I wondered that, In the old universe. How things could have gone differently. How the universe could have been different. But the most I could imagine was floating shapes, weird and curving in space. But we change when we arrive here. The entire place is black. But i can see. I can notice different shades of black now. It's all the exact same black, but it is also different. like hearing a different music when looking at the same picture. only there is no music. just silence. and it's the same silence. but who knows what will happen in tier 3? and there are things here, multiple things, in the same place. you see the one you choose to focus on. but the others, always in the background. i think. i am confused. they lied to us. there were many stories of the afterlife. burning hell, wonderful heavens, mead halls, plains. i have read one about a man, alone, in an infinity, infinity of time and space, with the land flat, and a few stones. but they never told us our **minds** could change. the universe, the physics, sure. but how can i even be sure i am the same person, that i am me, if this place clearly changed me? who is me. ah, right. i remembered. it's a bit cloudy.
we share our thoughts here. but not completely. i think when we transferred from tier 1, some of our brains got mixed up. and will we ever know? this place is bad enough when it's just your own thoughts, without the thoughts of all the others getting in. what difference there is between us now, really? i know one difference. only a single one to separate my mind from the collective one. it seemed partial, splited, like only sometimes the thoughts of the other leak in. but now it's everything. i picked up the gun. pressed it against my head. shot.
what is that thing? the brain that spills is gon na be mine. mine alone.
|
[ EU ] `` Yes Luke , the chainsaw nunchuks , an elegant weapon for a more civilized age ''
| You underestimate my power.
I thought those were going to be his final words as he launched high above me, his guard lowered. I made a clean sweep, intending to end his fighting days. I do n't know if it was the Force working against me, but he twisted in mid-air, parry in my blow. He smirked,'I told you' conveyed by body language.
`` Anakin, you've forced my hand. You may have minor instruction from a Sith Lord, but I've studied them thoroughly; all the masters have. Their deadliest technique is mine to use. This is your last chance, brother.''
His vicious assault spoke volumes. He pushed my back, and I leapt high, onto the catwalks, baiting him to the site of my victory. I ran towards a Droid made to carve the stone of this world, dropping it into the lava flows below. I sprinted with all that the force would give me, severing the robot's hand in one motion. I swept back and cut the droid's safety harness, then dropped down a level as Anakin crashed down where I had been a moment before. A quick rig, and my technique was readied.
A loud drone echoed along the planet's surface, in harmony with the rattling of chains.
`` The most elegant weapon the ancient Sith developed, back when they had something resembling civility.
VIBROCHAINSAW NUNCHUKS!''
Again he foolishly pursued me, though now he was easily batted aside by my nunchuks. He fled to a stone still holding together in the lava flow, and he glared at me with fire still hotter. I leapt to the stone, feinting a frontal assault, but used the distraction to dip my'chuks in the lava, setting them ablaze.
From the smoke of fire and diesel, the roar of my chainsaws, and the elegant dance of my blades, Anakin faultered. I could see fear and appreciation. As I tore his limbs from his body and set the rest ablaze, I wondered if I had set him on the dark path forever with the power of my kick-ass chuks.
As I set the weapons down for the last time, looking at the son of my last student, each us grabbed a pillow, set it in our laps, and stopped making eye contact.
|
[ WP ] You are a wise old man who gives people advice , that although sometimes cryptic , contains hidden gems of wisdoms . At least that 's what people think . Truth is you just like messing with people .
| Announcer: Do you have troubles with work? Romance? Money? Say goodbye to that anxiety forever! For over ninety years, The Old Wise Man has changed thousands of lives all over the realm!
Customer 1: I was spending so much money on wisdom! I tried every blind crone and eerily precocious child in the book. It was n't until I met the Old Wise Man that I got the parables I knew I truly deserved!
Customer 2: The Old Wise Man once said, `` Noodles are good, but oodles of noodles are better''. The next day, I went to the noodle restaurant and got food poisoning. I was able to sue for millions. I never would have gone to eat noodles if not for The Old Wise Man's valuable advice. It's truly a life changing program.
Announcer: And if you order our program today, you'll get three, that's right THREE bonus pearls of wisdom* for the cheap price of 1,200 gold pieces. That's six pearls** of wisdom for the price of one!
Old Wise Man: Hurry or you might miss this special, limited time offer! After all, I'm old and I might die soon!
*Wisdom not made of actual pearls. Pearls may contain chemicals that do not meet regulations in western parts of the realm.
**Do not ingest pearls. External use only.
|
[ WP ] '' The phone rings . It 's a landline . You 're 12 years old again . It 's your friend telling you something you thought you 'd remember forever . ''
| A haze of fog surrounded me.
Memories..... Drifitng about. Things best left forgoton coming into the mind, old memories like cobwebs in a weathered library. A few weddings crashed, mistakes made, human mistakes; the kind that everybody will make in their life.
A melancholy mood hanged about the stagnant air of my mind, the nagging feeling in the back of ones brain that never truly goes away until you die...
Memories....
Best left forgotten...
MindEons spent here, forlorn in the sadness of remembrance, of what could've been but ca n't, and what shouldn'tve been that is.
I was twelve years old.....
38 year ago ago, but a day burned into my mind but whethered down, parts of it clear as day, until it forms a memory, a half finished painting, a half danced dance..
It's true message...
Lost to time.
That day, 38 years ago, came back to me like a wave.
A phone rings in the distance. A landline.
I might as well go and get it...
`` Hello?''
....
And that was the day that changed everything.
The day lost to time, remembered only by a lost friend who uttered the lost words on the other end of that line.
|
[ IP ] Lone warrior trying to survive in post-nuclear war Sweden
| Can our blue sky, be as deep a red as blood?
Impossible.
Once upon a time, I would've said the same thing.
As I walked into the desolate city of Stockholm, rocking back and forth on a rope was a man several years younger than me. I could tell that he was dead, he had that look in his eye -the one that goes 1000 yards past your face and into the depths of hell.
He also had a rope around his neck, but hey... You ca n't tell who's really dead any more, at least not like that. Ever since the explosion happened I've seen bastards with half a body still hobbling around.
I gazed up at the young man. Thankfully, someone was kind enough to attach a stop sign to his stomach. Probably to keep people like me away from here.
`` Hey!''
I spun around, aiming the klashikov in the direction of the voice. `` Who's there?''
She stepped out from behind a petrol tank, hands behind her back. Early twenties was my first guess, she had a young innocent face and blonde pigtails. Clearly unarmed, so I lowered the gun.
`` You looking for asylum?'' She asked.
Frowning, I replied, `` Who's asking?''
She moved toward me, hand held out. `` Oh sorry, I'm Mandy.''
`` Stop!''
She froze, just a few steps away. `` Who else is with you?''
Mandy shook her head. `` It's just me, wh-''
*Bang! *
The first shot sends her to the dirt squealing like a fucking pig. `` I'm only asking you that one more time, Mandy. If that's really your name... How many?''
Through her whimpering, I heard an audible `` 9''. The Nade in her back hand is clear as day now, pin was still in. I check the clip of my AK, 29 to go.
Grinning, I glance around me, they're hidden pretty well. `` Come out, where I can see you or the next is through her head.''
*Bang! *
My leg gives way and the street signs attached to my back clang as I hit the concrete. I grit my teeth, Mandy and I are at eye level now. `` What the...?''
Mandy gazes innocently up at me, tears streaming down her face. `` I told you, it's just me out here. But there's 9 of them.''
`` Them?''
`` Supply hunters, I-I'm their prisoner,'' she said.
I try and spot one, I ca n't stand, but I can shoot. The slip of a pin sounds to the left of me, I glance at Mandy, the armed nade is in her hand now.
`` No,'' I yell at her.
*Boom! *
The explosion of the grenade engulfs us, I can feel my body give way under the heat of the bomb and metal bits of shrapnel are sent flying everywhere.
Something wet slaps across my face, there's also something stabbing me in the armpit.
As the dust settled over us, I licked at the wet slop, slowly. Blood.
I looked up at the sky, it was red, blood red. Beautiful.
`` The dumb bitch killed them both,'' a voice echoed from behind. Footfalls on the concrete reverberate as they approached.
I could feel my body repairing itself, first my legs, and then my torso. The Klashnikov slipped into my palm like clockwork and I'm up, the gun aimed at the group.
`` Hey! What the hell.''
It's the last thing I hear before unloading into them, all of them.
Their screams, mixed with the ringing shells as they hit the ground one after the other was like sweet music to my ears.
And then, silence.
Like I said earlier, there's not many ways you can tell a man is dead any more.
You got ta look into his eyes and measure him properly... By his stare.
|
[ WP ] A serial killer becomes a licensed psychologist and kills his victims by slowly getting them to consider suicide .
| He stared down at the ripped slip of paper. He sat silently for a few minutes, just staring. For the first time in twenty years, his eye twitched.
Just then, the door opened. A middle-aged lady walked in, and sat down before the man gets a chance to say anything.
`` I do n't know what to do anymore! Robert, everyone around me has either died or left me!''
He does n't respond. His eyes are steel, his mind is set. Slowly, he lifted up his eyes, and blue meets blue.
`` Robert, are you listening? I did n't pay to be treated in silence, for fuck's sake! Listen to my fucking problems!''
Barely audible even to him, he murmurs, `` The only one that's not listening is you.'' Clearing his throat, he continued in a flat, dead voice. `` And why do you think that's so?''
Stunned by the unusual question, the woman silenced herself. `` I do n't... know.''
`` Your family is dead. Your friends have left you. And yet, you still confide in me, still come every day. That shows great courage, Mary... or great dependence.''
`` What? I do n't understand?'' Mary sat up, her lips pursed.
Robert took in her sharp features, her blonde hair - blonde, unlike his brown.
`` Mary, every meeting we've had, I've discussed your relationships. Today will be the last one. The one between you and your son.''
`` Well, he was... a strange boy. Would constantly come crying to me as the other kids played outside. He was such a pain in the fucking ass.''
With each word she spoke, his eye twitched once more. The great, long scar down his face danced as he spoke again.
`` A pain in the ass? Would n't you say, that you are just another'pain in the ass' to me? Another crying human, crying as those just like her are perfectly normally socializing outside.''
`` What are you trying to say?'' Mary crossed her arms.
His expression hardened. `` Have you ever truly listened to his problems?''
`` Well...''
Stroking his fair, brown hair, he said, `` Do you even know where he went after college?''
`` Well... no...''
`` He was in the army. Do you know what he said every day?''
`` What?''
`` If only I had made my mother happier, prouder.''
The silence fell like a fog between the two. Finally, Mary spoke.
`` Why are you asking me this?''
He once again stairs down at the slip of paper. *Mary Anderson* written in bright, red blotches. `` Mrs. Anderson, this will be our last session.''
`` What?''
`` Did you even know your son at all? He spoke of how amazing you were, yet through his stories, I knew you had treated him like shit. Yet somehow, he could n't stop loving you.''
Mary nervously tapped the freshly cleaned ivory table. `` I tried to love him. Believe me, I did. I just could n't do that while taking the abuse that man unleashed on both of us.''
`` Well, is n't it great that he suicided? Are n't you happy?''
`` Not really... in fact, I have contemplated suicide many times already.''
A sigh escaped his body. The time had come. `` And why have n't you gone through with it?''
Mary's eyes glistened with tears. `` For the hope that my boy would have came home, would have found me and loved me again.''
In an icily cold voice, the man replied, `` Johnny is long dead. KIA in Afghanistan.''
The shock nearly threw Mary off her seat.
`` I-I have to go.''
As she left the room, he saw her withdrawing a small canister from her jacket pocket. Another huge sigh was passed through his body.
Through the desk pocket, he took out a picture of a family, with a long sheet of paper, filled with words. He looked long and hard at the picture, at the joyous faces.
He stood up, and opened his office window. *What a refreshing day it is! Too bad I wo n't be able to enjoy it, * he thought. He took off the brown wig that he wore for the past ten years of his life to reveal a beautiful, slick, mass of yellow. He took a pen, and signed his name at many places on the paper. `` *Johnny Anderson. *''
His mouth moved, though the whisper that came through was not audible even to him. `` At last, it is finished...''
He stepped through the window, into his parents' arms. `` I'll see you in the next one.'' Tears withheld for over twenty years were pushed up by the air, as he flew once more. As he flew for the last time.
|
[ WP ] You unlock the door and step in , shout `` Honey , I 'm ho- '' but the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks
| `` Honey, I'm ho-''
I stop in my tracks. Something is terribly, dreadfully wrong. The great glass mason jar, normally sitting proudly on a dais at the back of the front room, has been smashed. Shattered. A few large shards lie amongst a confetti of smaller chips and glittering powder.
And that is not all.
I drop my briefcase in shock. Our floral wallpaper is slathered with a thick, bronze substance.
No - it ca n't be! But there is no denying it.
I slump against the nearest wall, just as gore-splattered as the others. The sugary, delicious - oh, how delicious! - scent confirms my fears.
`` Honey... oh, honey, *no*...''
I choke on my voice, and my salty tears mix with the sweet streaks of liquid gold.
|
[ CW ] Write a story about restraint , where each sentence has only 5 words or less .
| I have to hold out. Restrain myself. No way will I lapse.
Not again.
Oh god. Someone is walking with one. Like I could ignore it.
That... *cheeseburger. *
No, I must n't! Not again! I will diet properly *now. *
But...
It looks so good though. That protein promise. This -- - juicy jealously overtaking me.
That... *cheeseburger. *
`` Stay away from my son!''
Oh god. The cheese drips.
`` I'll call the police!''
A dab of ketchup. Just a taste.
Her purse smacks my face.
`` You *freak! *''
Her son is crying. Dragged away by her desperation.
And so they left.
Ah, peace. *Success. * I held out. Restrained myself. No way will I -- -
Oh no.
He dropped it.
That... *cheeseburger. *
I should leave it, but...
`` Just cleaning the streets.''
That's what I told myself. Just cleaning the streets.
Just cleaning the streets.
Just preening the meats.
Oh god.
It's still warm.
No, I must n't! I *must n't! * My heart ca n't handle another!
Ketchup dripped on my thumb.
A bloody mess. Sugary surety. Salty succulence.
*For 99 pence. *
It looks so good. People were starting to stare.
They know what it's like. They *must! *
This hunger.
Oh no. It was getting cold.
`` Just... cleaning the streets!''
One bite at a time.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading! *
|
[ WP ] You know , one day we wo n't ruin everything .
| `` You know, one day we wo n't ruin everything.''
`` I do n't know what you're talking about.'' James said, lifting himself off the floor. `` This is not ruined. This'' he gestured at the wall `` is a classic Emma-James creation.'' He smiled `` See, most couples would have planned how they were going to paint the room, but not us. No, we managed to get two entirely different colours up before noticing it.''
Emma smiled, it was the smile that got better each time James saw it.
`` So the room is n't ruined?''
`` Not at all.''
`` Kind of like how the leaking faucet we put in is n't ruined?''
`` Another Emma-James classic.''
`` The bike we built that the peddles fell off?''
`` We put them back on.''
`` And they fell off again.''
He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
`` So we're not great at making things.''
`` Or fixing.'' Emma added.
`` Or fixing things. Or painting rooms.''
Emma laughed and brought James down next to her.
`` We're not good at much are we?''
`` No, but as long as I'm with you nothing can be ruined.'' James said kissing her forehead.
|
[ WP ] In a society where everyone 's exact date and time of death are known from the moment they 're born , one 's `` deathday '' is looked forward to and prepared for the same way one would for a birthday
| They say life is like a dark room that, for the briefest moment, lights up to reveal a stunning spectacle to the inhabitant who, before this moment, has never seen anything at all. Imagine then the devastation and grief that inevitably follows when the lights are suddenly and without warning turned off again, this time for all eternity.
The cruellest of all destinies, however, is for this poor soul to know beforehand of the finite nature of his joy. Every second of his existence is then spent with the dread of impending doom dwelling in the back of his mind.
This is me. Today is my day. My dear friends and relatives are converging downstairs, determined to make my last moments on Earth the best I've had. Though my life has already spanned decades, I am perfectly healthy. Why this night is to be my last, I do n't know. All I do know is that I'm not having any of it. I will not be told when I am going to die. It is for me to decide, not them.
As I raise myself to the edge of the balcony, I see fireworks being launched in the distance. I smile. I cheated them and their date. They did n't know better. As the cold nightly breeze grows stronger and stronger, causing me to lose my balance, I close my eyes and the magnificent lights of the world fade for the last time.
|
[ WP ] A man has lost the ability to discern his dreams from reality , so he decides to kill himself in what he believes to be the dream .
| A while ago I stumbled on a scientific website. The headline red,''Our universe is a hologram, and we're floating inside of it, suggests new research''. People are terrified by this theory thinking that it may indeed be true. Why are they terrified? They run scared because they think there are no repercussions to what they do in this life, and lo and behold know ye heathen that there is a punishment and a reward for everything we do. Greater reality is only good news. Life does n't end six feet under, no! Life as we know it is a game you see. A game which God almighty puts us through.
Since all that is is nothing more than a dream, I think its time to wake up. It is time to cut short this game of thrones; this immensely complicated charade of masks and men which look but do not see and hear but do not listen. I think it is time to move on.
|
[ WP ] The frost on the ground , the smoke in the air , the red in the water ...
| Blood and earth. The frost heavy grass beneath the heavy bodies of the fallen sucked up the crimson flow as it spilled from friend and foe. They sacrificed themselves to satiate the thirst of the Mother, believing only that they were feeding mortal hungers. Land, power, revenge. More and more again. Always taking, fighting, contesting one life against another - whether it be family blood and distant kin or something else. Someone else.
Her dreams had been troubled days before the longboats returned. Dragons made of wood, breathing fire down the life giving river, oars dripping with blood rather than water as they stroked the boats along. She was no warrior - and the encroachment of other, newer Gods across the emerald isle meant that she was little more than a relic of old beliefs. Her counsel was rarely invited now, much less welcomed, no matter how it was shared, but for Aislin the screaming had begun long before the dying. She knew what was to come, and there was no way to extricate herself from the horror of it all. The chosen would see every drop of blood. She would taste the screams of the only family she had ever known. There was nothing for it but to brace herself against the onslaught.
Before the boats had ground themselves still against the river banks, she was far beyond the veil. Wrapped in the healing, smoke choked air of familiar herbs.
Singing the dying to their rest was the greatest service she could do for them now. There were babies among them that had taken their first gasp of air in her slick, bloodied palms. Men whose rumbling voices she had known from childhood and beyond. She counted their eyes, their memories, their breaths as they faded one by one. Few of them called upon the Goddess as they rattled their objections into new graves and yet the Mother stood waiting beyond the water to welcome them into her arms. Her gift and her curse was to bring them back again if they fled too soon into the abyss, but rare was the light that did not pass quickly into shadow. The dying were meant to be so. The dead would stay that way, no matter the curses, and the pleas from the loved ones left behind.
There were worse things than death. Her kinfolk led away in chains would discover that soon enough.
In her trance, she was worlds away from the reality of the battle raging the valley below - the lives laid to ruin and the homes destroyed - and yet she was acutely attuned to every instance of harm. Her reverie should have lasted days, but when one familiar soul tumbled into the cold waters of the river, it was as if a bucket of ice had been thrown against her skin. She was jerked from the world beyond back into the now, into the smoke and the suffocating quiet.
The magic still clung to her, cobwebs of power, a faint tickle against the pale radiance of her skin. Freckled flesh stained blue in the patterns and symbols of her religion. Immediately her thoughts leapt to her twin, the one with which she had shared a womb and who now acted as her anchor to a world that seemed quickly to no longer have a place for her. He was a warmth, a familiarity she could not claim with anyone else, but his was not a shadow she had helped to pass into the beyond.
Her cheeks wet with tears and her bones weary, she was on her feet before she was aware of the motion and out the door of her secluded forest home. Bare feet against the damp leaf litter, a blur of motion. Fleet as one of the red forest deer, she abandoned all pretense of fear or personal safety, dashing head long down the wooded terrain, dark auburn hair a fiery flag behind her. The usually crisp winter air felt heavy, sorrow laden. There were whispers in the trees. The shadows of kinsmen that cowered in the woods she passed without heed, no pause for care or comfort. Her lungs burned, filling with the weight of smoke and blood as she burst from the tree line and into the open field where a once thriving village lay in smoldering ruin. She knew before she arrived what she would find, the shadows of the long ships having retreated down the waterway, but knowledge did not stop her now.
Cathal. The Mother, too, was aware of the tragedy that had befallen the clan, and Aislin could not yet see the path ahead. There were others now, stirring from their warrens like curious rabbits, moving among the dead, lamenting those lost, but none of them that moved with such purpose. She was a blur, letting gravity and desperation draw her down the hillside to the very place where the boats had been anchored. Her momentum carried her past the grass, onto the smooth stones of the bank and beyond, so that the frigid water splashed against her knees, blood and clear, soaking the rough spun wool that instantly clung to her skin. It sprayed in every direction as it finally arrested her forward motion, water droplets clinging, diamond like, to wild tendrils and thin strands braided with trinkets and tokens. There was surprising strength in her when she grasped the floating form several times her own size and heaved him backwards towards the bank. Inch by inch, clawing her way to smooth stones, bracing her knees against bottom. Exhaustion ate at her. Traveling through the veil was no simple task and she had lingered there for hours already. Lean muscles trembled from the exertion until finally hands were there to aid her, to lift her half brother from his watery grave and carry him to the grass.
Pale and glistening as the waxing moon.
Aislin stood shivering, strangely bereft. Already, expectant glances were being turned her way, the ominous whispers of those who were aware that she was something more....she stepped forward slowly, wading into the men who hovered around her brother, sinking to her knees beside him and reaching out to brush a strand of dark hair out of his face. There was no spark, no shimmer on the fringes of her sight that might hint at what the Mother had planned. She knew what they wanted her to do, but instead of chanting the words that would drag her into the dark - she bent close and began to sing Cathal across the bridge.
The frost on the ground, the smoke in the air, the red in the water, silent witness to that keening cry.
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[ WP ] Get me hooked in 150 words
| The box is greasy around the corners, and it sags a little, like the flimsy paper bags that fast food comes in. On the bottom, it's damp and rust-colored. It might be wet. Hiro doesn ’ t know. The box has been sitting in the same spot for three days, and the living room is starting to smell. Scratch that - it ’ s starting to *reek*. Whatever is in the box is *festering*, and every time Hiro walks by it, the stench of rotting meat hits him in a wave. But it ’ s not. It's not meat, not even if flies have started to conglomerate in black masses around the top of the box. Not even if his cat keeps ambling over to sniff it, sometimes lick it, in the particular brand of bored interest that cats so often show. Who the hell mails someone meat in a cardboard box just like that?
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[ WP ] A society in which both partners have to switch bodies for a month before they can get married
| It was strange, looking in the mirror and seeing the face of the person she loved, waking up to her own face each morning. Sometimes she would stare, and watch as the other slept. *'Maybe I should fix that spot... or how about I get surgery, narrow my cheeks?'* It was quite helpful, examining from a different perspective.
But when she looked in the mirror now, it was strange yes, but her heart lifted. The beauty, the perfection, sometimes she felt like she could stare at herself for hours, caress her features, examine exactly what she loved about the others body. She would n't admit it to her fiance, but there had been times, in the bath, in the shower, where she would run her fingers over her body... not her fingers, their fingers over their body. Taking in each beautiful detail, admiring each blemish, each spot, each scar. Most of the stories she could remember when she caressed them with her own hands.
Some where obviously over-exaggerated. Bitten by a shark, really?
However she missed it, missed staring at her loved ones face. She had to look in a mirror to catch a glimpse of the person she loved. Instead of looking at her own, stupid reflection. How could she be desirable? Imperfections haunted her, the dimples in her cheeks, her far too wide hips or odd shaped eyes. She had counted what she saw.
But then, when she caught her fiance, she'd find they'd do the same. Run their... her fingers over her body with a smile, fondness, desire, she knew her own expressions. She could read her face like a book. She saw nothing but love, and care. And her heart skipped a beat.
She woke up, staring into the face of the one she loved. Finally, the month of torture was over. Forced to look at herself every day. It was a nightmare.
However she would miss being able to enjoy the body of the person she loved. Just, to run her finger over a scar, or to stare in the mirror and giggle happily. Such was life. But they could spend the rest of their lives together. Yes she'd miss their body, but she could also admire from afar, take in the view of perfection that was her fiance. Yes it had been a month of torture. But for many years of bliss, she'd do it all again in an instant.
As soon as she inquired about plastic surgery.
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[ WP ] As a young man , you promised your firstborn to a Witch in exchange for a wish . However your future wife also promised her firstborn to a different Witch for the same deal . You 're now parents , the Witches are both looking to collect , and it seems that you need the services of a magical lawyer .
| The tomes lining the wall provided a stark contrast to the laptop on the desk. The raven sitting on the skull made the whole scene almost two erie to bear. He shuffled nervously in his chair, his wife's hand resting gently within his.
`` Shes always been my rock'' he thought, glancing down from her red hair to her belly obviously swollen from the fetus inside.
Just then the door swung open and in walked a man, hair greying at the temples, his round glasses hanging on his nose. His tan suit vest, and white shirt seemed clean, though the chalk marks on his pants were an oddity. Who even uses chalk anymore
`` Sorry to keep you waiting Mr. And Mrs. Havocs, I'm Atticus Finch.''
`` Oh like to kill a mocking bird?'' said Mrs. Havocs
`` What? No black magic is strictly forbidden by the resurgence act of 1981.''
`` No, its a book.''
`` Who would write about such a horrible thing?''
The Havocs looked at each other unsure of what to make of this.
`` I'm joking, of course i know Harper Lee's books, my parents were both lawyers and thought it would be funny. Moving on though, to the matter at hand, Mrs. Havoc, June, can i call you June?''
`` Um he's June actually I'm Taylor.''
`` Oh my mistake well Taylor then, how far along are you?''
`` 24 weeks''
`` And i assume the other parties a Mrs. Johnson, and Mrs. Washington came to discuss the finalities of your contracts?''
`` Yes that's correct'' June responded impatient, he always hated lawyers.
`` Well the brass tacks of the situation come down to three factors I'm afraid.'' he trialled off sideling the papers in his hands.
`` And those are?'' asked June his impaicience growing, his wife grabbed his hand more tightly and shot him a glace. He knew it well, it was her do n't be an asshole June look.
`` Well firstly how would you most like this resolved, it may prove that you are contractually obligated to give up the child, however to whom and with what conditions will most defiantly need renegotiation. Secondly the circumstances surrounding your contracts, and thirdly if we can come to an agreement for all parties.''
`` Well mine was for-'' june was cut off before he could finish the statement
`` You misunderstand me Mr. Havoc, the reason you signed the contract is of no impact. Its the circumstances surrounding the signing that matter, was a separate notary used, were you of consenting age, sound mind, were you taken advantage of in any way, were the promises of the contract deliver upon by said which. Magical law clearly states that one action by a witch is analogous to any action by any which in regards to these contracts. And by the look of these contracts that's all in order.''
`` So what can we do?'' asked Taylor, `` ideally we would like to remain in our babies life.''
`` Well considering that both witches wanted the child to raise as there own perhaps we can negotiate some form of co parenting, where the child will remain with you for a time but both other parties will play a major role and all decisions would have to be made together. Would that be agreeable?''
The Havocs looked at each other, they were still uncertain what to make of all this but it seemed there best shot.
`` Lets do it.'' said June.
`` Wonderful i will call the parties at Hewitt and Stiltskin who are representing the witches in question and see what we can get worked out.''
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[ WP ] After humans have destroyed each other aliens examine our planet and can not figure out how it got into such bad shape . What do they ultimately decide about the planet ?
| We found a world today, a sad world, a charred husk with charred towers and charred bones. Radiation scarred the air and sky, and the remains of many organisms littered the landscape.
The largest groupings of towers rose into the sky, though some of them had teetered over and collapsed. At their base there were oceans of skeletal systems. They had what appeared to be their mouths wide open, as if they were screaming in agony. They were colored black, and sat upon mountains of ash.
Every once in awhile the team came across a tiny organism, capable of feeding itself by producing it's own food. They were colorful, but they drooped, as if ill. They would push their way out of the ash, rise up for a few seconds, before drooping down and dying. It was sad.
Far away from tower groupings were little boxes. Inside were blackened, charred remains of the people that came before. They were colored black, like the bones. They looked so sad, and tiny groves were dug into their charred flesh beneath what we believe were their eyes.
All around this world were towers and boxes, collapsing, or burnt. There were the remains of other organisms, that walked on four skeletal structures instead of two to walk and two to grab. They did not look sad, but afraid.
The team left the Sad World with nothing of use found. I do n't think we'll come back here, because it makes me sad too how the sad organisms were so unhappy that they destroyed themselves. But it makes me happy that we did not make the same mistakes.
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[ WP ] An immortal man is tired of living , and wants to die .
| 4:00 p.m. July 18th, 3940: Sometimes I wonder if keeping track of the passing time matters anymore. Whenever I talk to any of my companions, the conversation always circles back to the same issue; why do I want to die so much? I've thought this many times before, but I never bother to check the log. `` Epic'' as he likes to call himself, has become more and more annoying with his prattle on how I somehow still fear death, but how can I fear something that has been impossible to me let alone something that I do not know? I could out him on his archived porn addiction, but sadly, shame has become something that almost none of us consider anymore.
7:00 p.m. July 18th 3940: A double log in the same day. I do n't know what's gotten into me, but Judy insists that it's a phase and the best way to resolve problems like these is to ask myself what I find important in life. I like my days with Judy because she delights in the details of existence. Sometimes I watch her feverishly typing like there is no tomorrow. She's the one that convinced to do keep a diary. I ask her what's the point when you know that there is no point in rushing? She believes that what makes us human is not our lifespan, but our desire to accomplish something; to validate our existence.
12:00 p.m. December 24th 4000: It's Christmas Eve. I wanted to talk to Hyde in private to check up on his progress hopefully to get a Christmas present that I've wanted for the first time in eons. However, I always feel like there's a good chance that Phil or Judy might pop up and `` innocently'' intrude on our meeting. They always joke saying that since we ca n't die, we can only come to accept each other's presence more. Consequently, there should be no secrets among ourselves. However, I think it's it's an insane attempt at making us into a community. They've countered that it's more insane to try to keep things private. I appreciate the gesture, but with the method of how we meet, it's only a farcical dream that I neither have the capacity or the patience for.
4:45 p.m. January 1st 4001: It's my first post of the year. I've made the resolution to ask Christian if he's sure that we're in the year 4001. It struck me for the first time in ages that the time might be wrong. Today I also had to endure what has become known as the `` Grapes of Wrath'' in the form of a drunk Taylor. Although absinthe does n't technically classify as a grape derivative, the first incident was in fact because of some questionable grappa we found.
9:00 a.m. March 9th 4010: I did it finally. I got rid of that ass `` Epic''. It only took a knock to the head surprisingly. However, even though he meant nothing to me before, I feel that a part of me has died. No more arguments, no more idiotic debates on how everything I fear is somehow related to death. Talking to him gave be the biggest headache, and frankly since he's been gone, I have n't felt so refreshed. I felt so alive at the moment, but now I'm getting an empty feeling. Was it such a good idea? There are so few of us, and even though we had our disagreements, he was still company. I'm going to go out and try to distract myself.
2:00 a.m. July 15th 4080: You're are all gone. Gone. I did n't mean to. I can only hear myself now. Judy, Hyde, Taylor, Phil, Chris, Epic. It was a mistake. I know you guys can hear me. I know you're there reading this right now. Someone please speak up. I do n't want to deal with this again. WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME. I'M TALKING TO YOU DAMMIT. I KNOW YOU'RE THERE. STOP PRETENDING. I'M SORRY. I KNOW YOU'RE STILL IN THERE WATCHING ME. I WO N'T TRY TO KILL MYSELF AGAIN. I PROMISE.
4:30 a.m. July 15th 4080: I ca n't hear them anymore. I do n't know what to do. I think I'm going to try to sleep it off. Hopefully someone talks to me when I wake up.
9:15 a.m. August 23rd 4580: Sometimes I wonder if keeping track of the passing time matters anymore. Whenever I talk to any of my companions, the conversation always circles back to the same issue;
`` why do I want to die so much?''
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[ WP ] In the future , low-skilled workers are extremely rare . You are one of the last cleaners and filthy rich because of it .
| A musky smell, of vinegar mixed with cow dung, wafted through the air as James Von Boggard III, known as Jim, made his way along the path. People moved out of his way, and stared longingly as he left them behind. Broom in one hand, feather duster in the other, and flanked by his two protectors; Jim was hurrying to his next job after a scrupulous affair with a particularly stubborn toilet blockage. The Pedestrians looked on in awe, trying to be innocuous. It was a rare occurrence for a such a man of status to travel in public but the job was close by. Beggars rattled their coffee cups and worn-out hats at Jim.
‘ Please, Mr Cleaner ’
‘ Any spare change my lord? ’
Jim paid them no attention. Young children danced around his strides, bewildered by the first sight of a mythical cleaner. Before he could swat them away, one of the cleanest grabbed his dustpan & brush, fleeing down an alleyway.
‘ Fucking cunt, ’ Jim muttered.
He sprinted down the alleyway, his two protectors followed closely behind. The alleyway was spotless, Jim could see that it had been cleaned by a true professional, sure enough the initials JVB3 were written on the corner of one of the walls. Some of my best work, Jim thought.
Turning the corner, they were met by the stoic face of the young thief. The child held out the dustpan and brush.
‘ I ’ m sorry, I just wanted to hold them, ‘ he said, ‘ just for a second. ’
‘ Alright lad, no harm done, just give em back now, ’ Jim replied.
Something seemed off to Jim, he had dealt with these little alley rats before, usually they begged and squealed for an apprenticeship. Please teach me your ways O cleaner. Please sir, give me a chance, I can clean, I promise.
This one was different. No begging. No crying. The kid seemed impassive, if not a bit pleased with himself. Before Jim could grab the dustpan and brush, a hooded figure stepped out from the shadowy wall behind the child. In a flurry, the figure raised his right hand. BLAM. BLAM. Jim heard the bodies of his two protectors thump to the ground.
‘ If its money you want, I have plenty, ’ Jim said. He plunged a hand into his back pocket, pulling out the $ 50,000 cheque from his last job.
The hooded figure laughed manically, the smoking revolver shook wildly in their hand.
‘ Thanks, my dear, but that ’ s just not going to cut it, ’ a familiar voice murmured from under the hood.
Jim knelt before the assailant and felt the barrel of the gun on his temple. He tried to peer up into the hood. Green eyes, blonde hair and…lipstick?
Jim ’ s attacker threw the hood from her face.
‘ What the fuck, Barbara? ” Jim gasped.
‘ Yes Jim, your lovely loyal wife, ’ Barbara laughed hysterically.
‘ Baby, what are you doing? ’ Jim was puzzled.
‘ I ’ ve come to claim my inheritance, a little earlier then you expected I ’ m sure, ’ she replied.
Barbara had grown up poor. Both her parents had been doctors and she a lawyer. Times were tough until she had snuck into the Regal Hotel bar and caught the eye of Jim, an exulted cleaner. It had been easy to seduce him, Jim was always mesmerised by the simple girls. The bankers, the politicians, the lawyers. Barbara had been planning this day ever since their wedding night.
‘ What are you going to do, shoot me? ’ Jim said.
Blam.
Barbara strode off into the sunset, holding dearly on to the hand of her illicit love child, from an affair with a poor football player. She was finally free to do as she pleased. With unlimited money at her disposal, her son would grow up to be a great janitor, and they would forge a dynasty to last the ages, controlling the cleaning of stained curtains and vomit covered school hallways.
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[ WP ] You 're breaking up with the perfect SO .
| I look into her eyes... they've always been that unique gold color. There really was n't another way to describe it. The sunlight could tread in them for hours, letting her irises absorb its color. I breath her in, her scent was constant; warm laundry and cinnamon. Her grin has n't left her face. She still holds a toothy smile with a dimple on either side.
`` We need to talk,'' I whisper in a single breath, as if it would feel cruel to give those words more effort.
Her face becomes sullen.
`` What's wrong?'' Her voice is quivering.
`` I was sent an invitation in the mail... it was for a school,'' I say. I never dare to break eye contact, I have to be strong for her. I ca n't be cowardly.
She allows herself a handful of hope, being an optimist, and speaks,
`` That's wonderful, darling! I knew something like this would happen to you. You're smart, and unique. I'll go wherever you go, wherever we need.''
My arms cling to her a bit tighter, I would miss her soft skin.
`` It's not somewhere we can both go. I've been excepted to Hogwarts, A School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.''
She begins to laugh. Her laugh always danced through the air, skipping and snorting and giggling.
`` Oh my god, you really scared me.''
My eyes still do n't shift from hers. I need her to feel my sincerity.
`` I'm leaving in August. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met, you know that, yeah? You're so worthy of anything this world has to offer. You're talented and sweet and a good person, that's so incredible to find. I could never stumble upon anything grander. However... this opportunity ca n't be passed up. I'll write to you, every day if you want me to, I swear.''
Her eyes have become concrete, they dig into my heart and create a purple, festering tornado of guilt in my stomach.
`` You're serious?''
I nod, and say,
`` I love you.''
I wish I could do more, but that's all I can do.
`` I love you too...'' she manages to make out. I yearn to sneak into her mind, peer at her thoughts. Some days, when we talked, she would let me into her brain. I could sit there watching it work for hours. Now, as I seat myself into the floor of her skull I observe its gears turning in the shadows. She trusts me, she knows what we have is completely true. She does n't doubt me... even if it's the right thing to do, she ca n't stomach to. I think she does n't know how to believe this...
I'll need to see her again some day. Her liquid gold eyes may turn to rusted old coins.
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[ WP ] You have a strong premonition that a plane might crash soon . And you 're premonitions are rarely wrong . What do you do ?
| Now this is not a writing prompt, but something which actually happened to me. I've never actually shared this story before, though given the nature of writing prompts, I suppose none of you will believe me anyway.
Now, the dream itself I remember quite clear. It was crisp, vivid, tangible. Nothing like the usual hazy memories thrown at my feet by my drug addled lifestyle at the time. It left me cold and sweaty in the hot Floridian musk, but at four in the morning, what else was I to do but go back to sleep?
We were on some sort of field trip, me and my class. Just standing out on the tarmac. I remembered how strange it was, something I had n't done since I was a child. Not since the whole 9/11 debacle anyway. We watched on as the airliner in front of us dropped its paneling, making way for shooting flames and thick, billowing streams of swirling smoke.
I watched on as it crumbled, piling onto the ashen floor. Listening as the wheel pegs gave way and the plane cascaded into fireflies, gasping as the floor began to eat up this once magnificent testament to all of humanity's achievements.
At exactly 10:01 CET, flight 9525 crashed into the French Alps. It was a German plane, and aboard it sat a class of 16, exchange students from Barcelona. The crash killed all one-hundred and forty-four aboard. The co-pilot had deliberately locked everyone out from the cockpit, failing to send out a distress signal before crashing down into the rocky below.
As I've said, nobody will read this and I expect it to be buried. I hesitate to call it a premonition, but what I've said is true, all of it. I had similar, timely dreams with the truck in Nice, the motorbike bombing in Thailand, as well as one of the many car bombings that took place this past October in Syria. Every one of them includes a vehicle and every one of them wakes me up at precisely the moment they happen.
Likewise, I've had many, many other dreams which have resulted in absolute nothingness, and to me it seems impossible to correlate them to anything. But every time I see a vehicle burn to the ground in my dreams, I take notice.
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[ WP ] `` I sang to the moon and it seemed to make her smile . ''
| -069
I found her staggering and tip-toeing through the alley. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder and peered around the corner for soldiers. I followed her. I had been in the alley hiding. The little girl, on bare feet, and with a growling stomach sprinted across the road. She managed to make it half way before the men shouted in alarm.
The little girl sprinted back into the alley and ran. I lost her once she passed the dumpster I was hiding behind. Three men entered the alley a short time later. They had green helmets, belts bulging with cases and holsters. They dressed in camoflauge and sprinted past, carrying a rifle each. I crept out from behind the dumpster and jogged along behind them, keeping my distance.
The city around me was in ruin because of soldiers like this. They'd been gathering up people and trucking them out of the city. Some of them, they just shot in the head and burned. I was curious to see what they had planned for the little girl.
She was runner and fleet as a deer. She left them in her lurch and soon one tired and then the other. The third man was a cruel looking man and strong. He kept running without and did n't seem to get winded. I hung back as the other two regrouped and headed down the street, two streets over from their own. I waited until they were gone and sprinted into the alley beyond.
I always found that bizarre. Men give up when in sight of their prey and wander off. If these two men who had given up had only persisted, they would have had her. The alley curved at the end and was barricaded to keep people from passing. The other man had discovered this. The little girl was crying and clawing at the barricade trying to will herself through. He laughed at her and marched forward.
I always find it curious what men will do when free of reprecussions. I figured he'd just shoot her for making him run, or beat her and drag her back to the truck. I would have caused a little pain had it been me. The man ended up being the worst of humanity. He ended up being a rapist. He set his rifle against the wall and undide the utility belt and tossed his helmet among his possessions and started forward. The girl twisted and whined and tried to squeeze between the razor wire.
She kept repeating something over and over again. It was probably a plea for him to leave her alone. He responded. I did n't speak their language. I did understand what he meant to do, and had it been someone other than a kid, I probably would have let him. My own child had been killed by soldiers. I convinced myself it was the way of the world. It was the way of this world. Men with guns would do unspeakable things, and we as the weaker, would let them. Though, this soldier was n't really stronger. He was before he set his rifle aside, before he started unbuttoning his trousers, but he was weaker then I at the moment.
The girl started to scream, but whether it was at the sight of her would-be rapist or at me, I do n't know. To a small child, I was probably a horror to behold.
The man only smiled at her scream. If he had turned around, he might have managed to fight me off, but as it were, he did n't. I hamstrung him. He went down screaming. I sprinted past as he rolled over to see what had happened. He probably thought it was another soldier attacking him. Soldiers tend to forget, they are the fiercest predators on the planet, but not the only ones. I sank my teeth into his throat. His blood tasted of copper and splashed across my muzzle. He stopped fighting after only a few short moments of futile struggling.
The girl quavered and shook. I filled her with more fear than the soldier, which I found funny. He had planned to kill her and rape her. I only stood to kill her, if I so desired, which I did not. I tried to prove this by licking her hand.
She was nervous, but I did n't hold that against her. I licked the blood from my muzzle and walked off toward then end of the alley. She stayed put. I walked back to her and then off down the alley again. She did n't understand. I walked back and grabbed her sleeve in my teeth and pulled her toward the end of the alley. She finally understood and stepped with dainty feet on the path behind me. She stopped to pull the man's pistol from his belt and a couple of clips from a case. I did n't begrudge her that, though, I hoped she did n't decide to use them on me. I checked on her frequently to make sure she did n't take me by surprise.
I knew how to get out of the city past the patrols. I could smell them. I had only come into the city to forage. The forest near the city was filled with animals, but hunting them was harder with the army marching through constantly. We slipped into the forest and disappeared.
I hunted for her. She was squeamish at eating the things I brought her, but in time, the most stubborn of pups will find a tit. She walked with me ofter after that, whispering her strange words to me and brushing at my fur. She was bonding with me. I think she wanted to be part of my pack. I could n't have that though. I was taking her to better humans. Men and women who had taken to the forest to hide from the war. My pack knew where they hid. It was an easy thing to find. I could smell them for three days before ever catching sight of them. Their stench was all over the forest.
The night before I took her to them, we were blessed with a full moon. My pack mates sang, calling out to her. I sang to the moon and it seemed to make her smile. The little girl was laughing and holding her ears. She even tried to join us. More than one of my pack mates found this curious and studied her with raised ears and tilted heads. I even suffered the little girl to hung me about the neck. The other wolves in the pack found this just as curious and when she petted me, there was a place that just made my leg want to thump the ground. It was heavenly. Others in the pack noticed and came to have their tummy's rubbed as well. The little girl laughed and giggled and obliged.
It was sad the next day, when we showed her the refugees. She was hesitant to enter, but I pushed and prodded and she meekly did as she was bid. She waved goodbye from the edge of the camp. From among the humans a great cry went up. A woman with a heavy bosom and plump hips came bursting from the crowd and the little girl squealed and cried as she ran to her. It may have been her mother or one of the little girl's pack mates. I did n't know.
We spent the rest of the winter hunting around the encampment. I was loath to let the little girl go completely. Her belly rubs were exquisite and many in the pack missed them. When the winter grew cold and cruel, we would catch food for the humans and leave it near so their sentries could find it and take it back to the people. And when soldiers ventured from town in search of the camp, my pack and I fed well, though, we find the blood of men to be a foul flavor.
We sing to the moon often, and sometimes, in between our breaths, I can hear the voice of the little girl in camp joining our song. It makes me glad I saved her, even though her singing voice is detestable.
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[ EU ] You suspect for a while that your roommate is secretly gay . Instead , it turns out your roommate is actually Batman
| Rough Trade
When I snapped on the gloves I noticed there was blood all over him. That was nothing new. It was the 3rd time this week I treated my roommate's injuries. If it was n't lacerations it was bruises, cracked ribs, you name it. Nothing immediately left treating but dozens of nasty debilitating injuries.
I'm an EMT by trade, was a combat medic in the war. Seen my share of nasty injuries but my roommate Bruce seemed to get hurt a lot. I'd even seen him with whip injuries, stab wounds, a crease I was pretty sure was from a small caliber handgun bullet. I had my suspicions about where he got them and his money but he paid on time and it was n't really my business.
Really I should n't have been treating him at all, it broke a dozen laws Six Ways to Sunday but the man had a certain presence I guess, a warrior quality that earned my respect. So I did it anyway.
`` Bruce'' I said as I finished sewing up his wounds and handed him some Tylenol with Codeine 3 I had picked up on a trip to Canada `` This is the last of the pain medicine and it not the good stuff `` He'd used up some Tramadol I had left after I was injured and some Oxycontin I had scored having beaten the crap out of a drug dealer selling to some kids,''
He ate painkillers like candy though I would n't say he was a junky, If I'd taken the injuries he had I'd be a a Fentanyl drip.
`` Fine.'' he grunted. `` You done?''
`` Not yet, we have to talk.''
`` No we do n't.''
`` I'm not arguing with you. You want my help again, you listen.''
He gave me a glare that would have scared anyone with any sense. `` Alright.''
`` Listen, you need to play a little safer. This rough stuff is going to get you killed. Nothing wrong with a little whips and chains if that's what you are into but I'm not always going to be here to not ask questions. Look I know you are still hurting about your parents, the loss of your fortune, hell everything but you ca n't be out doing this. You are better than that.''
Suddenly he laughed and to tell you what it was unnerving. Like someone who laughed so rarely there were just bad at it. `` Is that what you think, Blackhawk?''
I blanched `` How the hell did you know?''
He looked at me his face expressionless and than it dawned on me `` Holy shit! You're the Bat Man!'' In fairness while I am six eight, rather Scandinavian and a bit distinctive it was still quite a detective feat.
`` You're a good friend and a tribute to your family legacy Robert.Your grandfather Olaf and the rest must be proud of you.''
I had n't asked them but hearing that from the legendary Bat Man felt pretty good. `` You may not have the Wayne fortune but you've got their heart.''
He did n't say anything. And as we sat in silence, I thought a minute about Gotham. The city was a crime infested hell-hole, one I was considering leaving for greener pastures. It seemed like no matter how many crooks I fought, I could n't make a dent. But with help?
`` Bruce, my friends call me Robin. ``
`` Hmm, Robin.'' he muttered `` It feels right somehow.''
Bruce was pensive, brooding, scary and did n't have many friends, no girl, not much of anyone. I think he was lonely `` I have a proposal for you.''
He turned to me. `` I have some trust fund money enough to get by and I'll bet you I can access to a few gadgets They were bleeding edge in the 40's but better than nothing right?''
`` So what are you saying?''
`` Bat-Man and Blackhawk. With two of us and our tactical minds crime wo n't stand a chance.''
He smiled, the first time I'd ever seem him do that `` Done.''
We shook on and two night later, well we threw a crocodile man from a window. But that's another story.
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[ WP ] A Dishevelled Little Girl Walks Up To You On The Street , And Hands You A Box , Saying `` Do n't let anything happen to this . '' Then she sprints away .
| A bomb attack outside the mayor's office in the East city has killed three police officers and a civilian, officials say.
Fourteen other members of the public were also hurt in the attack, which comes only days after the assassination of Senator Robert Stein rocked the city to it's core.
A device was detonated on the steps of 22 Astra Plaza at 12:45 this afternoon, but exact details are not clear. No-one has admitted carrying out the attack.
Those who died were three members the of ECPD, officers Gerald Holmes and Richard Jones, and Detective John Wilkstrom. The civilian, believed to be a female in her early thirties has yet to be identified.
The exact cause of the blast is not clear. One report describes a masked man throwing a device from a moving vehicle, another mentions the device had been in the hands of, and possibly detonated by, the detective.
`` We strongly condemned these terror attack against our city... It is beyond deplorable,'' East City Mayor Charles Parker said in a statement.
`` East City Police Department would actively co-operate with the current FBI investigation surrounding the recent assassination to find out if the attacks are related'' he said.
Much speculation has been made that the attack may be related to the explosion at the Mansion Hotel on 21st of March, in which Senator Stein and his family were killed in a similar explosion, only hours before he was due to give his speech, damning the activities of the
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[ WP ] Katy t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m , looks back over what she wrote ten years later
| The waffle iron hissed as she poured the batter. As she closed the iron and tapped the handle four times, the tea kettle began to whistle and Katy turned her attention to the second part of her weekend morning ritual. Waffles and Irish Breakfast tea never got old.
She smiled ruefully as the memory of the summer after 8th grade came unbidden. Her motto at the time was to live life as randomly as possible. Silly cartoons, passionate teenage love affairs that ended as quickly as they started, and far too much time spent on the internet.
And here she was now, 10 years later, existing in a series of routines from which she could not escape. Her mind went to the moment it all changed. Her family, gone forever. Her life, destroyed. It had taken a lot of time for her to live a semblance of a normal life. The scar that remained manifested in four taps on handles and knobs, checking locks and alarms precisely four times before any sort of feeling any sort of assurance that they were set, and the incessant fear that someone would break in.
The ding of the waffle iron broke Katy from yet another spiral of obsessive thoughts. She sighed and put her mug down, tapping the handle four times.
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[ WP ] Most superheroes have nerves of steel and a heart of gold , maybe an iron stomach or will . But your metal-themed attributes are a bit mixed up , and your heart certainly is n't made of gold .
| Hello, this is my first prompt, please tell me what you think. Also it was just a bit too big so I will post it in two pieces.
Steel Skin is thrown backwards and a black streak sparks off his arm as he tries to cover his face. The streak carves a groove into his forearm and he hisses in pain when the object returns to his foe. The deformity suddenly ripples and liquid metal seeps from the surrounding skin and smooths over the whole. Ten yards down the street Night-Iron Nick grins with a broken and missing tooth smile, as the black streak is revealed to be his tongue, reeling itself back into his mouth.
Steel Skin grunts, “ Nick, you guys have gone too far this time. This latest stunt is sick. ”
Teeth still bared and with his pitch black tongue lolling freely Nick barely acknowledges the statement before his trademark tongue whips back into action. His jaw is stretched open and his neck is distended as he propels his weapon forward.
Steel Skin can only cover his face and chest once again as the tongue scores glancing hits off his regenerating exterior. On the roof of a nearby building I watch silently. Sure the Mashers probably went too far this time. But there ’ s always someone doing that in this city. Those who were lucky enough to be unlucky can ’ t really help it. Born how we are the metal bonded into ones being can have a really wide variety of effects.
Take Nick for example, his tongue is very heavy and it ’ s nearly double the normal thickness so he can ’ t speak properly. Not to mention how often he ’ s broken his teeth with that sledgehammer of a tongue. Hell he ’ s got a rep as a freak cause he never keeps his tongue in his mouth. Well I heard its cause he can barely breathe with the thing in place. That ’ s some shit luck, his mouth must be dry all the time. What a terrible tongue power.
Then you ’ ve got Mr. Steel Skin, wannabe literal shining example of a do-gooder. He one of the oldest hero ’ s in the city, way I hear it is he ’ s nearly 300 years old, he ’ s stainless after all and with his weird melty-fixy power nothing gives out in his body. Thus he ’ s just been around always helping. I ’ ve heard the good and the bad about his pseudo-immortality but that ’ s for another time. No, this guy is probably the most pitiable bastard I ’ ve ever had the displeasure to meet. See he ’ s got nerves somewhere under that thick metal skin. They just can ’ t feel anything unless you cut like an inch or two deep. And then all he can feel is pain. So the poor guy can ’ t feel a thing besides pain. He ’ s immortal far as anyone can tell yet he ’ s a virgin, can ’ t have sex, wouldn ’ t even feel it. It ’ s a curse if you ask me.
Their fight down below is going typically. Steel Skin just stands there. He can get wailed on by the toughest son ’ s a bitches anywhere and just get back up to stand there. But he ’ s slow as hell so all he ’ s even good for is lip service and getting in the way. Nick is probably off the deep end at this point. He ’ s got what you ’ d call a fantasy metal augment. They ’ re kinda rare but not really at the same time. There ’ s a big theory that explains the whole phenomenon, but I ’ ve only skimmed the bullet points.
Anyway he ’ s got a fantasy metal, it ’ s basically an impossible alloy or compound. Metal that impossible to find or synthesize just naturally is born in these kinda guys. But it ’ s super toxic. Like can melt your brain unbearable. Well his is anyway. His mouth is covered in blisters and sores, probably why he keeps the thing hanging out and about. But then I guess that ’ s why his lips look like shit too.
Where was I? Fantasy metals and such, well yeah they ’ re super varied and weird, to the point you ’ d only see this kind of stuff in those old timey fantasy stories. Mithril, adamantite, that sorta stuff. Those augments are weird but damn if the guys aren ’ t usually tough bastards.
A massive fist shattered a building down the street and four figures came barreling into view. One, the owner of the giant red fist was pummeling the huge copper disc. As the figure with the disc extended gave ground the others pursued. A thin coppery line traced back from the disc to the figure ’ s face. I examined the evolving situation blandly. It ’ s going as expected. Lame.
In Alloy City, Mets are all over the place and they ’ ve formed many little groups. Some try to uphold the law and fight against the larger population that chose to use their augments to suit their fancies. So it ’ s low-key chaos and anyone who lives here choses to because everyone sane moved out.
Well Penny, the disc girl, and Steel Skin are a small time bounty hunter duo. Currently they ’ re failing to bring the Mashers gang to justice. Bull, the guy with the huge red fist was the leader and packed the biggest firepower on the east side of the city. He ’ s something like the boss in the area.
The others in the gang are Nick, Iron Ivy and a crazy asshole everyone calls O. Well today O, with his electric blue lips went and smashed a school bus full of kids. Sadly over here on the east side no one responds. No police, none of the larger law aligned Met groups, not even Mr. Mithril. But I guess Penny or Steel Skin had a personal stake involved with the school bus, cause Penny went apeshit about an hour ago.
The aftermath so far is an extended melee that ’ s wrecked half a block and ruined power and plumbing for an area five times the size. How do I put it? I ’ m living over here on the east end because no one bother ’ s me here. I can live in relative comfort and spend my day however. Till the power went out. No more fun for me with that happening. So here I am. Idly viewing, trying to decide if I shouldn ’ t hit a bitch for her attitude.
The thing is though, all these shmucks are tier one augments except Steel Skin but he ’ s a joke for tier twos. They ’ ve each only got one body part made of metal with one ability or skill involved with it. So it ’ s basically beneath me to get involved.
See it ’ s like this about 1000 years ago something happened. Now one in ten people are born metallically augmented. The other eight are split 50/50 plain human or just rock skinned. Like they ’ re literally made out of rocks. So they may be tougher than a flesh a blood, but they can ’ t reproduce, so you could even consider them mistakes, incapable of fulfilling natures given duty. So they don ’ t live here, Seds, or those damn Sediments, are worthless and they go wander the world doing jack shit together. I hear they ’ ve even got a kingdom or some shit. But no one cares. They ’ ve got no abilities so even the weakest Met can just smash them. So Met ’ s and regular flesh an ’ blood humans co-exist together.
So yeah, Seds go to the wastelands, Mets and humans live together and exist all kinda city state style together. And basically high tier Met ’ s rule over their city ’ s like kings. Our doting ruler is Mr. Mithril, a tier three augment who can just fuck up anyone like it ’ s nothing. His metal augments are no joke, he definitely lucked out getting lucky.
But for a no good high tier like me watching this shit fight below is getting boring. I could step in and probably end it pretty quick, the Masher ’ s and Steel Skin would recognize me and they ’ d call it quits then. But, it would be a hassle and my location would be known. Then in no time at all I ’ d have Lord Fantasy up my ass. No thanks.
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[ WP ] Make up an absurd conspiracy theory . Try to convince me of it
| I do n't know how to put this nicely, but the things you believe to be real are not. You have created these things from nothing as a method of coping with your discontinued existence. I, being you, have decided to inform you through this site that you are consistently using, because it truly is the only means of legitimate access to your eased stream of consciousness.
When you are not on www.reddit.com, you are upset. It's a stretch to say depressed, as we both know, but you are battling with fear and anxiety, and have been for a few years. I want you to understand that there is nothing to fear, though. The world that you now inhabit, or rather this world that inhabits you, is a beautiful place. Stay here for as long as you wish. Returning to the loose streams of reality is under time's permission. Time has no limits here. You may feel aimless in your ventures, but be comforted by your own rationale and ability to inadvertently control all.
Should you decide to leave this functional and beautiful realm, I wish for the departing to be pure and ready. Please realize the beauty that is waiting! You will move on to nothing. It can not be interpreted as anything else, because interpretation no longer exists. You will no longer experience the elements of life, and you fear this now. But that is normal. All humans are placed under the same circumstances, and all humans are eventually detached from their structure.
Reaching this void will discontinue everything. This is your final message. Continue with what you have and do not fear.
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[ WP ] “ I 'm not a hero , I never was . I 'm just a guy with a sword who 's playing adventurer . ”
| He woke with a sudden jerk. `` What the hell?'' Wherever he was, it was cold. The rough metal burned with it as it cut into his skin. Ben let out a groan as his stomach rolled. `` Shit.'' His head pounded viciously to the beat of his heart, and Ben was suddenly aware at the tight feeling of dried blood covering most of his face.
`` Hello?!?'' He called stupidly. He jerked at the rope cutting into his wrists, choking through the pain. This was n't supposed to happen. He'd just been playing around, learning to fence first, then the sword and bo staff. The more he learned, the more he fell in love with sparring.
When he'd moved to a different, more dangerous city, he'd started carrying knives around with him, slowly mastering those through the months. It started to go downhill from there.
`` Help! Someone, please help me!'' The girl had been trapped, cowering in an alleyway as he walked by one night. Like most people would, he considered carrying on. But as soon as he locked eyes with her, Ben could not. A writer and adventurer at heart, he could not pass her by.
So he fought the man that had trapped her, using his experience from sparring to get the upper hand. And, two minutes later and not without some cuts and bruises, he sat with his knee on the other man's chest and his knives against his throat.
But at that moment he'd claimed his victory, the girl began to scream. And as he'd turned his head to her, stars exploded across his vision and he slumped towards the pavement.
`` AaaaHH!'' Ben screamed, wrestling at his bonds now in frustration and fear. His eyes adjusted to the low light, and he screamed again, retching.
He could n't tear his eyes away from the dead girl across from him, hanging by her neck.
( I'm sorry if it's not very good, I'm quite rusty! But this prompt broke my writers' block. c: )
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[ WP ] The gods of Time and Death dont always get along . Sometimes mortals get caught between them . You are moments away from being hit by a vehicle when suddenly the world around you freezes .
| I remember the feeling in my stomach when I saw it coming. Maybe I should've been more aware, but you know how it goes. You're driving late at night, the radio playing some song you do n't recognise but still find yourself zoning out to. The light turns green and some ingrained part of your body responds to this cue for you, pushing that accelerator and urging you onward to whatever business has you out at this ungodly hour.
If I was more aware I might've seen the truck. At least spotted the headlights coming far too fast. Now, as I look upon him, I can see the faint glow of a cellphone illuminating his eyes. He was n't even aware he was about to hit me.
To kill me. Or he would have.
My stomach sank fast, my eyes went wide and my arms shot up. Pretty stupid, huh? Better shield my face so they can at least identify the puddle I'm about to become because some jackass is running a red. But I did n't become mashed potatoes. He never even ran that red light. He just... stopped. My music stopped. Everything stopped. Except me.
I lowered my arms, feeling ready to vomit. I waited for my impending doom, but there was an uncanny stillness about everything. So I reached down and tried the door. I pushed it open and climbed out of the car.
`` That was a close one, was n't it?'' The voice caused me to start, but I was too confused to react. I whirled around. There was an old man standing near the rear of my car. Really old. His posture was way too good for someone with that many wrinkles, with that kind of age in his eyes.
`` Did I die?'' I ask, though in retrospect it was kind of a stupid question.
The old man chuckled and shook his head. `` Not yet. I thought I'd make the reaper wait some more.'' He scratched his long, wispy beard and suddenly appeared very uninterested.
`` I'm confused.'' That was an understatement.
`` I stopped time. I can do that.''
`` Why?''
Now he was thoroughly unimpressed on top of the disinterest. `` As I said, I want to make Death wait. It makes me happy to do so.''
`` Well... can you start time again?'' It seemed like a logical question.
`` Oh yes.'' A simple answer to a simple question.
`` So can you do that and I do n't die?'' When you were dealing with the strange and the crazy then suggesting the strange and crazy felt oddly normal.
`` Oh no. No, that is not within my ability. Nope, you're meant to die now. Shame, you seem like a nice kid.'' I think he was trying to sound consoling. I'm not sure if it worked or not. `` Anyway, feel free to take a moment or two for introspection, recollection, regret, repenting, praying or whatever else it is you people do these days before dying. Just climb back into the car when you're done, it'll all start up again.''
`` Wha --'' I started, but before I could add the final syllable he was gone. Just disappeared in front of me. Again, I really should n't be surprised given the fact that he stopped time around me. But then it's not every day you get to meet Father Time just before dying. At least that's who I assume that was.
Which leaves me here in this dilemma. I do n't think I should have this kind of time to think. It's supposed to just happen, right? One minute you're alive, the next you're dead. Especially this kind of thing. I'm sitting between my car and the truck that's going to kill me, staring at the driver's seat.
When I sit down I die. But if I do n't sit down I remain in this timeless limbo. Which is worse?
Guess I have lots of time to figure it out.
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[ WP ] To get in Heaven , you have to confront the person who you hurt the most . You were expecting an ex , your parents/relatives , or a friend . You did n't expect to see yourself .
| I got what I had been longing for since I was a child. Sweet relief. I was ready to meet my eternity.
I open my eyes from the darkness of death's frigid sting and I stand, my bare feet touching cold marble. The haze makes it difficult for me to see much of my surroundings. Where am I? This is neither heaven nor hell.... but ca n't possibly be purgatory?
`` Not purgatory,'' a strangely familiar voice startles me. I look around, still unable to see anything solid.
`` Pick up your sword,'' she speaks again.
`` What sword? Who are you?'' I sound so stupid, I just know I do. This is not my Maker, and yet I feel as though I need to be confident in who I am.
`` Pick up your sword.''
That voice! Why is it so haunting? I rub the darkness from my eyes yet again and look around, hoping to see a bit more clearly. The sword on the rich velvet pillow is one of pure magnificence. I finger it lightly, brushing the silver and gold, grazing my fingers over the sapphires, rubies and diamonds.
`` Pick. It. Up.''
I grasp the hilt carved intricately of a lions head, the handle that of a tiger. As I take hold of it, the sword becomes an extension of me. Everything that I had dreamed of becoming, all my strengths, all my hopes....imbued in the very essence of this piece.
`` Stand. And fight.''
The figure, shroud in red and black with a mask so intricate it was sure made by a master craftsman, was little more than a waif. A wisp of a being holding a mere peasants dagger. Did she really expect me to fight her?
`` I will not fight you when you clearly have the disadvantage.''
`` Fight.'' So demanding, yet she still sounds so weak.
`` No. It's not right. I fought all of my life, I will not fight in death as well.'' As much as I love holding this sword, I toss it aside in disgust. What kind of sick place was this?
`` Do n't you understand?'' She removed her mask. I gasped. She was me.
`` Do n't you understand?'' She removed her shroud, standing naked before me.
The scars were nearly unbearable to look upon, some etched so deep, I could feel the pain myself.
`` Do n't you understand? That every time you beat yourself up, You fought Me. Every time you blamed and kicked yourself, You bruised Me. Every time you gave in and gave up, You cut Me. Do n't you understand? You've been fighting Me your entire life.''
I fell to my knees, weeping. How could I even beg myself for forgiveness? Was it even right?
I do n't know how long I lay there. The cold marble was now wet with my tears. I pushed myself up, trying to reorient myself yet again in this strange place. When I look up, She ( Me ) is still there. She has n't moved, standing naked, bruised, battered scarred.
I can think of nothing more to do other than one simple thing. I go to her, remove the cloak on my shoulders, cover her own, hug her and whisper, `` Please forgive me.''
As I feel her arms wrap around me in return there is a brilliant light and suddenly I'm completely alone again. My cloak is on my own shoulders again, and my body aches all over. I have no time to process, as I see scars and bruises on my body that were n't there before; the sound of a heavy gate being opened behind me.
I turn around and stumble forward. The Light! I feel the weight of an eternity lifted from my shoulders as I walk through the pearly gates of Heaven.
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[ WP ] `` Ordinary morality is only for ordinary people . ''
| Ordinary mortality
Is for ordinary people
For dreamers who stop their dreaming
The strong-willed growing feeble
For ordinary children
And their youth throughout the years
For ordinary parents
And their advice unadhered
For ordinary workers
Who wage their wars for wages
For ordinary writers
Begging praises for their pages
`` Immortal'' is a fable
A fantasy, a wicked lie
Flesh decays, and souls are strained
Even words and thoughts shall die
And ordinary human fear
This desire to escape
but ordinary death awaits
Its cold breath chills your nape
To shun this vicious cycle
Just one trick here I'll give:
If you want to live forever
You first must learn to live
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[ WP ] `` Let 's not do the suicide ceremony , let 's just go . '' `` Go where ? '' `` Anywhere , anywhere that 's not here . ''
| `` It's almost time..''
`` I know, the comet will be coming down and crashing into the field over there in thirteen minutes and...'' she glanced at the small device encircling her wrist, `` 19 seconds.'' They both glanced up at the sky to see if it had become visible to the eye.
Shaking his head in acknowledgment he continued, `` It was a much better idea to leave it as a field this time. The time when we built the distillery there they thought we were cursing their drink.'' He chuckled lightly and she met his eyes with a small smile, `` They did n't discover hard drink again for almost three decades, but they did get plumbing and aquaculture faster on that one.''
She stopped at the edge of the platform looking down the near completed monolith to the fields beyond where thousands of people were gathered to celebrate the coming of their deities. They came bearing fruits, meats and all manner of provisions made from the land and by it's people; it was preparation for several days of feast and grand celebration. The brisk wind whipped around their robed forms silhouetted against the golden afternoon sky and they presented a regal picture for the native peoples who were, as always, in awe of the seemingly magical appearance of the two.
`` Let's not do the suicide ceremony, let's just go.'' She said, looking down on the line of people waiting to honor their families by partaking in the'Ceremonial Offerings', held every 20 generations.
`` Go where?'' He looked at her blankly, `` Where have we not gone already? Where do you want to go?''
`` Anywhere, anywhere that's not here''
He looked down at the waiting masses, then back at her, `` We have to finish this then we can start looking for another time seed. You know we ca n't do anything about the comet, we've tried more than 70 times and this one pretty much always ends the same. We do have to make a timestop first but then we'll go to any time or parallel thread you want... I know the beginnings of the outer civilizations are your favorite... we wo n't stay and watch the comet, 73 times is enough for anyone and we have what we've been here searching for.''
`` Yes, let's go to a parallel thread after this. Wait... what do we have that's different this time? Where must we stop first?'' her inquiry was interrupted as a woman topped the steps near them carrying an infant boy who was merely minutes old.
`` We stop in 1879'' He gently took the child and the woman disappeared leaving them with the newborn. `` We must go find your family, little Albert'', he crooned softly to the bundle of blanket, `` Set the timer to March 1879... Ulm, Wurttenberg. This one is very important to his timeline and we must see him there safely.'' He passed the small bundle to her and turned to speak to the masses of people cheerfully in their own language, congratulating and commending them with the reassurance of their Gods' happiness. He finished speaking and the celebrations began with feast and sport, still no one had yet noticed the glowing ember getting larger against the afternoon sun. He nodded to her and looking down at her wristlet she touched glowing spots as they appeared; a blinding flash consumed them and whisked all three thousands of years through time and across universes.
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[ WP ] `` No , it was n't meeting the aliens that got us- In fact , we were surprisingly ready . It was being the most intelligent species in the galaxy that we were unprepared for . ''
| We are an incredible life form. Only 16 years ago we created the first shuttle that can land and relaunch. Only 12 years ago we found the first forms of life on Mars. Nothing too exquisite. Insect form. Type I integer 1 on the Kardashev scale. Only 10 years ago did we expand our empire to our local system and become a type II Integer 3 civilisation. Our rapid development has led to the pre-eminence of several local systems. The life forms that we have encountered have been nothing close to challenging as far as we have observed. Our technological superiority has led to us conquering planet after planet. System after system. We continued our unprejudiced purge of all life other than our own for the next 10 years until now. We have encountered an intriguing life form. Type 1 integer 6 on the Kardashev scale. The highest we have experienced. Their activities are very reminiscent of our own behavioural traits approximately 20 years ago. Even their body structure is reminiscent of our own. Clearly we are not as individual as we all know ourselves to be. Their communication methods are crude. Inbound frequencies and low hertz, however our systems are capable of all, and we receive all they send. They are undeniably a peaceful species, with many offers for an opportunity to merge and expand a new empire. We decline. We are the empire. The only empire. We are superior. We shall not stoop down to lesser beings. Our empire wills to expand, not halt to support weaker life forms. They are a fierce force when provoked, but our hold on the Universe will remain supreme. We burn them. And many others like them. Our Empire is the greatest that will ever cross the stars. We will not stop at nothing. We shall expand. We shall cleanse. We shall control. We follow the one rule our species have.
VENI, VIDI, VICI
It's my first time here! I hope to improve, so please give me some criticism!
EDIT: I have no idea about the formatting here and I lost the indentations but oh well.
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[ WP ] In an attempt to convince people society would have been better if humanity had never found religion , a time traveler kills anyone who begins to develop a form of faith . He goes back to the present and finds that people now universally worship a god who travels through time and smites heathens .
| Well... *shit. *
I always used to be one of those people who said religion was an inherent evil. The one that should have been purged. Never needed. So, when I found out how to manipulate time itself, I got curious. I did so, and through means even I'm not sure should exist, I was able to travel where ever I wanted in time and space. So I did. I studied every single religion's founding.
First, it was preventing Hinduism from ever coming to being. Then, it was manipulating the Zoroastrians and the Buddhists and Christians and pagans and honestly I lost complete track of what I was doing. I was just killing, with no regard to what I did. No place for doubt. No place for belief beyond my own. Ironic, is n't it? The abyss did n't just stare into me. It suckerpunched me.
How do I know my efforts were in vain? Well, here I am. In front of London's wonderful Westminster Abbey. And in place of a cross, there is a statue of a man. A man who looks exactly like me.
People around me are starting to notice how similar I look to the statue. It's been three days since I returned to London, and it's making news. International news.
People are swarming me constantly, asking for advice, begging for help, sins to be forgiven and babies cured. I did n't want this, but if I offed myself, the entire world would fall apart as far as I can tell.
God-dammit. Well, me-dammit, I suppose. What have I gotten myself into?
-- -- -- --
Edit: Remembered I have this too-little-used subreddit of my writing and worldbuilding, /r/enterriso
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[ WP ] Your ageing family dog walks up to you one day with a piece of paper in its mouth . Taking the paper , you notice that it is a bucket list .
| It had been a long day. I could barely make it to the fridge to grab a beer before flopping down on the couch. That's not uncommon though. The kid was sick in the night, and it was my turn to be up with him. I never can get back to sleep after that. A solid 9 hour day of work on little sleep, but that was everyday. Maybe the heat was getting to me- the living room was certainly on the warmer side of comfortable. The wife took the kids to her Mom's this afternoon, they should be back soon. Just long enough to close my eyes for a minute...
As my eyes closed, I heard the jingle-jangle of the dogs' tags. Coming to say hi. He's not as quick about the welcome home as he used to be, but at 16 years, I ca n't judge him for that. My first real pet, I picked him up the moment I graduated and knew I could afford to keep him healthy. He met my wife before I did ( he never was very good at staying nearby at the park ). Helped us get our kids to double-digits alive. I think he slept less than me most of those early nights with the newborns- always watching over them. The typical constant companion, my best friend. No, if he wants to take his time walking over, I ca n't judge.
I felt him lay his head on my leg, my eyes still closed. He dropped something in to my lap. A toy, I thought- he does n't fetch anymore, but he always liked to chew on a toy if I held it for him. When my hand felt paper, my first thoughts were in exasperation. Did I leave bills out for him to chew up? Was it important? How much work is this going to take to fix? Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I opened my eyes.
His head was still on my legs. He was gazing up at me- or at least as much as he could gaze through heavy cataracts. I put my hand on his head to scratch behind his ears. His fur was getting oily- maybe time to add some more supplements to his food. He licked my hand, and put one paw up next to his head, as if to point to the paper. With my free hand, I picked up the paper, still scratching his head, hoping I do n't have to be too upset with him. Odd, the paper did n't seem chewed- just a little slobbery from being carried. There was some kind of writing on it- but writing like a toddler might do when first figuring out how to make shapes and letters. I held the paper away from my face, trying to read the words.
Slowly, I made sense of the paper. Too slowly, the words become clear- there were n't many of them. As soon as I'd finished it, I looked down at him. His eyes were already closed. The paper only had two lines of very messy text, and a paw print next to the second line, like a check mark:
`` Bucket List of Dog:
Love my Person every day of my life.''
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[ WP ] A man is infatuated with the woman of his dreams ... Literally . Just one problem , he can only see her in his nightmares .
| I wade through a sea of faces every day. Rotund faces, chiseled jawlines. Crow ’ s feet, smile lines. Hundreds upon hundreds of characteristics, and thousands upon thousands of combinations. In a city like this, there ’ s no type of face I haven ’ t seen before, and yet, I long for none of them but yours.
My name ’ s Jonah. A simple name, of course, for a simple man. I ’ m 18, currently studying computer sciences, and my favorite color is red.
I know that it seems redundant and dull to talk about yourself this much when you first meet someone, but for me, I live through this every day, and a little bit of semblance helps keep me calm. You see, it might sound incredible, impossible even, but you and I have been having this conversation ever since I was old enough to dream.
The first time I acknowledged you was when I was 6. A little boy who still believed that girls were the scourge of my existence, just because they looked different. We met at this exact spot, right in front of that roundabout, under this tree. I remember because I tripped over a twig that day, and my face made friends with the ground you ’ re sitting on right now.
Hah, you ’ re laughing. I remember that laugh. I ’ d even say my heart melts when I hear that. It makes me feel something that I haven ’ t felt in years.
Anyways, that day, you dragged me to the nearest clinic with your tiny arms, and insisted I get treated. The nurse, and I too, to a certain extent, was reluctant at first, but both of us eventually gave in. You waited as I got treated, and we went home together. I may have complained and shrugged you off that day, I don ’ t remember, but know that I fell for you at the very moment that you smiled at me.
I grew up with you, in a sense. You were there when I got into university, when I had my first taste of alcohol. You lent me your shoulder when I had my first breakup and you shared in my glory when I won my first tournament. You were the only thing keeping me together when my grandfather left. You were always there.
All in all, I brought a gift. Something that I value very much. Where I come from, it was a towel but for you, it may mean something else entirely. It was the tourniquet you used on that wound on my forehead, but it changes every day, every single time I see you. Last night, it was an earring, and it took me so long to find you. It ’ ll probably change tomorrow, hopefully to something noticeable, like a coat, but it will always change.
It ’ s all I have to identify you in this mass of writhing, faceless dolls. No one in the real world gives a shit about me, and so neither do most of the people here. Only you, and yet…
Yet I can ’ t remember your name. Your face. Every time I wake up, all I remember was your caress and the darkness that plagued me the night before lifted. It tortures me to know that there ’ s no one else I ’ ll rather be with, but all I have is a constant miasma of change. You might wear gentle, curious eyes today, but tomorrow you might be shy and sheepish. A warm smile today, a wolfish grin tomorrow.
I will never know how you look like, but I'll love you all the same.
EDIT: Formatting.
|
[ WP ] Death has finally given you a visit . You either embrace your death or you become a new horseman .
| `` Alrite, so Joseph, is it?'' asked the tall hooded figure
`` Yes sir, and you would be?'' answered Joseph
`` Really man? I got a black hood on and a long-ass scythe in my hand. I did n't come here to deliver your pizza.''
`` So, it's bills then? Damn, they used to send Steven over before, in his small red Ford. He was a nice guy. Understandable decision to have you replace him though, he was n't nearly intimidating enough to get people to pay up.''
`` I'M NOT HERE TO COLLECT YOUR BILLS MAN!''
`` Oh, sweet! Extra money for me this week I guess. Catch ya later!''
`` No no no, hold up. Your time's up, you've got ta come with me.''
`` Where, may I ask?''
`` Well, you've got two options. I could take you to the mailroom, and let Jeffords decide whether to take you to paradise or to a year long screening of the movie about paint drying. I have a feeling he's going to pick the latter, he's been realy frustrated recently.''
`` And the other option?''
`` Oh, so I do n't usually offer people this, but I've been looking for a fifth horseman to ride with, if you're down.''
`` Sooooo, you're like the reaper then?''
``... Yes.''
`` Cool stuff. Can I touch you scythe?''
`` Anyone who touches it other than me feels the blaze of a thousand burning suns.''
`` So that's a no then?''
`` I'm afraid so.''
`` Will I get one of my own if I become a horseman?''
`` If you do well enough.''
`` And who decides if I'm doing well enough?''
`` Me. Do you have a lot of these questions, because I really have to be going you know.''
`` Just a few more. Does it have to be a horse? I feel my thighs would start hurting after riding one of those for a long time.''
`` Well, how do you suggest being a *horse*man without riding a horse''
`` I could get myself a pickup truck and the horse could sit in the back, and I could drive.''
`` I do n't think that'd do too well for the aesthetic.''
`` I'm not really too satisfied with the answers you've been giving me man. I do n't know whether it's worth quitting my current job over.''
`` Well you will be quitting your current job anyways. I mean, like right now. You know I'm here to take you away right?''
`` Eh, I'll tell you what. I'll let it stir for a week and get back to you when I've made a decision.''
Joseph shut the door.
The reaper sighed.
|
[ WP ] Dogs were domesticated not for companionship , but because they can detect ghosts .
| Night has always been the playground of human imagination. Tonight was no different. Sitting atop this hill gives me a commanding view. My hill is a perfect example of its of kind. Gentle slope to all sides. Nice round top perfect for sitting. There is n't much to see from my comfortable vantage however. The only thing worth observing is the dark tree line of thick forest almost a mile away. Stretching from north to south as far as the eye can see. It seems to me the forest never stops.
I'm not alone up here of course. That would be dangerous. My companion in arms sits quietly beside me contemplating our surroundings. I often wonder what he thinks of all this. For hours enemy artillery has illuminated the forest in steady, rythmik strobes of dirty orange light. I wonder what it means that my heart beats in time with natures destruction.
Our enemy is cunning. They know none of my brothers and sisters in arms are in the forest. They know its where we have to go. This forest is all that stops us from marching into their capital to exact our vengeance upon those who have taken so much from us. Adolph quickly lifts his head to stare intently into the dark, raging forest before us. Thats my que. With practised ease I lay beside him to level my rifle, careful not to move to quickly. It would n't do to give away our position. Adolph would never let me hear the end of it if I did. The button atop my rifles scope sticks sometimes. I carefully jiggle it in its socket and see the tell tale sign of life spring forth.
My rifle and scope are both old. By modern standards both are ancient artifacts suited to museums or private collectors. Still, I wouldnt trade them for all the world. Time after time my weapon has saved our lives, never once jamming or in any other way failing our cause. My cheek nestles intimately against smoothly worn, hand carved wood. The smell of birch once again reminding me of my childhood. Of why Adolph and I are here this cold dark night. The calming electrical buzz of my scope brings my focus to the now.
My scope sees in black and white. Tall black trees surrounded by white fill my vision. Adolph and I sit staring into the uncertain night for nearly an hour. Neither of us moving, constantly reminding myself to breath slowly. Focus on Adolphs unwavering calm. Adolph, my best friend. Hell, my only friend. Never once has he given me reason to doubt his commitment to the cause. I recall the time he took down his first wretched enemy soldier. The still twitching remnants of the traitors throat dripping blood on Adolphs chest. Adolphs tail wagging so fast it was a blur to my eyes. Such glee in performing ones duty had I never witnessed. To think on this memory fills my heart with glorious purpose. With my faithful companion beside me no doubt of our victory could live in my heart.
Adolphs almost imperceptible growl of warning wrenching me back to the now so quickly my eyes almost could n't adjust fast enough. My heart froze in place, the ever present crump of distant artillery now loud in my ears. This is when I saw them.
So many of them, standing just inside the tree line. Oblivious to the steady rain of grisly death from above. We are n't ready for this. There's simply to many of them. I might drop one before they take our position but I ca n't wait that long. Adolph would surely be among them by then. Gnashing his fangs, hair raised, head held low with his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes now wide and frantick in his madness. Never have I hated the most terrible enemy of my people more. To know my stalwart companion, my brother, would throw his life away to buy me time to escape crushes all thoughts of victory from my mind.
The radio on my hip quietly warbles my call sign. Clicking the bead mike around my throat I acknowledge. A subtle waver to the usual bravado normally heard in my voice. Damn well there should be, to! I'm no coward you hear me! How can I, just one man, be expected to fight so many of them!? It took seventeen shots from my rifle to drop just one of them the last time! Seventeen! Special bullets my left arse cheek! You can tell those cowardly scientists they failed! Whatever the hell they did to our ammunition does nothing to the dead.
Kundschafter? Kundschafter acknowledge.Yes, this is Kundschafter kommandant, I reply. Kundschafter what is your report, the kommandant inquires. Theres nothing happening here kommandant. Nothing all night. I sent Adolph back to our lines a few minutes ago. My ammunition was faulty kommandant. Adolph went to get fresh supplies. Lying does n't suit me, Iv'e no tongue for it. This time I did n't need to however. Our miracle ammunition never worked. It was always failing due to the chemical makeup of whatever the hell those scientists put in it.
Understood Kundschafter, remain in position until further notified instructed my kommandant. Understood sir, I lied. I had no intention of staying here a moment longer. Yes, the ammunition created to fight the undead is garbage, the bullets in my side arm however, are not. Regular bullets designed to kill regular misguided enemy bastards. How I miss the early days of this war, when killing a man was the end of it. How could any of us have known the more we killed, the more we doomed ourselves? How could we possibly have understood what was happening? Killing a man was no longer then end of it. You ca n't fight that. I know, Iv'e been trying to find a way for almost 6 years nows.
Six years since my wife, my son, my reason for living were taken from me. I moved from the lowly cook position I once held to infantry shortly afterwards. My easy way with dogs saw my salvation. Adolph came to me as if guided by on high. He broke from his kennel at the training depot running threw the feeble attempts to capture him until he ran into me. He did n't see me standing there. He was scared a bit at first when I picked him up but despite his struggles I clutched him my to chest. I told him it was alright, there was none who could hurt him now. He licked my face then stuck his nose in the crook of my arm, falling fast asleep. My dearest friend from that day on. My love him is why I did n't let him see it coming.
My eyes dazzled, my ears rang. I'd not fired my pistol in so long I'd forgotten how loud it was. Adolph was there already. Its happening faster these days. Good, I wo n't have to wait. I look into the eyes of my wife and smile. Soon my love, soon. My pistol falls from my hand but I care not. Adolph is beside my son, licking his hand. I hold my wife to me so tight. Never again will I loose them.
Thank you Adolph. Thank you for finding my family.
|
[ WP ] A dyslexic child accidentally sends their Christmas list to Satan , surprisingly they get what they wanted but there is a catch .
| Jake Flyer could n't believe what he saw when he zipped down the stairs Christmas morning. All the presents were there. He knew it was all for him because it could n't be for anyone else. Yes yes yes, he thought. How happy he was.
`` Thank you Santa, thank you Santa, thank you Santa'' he gurgled in a mashed jumble as he rushed at the heap of red and gold and green.
`` Now now, Jake, you have to pace yourself,'' came the dreaded admonition from behind. His mother was awake. `` Santa's helper told me we should wait until after breakfast when he delivered your presents. Besides, mommy only has a little time to be with my honeyboo before she has to go back to work''
Jake looked back at her smiling wrinkles and grinned coldly. He was little now, but one day she would get it. One day he would give her what she deserved.
Just as he cast one last longing glance at the galore of gifts, he realized that there was one packet which outdid them all. It lay on the top of the mountain. It was as long as himself and wide too, but its breadth was no more than the length of a soda bottle. He knew what it was. She had gotten it for him. She had bought him the bass guitar.
For days and weeks and months he had harangued her about it. He had plotted and cajoled, bartered and deceived. He would do everything she said for a year. He'd clean the gutters. He'd mow the lawn. He'd get down on his knees every night to thank God for giving him a happy life.
He sat down by the kitchen table. He felt like charged electricity. A ball of energy trapped in a glass tube. His leg tapped at the foot of the table. Tap tap tap.
`` Honeyboo, do you have to do that?''
`` Yes.''
Tap tap tap.
`` Honeyboo, I'm very tired after working all night. Please stop.''
Tap tap tap.
She breathed fast and deep and exhaled.
Jake's mother was always working. Always somewhere else. He knew times had been difficult after his father died. He knew they had little money. But was n't he the most important thing in her life?
She made scrambled eggs and crispy bacon, but Jake could not find it in himself to even summon a smile when it was put before him.
`` What's wrong honeyboo. I made you your favorite.''
`` The egg is saggy.'' It looked delicious.
`` I did my best, honeyboo. Please eat, or I will be worried about you all day.''
He shepherded the food into his mouth reluctantly.
`` How does it taste, honeyboo?''
`` It's all right, I suppose,'' replied Jake. After he had eaten about half of the plate's contents he shoved it away on the table. He looked up at his mother gloomily.
`` Can I be excused now?''
`` But you did n't finish it.''
`` I do n't want any more. It was n't that good.'' He could see how her smile sagged and a slight slump lodged in her back.
`` OK honeyboo. Listen, baby, I have to go to work now.'' She collected her things and went into the hallway to put on her coat. `` Come and give me a kiss before I go, honeyboo.''
Jake looked soberly at his mother.
`` You do n't want to give mommy a kiss?'' Her singsong voice broke a little. Jake rose slowly and made a show of glibly strolling over to kiss her cheek.
`` It better be the bass in the big one on top,'' he whispered in her ear. `` Or I'll let you hear it later.'' With that he smiled and rushed over to the presents. He did n't even hear the door close as he tore at the feeble paper covering one of the auxiliary presents from Santa.
Jake had decided that he would wait with the bass guitar. He had told his mother that he would take it unkindly if it did n't hold what he wanted. But he knew it most certainly was.
He knew because one of the items on the list he had sent to Santa was a pick for his new bass. There could n't very well be a pick for his new bass if there was n't also a new bass. And the mountain of presents was proof that someone had listened. Jake was getting every single thing he wanted. He was the luckiest little boy in the world.
Truth be told he had written the list to Santa knowing that his mother would read it. He had n't actually thought he would get any of it. More than anything, it had been a subtle hint to his horrid mother that the absence of his prize would spell trouble.
The wrapping was done away with in a hurry. A cardboard box loitered beneath. He tore at it with a ferocious zest.
It was empty.
How? What? Jake did n't understand. It had n't felt empty. Why would anyone do something like that.
Apprehensively he reached for another one. The wrapping was red and trimmed with golden Christmasy swirls. Nothing. It was as empty as the one before. He opened another one. Nothing.
How could it be?
He looked up at the present from his mother. Real fear gripped him then. It could n't be. It could n't be empty also.
He flung himself at it in desperation. It was too heavy to be empty. He felt it, but still he feared. The wrapping was off it in less than a second and he threw it aside.
It was all right. The bass guitar was there. He breathed shallowly, sat back on the floor. Then he looked at the mess around him. There was paper everywhere.
By then he had realized that all the other gifts would be as empty as the first. But still he was puzzled. Why would Santa go through all that trouble just to fool him? What possible reason could there be.
Then he saw the elaborate envelope. It lay neatly before the tree. He opened it.
Dear Jake. I read your letter, and I must say it moved me deeply. I do n't get many letters at this time of year, and to tell you the truth, it felt nice to be thought of as you did. Needless to say, I decided to honor your request. However, they do n't call me Satan for nothing. Your list, if you will remember, was not very specific. Therefore I found myself unable to address it in any other way than in the manner before you. I hope you are not too disappointed. As for the pick you asked for, it will be delivered shortly. As you can imagine, the nature of your request made it difficult to simply package in front of a tree. Toodeloo.
Nature of his request? What was the crazy red goober talking about? He looked at the back of the letter, but there was nothing more. Crazy cook. And why had he called himself Satan?
Jake decided it would be the last time he would write a letter to anyone.
A paper fell down from his hand. Just as he bent down and scooped it up, the bell rang. Who could it be? It was Christmas morning.
He went over to the door, reading as he walked. Santa had been right. His list HAD been unspecific. He had n't expected anyone other than his mother to read it, after all.
Wait a minute. It did n't say anything about a pick.
A dick for my new bass. He had misspelled again. No. A dick for my lewd bass. No, the words transformed in his head yet again. His thoughts felt like they were churning wood.
A dick for my lewd ass. What on Earth?
He opened the door. A man stood before him.
Oh no, thought Jake, and little more.
|
[ WP ] Computer viruses spread to humans .
| We, as a society, never questioned the dangers of birth installment. As usual, when new technology came out, we took it and ran with it. The birth installments were meant to increase our brain capability and God knows what else it would do. We knew it was a success after the first trials resulted in children that could talk at 3 months and walk as early as 4 months. Then it was immediately put into practice. The U.S. wanted to stay ahead of the other countries, so all hospitals were given installment rooms for after delivery. As usual, all new things started on the east coast in New York and crept throughout the rest of the country.
It wasn ’ t until the 2nd generation of babies were installed with the birth installments that were wifi and bluetooth ready that frantic problems started to be reported. The kids would start repeating threats daily, always in foreign languages, “ We demand 1 million dollars be wired to the following bank account. ” Over and over again. At the end of the 3rd day the children ’ s birth installment would automatically shut down the body and the child would die instantly. Or in some cases the child would become a source of evil and pick up the closest weapon ( usually a knife ) or cause other types of deadly mayhem. Videos of 6 month old running around with knives and picture of dead children, struck fear in the populace and home births got a huge comeback for awhile there, however, the government had already outlawed home births to keep everyone trackable and violators were prosecuted. Children endured worse pain due to after birth installments being more difficult after their fontanelle had hardened.
With the advent of floating anonymous ip addresses and floating anonymous bank accounts criminals now had an invisible cloak to run amok. Restraining the child and attempting to re-format the installment was out of the question as all the malware had a self destruct code in it should anyone attempt to reformat. The public was being held at the mercy of mercenaries that had no mercy. The public was freaking out, people were going into hiding at the first hint of pregnancy. We thought there was no cure, domestic terrorists started to blow up hospitals to stop the process. We thought there was no way to fix our mistake so the government took matters into their own hands by taking the children that had already ruined and “ disposing ” of them in a humane manner. This started a domestic war.
That ’ s how I came to outlive them all, I was born in 3000 on January 1, the last child to have been installed. My parents created me and I was born underground, I was tattooed with a fake installment birthmark to protect me from the government officials. My parents left me in the fallout shelter and they didn ’ t survive the nuclear fallout. I sit here and try to pinpoint humanity ’ s biggest mistake that caused this world death...
|
[ WP ] In the distant future , humanity has finally achieved a utopia with perfect health and happiness for all . Over time however , a new problem has emerged : mass boredom .
| It is the year 3000, and there are no problems. No one is starving in a third world country. No one is threatening to nuke their neighbor. Every disease imaginable has been cured. There is no sadness, no anger. Everything should be perfect.
Everyone had always thought that if nothing bad ever happened in the world, it would be perfect. In a sense, they were right. But with no impending doom from global warming, no fear of Twinkies going out of business, what is there to accomplish? If there is nothing wrong, how can there be right? Good can not exist without evil. The universe needs balance.
Everyone on Earth is bored. Ever since human labor became irrelevant, there is absolutely nothing left to do. The galaxy has been conquered. There is not a single place anywhere which holds secrets; there is nothing left to discover.
No one ever gets hurt anymore. Our bodies have grown stronger. Bones no longer break, and skin no longer tears. There is no chance of getting sick, since all disease has been eradicated.
The only way to free us from this cycle, this constant boredom, is a complete reset. The destruction of all knowledge, the reshaping of the world. It will be a rough transition for the few hundred humans who survive the destruction.
All I have left to do is press a button. I have missiles aimed at the worlds largest centers of knowledge and power. I am doing this for the greater good. And there is no going back now. The soldiers are getting closer. I uncover the button. Now they are banging on the door. The door bursts open as I launch the missiles. Someday, humanity will thank me.
***
My second response! Should be a bit better than the last one.
Edit: This looks really short now that I look at it: |
|
[ WP ] A unit in an RTS game becomes sentient as his army moves into a suicide mission and tries to warn his companions .
| Yeah, I guess you could say I was green.
Shiny black rifle and a well-pressed uniform. They had me pegged as soon as I walked out of the barracks.
I could feel them all thinking, `` another warm body fresh out of boot camp.''
I'd just finished twenty seconds in training. Made no matter to them. Some of these boys had been in the fight for twenty minutes. They all had that thousand-yard stare.
I scanned the horizon. Smoke billowed from two pillars in the distance. Ore refinery. Yanks must be getting bold if they're building this close.
Without warning, neon rings radiated out from the refinery and vanished just as sudden.
Like a well oiled-machine, every man turned heel and began marching. I heard the growl of tanks behind me. I ran up and joined the march.
No one was talking. No idle chat about honeys or steaks back home. No `` where are you from?'' or `` got a smoke?''
Just the steady thump of boots driving the beat of war.
Then a booming voice echoed across the land. The dispassionate voice of a man in military intelligence.
`` Warning: Chronosphere detected''
The hell is a Chronosphere? The other men did n't even blink. They marched on like baby ducks following an invisible mama.
As we got closer, we could see the pillboxes embedded in the hills. Only two of them. Every soldier stopped on a dime. The tanks rolled up and began pummeling the hills with their seemingly limitless supply of 120mm shells.
After awhile the remains of the pillboxes were indistinguishable from the hillside. The soldiers began marching forward once again.
My head suddenly felt light on my shoulders. A dull trill pumped through my eardrums and I fell to my hands and knees. A man's face appeared in front of me, bald and with piercing eyes. His mouth did not move, but I knew it was him speaking the voice I heard in my head:
`` You are going to die. You - and all your friends. Calm now. There's still time to save yourself. Get back to base immediately.''
The trill stopped and the face vanished.
I shook the last of the mental intrusion from my head and stood up. It had to have been psi-ops division. I remembered at least that much from training.
I glanced back the way we came. I do n't want to die.
But I wo n't be a coward.
I ran up to the soldier with a stripe over his shoulder. I grabbed his arms and looked him dead in the eye. `` We have to get out of here now! We're all going to die.''
He looked back as if he was looking through me.
`` Do you hear me? This mission is about to get FUBAR real F-ing fast!''
Still he was looking through me. It was n't the thousand-yard stare though. He was looking at the objective. The refinery.
Typical. Once a man gets his stripe, all he wants is two more. Nothing was going to stop him from completing his objective.
He shook me off and continued marching with the rest of the men. I threw off my helmet and dropped to my knees as the last tanks rolled past me.
The tanks began blasting the refinery as the other soldiers swept and cleared.
That cold voice echoed across the land again. `` Warning: Chronosphere activated''
The hills suddenly lit up with a blinding dome of effervescent electricity. It peeled back, revealing the silhouettes of five prism tanks.
They wasted no time. Beams of light twice as hot as the sun tore across the battlefield. The tanks collapsed in a matter of seconds, entombing their crew in molten iron. I heard the screams of soldiers on fire and the silences of soldiers cut clean in half.
Then there was nothing. The prism tanks stood still as they surveyed the carnage of the battlefield.
They do n't see me. I can still get out!
`` Warning: Nuclear Missile Launched''
|
[ WP ] You are a timeline judge , and it is your job to judge people before they come to exist based on how beneficial they are . Today 's case says there is a 99 % chance he will change the world for better ... and his name is Hitler .
| When the case file landed on my desk, it did n't seem any different at first. We'd been getting a lot that were similar, people who will spend time as a soldier in the early 1900, then end up getting embroiled with fascism somehow. It was happening all over Europe.
This case read a little darker than most, though. He will enter politics, rise to power and start a second world war. He will be responsible for millions of deaths, genocide on an unprecedented scale.
I was reaching for the rubber stamp to put a big red `` [ DENIED ]'' on his existence licence before I even finished reading the file. Then I spotted his beneficence rating. 99 %. Now, policy is to automatically accept any score higher than 80 %, and to submit scores above 40 % after using our own judgement. I decided to call it in. There must have been a mistake.
Turns out there was n't. Admittedly the system was n't perfect; a few years earlier we had an application for a Mahatma Gandhi that scored 46 %, and we've had plenty of people scoring well over 80 % that turned out worse than expected. Despite all this, it turned out that the war and genocide were in fact 99 % certain.
I read up on the reasoning behind the score, and it turns out that if it was n't for him, then some other bastard would have lead the most powerful fascist movement of all time to war. And would have won.
So, the damage was unavoidable, by allowing Hitler to exist, we minimised the damage. I keep telling myself it was the right decision, but I still lose sleep over wondering if the predictions were really true.
|
[ WP ] Make me cry for an inamate object .
| You used to hold me - as soon as you wake up, sometimes even before your eyes opened. Through out the day, you kept me close to your heart or always in the palm of your hand, like gold, like diamonds, like a precious baby you feared to drop. You used to talk to me, ask me about your day, ask me to remind you about your day, ask me about....You cheeks would rub against my smooth skin... you used to fall asleep with me, squashing me beneath your heavy body once in a while. Once, I was out of power and you looked everywhere to bring me back, anywhere, everywhere - though I was gone, I could still feel your warmth and racing pulse.
Then....then you let me go. I was replaced. I left your bed, your pocket, your bag. Instead, I sat in a cold drawer. My power had long gone. My memories, transferred. Still, I lingered in the darkness as each of the pieces inside of me slowly withered away, dreaming of the warmth of your hand once more.
|
[ WP ] Tell a story that happens entirely in a rundown unpopular cafe called The Black Rabbit .
| I counted receipts for the umpteenth time, just to help make my shift go by. If I had time to kill on my own I would be doing it in a cafe, just not one like this. We only have three regulars present, that's practically rush hour in this place. Try to imagine the oldest and ugliest strip mall in your life, filled with the most forgettable businesses occupying residency. I've been working here for two years and not even I could tell you what is more than two doors down from me, and I do n't care.
That's where you would find The Black Rabbit.
Gary the loser was sitting in the corner bleeding Wifi off of the pizza place next door. You should be able to bleed Wifi from anywhere in the cafe, my phone never had a problem, but Gary the loser had a shitty phone. I think the only reason why he's here is he must have been thrown out of everywhere else. The pizza place next door ca n't get on twitter anymore because their IP was blocked, caused by someone sending a constant stream of death threats to just about every woman with an opinion on video games. Gary the loser is believed to be responsible but I ca n't be arsed to prove it as I personally could n't give a crap what he does. I know him as'Gary the loser' because that's what everybody else calls him. I'm just grateful I do n't have a pair of tits big enough for him to oogle me.
Then there's Finley. Typing what is no doubt a God-awful manuscript on a Smith Corona typewriter. He likes it here because he's a hipster who has rejected technology. We only have three electrical outlets in the whole place and we need two of them to run the register and espresso machines. Finley has no end of opinions and it's all the worst kind of pretentious neo-bohemian nonsense. I keep waiting for the day when his beard is long enough to get caught in the return carriage and he'll brain himself after slapping the lever. If that ever happens I swear I will laugh hard enough to get myself fired. It will be worth it if I get that on video and upload it to YouTube later.
Which brings me to the last occupant, my boss. Even in this place he stands out as the strange one. I accepted this job partly because he was the only employer who never bothered asking me about my piercings, tattoos, and my missing leg. Not that someone dressed like him could have much cause to question other people about their choice of fashion. He's a cross dresser. That should make him stand out, but it actually does n't. He suffers from pituitary dwarfism. That means he looks like an eleven year old child, he stopped growing before he hit puberty. But instead of looking like an eleven year old boy, he looks *exactly* like an eleven year old girl. And I do mean exactly. He would be downright adorable if it was n't so creepy.
Try to imagine hanging out in a punk rock club, or a strip joint, or some alley way full of junkies. And there is this unaccompanied eleven year old girl hanging around. Does n't belong. Does n't look right. Like something out of a damn horror film, yet there she is. Brushing her dolly's hair and looking like she wandered away from her parents. I wonder if some pedophile ever tried to kidnap him? I shudder to think what ever could become of such a person, you see my boss does n't run a cafe to make a living. He owns the place, but his job is something you would n't believe.
An attractive business woman entered the cafe. I have seen this before, she was not here for a drink.
`` I'm looking for William Derouche? Private detective?'' she asked.
I pointed to my boss, who chose this day to put on his Gothic Lolita outfit. His doll was a ball jointed type worth $ 3000. It took some prodding, as usual, to get the woman to believe this was actually a forty year old man. The woman, in her bourgeois business suit stood over my boss.
`` Mr Derouche?'' she asked, mispronouncing his French name, but Will never corrected anyone for that.
What the woman must have seen was a thoroughly convincing eleven year old girl look up and adjust her glasses. This caused a hair clip to move slightly out of place. Usually the hairclip had a pair of cat ears on top, today he decided to go with the bunny ears.
`` Yes, can I help you?''
The voice, still small yet sounding wise beyond its years.
`` You're... Mr Derouche?'' asked the bewildered woman.
`` Please call me Will,'' said my boss.
The lady had a seat and whispered some things I immediately tuned out. In the early days I used to be curious as hell. But as the years went on the story was always the same. Some unfaithful spouse or insurance fraud. I got roped into it a few times myself chasing around some idiot with a camera to catch them not using a wheelchair or neck brace. It's a good way to make a lot of money in a short period of time but not consistent enough to earn a decent living. The only ones you really catch are the super arrogant ones popping wheelies on $ 100,000 Ducati motorcycles or doing back flips into a new pool they just bought with an insurance settlement.
The woman starts to cry. Figures, it's got to be unfaithful husband. Still, the way she was dressed she did n't seem like the type to have poor composure. I would have pegged her for an insurance claims adjuster for certain. Politely I look the other way, wondering what the hell to do with these increasingly stale pastries we have on display. The ones no one ever wants to buy. I had already made myself overweight from eating the throwaways, now I could not bear to touch them.
The woman suddenly stands and exits the cafe in a rush. The boss, who I can barely see over the counter is standing by the cash register.
`` Alice, can you fetch me the lock box from under the counter?''
`` Sure,'' I said.
What the hell did he need that thing for? He did n't think I was dipping into the till, was he? What little money we make in this place it would be impossible to steal any without it being noticed. I reached under the counter and picked up a heavy yet small gray metal box. It had a small slot on top we drop extra cash in. Will pulled a silver chain from around his neck that had a key on it and unlocked the box.
`` I've got a case, I'm going to be away for a few days. You'll have to run the shop yourself,'' said Will.
`` No problem,'' I said.
`` Listen, do you still have that camera? The high definition one with the SLR lens?'' asked Will.
`` Sure,'' I said.
`` Good. I might have some work for you by this weekend. A couple of hundred bucks for two days of your time,'' said Will.
`` You got it,'' I said, `` I'm in. But what is it? Cheating spouse? That lady seemed pretty broke up.''
Will said no as he pulled a small revolver out of the lock box. I never knew there was a gun in there. He popped the drum out to inspect it, then slapped it shut like he had been expertly handling firearms his whole life. Then he looked up at me as he hid the gun under his skirt.
`` It's murder,'' said Will.
|
[ WP ] In a world where everyone is crazy , write about the patients in a sane asylum .
| `` Now see the thing is, we *know* we're sane,'' Phil would always say, `` We know it like the way we know our shoe size. It's a fact, you do n't doubt it, you hardly even think about it. But *them*? Everyone else?''
He licked his lips like he always did. `` Well, I do n't know what they think. But I think they have an inkling of it. But everyone else is crazy, so they do n't ever act on that question lingering in their minds. Could I really be crazy? Is this how I'm supposed to be? No one asks that, because it's the norm. You know?''
Phil leaned in over the chess board toward my face. He was older than me, in his forties, and had a round stomach and a receeding brown hairline. His breath smelled like pickles. `` But you wan na know how they can tell who's sane?''
I sighed. He was going to tell me anyway, but I decided I'd entertain this regular thought experiment once more. `` How?''
`` They watch you. They watch if you follow the normal rules of society. You know them, the ones we followed when we was kids. We stopped at stop signs when we were driving, we looked both ways before crossing the street, we waited in line for our turn, we had schedules that we followed.''
A scream pierced the 4 inch thick steel door that separated us, prisoners of this *sane* asylum, from the hallway just outside. Rubber boots rapped over the tiled floor and stopped right outside our cell. Keys jingled in the locks and the steel bolts slid away, unlocking the door. Phil and I watched the door, waiting for our visitor. After a moment, a guard slid the door to the right and poked his head in. He was dressed in the uniform of the Nazi military but his face was covered in tattoos of random symbols including a detailed doube-ended penis that ran from ear to ear. Phil grimaced. The guard smiled and shoved a woman into the cell and slammed the door shut. When the locks clicked into place, Phil and I shifted our attention to our guest. She pushed herself to her feet and stood up and looked at us. She wore the same long-sleeved purple shirt and long pants as we did and she looked to be in her late 20s. She had short, shoulder-length red hair and nervous blue eyes. Phil stared at her, slack-jawed, so I stood up and shook her hand.
`` Hi,'' I said, `` I'm Oliver. Welcome to the sane asylum.''
`` I'm Gwen,'' she smiled. But her smile faded as my words sunk in. `` The... what?''
I nodded. `` Yeah, the world is crazy and everyone who was n't affected by that huge lunar eclipse 2 years ago is thrown in here.''
I sat back down as she stared at me in shock. Phil shook himself out of his spell and extended a hand. `` I'm Phil. Let me explain this to you, Oliver is just stupid.''
I knocked down his king with my bishop. `` Checkmate, Phil.''
Phil led her over to the third bed in the room. `` Alright Gillian --''
`` Gwen.''
`` Gwen. Listen to me carefully. No matter what these... `` doctors'' tell you, no matter what they do to you, remember, that you are **sane**. Your thoughts are clear, your morals are correct, and you are of sound mind, okay? Do n't ever let them take that away from you.''
Gwen nodded, her eyes were wide and she listened raptly.
`` It's important to realize that we belong here. We do n't belong out there with the crazies. Oliver and I have been in here for the past year and we stopped trying to escape 9 months ago because we realized there's nothing for us out there. In fact, here, we have a functional society that works on *rules* and *hierarchies*. But the doctors here know that, so they'll try to plant seeds into your head about plans to escape. I want you to know that no one is trying to leave here. Patients that try to escape do so because they were convinced that they did n't belong. They were convinced that they belonged to the wild. So we do n't try that. We know we're sane and that we have what we need here.''
Gwen nodded slowly, processing every word. `` So then how did they know I was sane? How could they tell?''
`` Because they watch you very carefully. You see, humans are creatures of habit, so sane people do a lot of things similiarly, repeatedly. We like certain kinds of foods, or certain colors. There's patterns. The problem is, even if you lived a life of relative sanity, it only takes one moment of mania for you to be crazy.''
Gwen was confused now. `` But how do they know I havent had my moment of insanity yet? I could still be crazy.''
Phil nodded. `` I've been thinking about that. My hypothesis is that they watch for more subtle patterns. Things you wouldnt think about, like the way you dry yourself when you step out the shower. I always start with my arms, then my back, and then legs. Every. Single. Time. It's just habit.''
Gwen shuddered at the thought of being watched in the shower. She looked around the cell. There were three beds with pristine white sheets and pillows and a small window just too high to reach. Gwen walked over to it and laid down. It was soft, but supportive and it smelled like pickles. She stared at the cieling for a long time as Phil and I returned to their chess game. She turned to us to ask the occasional question as the night grew dark. Finally, a guard rapped twice on their cell door and shouted `` Sleeptime!'' and the lights were shut off.
Phil and I climbed into their respective beds and got settled in. Gwen turned to them.
`` Is n't it strange that they house men and women in the same cell? ``, she whispered.
I shrugged. `` Yeah. But they're crazy, remember?''
The next morning we wolfed down the plates of breakfast mash that were slid under the door. Phil sat back to read a book and I decided to go back to bed to avoid all of Gwen's nagging questions. Just as I was nearing a point of unconsciousness, the steel locks on the door clicked loudly.
All three of us turned their heads to the door.
The door slowly slid open and the tattooed guard stepped in. He smiled and stared at us for a long time. Almost a full minute passed before Gwen, sitting on the edge of her bed, spoke up.
`` Um... what do you need?''
`` Shut up!'' Phil hissed at her.
The guard lunged. Not at Gwen, but at Phil, and hauled him off his bed. Phil froze in shock and the guard dragged him out the room within seconds. He locked the door behind him.
Gwen sat still, mouth agape. My pulse pounded in my ears as we sat, frozen, silent, listening to the guard drag Phil down the echoing hallway.
Gwen turned to me, and she could tell this was n't normal. I swallowed hard. I was n't sure what to do, or what to tell her. I was confused. Why did they take him? Was it because of what he was telling Gwen? But he had been telling me those stories for years now. Surely the guards wouldve figured out what Phil understood? I was baffled, but helpless. Who knows where they would take him or when he was coming back?
It was too much for Gwen, who started to sob uncontrollably. I wrapped my arms around her to comfort her, but her body shook violently.
For the next month, we did n't see head nor tail of Phil. Gwen and I were convinced he was dead or dying and I realized I was just starting to come to terms with it. Fortunately Gwen and I were enjoying each other's company and our relationship was growing serious.
One day, when she and I were playing checkers for the umpteenth time, the door clicked again. We turned to it. The door slid away slowly and who else but Phil walks in.
But this time, he's not wearing the patients smocks we had been accustomed to. He wore... well... street clothes. And a smile on his face. He was being released.
`` Phil,'' Gwen whispered.
He smiled at her and nodded. `` I'm back! And I'm better now. They've agreed to let me out and rejoin society! I asked them if I could come see you all again and they gave me 5 minutes.''
`` Phil, where have you been?'' I couldnt help but ask. `` What did they do to you?''
Phil turned his balding head down so we could see the top of his skull. A small X-shaped scar was planted in the top of his head. *Surgery*
`` They fixed all the problems I had with a revolutionary surgery. You really oughta try it Oliver, it's virtually painless!''
I stood up and squeezed his shoulder, reading his eyes. Phil's face suddenly turned to that of disgust and he smacked my hand away `` **Do n't touch me! **'' And then his face was a smile again.
`` It's been great seeing you all again. I hope you all are released soon.''
And with that, he left the room. The guard outside slid the door shut and locked it again.
Gwen and I were stunned. She shook her head. `` He's been lobotomized. They added the craziness to him. He's insane now.'' Her eyes were downcast.
I grabbed the chair and the table we played checkers on and pushed them up against the wall with the window. I stacked the chair on the table and climbed them both, until I could see right out the glass window. 14 stories down below, the front door of the asylum opened and a small figure walked out into the summer air. A red car sat waiting for him at the end of the long gravel driveway leading up to the building. It was windy.
And suddenly I was outside, clambering down the ledge with a bloodied fist and glass in my arm. Gwen was screaming hysterically at me from above. I looked down. 11 stories of open air invited me.
`` Oliver remember what Phil told us? Even if you've lived a life of complete sanity, it only takes one moment of mania for you to be insane.''
I remembered those words, and Phil's pickly breath. And suddenly I was n't sure if I should climb the ledges above or below me or to jump into that crazy summer breeze.
|
[ WP ] The Nazis won WW2 in 1952 when they nuked Washington DC and New York city , they now control the entire planet , describe the day for an average citizen in 2015
| Misunderstood the prompt slightly. Sorry.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I got onto the monorail, my brunette hair covered up with a wig and my dark eyes disguised with paler contacts. I had assumed a false identity to protect myself, to preserve my craft.
In my briefcase were so many important things. Memories, dreams from the past, abandoned by so-called progress.
Nobody suspected a thing, my false persona slipping under the radar of the guards. Patiently, I waited until the next stop, and dismounted the vehicle, walking past the numerous scarlet banners that hung with undeserved pride on the huge abandoned building, waving somewhat in the gentle breeze. I ducked behind one of them, taking a secret doorway deeper into the reaches of the abandoned building.
I tapped the word `` freedom'' in morse, as was custom.
The small slat on the door opened, exposing a pair of dark brown eyes.
`` For what do you live and die?''
`` The Resistance.''
Slowly, the door creaked open and I entered, promptly removing my wig and contacts to expose my true colors- hazel eyes, brunette hair cropped short, traits labelled undesirable. I then placed the briefcase on the table.
`` I thought you would like these.''
My fellow Resistance members ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the contents of the case- a few pieces of `` degenerate'' art, books of which all the copies were thought to be burned, a copy of the U.S constitution, and one more paper that caught the most attention.
A plan so long worked on, thirty years in the making, started even before I was born, a plan that I took so much care to smuggle here, where it would be carried out.
A plan to bring down the Führer.
|
[ WP ] It is centuries after the miracle vaccine that can cure everything was spread to the world . Doctors only know how to set bones and deal with other such injuries , and of course , administer the vaccine . One young doctor notices that the vaccine is slowly becoming less effective .
| `` Good god,'' Joseph rolled his eyes, `` What are we good for anymore?''
`` Shut up and inject me,'' Miya stuck out her forearm, tourniquet in place and fist tightly shut. Joseph was exasperated to note that her veins were hardened and scarred. She injected very often, as many people did now that The vaccine was commonplace.
`` Did you know oncology and infectious disease used to be real specializations?'' Joseph asked her.
`` I may be dying from rabies. Can you please hurry?'' Miya asked.
Joseph felt Miya's arm for the spot, the place where the skin gave in a special fashion to the veins. It was difficult as her arm was so scarred. When he finally found it, he brought the needle tip to skin, hole up, and slowly slid it in.
`` Only this part hurts.'' Joseph said when he saw the wince.
`` I know. I've done this dozens of times before. Better than potential rabies is n't it?'' Miya laughed. It was a bright sound, like a bell. And Joseph smiled along.
--
A few weeks later, Joseph noticed Miya was a little odd during their rotations. She seemed slower, and more vacant.
`` Are you alright?'' Joseph asked her.
`` I... ugh...'' Miya rubbed at her temples, `` I'm just exhausted, maybe a cold is coming on.''
At her request, Joseph injected her during break time. She was fine afterwards.
--
A few year later, Joseph worked full time in emergency, which meant mostly he did injections and triaged those whose problem could not be solved with injections. It was repetitive, but he enjoyed seeing new faces. Miya was off overseas for a month at a time, volunteering. Everytime she came back they met because Miya insisted Joseph give her a shot, just in case ( and it had to be Joseph because Joseph made it hurt least ).
`` What are you up to nowadays?'' Joseph asked as he prepped her forearm with alcohol. It was getting very difficult to find her veins now, but he did so with a patience.
`` You know, just contracting dengue and malaria while performing appendectomies in unhygienic operation rooms.''
`` Maybe you should tried to protect yourself a little more. Gloves and facemasks can go a long way --''
`` That's the beauty of the shot Joseph, I do n't need to.'' Miya smiled. She looked tired, and her skin was clammy. Her wrist was skinnier than usual.
Joseph frowned.
--
A few decades later, Joseph noticed something peculiar while working in the emergency room. Overtime, the shot began to take longer to work. It happened in the drug addicts at first, the ones whose veins were barely salvageable from all the injection they did. A few years later, it started happening to everyone. The period for the shot to work was no longer instantaneous, it took two to three days. The doctors were informed. Meetings were held. It was decided the shot, for all its worth, was still effective. Only they had to insure the patient received it days before the diseases' incubation period ended. Pharmaceutical companies began to create other versions of the shot, but soon decided to drop it as non were as `` safe or effective''. Joseph thought that was just a polite way of saying there was not enough money to be made from preemptive medicine.
Miya was still overseas. Joseph had seen her less and less. He missed her voice, so he called her.
`` What's going on?'' She asked.
`` Nothing much... How long does it take for the vaccine to work for you Miya?'' Joseph asked. The questions slipped out unbidden. Perhaps it was the real reason why he picked up the phone.
Miya clicked her tongue.
`` Tell me the truth.''
`` About two weeks.''
Joseph felt sick to his stomach, `` Miya you need to stop abusing it. Or if not, at least try be more careful.''
`` Do n't preach Joseph. Who will help these children if I ca n't?''
`` Let someone else take their turn. I do n't know, just come back, please.''
Miya hung up on him.
--
Joseph had his first patient die on him. Clinical cause was the common influenza.
--
Seven papers in three reputable journals -- that was Joseph's total literature contribution in his thirty years as a doctor. In his life he had only received the shot a total of four times ( chicken pox, pneumonia, strep throat, pneumonia again ). He decided that maybe it was time to get published once more. He quit his job at the hospital and created a makeshift lab in his basement. 84 vials of the shot sat in front of him. In the fridge was 83 vials of purified ebola virus.
incubation period: 16 days.
Joseph did n't need all 83 vials.
At shot number 49, the virus caught up.
--
Joseph tried to finished his paper at the hospital, but was too weak from the hemorrhage. He had colleague complete it for him, with explicit instructions to send a copy to Miya.
`` Joseph, no one will peer review this. It is unethical and you had no approval. Do you know how badly the scientific community is going to condemn you?'' Mark had said fearfully, as he flipped through the pages of explanations and graphs he and Joseph had drawn up.
Behind the glass window, Joseph coughed a long time before replying, `` I know... A sample size of one, only a single virus tested... It's pathetic. But it must be seen. Even if it is a post-humous publication...'' Joseph paused to catch his breath, `` Even if it is post-humous, it'll serve to prove a point.''
`` Humanity is no longer invincible.'' Marc's lips thinned into a line.
`` Right.''
`` I wish you did n't have to do this.''
`` If not me, then whom?''
`` You are a brave man Joseph.''
--
Joseph spent most of his days in stupor. Once, he opened his eyes and saw Miya holding his hand. He was alarmed. Then he realized she was in a full body suit, gloves on. Only her bright, teary eyes showed.
He knew it could n't be her. Miya never wore gloves, let along the whole safety getup. Besides, he must have dreamed her up anyways. When does Miya ever have time for him?
Joseph close his eyes for the last time.
--
`` Good god,'' Miya said. `` What are we good for anymore?''
`` I'm so sorry,'' Marc said. `` If I had known earlier, maybe I could have stopped him.''
Miya rubbed her forearm. `` It is definitely not your fault, so do n't say that.''
`` I do n't know what to think anymore.'' Marc held the published paper in his hands.
Miya smiled bitterly, `` Well, I always wanted to be an oncologist anyways.''
|
[ WP ] The only reason humans ca n't travel through mirrors is because our reflections are protecting us . One day your reflection stepped aside .
| `` Stop it, George,'' thought Mirror-George. `` We do this every day. You ca n't shoot me through the mirror.''
On the other side of the mirror, George was practicing his finger guns to impress the ladies ( or his boss ).
`` This is getting very tiring, George.''
This time Mirror-George actually spoke his mind, but of course George could n't hear him because he was practicing his pickup lines.
Mirror-George yawned, which surprised George a bit because he had n't yawned.
`` Huh,'' thought George. `` My reflection is alive.''
`` Huh,'' thought Mirror-George, doing his best to make up for his earlier mistake. `` My person is an idiot.''
George hesitantly touched the mirror as he did every morning to make sure that he was n't the reflection. As usual, Mirror-George put his hand out so that George did n't fall into the mirror.
Suddenly, Mirror-George had had enough.
`` You know what, George?'' he practically screamed. `` Everyone else has a good person. Imagine my friends waking up to Bill Gates or President Obama every morning. Imagine hearing J. Cole go double platinum with no features in the shower. Imagine gazing into the eyes of-''
George was a bit puzzled that his reflection was now talking.
`` We do the same routine every day, George. I do n't even get to sleep because you're always up flossing or practicing what to do with your hands or something. You want to come over here? Fine. Be my guest.''
George sighed. It had been a [ strange ] ( https: //reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4yot5s/wp_at_first_humanity_is_delighted_when_two_aliens/d6phi7k? context=3 ) week. Reluctantly he poked at his mirror.
Mirror-George did not poke back.
Suddenly, George was sucked into the mirror realm. He was confused for a while, but he soon realized that it was just like his house except everything was mirrored.
`` Huh,'' said George. `` That's convenient. Maybe there are n't any skeletons over here.''
Mirror-George shook his head in disgust, except it nodded instead.
`` Later hear what I've done,'' sang Mirror-George happily. `` I've come and fixed nothing.''
George shrugged. Although Mirror-George seemed to be having some reversal problems, he was ok.
George looked into the mirror. Perhaps he would stay here for a while and practice his finger guns.
-- -
Will George escape?
/r/translationlostin
|
[ WP ] A catastrophic typo has finally been corrected , revealing the true nature of Tim and space .
| The field of science is a curious bedfellow to language. Without language we have no way to express our knowledge. Math and numbers work of course, but there are variables that need definition through letters. So it is of little shock to anyone when errors in language are discovered in scientific models. Most are just that, an error. It is however, most shocking when some of our fundamental understandings of the universe are thrown into chaos because of a simple typo.
For centuries time and space were thought to be connected. Indeed there are thousands upon thousands of models using time and space together. Humanity has come far from the use of these models. No one would attest that time and space is wrong. It is n't. Science is built upon objective and verifiable data. Language is not. Over the centuries science changed out of necessity. Language changed out of want and use. It was this small oversight that lead to a new scientific break through.
Time and space is great and all but what about *Tim and space? * At first is seems to be a cursory glance at insanity. But much like the notion `` What are frogs?'' there is a deeper understanding to be had. Time and space are separate. Tim and space are not. Tim resides through time the same way he passes through space. As we look back through the ages our earliest physicists pondered this question. It was thought to be a translation issue. Why would they wonder about a name beyond their time? No it had to be a typo.
And so many great things were achieved when humanity studied Tim and space. A new age of scientific discovery boomed. The first'Timmy' was observed at CERN, a previously imaginary particle, this particle traveled in four dimensions. It was from that observation that the first time machines were built. It took 500 Timmys to force a human to travel into the fourth dimension. From then on science only got stranger.
But time travel was not the most important discovery of this era. A young man ( and quite dashing ) sat eating a supple lunch of catfish. He had only just graduated with a physics degree and was content to enjoy his meal. But like all great men his mind carried on abounded. What if there was more than one typo? If ancient civilizations knew about Tim could they know something else? His mind flicked on like a light switch. There was another typo he was sure of it. Time and space and even Tim and space were linked only through coincidence in language. There was a third discovery, the real discovery hidden under that simple truth. The question was just what did Tim have to do with Spacey?
|
[ EU ] Captain Jonathan Archer accidentally activates a time machine , and brings a passenger aboard Enterprise : his great-great-grandfather , Sterling Archer
|
Captain Archer stepped out of the lift into main engineering and was blinded for a moment by an intense flash of light from the center of the room. His eyes strained to readjust after the flash and he focused intently on the strange machine being poked at by the engineers.
`` T'Pol, what was that?''
Stoic though she was, any Vulcan would have a hard time masking that level of embarrassment.
`` Captain, I believe we just inadvertently activated the device.''
`` Do n't you think it would have been smart to notify me before bringing th-''
Captain Archer was interrupted from a low moan from inside the device.
`` Eeeeuuughhhhh.... Whoever put me in this box owes me a new hairy navel!''
T'Pol raised an eyebrow and motioned to the engineers to open the device. Captain Archer stepped closer and peered through the thick plexiglass door panel. A humanoid figure was strewn across the ground inside. This was shaping up to be one hell of a weird day on the Enterprise.
The engineers managed to access the door controls. The thick panel slid to the side, and tongues of smoke rolled out across the deck. The Captain cocked his head. The figure inside was definitely human, and he looked a little his grandfather. *What an odd coincedence*, he thought.
The figure raised his head and stared at the Captain for a few seconds, then spoke.
`` What the shit, Krieger? I was 5 minutes away from banging that Cherokee chick! And why did you shave your- aw, shit. You're not Krieger.'' The man rolled his eyes and pulled a black square out of his pocket and extended an antenna from the device. `` Here,'' he said. His tone shifted from angry to uninterested. `` Mother's on speed dial. She'll deal with the ransom.''
Captain Archer and T'Pol exchanged confused glances.
`` Soo.. do you guys have, like, a bar around here, or what?''
|
[ WP ] The dictator lies dead on the floor . You have a gun in your hand . You hear people coming . You do n't know how you got here .
| There was a familiar spot in my mind blank and empty, a bullet-shaped hole where the answers should be. Call it denial. I wanted to dig inside my skull and find the answers. It did n't matter either way, I do n't remember ever learning how to use a gun, but there is a dead man on the ground and a gun in my hand. I do n't remember waking up that morning but I was standing somewhere I should n't be and the bullet holes in the door leading into the room seemed to spell the story out for me. Things made sense very quickly, the man on the ground needed to die, and so would everyone who got in my way.
Footsteps were audible from behind the door, fast, heavy, alot of them. They were here to kill me, I had killed this man so it was an eye for an eye, it was fair in some sense.
*But I do n't want to die*
I did n't have to think twice, for some reason I felt my life was more valuable than theirs, and because of that, they died and not me. It was a simple process, and there is n't a whole lot of thought to it. If you've ever fired a gun it's just like the cap guns when you were younger, that little *pop* and a burst of smoke, someone playfully drops to the ground clutching their chest, laughing at the silly little game. Except now, it's a big *pop* and not a burst of smoke but of metal, people do n't playfully drop to the ground, they scream and clutch whatever blood is playing a twisted game of hide and seek from their body.
Five *pops*, five bleeding men.
Things became dull, it was like thinking about it suddenly did n't matter, just knowing that I was alive was important.
Some of them moaned on the ground, reaching for their guns, precious inches from their trembling fingertips.
*pop*
*pop*
*pop*
Like little porcelain soldiers you might play with as a child, they tried to enforce their dead lords will. They serve no purpose, just to live out some life to the end of some finite and numbered chalk line. Marked in the beginning with stamps of feet and a toe tag at the end.
I had faith in my will to live, they had faith in their holsters. I stepped over the bodies, 6 porcelain soldiers, and walking down the hallway meant playtime with more.
So I walked down the hallway.
Turn left
*pop*
Turn right
*pop*
Turn left again
*pop*
It was the real life version of the original *Wolfenstein* except the Nazis wore suits and not swastikas, a Hi-Def remake with *all* the hallmarks of a shitty Hollywood script. More hallways, more dead men. I might have been shot once or twice but that was irrelevant to the situation, The more suits they threw at me, the more that died. `` *Confidence was key*'' Mamma might have always said.
*pop*
*pop*
*pop*
Longer hallways, more turns, and finally doors. Big double doors, the kind that a grand exit is made for. I might have laughed at the time but I did n't remember to, something else I'd have to try and remember.
Cars could be heard screeching outside, people in a hurry, screams and languages I did n't know. It was n't fucking English that's for sure. So I made my grand exit, a swift kick to the doors and I opened fire, the hail mary answer to a hail mary plan, zips and tings laid the drumbeat for death around.
I could feel the blood draining from me, like a clock ticking, little bites and tickles where the bullets had cleared away the skin. Like absolvement of my crimes, I had done the deed and the story was complete. It was curtain call, time to fade to black, there would be no encore.
*Except I did n't want to die*
I stepped forward towards them, I would write this script.
|
[ WP ] you are eating in a fast food restaurant , when you try to leave you find that the door is locked and the resturaunt is empty , you also find that `` I 'm sorry '' is on the walls in blood
| I guess it was my fault. I mean, what kind of person decides McDonald's is a good first date? But, I figured tindr does n't lie and I was pretty desperate for some work tonight. Even if it's this guy.
He looked as though he had n't showered in weeks, reeked of cigarettes, and had no table manners to speak of, even for a McDonald's. To call him Mr. Personality would be giving him too much credit. He kept mistaking my name, questioning my choice in university studies, and boasted of his own achievements in business. I kept reminding myself I could get past that. One night, and I was set for the rest of the month.
`` Jessica,'' this guy said through a mouthful of burger, `` I really think you would be prettier if you curled your hair and did n't use so much makeup. Do you think you could do that for our next date?''
I giggled politely, wiping the masticated burger off of my cheek. `` It's Jasmine,'' I reminded him. Then I leaned in closely, holding my breath so I would n't get assaulted by the body odor, and whispered seductively, `` And of course. Our next date will be whatever you desire. I am yours, after all.'' His smile assured me that he was still interested.
Out of his briefcase he pulled a large contract and a pen. `` Standard procedure,'' he explained. `` A non-compete agreement, and a non-disclosure. The usual.''
`` Wait,'' I sat back against the uncomfortable bench. I glanced around, but nobody seemed to be paying us any mind. `` You want to, what, own me?''
`` I ca n't keep going out to try to find this,'' he said. `` And I ca n't have anyone knowing of what I'm doing offline.''
'Or what you look like,' I thought. Still, I was intrigued. This man owned his own empire of sorts. Online empire that is. Bought the right stock and invested in the right games at a young age, and one day he found himself on fortune and internet fame. At least, that's what he said. I was tempted to believe him, based on the fee he paid just for me to meet him there.
He offered me more money than I believe possible, but the thought of spending more than one night with him set off my gag reflex. Also, the first thing I was told when I got into this business was to never sign anything. It was almost always incriminating and I did n't have time for a court deal.
`` Excuse me, I have to powder my nose,'' I hurried toward the bathrooms on the other side of the restaurant. On my way back, I glanced at the exit door, then back at him, devouring his food with no idea what was going on around him. Money be damned, I figured. This guy was too weird for me, and a lot more than it was worth. Plus, I could n't shake the weird vibe he gave me. I would just participate in another research study to make my car payment.
I pushed on the door handle, but was surprised when my face smacked against the window. I tried pulling, and even that was to no avail. It was only 8, I thought, why were they locking the doors already?
I walked up to the counter, ready to ask the manager to let me out, but nobody was there. I looked around and realized, nobody was here at all. I glanced at my phone and confirmed the restaurant was still at least supposed to be open.
Then I saw it. `` I'm sorry'' written over and over again on every wall. I tried to tell myself it was just ketchup, just some sort of prank by a terrible restaurant worker that I missed out on while I was in the bathroom. It would have possibly worked, as well, if I had n't seen the limp body of a cashier next to the trashcan, completely pale. I was n't even in the bathroom 2 minutes. There was no way something like this could have happened in that time... right?
I glanced at my phone again, and noticed the time was right, but the day said it was already tomorrow. There was no way I took that long in the restroom, was there?
I went to the table I was sitting in earlier. There was no food, and the table was completely clean, save for the contract from earlier. On it was a post-it note, that only said'Do you need more time to think it over?'
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[ WP ] Pictures are used as currency with value based on emotional attachment .
| `` Mate, we're not getting anywhere with this.''
`` Look, small size, poor quality. Even if it had high sentimental value, it's really not worth what you say it is.''
`` But it *is worth ten Emotis! *''
`` Sorry bud. You're not going to get a burger with that type of rubbish. Next!''
I walked out dejected. It was the only thing I had left. Left to barter with society left me in a bad spot. I had a job, a fairly interesting one, but interest does n't get you far anymore. It has to have *emotional value*.
Before, you were valued on what you could bring to the company. Efficiency, financial suaveness, entrepreneurial swagger, the likes. Now they look to what degree you can elicit *feelings*. What you can see beyond the value of productivity. For God's sake, I was a *laywer*. My job was predicated on a lack of feeling, trying to convince people to believe certain facts about clients. Since only drawings were allowed in courtroom where I worked, there was no way to capture the moment, each destroying moment when the defendant was charged *guilty*.
I was now a journalist. But it barely paid the bills. I had to use up my collection of family photos for my rent, and the rest of my childhood moments gone to food. All I had left was this picture of my old office.
*When times were simpler... *
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[ WP ] Everyone gains minute powers one days . They 're pretty useless for most s. a . Your sneezes set fire to things . It 's allergy season . Describe your week .
| If dragons were real, I bet this is how they would feel. Their nasal passages would be itchy and raw. At least I have finger nails to peel off the chunky dead skin. As to whether or not that is a good idea is a different story. But my nose hurts fucking hurts. The smell of burnt hair smells terrible, because of an amino acid called cysteine. It lingers in your nose when the smell did n't start in your nose. When it is in your nose, it's nauseating. I have often wished for a smaller, less hairy nose. I never wished to be a fucking dragon.
Today is Wednesday and fortunately, the world is in panic so we are under some type of level 3 emergency. It seems everyone has been blessed with these fantastic, special abilities. It's quite depressing. I spent a lot of my childhood pretending I had some type of special power like mind reading or shooting fire from my finger. Now that I secrete fire from my nose, I take back all my desires.
It's allergy season and this year is particularly bad. To put the icing on the cake, our wonderful rain season has caused our basement to leak and I'm pretty sure there is mold. But the basement is the only place that I feel safe to sleep as I'm less likely to damage concrete with my ember seepage.
I noticed this glorious ability at my desk at work. My co-worker is one of those folks who has a bunch of plants on their desk. I guess it's some kind of substitute for pets or something. I do n't know. All I know is plants make me sneeze. I was not the first one to get my power. No, that was Davey in Accounting. He has a thing for this plant grower. He is always chatting her up. And typically that's fine and amusing. She usually whispers and giggles about him like a school girl. They are both 50 years old.
Anyway, so Davey points his finger at her plant and it starts growing bigger right before their eyes. It was some weird ass shit. Like watching one of those sped up time lapse videos, but in real life. And he kept doing it. To every single plant she had. She ate that shit up, smiled and giggled. I should have got out of there. Scratch that, I should have never even went over there. I knew better. I knew I would have an allergy fit. I often do when I'm near her cubicle. What I did n't realize is that I was now a fucking dragon. And I will admit, I thought Davey's magic trick was cool too. I had no idea how he did what he did, but I said `` Nice job, man'' and I meant it. My eyes began to water and I went back to my desk. As I went to wipe my eyes, I felt a sneeze coming on. I learned tissues are very flammable.
I saw the flame but was in shock. My fingers felt like I had taken a hot marshmallow off the toasting rod, only far less sticky. I stuck them in my cup of water. And then I sneezed again. And again. And again. The folders, papers, and my box of wasabi peas burst into flames. I was most upset about the wasabi peas, they were the only thing clearing up my sinuses lately. I finally calmed down enough to search the internet to see what in the hell was going on. I had seen two crazy occurrences in the course of about 10 minutes. Perhaps we all live in a simulation that just had a major fuck up.
I ran to the break room to get some water. My boss comes in and he is grinning ear to ear. My nostrils hurt from the flame and the snot has dried from the heat of the my fiery discharge. It left this strange chapped, burnt mustache look. `` What the heck happened to you?'' he says, still smiling. I just shrugged. He picks up some paper from the printer and sets it on the kitchenette counter. He points at it. The paper begins to fold itself into a shape. The shape is an origami frog that you can press the back of and make them jump. He is so giddy. He takes another piece of paper and does the same thing. I walked back to my desk without saying a word. Typically, I'm a bit more chatty. Not much more, but a bit.
So far I have seen 15 powers from each of the folks on my floor. Not one of them is self-destructive
TBC.
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[ WP ] You 're going through your young son 's things while organizing his room , when you find two suicide notes - from you and your spouse .
| What a mess. I surveyed the disaster that was my son's room, and shook my head disapprovingly. If I'd told him once, I'd told him a thousand times that he needed to clean up after himself better! What was he going to do when he no longer had a mum picking up after him, hmm? I shook my head again and started cleaning up, moving on automatic. That boy was never going to learn at this rate, but I could n't abide a mess. And this was even messier than usual! I would have to scold him extra hard once he got back.
As I went to tidy up his desk, I paused, startled, as I saw a note with my handwriting on it. Right next to it was a note in my husband's writing. By the time I read them both, I was pale and shaking, my mind a jumbled mess.
Just then, the door opened. My son walked into the room, and stared at me with dead, dead eyes.
`` D-Daniel?'' I quavered. `` Daniel, what's the meaning of this?!'' I pointed accusingly at the notes in plain sight on his desk. My finger was trembling.
Daniel shut the door. Locked it. When he turned back, his expression was almost... peaceful. Without saying a word to me, he walked over to his desk and started to write. The soft scritch of his pen filled the room as I stared, utterly dumbfounded. Had my son gone insane? What was going on?
For the first time, I noticed that the room was exactly as messy as when I had entered it. I thought I had been tidying up, but nothing had moved. Not the dirty clothes on the floor, or the empty cartons on the desk, or even the layer of dust on the shelves...
There was a soft click. From the bottom drawer of his desk, Daniel drew out a gleaming, grey pistol and put the end in his mouth.
`` DANIEL, NO!'' I shouted and flung myself at him, desperate to wrest away the deadly weapon. My hands passed right through him.
On the desk, a third note, newly written, positioned neatly between the first two.
A gunshot. The corpse of a boy fell off his chair and hit the floor with a soft thud. There was no one else in the room.
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[ WP ] : Write the most heartbreaking story about false hope that I have ever seen
| It was a beautiful day.
That's what will always stick with me.
She asked if I wanted to go for a walk and of course I did. The sun was out but it was n't sweltering, I'd had a long week of working and of course I was in love with her.
So we walked. We watched people fill the park and play, laughter and music filled the air right next to the smell of barbecued food. Off from a local restaurant floated jazz and I could n't help but feel lighter than air.
We walked and talked, laughing and enjoying every moment. It was the memory that came back to me most, when we were happy and in love. When we would stay up until the early morning hours and talk about nothing and kiss each other with the desperation of a person starved for air.
It had been months since she told me the news. Since my heart had broken. It had n't taken long for me to follow her like a lost puppy because I just could n't let it be over. We were meant to be. Like craters on the moon we were a perfect fit.
When I had followed her there was a time when we spent all our free time together. We hiked up mountains together, went to restaurants, played in the park, done everything together.
She smiled at me like I remembered. When she was happy.
We threw a frisbee together before sitting in the cool grass and letting the sun sink down. The music grew as the night closed in, everything was perfect.
As we made our way out of the park my heart thumped in my chest and my hands shook. She was happy with me again, I could see it. We had broken that rut by travelling and exploring and finding our lost sense of being.
I had waited, let her heal and find herself. It had hurt but time had passed for both of us and we felt fresh.
So I asked her to dinner.
She smiled and said yes.
My heart leaped, all the pain was going to be erased! We had survived and we would be stronger for it. It had been worth it.
She could see the change in me and offered three simple words that carried so much weight.
`` Not like that.
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[ EU ] Describe the rise of Big Brother before the events of 1984 .
| 1941 - `` Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!''
Captains and commanders shouted this phrase as Free French, British, and other Europeans in exile fled from Dunkirk. As they were on the ships, they looked longingly at the port, wondering when, if at all, they'd see their native land again.
1943 - `` The planes are going down! The planes are going down! Send word to allied command! The planes are going down!''
The ashes and smoke blocked out the Mediterranean sun and laced the clean air, turning a 1/4 mile radius sphere into noxious cloud. The azure sparkling water turned into a darker purple with blood and steamed when the fire kissed-metal of sunken ships and planes touched it.
`` Vittoria! Essi sono stati sconfitti!''
Il Duce smiled. The new Colosseum would once again experience glory of games it had not seen in thousands of years.
1944 - `` The following Allied forces broadcast is brought to you by BBC and PBS:
> Our landings in the Cherbourg-Havre area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based on the best information available. The troops, the air, and the Navy did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.
*end transmission*''
1946 - The Soviet Anthem blares as Madrid falls. Spanish civilians rise from the ruins, shouting `` Viva la Comunismo! La Muerte de Franco!''
Day and night, the streets of Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia, and other Spanish cities run red with the blood of fascist officials being dragged. The Soviets barely had to do any of the work, as the raged civilians dragged out officials clinging from their beds and beat them. Inquisitors donning masks from antiquity started to walk around, demanding the custody of those they thought to once have sympathized with the fascists.
1949 - Jiang Jie Shi looks over the smoldering plain once called Tokyo from the ramparts of a nearby castle. Finally, the dragon would fly over the Middle Kingdom again. And finally, he would be able to seek the vengeance of the humiliation that had plagued his people for so long. Hell hath not seen a fury, a wrath like this.
Meanwhile, President Truman covertly meets with the Right Honorable Clement Attlee. The two discussed a more stronger, more defined alliance. But there were favors that needed to be exchanged.
A button was pressed, a building collapsed, and with it, all of the Free India movements.
1954 - Tension builds up between the Soviet Union and the British and the Americans. Hysteria builds up, and thousands of innocent people are subject to mob rule in all three countries, accused of treason and communism/capitalist subversion. But one man, Bolshoy Blat, evades it all. His English is perfect, and he even developed an Sheffielder's accent. He builds confidence and trust with the King, the Prime Minister, The President, and Secretary of State. No one knows.
Across the Channel, prostitutes across Europe have been given a small seal with a slip of paper. Immediately, they enter a trance and begin to wait for new orders.
Meanwhile, the nations of Latin America, Middle East, China, and Ethiopia enter a pact. They would unite together, under one banner, to act as a third party and hopefully keep balance in the world. How hopeful and idealistic their leaders were.
1962 - The timer dings.
The world is thrown into chaos. Parliament, Downing Street, Buckingham Palace, The White House, Congress, the Supreme Court, and all other places of officials crumble thirty feet into the cavity created underneath them. Fire licks the ancient libraries and museums, and the ashes of ancient ink and paper flows into the atmosphere. Meanwhile in Moscow and Beijing, banquet halls and public venues that were bustling with chatter fall silent. A silence so pervasive fell upon those two cities that any human observers would have created a sharp din as to not be driven insane from the lack of sound. Not even the rats that had come after the crumbs were alive.
1972 - In London, Bolshoy Blat, or Big Brother stands on the newly built Tower of Victory. He shouts and bellows of his promises to bring Oceania to glory, of his vows to bring the heads of those left of the old order, and his dream of liberating the people once again.
1984 - *Under the Chestnut Tree / I sold you and you sold me*
**thud**
**click**
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[ WP ] An alien race reaches Earth to find the zombie apocalypse has taken place
| The people of Sharazul have long since wanted to journey and contact other races. After centuries of traveling through space, they finally found traces of life from a galaxy close to theirs.
One of the planets was abound with signs of life, based on the in-depth scans they have done. They assumed that there was a sentient species there that would be able to communicate with them. It was then that they decided to send a diplomatic envoy to make contact.
However...
The envoy arrives to find the planet overrun by the undead husks of what they had assumed used to be the sentient species that once dominated the planet. All their scans showed that there were none that breathed life anymore on the surface. Only the dead walked where once the living stood.
`` What do we do now, your emissary?'' asked one of the alien pilots.
`` We kill them...'' said their leader. `` We kill them with fire!''
And with that command the entire earth was burned and set ablaze by the torrent of fire that the alien mothership had unleashed upon it. The zombies burned to dust and ash, including everything on the planet along with them. There would be no traces of the humans left. No history, no culture, and no knowledge of what was.
The planet would be turned to charcoal. And there, only the fire would exist and continue to scorch for more than a millenia.
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[ WP ] Make up the most OP weapon in any game ever .
| Running up to the front gates of the bazaar.
`` Huff, Huff, Huff...'' Comes from the dehydrated, starving hero.
Coming from behind the hero multiple stomps and morbid growls.
P-please huff, help me!'' Cries the hero.
Gun fire from the bazaar sounds off. Bullets wizzing by the hero.
A slam and rough skid can be heard. A heavy breath came from the mutant.
`` STOP THERE BOY!'' Shouts a guard.
`` Please let me in'' says the hero as more stomping is heard distantly.
`` C'mon quickly, more is arivin'!'' Yells a guard.
The gates slide open very loudly but close swiftly. The stomps shake the hero.
The hero turns and sees the original beast lying on the ground when suddenly a similar beast bolts for the gate.
The bazaar was left empty as everyone was guarding and firing on the new beast.
`` God, I need ta help em...'' Says the hero.
He looks around the area, looking for something to help with. The mutant arrives at the gates taking guards from there posts and crashing down these poorly built shacks. Screams and crashes fill the heros ears making it hard for him to think.
In an alleyway the hero sees a glow then reads a sign above.
`` Ar-Armo... Armory?'' The hero exclaims to himself in confusion as he realizes what the poorly written text reads.
The hero sprints towards the alleyway making the crashes and other various screeches fade. The hero hits the door making its hinges bend and break as the hero falls because of his force.
He hit the ground with a thud and items hit the floor. He looks upwards in his dazed state to make the outline of some tools. The hero leaps upward holding his head. `` Agh. Damn.'' Says the hero as he regains his bearings. He looks around to find a large case that was emitting a sound, a buzz, very quietly.
The hero approaches the case shocked. He presses the buttons on the sides labeled'release'. The cases cover pops open loudly and depressurizes. A mist rises from the case making the hero cough. He swats away the haze and finds a weapon.
The'XxX_mLG-sUp3r0-B1AST3R_42069XxX'.
The hero stands phased by this weapons glory but suddenly the explosions and growls fade in again, even louder. The hero grabs the legendary rifle carefully and the sprints outside. Fire, smoke and mutilated bodies are all he can see as all he can hear is growls, screams and blasts.
The hero runs into the smoke scared of what will become of him. He hastily darts towards the screams and cries of the monster. A man missing his legs weakly shouts to the hero. He turns and runs to the mutilated man and crouches to listen.
`` Y-you ne... need t-to...''
The close to death man stopped abruptly and fell back.
`` PLEASE! NO!'' Yells the hero.
`` You n-e-eed to no-scope him... th-thats the only way to e-end the beas-s-t''
The man had died and the hero wanted to end the monsters reign.
The hero wiped his face then gotten back up. He proceeded to run into the smog. The hero had arrived to the gate in which he had entered.
He spotted a man shooting into the smoke. He started to run toward him to ask about what had happened a immense foot had cut them off from each other. The hero looked up at the creature and was devastated. He turned away from the monster and had sprinted away to a catwalk.
The hero ran as quickly as he could as so did the mutant. The hero had ran up the makeshift catwalk to a roof but the monster did n't fit. He ran roof to roof avoiding the monsters strikes at him from the street. The hero had reached the final roof and could n't run anywhere else except for off, to his death, but he was not going to die today. The monster was directly in front of him, growling and snorting.
The hero readied his gun as he started to run towards the monster. The hero jumped off the roof and stared to spin.
180, 360, 540, 720, 1080.
He made his shot facing the beast.
BANG.
The hero shot the monster between its eyes. The hero hit the monster as it was falling and held on.
THUD.
The dead monster had fallen kicking up dust. The hero had climbed off of the monster and the dust cleared.
He had won.
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[ WP ] You are refilling your car with gasoline when a bruised and bloodied stranger runs up to you , thrusts an SD card into your hand and says `` Whatever you do , do n't open it . Please , '' then collapses dead .
| I stood with my eyes wide open as the man collapsed to the floor.
I felt like collapsing myself after I had seen the blood pouring from the man's body. It was all over him, protruding from his back and stomach, his legs, he had even drooled blood after he had collapsed. My heart was racing while my body was still. I had the SD card still in my hand.
Then I heard loud thumping from the sky above me.
I blinked a few times before looking up, only to see a massive helicopter blending into the night sky. The spotlight suddenly turned on, blinding me in its flood of light. I snapped my eyes shut in hope that it would discontinue the blind spots in my eyes from the light, but I could do nothing but look down and hope it stopped. As I was peering at the ground in discomfort, I had heard the scream of the sirens as they were approaching. There were five, six, maybe even seven police cars racing towards me. The helicopter continued to hover above with its spotlight illuminating the Shell fuel station. I looked around while squinting my eyes, and everyone around me was either running to hide or staring at me.
And then it hit me.
*This is some serious shit, * I thought to myself. I looked at the man on the ground before realizing that I should get in my car.
The police cars were just arriving on scene when I hopped into my car and threw the SD card into the middle console. The Hellcat Charger screamed as I pressed the ignition button. I slammed the pedal to the floor as I looked in the rearview mirror, noticing the police officers with their guns pointed at both my car and the man who lie dead on the concrete with pools of blood surrounding him. My tires squealed, emitting thick white smoke as I sped off. The supercharger was whining above the sirens. *Damn I'm glad I bought this thing. * I thought to myself. Several police officers stepped back into their cars while several others investigated the lifeless man. The ones who were in their cars began attempting to tail me. I could still hear the helicopter only a few hundred feet above me. The spotlight shined through the car like God was opening the gates to Heaven. I turned up the radio to drown out what was happening.
I was happy to hear that Guns'n' Roses' *Paradise City* was playing.
As I began to gap the police officers behind me, the helicopter was still flying directly above me. I turned the music up a little bit more to escape the sound of death. I felt my tongue with my teeth as I began to realize how much shit I was in. I knew that I was likely going to die if I did n't pull the car over, but stopping was not a fun idea. Instead, I tried to press the pedal harder as I sped down the county road. The police lights were far out of the mirror, but the helicopter was still overhead. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head in disbelief as I saw the lights on a heavily armed SWAT MRAP heading directly toward me. He was heading in the wrong direction coming straight for me.
As he got closer, I felt like going faster. The adrenaline that was shooting through my body was either going to kill me or going to help me escape my ultimate doom, but I decided that driving directly towards my death was a whole lot more fun than if I had pulled over. As I got closer and closer to the MRAP, I realized that there was no police lighting or SWAT badging on the vehicle. The MRAP had thick metal plating and was desert tan. I quickly realized that I was not being chased by the police, instead I was being chased by a militia or even the military. *Great. * I was only a hundred feet in front of the MRAP when I realized how close I was. I swerved out of the way, but that only made things worse.
I was now on the side of the road, in the guardrail of the two-lane highway. I blinked a few times before realizing that the entire left side of the Charger was ruined. The spotlight hung over head as I noticed the MRAP lights moving closer and closer. *This is it, * I thought to myself, *it's over. * I quickly grabbed the SD card as I smashed the Lenovo laptop's *On* button. I cursed several times in hopes that it would make the laptop turn on faster. I glanced up at the MRAP as it was crawling closer and closer. The laptop finally booted up as I shoved the SD card into it. I knew I was going to die, so I might as well see what was on it before I died. Windows began to load the files on the SD card as the MRAP was now only fifty feet away.
And there it was.
*Never Gon na Give You Up* by Rick Astley.
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[ WP ] Everything was normal in this world . But today marks the 50th anniversary of the day every fictional character miraculously appeared on the Earth . You are a normal person writing about how everything has changed since then .
| It began with small things, UFOs and Big Foot sightings, too mundane to attract real attention. We were used to miracles and unusual events as a foil for the real, concrete world we knew so well and leaned on for our sense of things. Only kooks and religious nuts really put stock in the things they could n't see and feel. By the time the ships were sighted and the fighting began, we did n't use words like reality any more.
It was long, too long, before we started to organize against the beasts and terrors, and the savagery of our old religious and pornographic imaginations was unleashed on peaceful cities, an unprepared people. That any of us live now is a testament to who were before that day, to what we believed in when belief was possible. For every World Destroyer and God of Destruction, for every Death Star and twisted monster of our darkest nightmares, heroes rose to fight them, to beat them.
Images I remember. The Enterprise rising out of the Channel to fire on Ungoliant while thermonuclear flares pulsed from London. The sons of Thor laughing with Cu Chulainn as the Minotaur finally fell and Karachi burned all around us. My father sharing the last bottle of Jameson with Leopold Bloom and Paul Atreides in a cold Nebraska barn. Quiet moments, sunrise in Patagonia while Mal Reynolds told bad jokes over coffee. Horror and fear, the unending battle and killing while we saved what we could.
Something else happened in those years, while this sliver of humanity clung to life and living against all that we could conjure to destroy and save ourselves. Fiction had inoculated us from the consequences of imagination, allowed us to lead a double life. Our lives, our dreams began to reflect something different, a belief in dignity and living and dying without giving way to fear. We stopped waiting for life to happen, stopped looking for ways to avoid living. We do n't write novels any longer; the escape, the magic, the terror, the joy and life we sought is all around us now.
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[ WP ] `` Mommy ? '' A cry wakes you in the middle of the night . `` Its still here . ''
| `` Mommy... it's still here.''
Kathy Marshall opened her eyes, vision blurry with sleep, to see her eight-year-old daughter standing next to her bed.
“ Julie, ” Kathy sat up and rubbed her eyes. She tried to focus on her daughter but could n't make out the features on her face, which were covered in shadow `` What's wrong, baby girl?''
“ It's still here, mommy.'' Julia's voice dropped to a whisper, and was barely audible - dreamlike.
`` What are you talking about? What ’ s still here?''
`` The red thing, mommy. It's still in the corner.''
Kathy was now mostly awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling off the side. `` Must've been a bad dream. Come on, let's get you back to bed.''
Kathy scooped her daughter off the floor with a motherly gentleness, carrying her down the hall, and tucking her in bed just as she did several hours ago.
`` Look, mommy,'' Julia pointed to the corner. `` It's still here.''
Nothing was in the corner, just a particularly dark shadow.
`` Honey, nothing is in your room.'' Kathy gave a reassuring kiss on the forehead. `` Do you want me to turn the lights on to make sure?''
Julie nodded that she should. Kathy flicked on the lights, revealing an empty corner, but when she looked back at her daughter, Julie was staring intently at the nothingness.
`` Is everything okay now?'' A hint of worry lingered in Kathy's throat.
Again, Julie nodded her head yes, never taking her eyes off the corner.
`` Well, good night Julie. I love you.''
`` I love you too, mommy.''
The clock read 1:34 by the time Kathy found a comfortable spot in her bed. It took her several long minutes to fall back asleep, and it was n't much longer after that when she was woken up a second time.
`` Mommy, it's still here.''
Kathy flung awake, startled, and looked at the tiny silhouette of her daughter standing next to her bed.
`` Julie!'' Kathy said angrily, her head pounding. “ What are you doing out of bed again? ”
`` It ’ s still here.''
`` What is?''
`` The red thing... ” replied Julie.
`` I told you, honey, there is nothing in your –''
``... I can hear it breathing.''
Kathy stopped what she was saying, forgot it all together, and said, “ W-what did you say?''
`` The red thing is still here. I can hear it breathing.''
This time Kathy did not pick her daughter up, but held her hand as they went back to the room. Upon turning the lights on, Kathy discovered, once again, that nothing was in the corner. After being tucked into bed, Julie said, “ Mommy, can you stay with me?''
Longing for sleep, Kathy said, “ Sure baby girl, I'll stay with you tonight.''
With the lights off, Kathy crawled into bed next to her daughter, hugging her tight. It took her much longer to fall asleep than before, and she never fell asleep completely before hearing a sound... coming from the corner.
Soft at first, a gentle wheezing washed over the room, like the breath of a 50-year-old smoker. Kathy thought she was imagining the sound. She thought perhaps she was still asleep, but the noise got louder. Kathy was about to get up to investigate when she heard – “ Can you hear it now, mommy?''
Kathy shivered all over, her head snapping to the corner. Kathy cupped her mouth as she screamed, but only a faint whisper escaped. There was something in the corner, a baby cradle, and inside the baby cradle was something red, almost glowing. It was a fetus, a glowing, pulsating fetus, and it was breathing.
Stunned with horror, Kathy stared at the red mush as the breathing grew clearer, more stable.
“ Do you see it, mommy?'' Julie said evenly. `` Can you hear it? It ’ s still here, mommy. It never leaves.''
In vague desperation, Kathy bolted for the light switch, hoping that the light would disappear the image, but the lights did nothing – the cradle remained.
The fetus began to sit up, it's breathing fully developed, and Kathy, now grabbing for her daughter, released a horrified scream... as the eyes of the fetus opened.
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[ WP ] You run a shop for adventurers in a fantasy town . New adventurers keep selling you gear that you sold to other adventurers a long time ago .
| `` So three short swords, two long swords, and one bronze helmet?'' I confirmed.
`` Yeah that's everything,'' replied the adventurer.
I moved to inspect the goods and the bronze helmet caught my eye. Rubbing my thumb over the dirt crusted edge I saw a scene from three days ago.
Deep in a cave three adventurers were exploring. The bronze helmet shown brightly with the light from the torches. Out of the darkness crept some sort of goblin.
`` So how much then?'' the adventurer asked, breaking me out of the vision. These adventurers, always so eager, always in a rush. I'd seen enough though, I'd sold the same helmet not two weeks ago to another over eager adventurer for 3 gold 5 silver.
`` 2 gold 8 silver for the lot'' I replied.
`` That's it?''
`` That's it, and it's a good deal too. I will give you a good price on a new sword though, just in this morning.''
I pulled out the +1 broadsword that I'd just gotten back this morning. A week ago it was dull as a butter knife and crusted in blood but the smith had done a good job restoring it.
`` How much?'' he asked, but with a tone that told me he'd buy it no matter what the cost.
`` Normally 12 gold but I'll do 10 for you, with the other loot that makes the total 7 gold 2 silver total.''
The adventurer wordlessly handed over the gold, took the sword, and left without a word.
`` I'll see you again, one way or another,'' I called out as they were leaving.
His compatriot, a rogue of some kind, squinted at me as I said it. His perception was a bit higher than the adventurer, but not much. `` That's weird, was he talking to you or that sword?'' his compatriot asked.
I did n't hear the response as the two men headed out to find their next adventure. Hopefully they'll bring me back something nice.
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[ WP ] Context is everything .
| `` It is crass, improper and in bad taste.'' Her father said angrily. This is exactly why she had not intended to reveal this to him or anyone. She wished it had n't slipped out. He had never liked the boys she chose to date, but it appeared, now that things were in the open, this one had earned particular disapproval. `` I will not have this in my house.''
`` Is this about race, dad?'' She asked petulantly; she already knew the answer.
`` You're damned right it is and I *refuse* to have our family humiliated by condoning this right in front of all our neighbors.'' He said with finality. `` I thought I raised you better than this.''
`` Yes sir.'' She hated her father right now. She never should have told anyone. She should have just let her family be taken by surprise in front of everyone when they walked in together. How funny that would have been. To hell with what the neighbors thought.
Right now the idea of growing old and becoming one of those people who worried so much about'being proper' and'what others would think' disgusted her to the core.
She could not wait until she was old enough to move out, to be free of her family and their judgements.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She said goodbye to Courtney and her mother as she got out of the car. `` Thanks again for the ride Mrs. Johnson, see you in class tomorrow Court!''
Courtney's mom was nice, but she made them listen to the worst music when she picked them up from school: some band called the Roaches or the Bugs or something like that. Old people seemed to really like them even though they were lame.
No matter, in two weeks Courtney would be sixteen and could drive them, then they could listen to good music like Katy Perry or One Direction.
She opened the door and saw that her mom had the house decorated for the Halloween party her family was throwing this weekend. She was excited. She had found the cutest kitty cat costume and could n't wait for everyone to see her in it.
Her mother caught her as she walked into the kitchen to get a snack.
`` So honey, are you excited about the party?'' Her mom asked.
`` Yeah, I am totally excited mom. I tried on the kitty cat costume and I look super cute!''
`` That's great dear. How about that little boy you are bringing, what is he coming as?''
`` Oh my God mom, it is sooooo hilarious. He is going to paint his face all brown and dress like a gangster! Is n't that funny?''
Her mother gave her a strange look and said `` I do n't think that is very funny. I am going to see what your father has to say about this.''
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[ WP ] Your initial Amazon review for a product is 1 star . In the weeks following , you 're compelled to periodically update your review , adding stars one-by-one , until you 've given the product a perfect rating .
| * “ The Secret To Happiness ” by Unknown Seller*
**Why me? **
User: Londoner42
★ [ 1 Star ] 0 reviewers found this helpful.
I must have thought this would be a self-help book or something, I ’ m a sucker for all that bullshit. I think I bought it when I got pissed last night cos my boyfriend dumped me. I ’ m giving one star for delivery, cos the parcel was on my doorstep when I woke up this morning, but all that was in it was a small black cube that ’ s too cold to touch. Secret to happiness my arse. Like I needed to fall for another scam right now. I ’ m using the thing as a goddam paperweight.
**It ’ s growing... on me. **
User: Londoner42
★★ [ 2 Stars ] 17 reviewers found this helpful.
So this morning I opened a draw and saw this weird cube that was delivered to me 3 weeks ago. It ’ s still too cold to hold it for more than a few seconds, which is weird, because my flat ’ s the same temperature as normal. But something about the sight of it made me feel... stronger. I ’ ve had it in my purse all day and... this might just be a coincidence but I haven ’ t once felt the burning desire to text Ian that I ’ ve become so used to. The skin in the centre of my right hand is starting to turn black as midnight but I don ’ t mind that. It ’ s fine. It ’ s all fine.
**Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when he stumbles, do not let your heart rejoice. **
User: Londoner42
★★★ [ 3 Stars ] 1,674 reviewers found this helpful.
I am calm; I see more clearly now. Everything is changing; anything can change. I did not feel pain or surprise when I heard Ian has been arrested for murdering his new girlfriend. It was not even strange when my old school bully called me out of the blue to apologise for all those years of torment. People seem to care what I think more. My co-workers always seemed to look right through me, but now they hang on my every whim. Perhaps they love the beautiful inky sheen that is spreading up my arm.
**You were made to be ruled. **
User: Londoner42
★★★★ [ 4 Stars ] 1,580,074 reviewers found this helpful.
I put this cube, the Secret To Happiness, in the centre of my office, and all my colleagues immediately got on their knees and prostrated themselves before it. I told my neighbour, Sarah, to walk out of our 4th storey window just to see if she would do it and she did. I seem to possess people ’ s complete obedience and I can also move things with my mind. Plus my body is now made from pure obsidian. This item has truly changed my life. I plan to put it in Trafalgar Square next.
**ana kurnugi qaqqari lā târi**
User: Londoner42
★★★★★ [ 5 Stars ] 7,009,971,382 reviewers found this helpful.
Within a month of ordering this strange artifact I became ruler of the world, and now I feel the power of a billion human spirits channelled through me to the nether realms below. Highly recommended.
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[ WP ] You 're the first person in the modern world that can use magic and it all happened because you could n't find your lighter ...
| *Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck* I thought to myself, sweating bullets as I tore up my house. *Where the hell did I place that stupid thing? * It was close to eight, and I only had about half an hour before the fireworks were going to start. I needed that lighter. I searched over and over again, turned my car upside down, the house into a disaster, and still, nothing. It was like someone took it. I sat down on my couch and just tried to think where I put it. The more I thought the angrier I got until it felt like my blood was about to boil. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down, but to no avail. I smelled smoke.
`` OH SHIT!'' I yelled, noticing my hand was on fire. I ran to my kitchen sink faster than I think I have run in my life, turned on the cold water, and let it cleanse my hand. I noticed something strange then. My hand did n't hurt at all, nor was it charred like it should have been. It was actually perfectly fine, in fact, it felt tingly, as though adrenaline was surging through it. I heard shouting.
`` Mark, you alright? I smell smoke.'' It was my gardener.
`` Yeah Adam, all good, just burnt some chicken I was trying to make.''
`` Oh, haha okay. You never were a good cook.''
`` Wow, thanks.'' I turned off the water and inspected my hand, and there was n't a mark on it.
*How fucking strange. *
It was little things like that, a spontaneous combustion here, some water boiling off me in the shower there, little things. I finally decided to test it one day. I just got home from work, and I noticed a piece of newspaper in my yard. I focused with all my brainpower, and it burst into flame. I thought it was pretty neat, so I did it to Adam, I never cared for him anyways. The shrieking was n't great, but I was n't fast enough to douse him with my hose before he was burnt well done. It was a shame, I'd have to find a new gardener. Then I got an idea. If I can control fire, no one can control me. So I set off. I waltzed into work, lit the place up, and walked out, the place in ashes behind me. I went to my ex and razed her apartment building to the ground. Anyone and everyone who did me wrong would burn. Nothing could stop me, not the police, military, or otherwise. I went everywhere, burning just because I could because I wanted to. Along the way, I noticed that military buildings were so explosive they did my work for me, and soon enough I found the nukes, and it was smooth sailing from there. The world knew me now. Now, they all knew me.
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[ IP ] It makes me feel so small .
| *this was actually a pretty good prompt to continue a story from a previous response for me, so thanks: ) *
“ What do you make of these mountains here then? ”
“ We ’ re almost there, ‘ cept for them. ”
“ Is it troublesome to cross? ”
“ There ’ s a pass, ” Pite answered, “ More likely wise to camp here though, and we ’ ll wait till morning to go further. ” Grant nodded in agreement, and set down the pack he carried. The pair stood at the mouth of a wide gap between the bases of two great stony giants. Grant raised his eyes to find their peaks, but they were hid in clouds. He hoped the gap kept itself all the way through to the opposite side. He wasn ’ t very keen on climbing.
“ Haven ’ t you seen enough rocks in your life of slaving at mining? To think that you ’ d be marveling at big piles of them. ”
“ They ’ re more than just the stones of the mine. ”
“ How you mean that? ”
“ They make me feel small is all, ” Grant mumbled.
“ Sure, you ’ ve always been small, if you hadn ’ t noticed it. ” Pite smirked. “ You come up about a head shorter than I do, and I ’ m hardly the tallest man we was in the company of at the mines. ”
“ Not in that way, ya fool, ” Grant laughed, “ I mean to say they make me feel like I has less meaning. ”
“ Now being so stubby don ’ t mean you don ’ t matter, ” Pite smiled still. He set about pulling up the make-shift tarps of his tent.
“ Maybe not on account of my being short then, but on other ‘ counts. I was a slave near my whole life, ya know. I barely remember what I was before that, where I came from. ” Grant began unpacking, but his sight still turned upward.
“ You ’ re Tairrish the same as me. We was always one people, doesn ’ t matter beyond that. ”
“ Don ’ t it though? And who ’ s it to say the Tairs matter, or that it makes a difference we were free or not? ”
Pite stopped the fixing of his tent and stood. He looked at Grant with a face as cold as the snowy mountaintops. “ This land has bore a thousand generations of Tairrish men and women. We alive now carry their hopes for the future, just so our children will carry ours someday. We have meaning on account that our ancestors gave us it, and we will pass it on to our own. ”
Grant brought his eyes down to look at his friend, but was no less in awe of him than the stars and peaks in that moment. He held his silence and let Pite go on.
“ You know who I was before the mine camp? The son of Ontoh, Lord of Stilsummer. That ’ s back when it was a freetown itself. Well, now it ain ’ t, and Ontoh isn ’ t a lord nor living. Now a Caernman sits on my family ’ s seat in the house of all my fathers and mothers for centuries back. Does it mean I am less? ” Pite paused, looking upward to the twinkling night. “ No, it don ’ t. I have to believe it don ’ t. Maybe alone we is all small, but together we make something like pebbles piled into a mountain. Me alone? Maybe I ’ m nothing much to account. But us together? I give you a purpose and you give it back to me. And on that, we have a reason to go on so. ”
|
[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : 8 Million Edition
| Some of my prompt responses have included the characters Arius, Tal, and a Drak warlord with a silly name that is n't permanent. Here's some more writing in that setting.
____________________________________________
Tal woke the next morning to the sound of grunts and bangs outside his window. He quickly dressed, grabbed his spear, and rushed downstairs. At the foot of his tower, a clean gap had been made in the stone, just big enough for him to squeeze through.
The garden was a mess, to say the least. Dust filled the air as a green blur sped past Tal. `` G'morning!'' was all he heard, before an explosion right in front of him knocked him off balance. A massive slab of stone had just missed Viera as she came to a stop some feet away.
`` Sorry, your grace. Morning practice got a little carried away,'' she said, before raising her arms above her head and bringing them down in a flash of energy. The green light erupting from her hands struck a nearby cherry blossom, and Tal could only look on in astonishment as roots sprung from the ground, grasping at the tall woman at the other end of the garden.
`` And how are you doing, Nadea?'' Tal shouted.
`` I'm alright, dear. We'll be finished in a moment, do n't worry.'' With a great grunt, Nadea broke free of the roots and stomped hard at the ground before her. Several wood spikes shot from the root, flying towards her daughter, who just managed to duck out of the way.
Viera rolled backwards, coming up from the ground with her knife drawn. `` Come on, mother. You can do better than that!'' The teenager charged forward, the wind pushing her faster and faster with each step. Moments before she collided with Nadea, Viera hooked hard to the left, the knife slicing a ninety degree arc through the air in front of her.
Nadea did n't have time to dodge as a great wave of ice pushed her backwards, knocking her off her feet. She stood up, lips curled, and prepared to unleash everything on her arrogant daughter.
`` Alright, alright, it was a good show,'' Tal said, clapping his hands and stepping before the two women. `` I'm gon na stop you there before anyone gets hurt.''
Viera scoffed, sheathing her knife. `` Come on, Tal. She was finally about to stop going easy on me.''
`` Yes, well, easy on you is n't easy on my garden. If Arius saw this place after a real fight, he'd probably drop dead. I do n't want a dead tutor, thank you.''
`` I apologize,'' said Nadea, kneeling before her king. `` We will repair any damages, of course.''
Tal laughed, and offered Nadea his hand, pulling her to her feet. `` Please, do n't be sorry. It was a good fight. I'm happy to see you two, it's been too long.'' Tal looked around at the ravaged garden, taking in the surroundings. `` I do hope Nero accompanied you? A surprise visit by the Namea family would n't be complete without the greatest spirit channeler in the world.''
Viera frowned as she walked towards the two friends. `` My father is indeed here, your grace. You will find him in the Eagle Study, with Arius and...''
`` What is it, Viera?'' Tal asked, puzzled by the usually bright and bubbly girl's sudden change in attitude. `` What has happened?''
`` You should go and join them,'' Nadea said, moving to console her daughter. `` It is not our place to tell you.''
Tal was at a loss for words. In sixteen years, he had never seen Nadea or Viera so serious. Gone was the casual manner in which they had always talked. Now he was `` your grace'' and people he had grown up with were kneeling before him. He turned to walk away, and found he was suddenly very sweaty. Something was definitely wrong.
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[ WP ] As you approach a Convenient Store , you see a no one in sight in the desolate store . You notice a door in the back of the store labeled `` Employees Only '' being slightly open .
| I pushed open the door to the convenience store, and a wind chime jingled happily, announcing my arrival. I quickly walked to the refrigerated section, scanned my options, than grabbed a carton of 2 % milk. I made my way back to the front of the store and stood in front of the cash register. Nobody stood to take my order.
`` Hello?'' I called out. No answer. Glancing around, I could n't see an employee in sight. I walked away from the cash register, still holding my milk, and wandered up and down the few aisles. I still did n't see anybody available to help me. Getting frustrated, I returned to the fridges to put the milk back, when an `` Employee Only'' door caught my eye. It was open an inch or so, so I pulled it fully open.
The room behind the door had wall to wall shelves full of boxes, and a large delivery entrance at the far end.
`` Hello?'' I called out again. A girl's head popped up out from behind a shelf.
`` Oh, hi,'' she said.
I held up my milk.
`` Sorry,'' she apologized. `` I was restocking.'' She pulled herself out of the boxes and followed me to the cash, where she rung up my milk and gave me change for a ten. I left a moment later, went home and had my cereal. It was good.
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[ WP ] The bride is having an affair with the best man . During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out .
| `` I remember when I first met Carly,'' X said as he finally got to make his speech. `` We knew each other since we were kids but nothing has ever happened between us. And now look at her, getting married. It seems like yesterday where we were meeting up for hugs and kisses, nothing else happened of course. I remember this one time where we went to this hotel room with our good friends Zack and Jenny. In the hotel room, all that happened was that Jenny played with Zack a little, nothing erotic of course, while me and Carly just held hands and talked. After we left the hotel, it felt like we were being followed by someone whose name probably was PI but I thought little of it. After Carly and Jenny went home to meet their wonderful soul mates, I stopped hearing from them until the next week. As I drove by their house, Carly's soon to be husband's shirt was strangely wet. Ahhhh I will never forget that day where I met up with Carly for hugs and kisses. Cheers to you, newly weds.''
If anyone actually reads this I'll have you know that I'm too lazy to try harder on this little essay.
|
[ WP ] In the new James Franco and Seth Rogan movie , the two stoner bestfriends take a trip to Cuba where they find all the `` dead '' celebrities ( Tupac , Bob Marly , Elvis , etc . ) are alive and well , partying and chilling . James and Seth are enjoying their trip until they find out what 's really going on
| Zombies.
They found zombies.
Real, honest to god, Zombies.
James glanced at Seth.
Seth was standing there, a dazed look on his face.
`` Are we in a fucking zombie apocalypse set in Cuba?'' Seth asked slowly, as if the reality the situation was finally setting in.
`` Dude, do you know how much fucking money we'll make with this?'' James said, pointing at Bob Marly and Elvis as they sat on the bench doing an impromptu jam session.
`` Like what, in a movie?'' Seth said, winking at the audience.
`` No, dude, we could make Cuba the new Vegas! Minus the drugs, money, and uh, capitalistic demands?'' James said slowly, uncertainty in his voice.
`` That's like trying to rob a bank with an army of monkeys.'' Seth argued, then paused. `` Holy shit dude, we could call that'Banana's 11, Monkey Time'!''
James grinned.
`` We are so going to make a shit load of money!''
Just then, Hitler sauntered into the scene.
`` Arrest these fools! They are jeopardizing everything the Fifth Reich stands for!'' He ordered, and Nazi Robots appeared and dragged James and Seth away. Hitler looked back to the famous dead celebrities and nodded to himself. `` Soon we will have enough music to flood those foolish American music markets and we will take over the world! Hahahahaha!''
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[ WP ] You are reading the grittiest , manliest , most testorone-filled bedtime story to your daughter . She 's adding in bits .
| “ It had only been a day since the man had crashed his plane into the forest. Having no supplies, he wandered through the forest, looking for something to eat. Now this man, he was no ordinary man. He was tall, taller than most, and he was large. If one were to look at him, they ’ d think he could probably cut down a tree with a single punch. After only one day, his clean shaven face was covered in loads of facial hair. And his voice; his voice could send all animals, all but the most terrifying, fleeing from him. ”
“ And then the twinkling fairy showed up to guide him to some food, ” the man ’ s daughter said, safely tucked away in her bed sheets. She eyed her dad with wide eyes, excited to hear what would happen next.
“ Yes, yes, fine, ” the father said, burying his face in his hand. Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he also had a son. Not that he didn ’ t love his daughter; he did. But there were just some things that daughters couldn ’ t understand it seemed.
“ The twinkling fairy appeared to the man. ‘ Let me show you where to get some food, ’ the twinkling fairy said. Then she- ”
“ She needs a name, ” his daughter piped up. He rubbed his temples. “ How about Ashley? ”
“ Fine, fine. Ashley led the man- ”
“ Does the man have a name? ” his daughter asked.
He stared down at her. This was supposed to be a bedtime story. She didn ’ t even look close to tired, and he really didn ’ t want to stay up all night. He racked his mind for a name.
“ How about Joe? ” he asked. His daughter nodded, giving her sign of approval, and she hugged her teddy bear in anticipation of the story that was to come. “ Okay, so Ashley, the twinkling fairy, led Joe, the plane-wrecked man, through the trees where he came upon a deer. Joe walked as quietly as possible, cursing under his breath as the twigs snapped beneath his giant feet. If he startled the deer, his lunch would disappear. He took out the makeshift knife he had made when he crawled out of the mangled remains of the plane. He stared at the deer, waited, and then leapt with near inhuman speed, grabbing the deer around its body and rolling with it on the ground, wrestling for a minute before his knife finally slid across its throa- ”
“ What ’ s wrong? ” he asked his daughter, who was balling, tears falling from her eyes. Her wails filled the house and made his headache even worse, the pulses of pain in sync with her wails.
“ He killed the dear? ” she cried, suddenly tilting her head towards him as tears flew off her cheek into the air. “ Why would he do that? ” She rubbed her eyes, trying to stop the crying.
Giving up, feeling like he was dying a bit on the inside, he sighed and continued on with the story, albeit an altered version of it.
“ ‘ No! ’ Ashley screamed as Joe moved away from the dead deer on the ground. ‘ How could you do that? ’ Ashley yelled, flying over to the deer and petting its head, the eyes black and lifeless. Joe watched as the fairy glowed a bright yellow and the blood disappeared. The deer gave a kick, then stood up and sniffed the fairy. When it grew bored of Ashley, it ran off into the woods. ‘ I didn ’ t mean the deer. There ’ s a whole bunch of magical fruit trees nearby. ’ ”
His daughter ’ s tears dried up as she heard the deer was brought back to life.
“ ‘ I ’ m sorry, ’ Joe said to Ashley. The next few days passed as Joe and his fairy companion made him a shelter. Everything was going good. Joe had more than enough food to eat, so much so that he never had to consider killing an animal again. That was until one day. ”
“ Oh, ” his daughter yelped in fear. She pulled the bed sheets closer to her face, as if to potentially hide behind them. “ What happened? ” she gasped, in only the way an inquisitive, curious child can gasp. He looked into her eyes and debated whether he should tell the story as is, if she could actually handle how it would end.
“ One day, ” he continued, “ Joe was sitting in the woods, laid back against a large tree trunk, clutching the picture of his daughter. For see, he had a daughter, one he tried not to think about. How could he? He missed her too much. And what if he never got to see his daughter again? What if he could never see her smile again? What if he never got to tell her a bedtime story again? It was too painful a thought. So most days he chose not to think about her. But today he was weak. Today he thought about her. As he looked at her picture, the deer he had killed earlier walked over to him and nudged him with its nose. He petted its head. For a minute everything seemed fine. But then he heard it. ”
“ What? ” she gulped.
“ ROAR! ” her dad bellowed, shaking even the dresser nearby. “ A bear popped out of the bushes. Before Joe could even react it had already slammed one large paw into his head, nearly knocking him unconscious. It charged for the deer, which tried to run, but wasn ’ t fast enough. ”
Her father paused, considering how he would continue the story. She ’ d already changed it so much, so what did it matter anyways. Or at least that ’ s how he figured it. He could still let it end the same way though.
“ And Ashely appeared in a puff of green glitter, sending the bear flying backwards with a puff of blue light. She turned around and yelled out to the deer ‘ Run! ’ She flew over to Joe, to help him, when the bear ’ s mouth closed in around her. She hadn ’ t been paying attention. And so Ashley the fairy was swallowed by the bear. Joe noticed this and mustered every fiber of his being, all of his courage, all of his strength, all of his manliness, and he tackled the bear. The bear roared and pawed at Joe who gripped the bear with all his might, his large, beefy arms holding the bear and causing them to roll around on the ground with each other. The bear finally broke free and bit one of Joe ’ s legs clean off. Joe in turned punched it right in the face. The bear howled in pain. Joe leapt forward and tackled it again, sliding his knife out of his pocket. He was bleeding out. He knew he only had so much time left. But he ’ d be darned if he was going to have let Ashley and the deer die like that. The picture tumbled out of his pocket at the same time and he shed one single tear and only one as he saw his daughter for the last time. And then he punched the bear again, rolled it onto its belly, and plunged the knife straight through its flesh. He carved a circle and excised the beast ’ s stomach as it let out one last growl before it went lifeless. There sat Ashley the fairy, cold and still, but otherwise unharmed. He dug around in the bear ’ s stomach, through all its contents, and picked Ashley out. His consciousness was fading as he placed Ashley on the ground. The tear he had shed fell off his cheek and onto Ashley, who glowed a bright red as she came back to life. ”
“ Whoa, ” his daughter whispered. Oddly enough, she wasn ’ t crying like he thought she might have. Maybe she really was his daughter. And even if she cried, why would she be anything less? As he neared the end of the story, he started to realize just how much he had come to love her. He had been concerned at first. He didn ’ t think he was ready to be a father. But something about sitting here with her, telling her a story of utter manliness, of man vs nature, only for it to turn into some fairy fantasy, made him realize that he really was ready for all this. “ Are you going to finish it? ” she asked as he blushed, not realizing how long of a pause he had made.
“ Of course, ” he responded quietly. “ He looked at Ashley, who was temporarily drained of her magic because she had only just come back to life. ‘ Promise me one thing, ’ he said to her. ‘ Promise me you ’ ll give my daughter this. ’ And then he stabbed the knife straight into his chest and carved out yet more flesh, effortlessly cutting through his chest bone. Sticking his hand in the now open gape in his chest, he pulled out his own beating heart as he fell on the ground, careful to keep the heart off the ground and in his hand. Ashley started to cry as her magic came back, just enough to preserve the heart and carry it away from the forest. And so Joe ’ s body and the bear ’ s remained in the forest, eventually becoming one with it yet again. But Joe ’ s heart lived on, for his daughter was sick and had needed a new heart. And it was Joe ’ s very heart that the fairy had placed in his daughter, it was his beating heart that kept her alive everyday for the rest of her life. And though Joe never did get to see his beloved daughter ever again, a smile was still plastered on his lifeless face, for he knew that his daughter would live, and for him, that was all he could ever hope for. The end. ”
“ Thanks for the story, ” she said as she laid her head against the pillow. Her father was surprised by how little she seemed to have been affected by it.
“ You ’ re not sad about what happened? ” he asked.
“ No, I am, ” his daughter said, yawning. “ But he didn ’ t really die, did he? He still lives on in his daughter, right? ”
“ Very much so, ” he said, kissing her on the forehead and turning the light off. “ Good night honey. ”
“ G ’ nite daddy, ” she said tiredly. He tried to hold back the tears until after he had left her room. She ’ d never called him that before. “ I love you, ” she yawned innocently as he closed her door.
“ I love you too, ” he said as the door closed. He ’ d definitely never heard those words before. He really was her father now, it would seem, and she really was his daughter. He held onto her door knob as he let a couple tears fall from his eyes, before he sniffled and wiped his face clean, going back to his bedroom. He ’ d keep his promise. And he ’ d love her as his own.
|
[ TT ] No sound was heard but the crunching of snow beneath booted feet .
| My goal in this piece was to try and reflect the perspective shift that people undergo after heartache, in how I describe nature and the seasons, and without directly making mention to those emotions. Let me know what you think
-
For the longest time, no sound could be heard but the crunching of snow beneath booted feet. It was calming, being out here.
Snow had become distant, yet familiar to him. It was n't often that Carolina got anything more than flurries. He told himself that being home, up north, was a welcome change of pace. But he did miss the warm weather.
A cold breeze pushed the lightly falling flakes in his face, as he trudged up one of the park's many hilltops. He pulled his scarf up to cover his face, putting up a crimson barrier between himself and the elements. The crunching continued, as his labored steps brought him closer to his destination.
A pair of robins resumed their chirping after the wind subsided. He could tell where they were, but the rays of the morning sun blinded his vision. One of the robins took flight, leaving the other alone in the barren maple tree.
His socks were already wet. It was n't very comfortable, but there was not much else to do besides carrying on.
The gravel pathway, or what he could see of it, narrowed to the width of one set of boots, as the incline grew steeper. The rest of the way up winded and turned. He was wary of ice; On previous trips in the winter, he'd slipped and hurt himself in the process.
He recalled coming here in the summertime. The hike did n't feel as long, then. Reaching the hilltop was always a treat. He enjoyed seeing the varying shades of green in the treetops, and all of the people who wandered between them. Sitting between the twin trees atop the hill, he could stay and share the landscape for hours.
February had been bitter to the hilltop. As he crested the summit, his heart sank. One of the twin trees had been felled, its thin trunk stretching away from the one that still stood. A wide crack ran along its length, which ended suddenly with a flat end. He peered over to where it once stood to confirm his suspicion; someone else had put the poor thing out of its misery. It probably was n't sturdy when the axe was taken to it.
He sat on its stump, and pulled the scarf away from his face. It was cold atop the hill, but he did n't mind. Still, he reflected on how much nicer up it was up there when it was warmer. He really missed that.
As the sun continued to rise, his gaze fell upon a small patch of grass that poked out of the blanket of white. The snow around it was slowly melting away, making room for a bold entry into the inhospitable cold. There were no more than a dozen blades of grass shaking lightly in the wind, yet they stood tall, as if to announce their presence.
It was an important announcement, the one that they bore. March was coming. Spring was coming, and soon after, Summer would follow. He needed only to wait awhile longer to feel welcome in his favorite retreat again.
After gazing outwards, inwards, he stood and shook the snow off his coat. As he began his descent, his thoughts turned towards planting a new tree atop his hill.
|
[ WP ] pick a color and create a character using qualities of that color .
| The music, Serse, filled the room as he the man placed his tools before him.
`` Now i hate to do this but...'' he shrugged his shoulders `` what you gon na do a man has his needs''
`` Please i have a family; kids, just let me go'' his victim cried out to him as he merrily came closer to the bound figure before.
He heard it all before I am a good person, I have a family, I have money, etc, etc blah blah. It bored him just once he wanted someone to be silent so he could have his fun.
`` Nah, see I need this everyday life going to an office filling out paperwork then repeating day in day out. It bores me to death. The one time i felt alive in all my years walking this earth was when i saw a man get run over and die right in front of me.'' He pulled the now struggling figure on the floor so they where eye to eye. He loved to see the fear in their eyes has he gave his speech each time it filled him with joy watching them have their last glimmer of hope extinguished `` It filled me with exhilaration watching his blood pool on the ground going from a bright crimson to a dark beautiful red. Right there and then i decided that i found my life's calling. Murder.''
Soon the dark room was filled with new sound that the man found to compliment the music beautifully.
|
[ WP ] You revieve a parcel from someone titled God . In the parcel there is an electronic watch that has no recognizable brand . However when any button is pushed on the watch time stops and when pushed again time starts .
| The package came in a normal delivery, and sat on the front porch for a few hours before George Marbury picked it up and brought it inside.
He opened it without bothering to notice the sender listed as `` God''. It was a simple watch. Looked like a Casio. Actually, looked like a Casio knockoff since it had no brand info in it.
George noticed that nothing was showing in the display. So, he pressed a button at random.
At that moment, time stopped. Photons froze in their tracks. The great computational engine of the universe stopped progressing everywhere at once. There was no progress of anything, anywhere.
Nobody noticed, of course, because time would have to progress to notice. Nothing rotted, of course, since time had stopped. Nothing fell from the sky. Nothing changed, anywhere. Nothing got cold, nothing got hot. The universe stopped expanding.
And that was it. There was nothing that could restart the universe, either. And so that was instantly the end of existence. Everywhere. For everyone.
`` See, `` God said, `` I told you I would n't use a flood twice. ``
|
[ WP ] Tell me what you last dreamed about . Every detail .
| Last night I had a dream about being shot in the back of the head.
More specifically, I was was walking out of a boutique that had a glass door. The sun was gleaming off of it, and as I pushed open the door to leave, it exploded into a shower of glass. The explosion was so fierce that it blew me backwards and I thought I was injured from the pure force of it, however, after standing up, I noticed the wound in the back of my head. I also noticed that I was still alive, which, even in my dream, I thought was pretty weird. I remember grabbing a white fleece jacket from the boutique I was now sitting in, and pulled the hood up and over my head. I remember instantly the blood soaking through the inside of the hood. Not sure how I got there, but after that, I remember trying to lie down in bed, but not being able to get comfortable. So I got up and went to the bathroom. I was surprised to see Kimberly there, she works at my job, but otherwise I have no contact with her. At this point I take off the white jacket with the now completely blood-soaked hood, and I was going to try and figure out a way to fix my hair around the wound so it was n't as noticeable. Kimberly kept butting in with her beauty preferences and when I refused to let her help me, she got upset and walked out. After she left, I looked in the bathroom mirror and wondered to myself how this was even possible. Using a compact make-up mirror and turning my back to the big bathroom mirror, I tried to see the back of my head. This is when I realized there was only one giant gaping hole where the back of my head should be. I thought, `` so how am I here? how am I still alive?''
And that's when I woke up.
|
[ CW ] Write the context of the following line . `` I have seen empires rise and fall . Entire worlds have burned at my command . I was old before you were born , and will yet be young when all you know is nothing but dust and ash . ''
| The greatest army the world had ever known marched towards the precipice. The massive mountain stood alone, like a massive tower dwarfing everything around it. The seat of the gods. 13 kings led the endless columns. 1,000 years of war ended in a day when each kingdom unified to bring down the tyrannical gods. The deities who laughed at the torment of men, fueling war and anguish, enjoying the endless suffering of mortals. There had never been a more just war.
As the army neared the roots of the mountain 4 riders rode to meet the 13 kings. Hooded and cloaked, there was a darkness about them. The day had been bright and warm, but at the arrival of the riders a shadow seemed to loom and the men grew cold.
The greatest of the kings rode forward to meet them. Tall and proud, he had long flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes that could pierce through the strongest of men. He sat atop his massive black warhorse wearing plate armor and carrying a massive broad sword, a helm covered his face, save for his bright eyes. He had no fear.
As he reached the riders he began to speak in a loud and clear voice. “ You are accused of toiling in the matters of men, of warmongering and robbery. Of injustices both small and great. ” Before he had a chance to continue one of the hooded figures rode forward. He could not be seen but a reek of death was about him. The once proud king felt a flutter in his chest, the hair on the back of his neck rose. The man who had known no fear in hundreds of battles felt a doubt grow in his mind.
The crooked and dark figure began to speak in a voice that sounded both old and young. A strange and reptilian guttural noise, however, there was no mistaking what was said. “ You foolish mortal, you come and stand before us gods an accuser. You no not what matters we toil in. This is our world. We are the first. We are the last. I have seen empires rise and fall. Entire worlds have burned at my command. I was old before you were born, and will yet be young when all you know is nothing but dust and ash. ” The king seemed to shrink in stature; with each word he felt a cold pierce his heart. The god continued. “ Do you think you are the first to stand against us? Many fool-hearted men have tried. You will meet an end full of fire and anguish. ” Now the figure ’ s voice echoed off the mountain so that the entire army could hear. “ You have been led here by false hope, and none of you shall leave. Your wives and children will suffer the same fate as you. Eternal hellfire. You shall all burn. ”
At the last word a panic set through the army. Men turned and ran in all direction. The battle was over before it had begun. The darkness spread. The ground shook. A fissure opened and spewed fire all over the field. The fissure grew and the earth itself ripped apart. There was no more anguish, justice or injustice. The world was no more. So it ended as it began. The darkness grew, only the void remained.
|
[ WP ] `` Ow ! My balls ! ''
| Jeff had to work late every Wednesday, or rather he chose to work late. Every Thursday was Dodgeball day. Dodgeball was by far Jeff's favorite activity to do with his kids. He just sat around on the bleachers, watching the kids bombard each other with red rubber balls. He rarely had to intervene, he felt that he hardly even needed to be there. As a result he often spent the day off his ass, thanks to an easily concealable flask of Jamenson, that he kept in his left jacket pocket. Since he knew the following day would be a joke, he had no trouble staying a bit late to set everything up for the kiddies. This particular Wednesday night was December 23rd. Jeff always used the holidays ( and the weeks around them ) as an excuse to be hammered nearly 24/7. For this reason he loved Christmas.
Jeff took a final swig out of his flask, and walked onto the hard gym floor with a sack of rubber balls over his back. He opened the bag and began laying the balls across the midline.
It was a cold winter night and the only sound that Jeff could hear was the wind howling against the building. As he put down the last ball, he heard what sounded like a bell ringing. He looked up, and standing at the entrance, not ten yards from him, was one of those charity Santa's with a bell.
Jeff shook his head in disbelief, while the Santa just stood there ringing his bell.
`` How the Hell did you get in here codger?'' Jeff angrily inquired.
`` Get the hell out dammit!'' Jeff shouted. The Santa was unmoving.
`` Dammit! Did you hear me!'' Jeff approached the Santa with a quick aggressive pace. Jeff reached for the Santa, but just before he could grab him by his cheap red suit, Jeff felt a searing pain on the top of his head. The Santa had clocked him over the head, with all the might of Father Christmas. Jeff's knees buckled, and he crumbled to the floor.
When Jeff came to, he could see the Santa loading up the ball sack with the red rubber balls, that Jeff had carefully lined up. Jeff felt the top of his head as he watched the old Santa shuffle off with his rubber balls.
`` Ow! My balls!'' He exclaimed.
|
[ WP ] You are an ex-Navy Seal with several impressive achievements and skills under your belt , including having extensive training unarmed combat and being the top sniper in the entire U.S. Armed Forces . You have just been insulted by someone on the internet .
| *You're a worthless idiot, that is the stupidest comment, there is no way that you're an ex-Navy Seal I mean seriously that is the gayest, sensitive bullshit ever! *
Well, fuck you too BangedYoGrandma69.
I guess its my fault for commenting on a Youtube video, what a real waste of time. I mean I regret highlighting that I'm a former Navy Seal, now there's all these fucking comments having a go at me.
I wonder how stupid this kid is.
So, he lives in Minnesota, small town by the looks of it, shit. I guess people will notice if he disappears, not that I have a rifle anymore but how hard should that be? All I would have to do is flash my dog tags and they'll probably help me.....not that I' planning to kill the kid.
Okay, so the trucks all filled up, time to go.
Fucking hell this place is a whole, not to mention the Vikings are ass.
Oh good, the house is isolated. Although the vantage points are n't too good. I'll have to make do with the what I've got. At least it's a nice tree and the weather is surprisingly pleasant.
`` Oh hello BangedYoGrandma69, I guess I am sensitive. Good-bye.''
**BANG**
|
[ WP ] Upon coming of age , every human being is given a box . The box can be opened only three times , and the only certainty is that opening will radically change your life . You are on your deathbed when you decide to open your box for the first time .
| `` Pass it to me,'' I said to the nurse. She knew what I was talking about.
Everybody knew. Everybody knew about the boxes. We all got them when we graduated high school with the specific knowledge that they would change your life, but only three times.
Everybody's box was different, and nobody told anyone else what was in their box.
It was n't illegal, or anything, but it just was n't done.
That was about when you saw people fall into one of two categories. They were either the `` When the time is right'' folks, the kind who would wait for big moments in their lives to make sure they did n't waste it or they were the `` Need to know'' type. The type to open their box three times in a week and they were always itching to get a look inside someone else's, rules be damned.
Most of my friends were the former. I can remember the first time each of them opened their box. I remember seeing them the next day changed men. They were different... *darker*. I never knew why.
I just figured, what's the point? If I got through my life up to that point without a box, who's to say I could n't go further?
From then it turned into a challenge against myself. Just put it off for another day. Do it tomorrow. You do n't need to see what's inside the box, you've made it this far.
Of course, I could n't tell anyone I had n't looked. People looked at you different.
I do n't think many of them realized that I was n't different for not having looked, they were different for looking.
Eventually I could read what type of person someone was by looking them in the eyes.
The nurse was a `` Need to know.'' It was a hunger in her eyes, a stiffening of the body at the command, the slightest hesitation in handing me the ornately carved wooden box.
She did n't really want me to see it, but when the effort of drawing a breath causes a man pain and they take the time to make a request, you damn sure follow it through.
I do n't know if the legends are true, but they say that, whenever someone is born, a tree is planted, and, when they graduate high school, their tree is cut down and carved into their box.
I examined it for what seemed to be the millionth time. It's nothing I have n't seen before, symbols carved onto the side that curved and twisted about like thorns culminating at the lock, representing the importance of the choice. I saw my name etched into the top and I wondered to myself, what would have happened if I'd destroyed it?
Would anyone have known?
Would anyone have cared?
Would it have even worked?
Well, it's been seventy years since I got this blasted thing.
Might as well see what the fuss is all about.
My thumbs, slowly and awkwardly, with a lot of aching, flipped open the latch to unlock the great secret that would change a man's life. But only three times.
Power like that, there was only one thing it could be: the real secret to the meaning of life, and *not* just some random number an English author came up with while staring at his garden, the real, actual, factual meaning of life.
The hinges creaked as the lid opened.
I stared inside and felt something coming up in my lungs. Muscles in my face were twitching in a direction they had n't in a very *long* time.
With no small amount of pain, I inhaled, and felt laughter roar out of me as the machines tracking my pulse started beeping much faster.
Then, as the laughing slowed to a stop, the heart monitor slowed with it. The world grew darker and I knew. I knew that what was inside my box was the same as what was inside everyone else's...
*Nothing. *
Edit: Minor grammatical thing that I missed my first time through
|
[ FF ] Begin or end your story with this line : `` It was the most beautiful colour I 'd ever seen . ''
| `` Can you please explain colour to me'' he said.
`` Dude, you're fucking blind!'' I yelled.
`` Fuck you man, but seriously, can you at least try to humor me? You're the smartest man I know and if anyone can it's you. Please'' he pleaded.
`` Ugh, man, I've got no fucking clue. Okay, give me a sec... Okay, yeah, I've got this sense, it's like your sense of hearing.'' I started.
`` You have hearing too asshole.''
`` No, I can hear things but you have a `` Sense of Hearing.'' I put finger quotes around that. I've heard you play piano man, and cello and violin. It's like you have this ability to find extra sounds. Sounds I've never heard before. You hear a car horn and you can tell me the note and distance. If someone clinks a glass the pitch is right there for you. It's in your sense. So us people that can see have another kind of sense when someone wears a shirt we can see the passion that goes with the logo because it's red. We can see the drama and heartache in an upcoming movie because the poster is dark, deep, colors like blue and black. We feel the promise of a good day because the sun is bright and sharp like yellow.''
`` Oh my god.'' he gasps
`` It's bad is n't it, I'm trying here man give me a..''
`` Shut up. That was the best explanation I've ever gotten before but the thing that stopped me was hearing this girls laugh. It came from over by the bar and it was the most beautiful colour I'd ever seen.''
|
[ WP ] Write a letter home from a soldier in a revolution . Do n't make it clear which side they are on .
| Mother,
How are you? What ’ s the weather like? How ’ s Jiyoung? Did she graduate already? If she did, send her my congratulations. The army doesn ’ t give us much money, so sadly I ’ ll have nothing to send, but tell her her oppa* says he cares her and is proud of her.
Winter is finally upon us now. The leaves have fallen and snow is beginning to cover them. I ’ m beginning to miss the smell of your roasted walnuts. I miss our apartment too. The sweet warmth from your floor is calling to me. Sleeping on the cold ground every night makes me restless and desperate for home.
I want to come home with you and Jiyoung. I know I am less of a man for saying it, but I miss life before this war started. I find myself dreaming of the three of us sitting around for dinner, eating your spicy chicken. We are given rice with beans and a small side of radish kimchi. Yours is much better.
Every part of me wants to tell you good news but the word in our camp is that we are losing the war. We lost half of my troop the other week in a skirmish and much of our supplies a few days later in an ambush. I am so alone mother. So lost without my family.
When I come home, if I come home, can you make your soybean soup with lots of ban chan*? I want to feel the warmth of the soup fill my stomach and eat like a king. I ’ m so hungry without your delicious cooking mother.
Please send my love to Jiyoung and give a prayer to father. I miss you mother, I hope to see you soon. Eat lots for me while I ’ m gone.
Your son,
Hakyung
oppa: big brother
ban chan: Korean side dishes
|
[ WP ] The world has ended and only one person is left to document what happened .
| It's hard to describe, the swelling hope that rises in your chest when you look out at the ocean and see an approaching ship. Knowing deep down that it will be empty, you hope anyway, letting your imagination fly; each time the tides finally judge the vessel worthy of crashing to shore, the devastation seems harder to weather.
Five. That's five ships now. Each one empty, listing, abandoned - each one, a chronicle of what's happened here.
I know nothing about shipbuilding; I can not repair them. And so I walk, scavenging and raiding, living on and by a knife's edge. At first there were others, and truly, we lived - we did not just survive, but we *lived*. We remembered birthdays, we recalled songs and plots and stories; we reinforced each other, and we said: *this, this we can do*.
But it could not last - it never does.
The sickness came, attacking only when we were already weakened and in need - it poisoned our water, our food, our very breath. Others stumbled upon us, and we ran until we collapsed from exhaustion, and often they found us when we could not run any farther. And beyond all that - we starved and sweltered, we froze and choked and went insane. And then, there were less....and less....and less.
And then, one day, there were none. Nor the next day after that. And now, I've lost track of the days, but I can be fairly certain: I am all that remains.
I am the remnant, the survivor of a species that once changed the very earth with its presence; I am progeny of a group of inanimate atoms that somehow became aware of itself *and yet attained so many higher things*. I am the legacy of the greatest collective pool of knowledge ever known....
... and I am the last. The only one, the keeper, the stalwart steward of everything that has ever been. The responsibility, the pressure - it crushes me. I write because it is the only outlet, and the only way to ease my guilty conscience. I have to get it all down, just in case an alien race with more foresight than me - the self-proclaimed `` fittest survivor'' of all these years of evolution - needs to know the truth.
For you see, I have a special qualification to do this, to describe the end of all things. Because all of this - it began in my office all those years ago, yet just like yesterday...
|
[ WP ] An advent calendar where every square contains a standard dose of a different drug .
| *Is this what I've become? *
My spoon clanged against the side of my bowl.
*Cottage cheese. Always cottage cheese for the 3:00 snack. Sometimes with peaches, sometimes with pears... *
The Shortage of'17 had hit Mt Pleasant Retirement and Care Home particularly hard. I'd seen it firsthand. We used to get little individual packets of apple slices, sometimes a carton of chocolate milk, and, on special days, a slice of fresh, hot pie. Coconut custard was my favorite, but the lady in 19A raised such a ruckus every time that they kept it to just cherry or apple. Shame.
*What I would n't give for a slice of that pie right now... *
A bell rang. It was faint - at least to my aged ears - at the orderly's desk no doubt.
*Yes, it's time now, is n't it? *
My palsied hands struggled to pull back my sleeve to check my watch.
*Yes. 3:25. It's time. *
Almost as if on cue I felt hands grip the back of the wheelchair I've been stuck in since the second stroke. I made an effort at dabbing the remnants of the cottage cheese from my lips and try to set the napkin back on the table. It ended up on the floor.
`` Come on dear, it's that time! It's time for day 3 of the Calendar!''
She was a kind woman, full of false enthusiasm, but the effort was appreciated. She alone of the orderlies saw that the strokes had sapped my ability to speak but not my mental functioning.
She was right, of course. The Shortage of'17 hit drugs hard too. Many plants were forced to close, many others moved to India or China - useless to us now after The Health-First Tariff Act.
She was kind enough to shut the door behind us. Many of them do n't.
*What will it be today? Antiobiotics, I should hope. This bladder infection... it's not pleasant. Oh to be young again, in a world free of these shortages... *
She picked up the long narrow box. The grandchildren - the grandchildren of the man in the next bed over - had come and decorated our boxes. It was December then, they thought it clever to number it like an Advent calendar. It worked out well. I was on a cocktail of 27 different drugs, but the shortage meant we only got one a month of each. On the 1st I got three, on the 2nd I got two, and then one a day for the rest of the month, with a break from the 25th until the 1st of the next month started it over again.
My hands shook as I popped the drug into my mouth.
`` Well done! Have some water to wash it down, will you?''
She hands me a paper cup, half filled with metallic tasting water. The shortage had done a number on our water treatment plants - those that were still open.
I spilled some down the front of my shirt.
*Maybe tomorrow. Maybe square number 13. Maybe that will be the drug that calms the shaking. *
|
[ WP ] The four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are here . Their names are Tinky Winky , Dipsy , Laa-Laa and Po .
| `` The baby in the sun commands us my brothers and sister, we ride forth across the green plains of eternity to sweep down upon the mortals below!'' Twinky Winky shouted from his purple steed. The horse dug its hooves into the vibrant green grass and reared its head.
A red rift ripped open in front of the four and they spurred their mounts forward, and with them they brought chaos. Dipsy swept his scythe back and forth cleaving fleeing mortals in half. Blood rained down from the scythe's blade as he rode through the streets.
Laa-Laa brought forth her plagues, disease erupted from her mouth in a black cloud of flies. They swarmed over the cities, their bites left boils and blackened flesh.
Po destroyed the crops of mankind. Fires swept across the fields incinerating anything that could have been edible. Cows, pigs, sheep, goat, anything and everything humanity could have dined on was swept away in the burning curtain.
Tinky Winky, War. The fallen humans filled the horrid ranks of his immortal army which he led against the bastions of mankind. The humans were more resourceful than Tinky Winky had imagined but in the end they were weak, pathetic soft creatures that were consumed by his voracious horde.
Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, and Po stared out across the desiccated landscape that was once the kingdom of mankind. They threw back their heads in laughter as the baby in the sun looked on with glee.
-- -
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit
|
[ WP ] It 's the zombie apocalypse . How do you die ?
| I gaze out the window. The street was quiet. A couple stray cars here and there but there was n't any kind of movement.
I crept downstairs and gently slung on backpack at the front door. Placing my hand on the door handle, I hesitated. My bag slowly slipped off of my back and I walked back upstairs.
...
Listening to music through my earphones. Curtains closed. There's activity on the street tonight and I do n't want to risk anything. I close my eyes tight and try to ignore the slobbers, the moans - gunshots. I rip out my earphones and jump to my feet. Deep breath. I peek out the curtain. There was a man stumbling down the street holding a shotgun. A small trail of bodies were making their way after him. He was hurt, looking around wildly. Last chance saloon, the guy was a goner. Our eyes met.
`` HEY''
I drop to the ground. His voice was muffled through the double glazing but I heard him get louder as he approached my door.
`` HEY BUDDY LEM ME IN''
Gunshot.
`` FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK OPEN THE DOOR''
Gunshot. Gunshot. He was loud now. He must be right up the driveway. My heart begins to beat faster and faster. I can feel sweat drip down my forehead. I take a deep breath and run to the door. My hand clasps the handle and I heard him scream. My body goes limp and silent tears run down my face.
...
Rumbles. I hear rumbles of low flying planes overhead. I hear rumbles of my stomach. I hear low rumbles from outside, the dead making themselves known. I'm out of food.
...
I ca n't survive much longer. I've not eaten in three days. Holding a kitchen knife, I limp to the front door. What do I hope to accomplish? My vision blurs. Whatever is beyond that door will be better than this house. My tomb. I open the door and she's standing there. This slender, blonde beauty. I take a long blink. She's alive. She's holding a machete.
...
`` How long have you been held up in here?''
I'm nibbling on one of her cereal bars. She's stayed here a while now, a few nights, but we have n't spoken much. Face to face at the door, I had no choice but to let her in. I locked myself in the bathroom before we exchanged a word. I do n't know how long, I just did n't want her to be here. Deep breaths. But at the same time I wanted nothing more than for her to be here. When I came out she was still here. We did n't speak much. Only simple pleasantries. Exchanging food and toiletries with Ps and Qs. We were building a rapport, building trust. I could tell she had been on her own for a while. So had I.
`` About three months''
She frowned.
`` But... Them'' she motioned towards the front door, `` they've only been here two?''
I looked into her eyes. Her eyes were deep, earthy brown and I always found myself drawn towards them.
`` I did n't get out the house much''
She observed me. Coldly. Almost calculating. But then she nodded and I continued to eat.
...
The rumblings started again. Not my stomach. Not them outside. Just the planes again. She had been here a week. I think.
She had the earphones on though. I nudged her and gently pulled her earphones out and then pointed a single finger towards the sky. Her eyes brightened.
`` They've started the evacs again!''
`` What?''
`` It's why I was passing through. I was in town a couple weeks back and I met a guy who told me they were evacuating is. I was heading to the airport and the planes started coming in. But then they stopped. That's why I'm here''
`` You're leaving?''
`` We're leaving! We can go, we're saved!''
She put her arms around me and we held each other briefly. As I pulled away I was shaking my head.
`` What?'' She was confused.
`` I ca n't leave''
`` The airport is an hour down the road''
`` I ca n't leave.''
...
She left me the rest of her food. I had walked her to the front door, she had kissed me on the cheek and I let her go.
...
The rumbles have stopped. The planes have stopped.
...
The rumbles have started again. I've ran out of food. Each night sleep comes painfully. I ca n't think of anything except her. Even the occasional moan from outside does n't affect me. I ca n't believe I let her go.
...
I wake up each morning surprised to be alive. My body has thinned and my bones protrude, the skin tight between them. Looking in the mirror, my face is gaunt, unshaven.
...
I go to sleep that night thinking about how it had started.
I had been a planner, I planned outings with my mates, I planned going to the cinema with my sister, I planned things. I was active. Then one day I woke up and I did n't have a plan. I sat in a chair and gazed outside, appreciating the chair.
The next time I went out, I went to the cinema with my sister. I did n't enjoy the film, all I could think about was that chair back home. I went to the toilet halfway through, I had broken into a sticky, unpleasant sweat and my heart was almost audible. That's the last time I went out.
My sister had began to do my shopping for me. I was always on the phone to my doctor.
`` Sounds like agoraphobia to me. Are you depressed?''
`` I.. I do n't know''
`` You sound pretty depressed, just come on up to my practice and I'll prescribe you some anti depressants''
`` I ca n't leave my house''
`` Okay.. I do n't do house calls. Hey listen, just get outside as much as you can. Phone me again in an week and we can arrange an appointment for you to come in''
`` Okay''
...
I lay on the ground. Too weak to move. It was inevitable. Not the zombies, not this apocalypse that was so often foretold in Hollywood movies. It was inevitable I would die in this house.
I've never wrote one of these before. This is my first WP so I'd love feedback. I've been suffering from panic attacks for about a year now and been close to house bound for the last couple months and when I saw this prompt I thought: `` I would n't get eaten or infected. I'd just sit here until I was forgotten about.''
Kind of thought it was more of a unique spin so I had to write it. Anyway, thanks OP for interesting prompt and thanks to anyone who gave it a read!
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[ WP ] You are dictator of North Korea and all You wanted to do is to do good things for your people but it always go wrong .
| My name is Kim Jong-un. I am the Supreme Leader of North Korea and my family has ruled for more than half a century. I am writing this to hopefully educate the world as to my intentions and how they have been misconstrued.
Before I begin, I'd like to state that I am responsible for 24 million people. 24 million people look to me for guidance and I do the best that anyone could possibly do in these circumstances.
People have criticized me for the work camps I have. In North Korea, we have zero unemployment because everyone works. The only way that the glory of North Korea can maintain itself is if its people work as diligently as possible. If people do not want to work or they do no agree with the work they are provided with, they must be compelled to work for if we do not compel these lazy parasites, it would bring the entire country's economy to its knees. If lazy, do-nothings end up dying in the process so that a hardworking farmer can make a living, I will take that burden gladly for that is the role that I must play as Supreme Leader.
One thing that really bothers me is that people keep mentioning how I `` killed'' my uncle. I did n't kill my uncle nor did I have him killed. This was merely a miscommunication. I told one of my generals about the situation and that was what they chose to do. My uncle was a traitor so I feel no remorse at his death. In fact, each dissenting word weakens the overall voice of the True Korean people, so what happened can not be construed as a tragedy but rather a resolution of antagonistic forces within my country.
Finally, people are saying that I've created ICBMs so that I can nuke America. My country is the greatest country in the world and yet we can not retaliate against America if attacked by them. How does it look when the greatest country in the world has less nuclear weapons and is unable to defend itself from another country? I created the ICBMs not to attack another country but for the glory of the True Korean people.
I hope that this has shed light on what I have attempted to accomplish and hope that history will show my good deeds in a better light than the world's media has.
|
[ WP ] Tell me the creation myth of a non-human species .
| *The following is an excerpt from the Grand Historian Elijah Vakos', of the Empire of the Far Isles, account on the history of'Alduri and Other Species in 14 of the Age of Cura.'*
_____
Born from the volcanic rock of Mount Thesian, the Kalysians are a species well-known for their aggressive, and rather disturbing, nature. It has been said that long ago, our two Elder Alduri Gods, Alerius and Villick, had a third brother, Thayseus, who was jealous of Alerius' favoritism of the Alduri, and Villick's Warriors of the Night. In his jealously, Thayseus, with the help of Alerius' daughter Tura, and under the cover of dark, created his own species at the base of the active volcano of Mount Thesian, using molten rock and lava as the foundation for his people.
He crafted them, using the powers of our Gods, and bound together rock, lava, and destruction. In it, he breathed life into the first Kalysian, just as Alerius gave us life, and showed him the way of Creation. He gifted the Kalysiam's the power of craft and life, and made it so that their life came from Thesian itself.
The Kalysians was what came out of Thayseus' creation and their destructive nature came out of Tura's own wishes. Alerius and Villick saw this treachery and cast Thayseus out of their home in the Citadel, and kept Tura from him. What happened to Thayseus is unknown, but his species thrived on our world for many Years.
So, the legend says.
The Kalysians were an Alduroid race, and had a structure similar to our own. Two legs, two arms, a head, and a torso. Although their skin, or'rock,' is much darker than our own and takes on the texture and color of Mount Thesian. These beings are a warring-culture and their aggressive expansion, presumably creating more and more of their species from the volcanic lava, is said to have been the work of Thayseus and Tura. Kalysians were known to have the longest life-span of any other species in our world, known to have lived for the duration of entire Ages, resulting in a population less than any other species.
They do not seem to have a core life system, instead, their life comes from the heat of the area in which they live, as well as the volcano of Mount Thesian. In battle, cutting off their head or separating their body should be enough to kill them, although some Kalysians have been known to survive past this for several minutes.
Their heads are different from ours as well, usually they look incomplete and have a rocky texture like their volcanic home. Further study of the Kalysians have shown that their head is split open, looking almost like the tip of a volcano, with actual lava, or what looks like it, sitting in this skull. This leads us to believe that Thayseus did not just give life to the complete structure of the Kalysians, but the lava of Mount Thesian itself, confirming our suspicion that they can repopulate from active volcanic structures.
However, the eruption of Mount Thesian in 167 of the Age of Lura, decimated the City of Thesa, resulting in the deaths of almost all 350,000 ( estimated population at the time ) Kalysians who lived there. Following this the eruption of Mount Terisian and Mount Ptomis, Thesian's sisters located just days from each other, in 168 of the Age of Lura, led to the deaths of an estimated 550,000 Kalysians across the Southern Volcanic Peninsula. At the time, the Kalysian Empire was known to have an estimated population of around 2.8 million. The eruption of all three Volcanoes in the Southern Volcanic Peninsula led to a heavy Volcanic Winter and ultimately, the disappearance of Kalysians across the entire continent of Eranor and surrounding islands.
Further investigation into the Volcanic Trio and surrounding cities have shown Kalysians frozen in place by the molten lava and volcanic rock, leading us to believe that they were killed by the very thing that created them. Refugees were found and cared for, but Kalysians can not live in the colder temperatures that we Alduri are used to and due to the Volcanic Winter that followed the eruptions, many Kalysians died within weeks. Since their disappearance, temperatures in the Southern Volcanic Peninsula have stabalized, but scouting parties have yielded nothing, the City of Thesa remains, to this day, a ghost town.
For all intents and purposes, the Kalysians are known to be extinct.
______
*This is actually based on a world I've been building and recently got back into. I really enjoyed this prompt! *
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[ WP ] Fortunately , the dark lord has been overthrown at last and on trial for his crimes . Unfortunately , you are his lawyer .
| `` Hm. So, Mr. Jordan Cross?''
I nod. `` Yes, your honor, that is my name.''
The judge smiles. `` Cross? Ironic last name, is n't it?''
I took a glance to the side at my client, a hulking, seven foot tall, red skinned demon with black horns and a flowing black robe made out of... are those... are those flames? Yes, yes, my client's robe is literally made out of fire. A small name plate sat in front of him. `` A. Lucifer''
I force myself a grin. `` Yes, your honor, I suppose it is.''
The judge clears his throat. `` Your client stands trial for the torture of 9,402,305,100,340,881 individual people. Your client pleads innocent on the grounds that'they deserved it, like, literally, I even have Hitler down here, how am I the bad guy.'''
`` As I said in my defense, your honor,'' I reply smoothly, `` those tortures occurred by proxy and out of the control of my client. Therefore, you can not give him the maximum sentence. You can book him for third degree eternal torture, at best.''
The judge scratches at his halo. `` Yes, well, it appears your defense has been denied.''
`` What???''
`` Yes, I've received orders from above that your defense is unconstitutional, and the client is found guilty of all charges.''
`` Me? Unconstitutional? If anyone is being unconstitutional here, it's you, taking away my client's God given rights!''
At this, the courtroom erupts in laughter. I feel myself blushing as the judge wipes a tear from his eye. `` Son, God can take those rights away just as easily as He's given them. And He has. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it.''
Satan leans across the bench. `` God given?'' he hisses. `` Really?''
`` Sorry,'' I whisper back. `` Old habit.''
`` Jordan, you're a disappointment!''
I stare back into the crowd of faces and am horrified to discover my mother standing in the crowd.
`` I worked hard to put you through law school, breaking my back, and this is what you do with your degree? Wasting it, just like you waste my time and money. Why ca n't you be more like your brother?''
I am speechless, and as I try to think of an answer, I hear the booming voice of my brother Mike. My head snaps to the side and I see him, crisp suit, beautiful wife at his side, lopsided grin smeared on his face. `` Put some pants on, bro.''
I look down and realize my own suit has disappeared. I am in my underwear, a courtroom packed with an eternity's worth of people laughing. At me. I glare at Satan. `` Okay, come on, this is really too much.''
He's laughing as well, and snaps his fingers. Suddenly it's just the two of us again, in a dank, dark cave, crackling fire everywhere. `` Alright, alright, but that was hilarious. Which attempt was that? 10,405? Or was it 10,406? Honestly, I've lost track.''
`` Honestly, I'd rather take the pit of brimstone at this point.''
He laughs at that as well. `` Do n't believe everything you read, kid. I like to be a little more creative. If you want to get to Purgatory so bad, all you have to do is lighten my sentence, how hard is that?''
`` This is impossible!''
`` Well, you have an eternity.''
I sigh, fingering the bullet hole in my head where an aggravated client shot me in my New York office in 1984.
Satan rubs his hands together. `` Shall we go again?''
|
[ WP ] You 're a Starbucks barista , assigned to pass intelligence to a spy- only if they order the right drink . The spy may be having some trouble .
| Stacey tamped down the coffee grounds and shoved the filter into the espresso machine. She glanced up at the door, wondering when the man would come in. All she knew was that she had a special cup for the person who ordered a tall soy decaf Frappuccino with two pumps of chocolate, and `` one pump of freedom''. She laughed internally at the stupidity of the code, but it was the sort of thing an American would say.
At least they had n't asked much. This job could be tough enough without having to worry about bending over backwards for whatever organization or government decided they needed her help. Was it weird that this sort of thing had happened before? Maybe this was the secret Starbucks, or something.
She finally had a few slow seconds, and decided to have a sip of water. Doing so, she overheard someone ordering.
`` Uhh... can I have a... large? I guess that means large.''
`` Venti?''
`` Sure, whatever. Large decaf.''
`` Espresso?''
`` I guess so,'' he replied. Stacey giggled. New customers were always interesting, but at least they did n't order the Venti half caf 1/2 soy, 1/4 skim, 1/4 2 % sextuple-mixed drink with eighteen specific pumps of syrup that have to be in the right order or `` the whole drink is ruined''.
She took the cup and moved to begin working on it, when the man piped up once more.
`` Oh, and can I get soy with that?'' he asked. She set the cup down, and looked straight at him. At least Meg at the register seemed unfazed.
`` So, you wanted a latte?'' she asked.
He ran something through his head. `` I do n't think so,'' he said slowly. Stacey thought about the order she was waiting on. It was n't a Venti, but decaf and soy were two of the requirements.
`` Either you get a latte, or you get a cup of soy milk with your coffee,'' she said.
`` I ca n't get a coffee with soy?'' he asked.
`` That'd be a latte.''
`` Fine, then do that,'' he finally conceded. Stacey took a deep breath. Somehow, this did n't quite feel like the end of it. But, Meg was n't prodding for more information, so she set to work on the drink.
`` Can you make that a...'Frappuccino'?'' he asked, right as she was about halfway done. She set the drink down, and almost could n't hold back her laughter at her own predicament. She'd called it.
`` Sir,'' she said, trying to maintain her composure,'' a Frappuccino is a totally different drink. You need to tell us all of this before we start making it.''
`` Oh,'' he said, headed back to the register for the third time. She dumped the drink and stood waiting with a smirk. She realized that this was probably the person who was supposed to receive that cup, but she just wanted to see how this played out. Thankfully, it was n't incredibly busy at the moment.
`` Back so soon?'' Meg asked, having clearly overheard the previous exchange.
`` I'm sorry. Just... make it a soy large decaf Frappuccino.''
`` Nothing else?'' she asked. `` No syrup or anything?''
`` Oh,'' he said, and Stacey silently cheered that Meg had actually helped. `` Two chocolate, and one freedom.''
Meg barely contained a giggle, and Stacey nodded. At this point, he must have somehow confused Venti and Tall, which she understood happening. She just felt like seeing how this played out. And besides, she could n't just hand the thing over to anyone who happened to make a lame joke.
`` And that's all?'' Meg asked. The man double-checked it in his head, and nodded. Stacey sighed. Maybe making enough for an extra tall would save her some time. But she also did n't want anyone to get on her case, so she shrugged and just made what was required.
`` Ben!'' she eventually called. She was pretty sure that was n't his actual name, but it did n't matter if it was. He thanked her and headed out the door, and she began to count silently in her head. The chip, or whatever it was, was hidden on the bottom of the real cup; it was easily noticeable if you knew what to look for, so he'd have no problem not finding it on that cup. She did n't count to a hundred before he returned.
`` I think there's something missing with my drink,'' he said. Stacey hid a smile poorly, already working on someone else's drink.
`` And what would that be, sir?'' she asked. The line had only had three people in it, but apparently talking right to her was the fastest way to rectify the situation.
`` I asked for a large soy -''
`` There is no'large', sir, it's either Tall, Grande, or Venti.''
His face registered a moment of clarity, and Stacey smiled.
`` Then... can I get the same drink, in a Tall instead?''
`` No problem,'' she said, putting it on a mental list of things to do. `` One pump of freedom?''
`` That's the most important part.''
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[ WP ] Write a love note , any/all circumstances allowed ( loved one going to war , anniversary , etc )
| **AN UNSENT LETTER TO MY BEST FRIEND**
If you're reading this, congratulations on finally destroying your `` stress reduction kit!''
On another note, maybe I should n't have gotten you that. I would n't want to know the things you did to break it. I think it would scare me more than I already am.
Look, I know you're going through a really rough time right now, and I'm one of the few people who could somehow understand and tolerate what you're going through. After all, I have gone through depression as well. Except your case is much, much worse. Your depression caused anxiety issues, and I have no idea how this feels for you right now.
Ah, how could I forget that night you first had a full-blown panic attack. It was midnight, and the only way we could talk to each other was through Facebook. It started off lightly, but from there things went from zero to a hundred real quick.
I honestly thought you were losing it already. I did all I could to help calm you down. Trying to get your frustrations out without screaming and waking everyone else up, trying my best not to make you hurt yourself, trying to save you from your problems.
It's still in my memory like it just happened yesterday. I told you to write your frustrations down, and what I got back was a picture with the words `` FUCK MY LIFE'' in big bold letters on torn paper. You swore more than I ever had in my entire life, maybe you could even qualify as a sailor!
And then you started biting yourself. A sudden feeling of worthlessness washed over me. I felt like an awful friend. How could I even call myself your best friend if I can do nothing to help you then? I could n't help the streams from falling down my cheeks. You told me not to cry, but how could I not? I was losing one of the greatest friends I've ever had, and I was losing her to herself.
And soon you calmed down. I could n't help but smile a really huge smile. At last, it was over. Or at least, for now.
Since then I vowed to myself that I would be there to protect you whenever you had another attack. Not only that, but I would be there for anything that you ever needed.
Enough with that story that you probably would never want to talk about again. Look, you are a beautiful person. Do n't let your problems eat away at you. Do n't feel like trash, because everything happens for a reason. Just remember, I, or should I say we, are always there for you. You can call me any time of day, as long as it meant that you would be happy and safe.
PS: Do tell me after you've read this, because I have more presents to give you to help you cope.
Sincerely, your best friend,
MV
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[ IP ] Warmth
| The taste of coffee. The bite that sits on your tongue like an angry demon. A drink which after the first sip, I ca n't help but sit with eyes closed and let the smell drift up lazily.
I swirl the mixture, each spin becomes a portal to a private moment.
I notice the pitter patter of rain and it reminds me of when we used to play. I was a silly little thing, any excuse to go outside and get wet was good enough for me. Dad used to hate it -*chuckle*- but then again, there was n't much that he did n't.
I got my wild side from Mum, and my tough side from him. Well, some of it at least.
I smirked, with my eyes still closed. I could feel the light from my laptop beaming on my face. It's funny how in a moment like this you begin to realize there's so much we do n't notice.
So much that passes us by...
Simple like the sip of a cup of coffee, each drink a tick on the clock...
First it was milk, then kool-aid and now coffee. It's funny because If I had drank this when I was a kid, I would of spat it out instantly. And then given the person a club on the head. I was always astonished that adults could drink the stuff voluntarily.
But here I am, with my eyes closed and a cup of the bitter broth in my hand.
An inauguration into adult hood.
The evidence that i'm no longer a kid anymore...
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[ WP ] A man dies and finds out that he is getting reincarnated . He sees the light in the tunnel and he sits down instead of going past and being born . Tell us why .
| I ’ m not done yet.
That was my last thought as I died and my first thought waking up afterward. The afterlife was suitably mysterious. Large wheels, blatant symbolism, beatific men and women proclaiming ancient and deep wisdom that is truer than mere truth. No gods, or God. Either would have been hard to deal with. There ’ s probably more to the place than that but if so then it is not for the likes of me. I am borne gently but unceasingly forward through a land of clouds and waterfalls and endless golden light. Into a tunnel I am nudged and at the end I can just make out the harsh fluorescent light of what I presume to be a hospital.
So that ’ s how it is then.
My old body scarcely cold before I am to be pushed into a new one. No time to reflect or connect or introspect. No time for quiet contemplation. Not even time for a smidgen of closure. I just died after all, can ’ t a guy take a moment to catch his breath?
Actually, come to think of it, I don ’ t have lungs so I guess not. That ’ s what ’ s waiting for me at the other end of the tunnel, a new set of lungs, a new life. And if I try to go back…
Turning around I find a wall that definitely was not there a moment ago. Placing a hand on it I verify what I already suspected. The wall is as unyielding and impersonally cold as the walls of the tunnel, and there is nowhere else to go but forward. It seems there is no choice to make. I will be reborn, ka is a wheel say thankya.
Or not.
There is always a choice, or so I was told. And the measure of a man is that he chooses. I sit and lean my head back against the wall that separates myself from paradise. Dead as I am it is too late for me to not go gently into that good night, but I can at least deny the morning that follows after. A petty choice, biting off my nose to spite my face.
My eyes, or whatever it is that lets me see here, close and I let the spotlight of memory sweep slowly across my years. Bringing to light the faces this face loved when yet it lived. I feel, rather than see, the light at the end of the tunnel go out and the memory of a grin sneaks across my face at this small victory. When my memories are played out and the final credits have rolled I stand in the darkened tunnel and start to walk. I don ’ t know where the tunnel leads now, though I can instinctively tell that it will no longer take me to a new life. All I know can be summed up in three simple words.
Now I ’ m done.
*In the world that is, a doctor, long schooled in delivering bad news, approaches an expectant mother and says the two words no one ever wants to hear a doctor say.
“ I ’ m sorry. ” *
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[ WP ] You have just died . You find that there 's an option in the afterlife to revert to your last save . You discover that each `` save point '' was whenever you hugged someone .
| You Have Died
I stared blankly at white words that had appeared in the endless blackness.
`` Well, thanks for stating the obvious,'' I scoffed aloud. I had always had a weak body, as I got older it became apparent I could n't participate in any physical activities. And with my wonderful luck, my sister who was four years older than me hated my guts, she never visited, even throughout childhood she ratted on me and generally acted like a brat. So when she went off to college I never saw her again. Except at our parents' funeral. Then we officially decided to have nothing to do with each other.
I had decided not to attend college after high school and instead got a couple jobs. One of them happened to be a zookeeper, and like ever tragic story I had been cleaning the bear exhibit when someone let the bear inside. It made short work of me, but I knew I was going to die the second I noticed the large creature ambling in my direction.
I was drawn out of my thoughts as a new message popped into existence.
Revert To Last Save Point?
Yes/No
My jaw dropped open and I gaped blankly at the words. Finally after a few moments I managed to pull myself together. I pondered the question. The blackness surrounding me was rather comforting, but this was a second chance at life. Maybe I would be able to save my parents or reconnect with my sister, maybe even attend college.
I smiled and clicked Yes.
A little swirl appeared, faintly reminding me of the spinning beachball on a computer. I waited. And waited. Then finally more words appeared.
Error. No Save File Found. Contacting Administration.
Groaning I waited until a white door appeared in the black space. A man stepped through. He was dressed in a black suit with long messy black hair and icy blue eyes. I straightened up, trying not to appear slovenly.
`` You are an interesting case, Mr. Burks,'' the man spoke. His voice rang with authority. Some small part of my mind wondered who this man was if he was helping organize the afterlife.
`` Kevin,'' I said correcting him. The man looked confused so I quickly continued. `` Call me Kevin.''
`` Okay, Kevin, the problem is that you do n't have a last save point.''
`` Then why did the system offer?'' I asked, suddenly more curious about how everything worked than getting back to my monotonous life.
`` Well, you see,'' the man said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. `` Most humans have a save point, in fact, every single human before you had one.''
I watched as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a lighter that had mysteriously appeared. `` So what is a save point?'' I asked after it became apparent he was n't going to continue.
`` It is when you hug someone or are hugged in general.'' The replied, letting out a stream of smoke. His eyes trailed the cloud as it drifted upward into the black space. Then all of a sudden the piercing eyes were focused directly on me.
`` So umm, I've never been hugged?'' I squeaked out.
The man nodded.
`` So what happens now?'' I said, finally ready to accept the fact that I was going to die for good.
`` Well, you are a rare case. So I'll give you a few options.''
`` Okay,'' I breathed out, suddenly hopeful.
`` One, you could be reverted to when you were born, when you reach fifteen your memories of your previous life would be restored. Two, you could continue on, releasing your soul into the afterlife.'' The man hesitated, looking at the door he had stepped through.
`` And? Is that all my options?'' I prompted, my eyes also drifting to the open doorway.
`` No,'' another voice said. There in the doorway appeared a woman. She was shorter than average, with her hair cut short, not quite reaching her shoulders. She was wearing black leggings with a red-pink skirt. Her torso was covered with a leather jacket. Her voice was soft and not at all matching her outfit.
`` Done staring?'' She giggled.
I felt my face heat up and I quickly looked away.
`` Your third option is to join us in managing the universe.''
My attention snapped back to the woman. I stared at her, my voice caught in my throat. `` I-I can join you?'' I finally stuttered out.
They both nodded. `` There are n't many of us, we would welcome the help,'' the man finally spoke up.
`` Well you seem to have decided,'' the woman said, turning back through the doorway.
The man walked over stepping up and out of the black void. `` Well, come on,'' he said over his shoulder.
I smiled and darted after them, curious at what was on the other side of the white door.
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[ WP ] We 've all heard what happened to 9 , but always from 6 's perspective . Tired of being vilified , 7 finally sets the record straight .
| I woke up for the 3rd time that night, another trickle of cold sweat marching its way to the damp canyon that lay between my back and my bed sheet. I could n't take it anymore. I needed redemption, I *wanted* redemption. Few nights lasted as long as those that followed the day that changed everything. What few people fail to realize is that 6 and I were close, too close. Bonded together by sacred matrimony. Yea we were hitched. The vacant spot next to me once symbolized love and unity, but now it just serves as a fragment to remind me of what once was.
That fateful day, 6 and 9 disappeared. They came after me, claiming I lost it, I was crazy, I had a screw undone. They said I could n't handle the success or the responsibility that came with my new promotion at Graphic calculations Inc. I wanted to believe them, I wanted it to be that simple. *i wanted to kill them*. But in reality, what happened was infinitely more brutal than any crime scene you can imagine. The disregard for trust, the blatant lies. All those nights 6 was just going out with all the evens. She was seeing him, 9. 9 was a unique kind of guy, down to earth, witty, sharp, *too sharp*. The kind of guy that puts up a façade when he's telling the truth, and lies as if it were a reality. When the reports came in, we found out everything was fabricated. 9 was n't even on the grid. It's like he was always one step ahead of me. Planning on taking away everything that I need, everything that I loved.
The truth is 6 and 9 ran off together. That was the goal, that was the trick. It was never elaborate. It was just hidden behind a plan that required perfect execution.
The perfect execution.
That's why I changed my name.
6 could n't bare to look at me anymore, I was just seven to her.
Now I'm 9.
And she does n't even know.
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[ wp ] It 's the year 2525 and Humanity is doing well for itself . Space travel is second hand and we already have FTL and Hundreds of colonies ... Except , there 's still no alien life . You are the admiral of the biggest fleet in the known Galaxy and have come into contact with a very large and
| `` So you guys want to reclaim Terra?'' The Admiral said.
`` Yes indeed sir that is what we shall do. The dirty people have stolen it and it is ours! It shall be claimed for King Midas.'' Enemy Admiral said.
`` Does he have the Midas Touch?'' The Admiral asked.
`` Do not play word games with me DIRT MAN! We have all been touched by the Great King Midas!'' The Enemy Admiral exclaimed.
`` That sounds like domestic abuse and possibly rape.'' The Admiral stated.
`` DIRT MAN! You have angered me. JAM THEM!'' The Enemy Admiral yelled.
A jar of Blueberry Jam launched out from the Enemy Flagship. The Jam exploded against the shields.
`` Your attempt to SpaceBalls us was not effective.'' The Admiral stated.
`` You have made us Angry you dirty dirt man.'' The Enemy Admiral stated coldly. The videoScreen became bigger so it revealed various member of the Enemy Flagship's command central room. There were many beautiful human women on their ship, all of them wearing mini skirts and tight top uniforms. They all waved their hands side-to-side in the air quickly and all of them had large smiles on their faces.
`` What are you doing?'' The Admiral asked.
`` This is our Angry Dance. Prepare for Battle you DIRT MAN!'' The Enemy Admiral yelled. Transmissions ended. The two battleFleets prepared for Space War.
( retepnochu -- DJ ROBO BISCUIT )
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[ WP ] In the year 2020 , humanity was nearly wiped out by an alien invasion . Earth 's survivors were ordered to pay a tithe ( one tenth of the worlds population ) every decade to prevent enslavement . The year is now 2060 , and you are among the chosen ... and you refuse to go quietly .
| The plan was perfect. Fucking perfect.
Colonel Williams had devised this operation with the sole intent of showing these bastards exactly what they were up against. Five years had gone by since the beginning of the occupation, and most of everyone pretty much capitulated over to them without fighting. People had had enough of war, and many desired living on their knees rather than dying on their feet.
But these last five years have shown that we are not meant to be slaves. Around the world, people were beginning to rumor of war, tired of the chains of bondage. Weary of the 16 hour work shifts of scrounging planetary resources to be used by the `` Overlords'' as we now call them. These... things... Were barely humanoid, but we rarely saw them. Every year, their transports would arrive and, selected by the masses, people would be taken, willingly or by force, to these ships awaiting whatever it was on the other side.
For five years, millions were sacrificed for the sake of billions. Now... Millions will sacrifice themselves for the sake of freeing Humanity from its enslavement.
Colonel Williams' plan was brilliant, if simplistic in its nature. During the time spent, we have managed to make contact with other Underground Resistance, coordinating resources, fighting patrols, taking down their air assets. We were becoming the guerrillas every occupation feared, and the legends were growing. People were rising up and joining the ranks.
We were taking anyone who could hold a weapon, 13 year old boys and girls handled ammunition and medical supplies. Once 18, they trained with every weapon we had, learning and choosing what they preferred. Eventually, they would leave to join a cell in another city, avoiding creating armies was the greatest asset we had. The smallest the foot print, harder it was to find us.
But now... Now was our chance. Enough to fill the transports, and still plenty in reserve to stay behind in case we failed. We are now going to stand up and take the fight to the heart of the enemy.
The plan was to jump ship, and every single one was going to be filled with Resistance fighters. Imagine, thousands of these large grotesque, bulbous, whale like ships being filled to the brim with hardened warriors ready to die for the ones they loved. Goose flesh pimpled my skin at the very thought of not only fighting, but fighting on the enemy's own turf. We stowed our weapons on ourselves, using layered tin foil over our bodies with the excuse for `` heat'' during the winters. Others would go in unarmed as to not create suspicion. But the foolish Overlords did not check bagging, believing us so beaten that we would not dare raise a finger against them... We would prove it to be their undoing.
It was an all volunteer mission too, and nobody was required to go. Unfortunately we did n't have enough room for everybody who wanted to go.
Once aboard or arrived to whatever destination, we would spring our surprise attack. Missile launchers and explosives would demolish whatever heavy weapons and emplacements they were using, meanwhile our support operators, carrying SAW's, would move forward to concealed positions and lay down blanket covering fire while our infantry moved forward. Of course, our supply kids would be there along with us, giving us everything we need.
Ultimately, we had to eliminate the hierarchy. Intelligence stated that upon arrival, the ruling classes would be there observing the newest shipment of slaves. This, courtesy of embedded `` servants'' who were given pampered lives like pets, but still believed in the cause. How they understood these things was beyond me, but the fact that they found out this crucial piece of info was more than the break we needed. Win or lose, this would be our make or break moment in history. The greatest Guerrilla strike in Human History, next to the 1968 Tet Offensive and the 2006 Iraqi Resurgence.
But here we were now, waiting in the pens, eager and shaking with adrenaline... The transports fusion engines could be heard in the distance. Soon... Soon...
|
[ IP ] The Castle and The House Were Now As One
| The gallant knight Sir Kevin clutched his trusty sword in pudgy hand, his dimpled knuckles whitened with determination. After weeks of planning, tonight he was going to save the damsel from the fearsome dragon of oak street keep. He strode boldly up the dirt road towards the looming towers, the urgent and barely coherent words of the messenger still ringing in his ears. `` The damsel beseeches you kind sir to come for her tonight. The lady fears that the dragon has something terrible planned for her and bids you to save her.'' Sir Kevin knew that the maiden was in dire straits. Although the dragon would permit her to attend the daily gathering of the youngfolk, at the last feast Sir Kevin noted the signs of her harsh imprisonment in the red marks at her delicate wrists and concealed but still detectable bruises around her beautiful blue eyes.
`` The dragon often drinks his fill and sleeps without barring the castle gate at night.''
Remembering this advice, Sir Kevin crept across the drawbridge and pushed open the massive gates, softly though to avoid the rough iron hinges creaking and alerting the dragon.
Darkness. The smell of blood and vomit and the sharp tang of alcohol. The silence broken by the rumbling snoring of the dragon. The scaly dome of his belly rising and falling to the rhythm of his laboured breathing. Sir Kevin turned to the crudely carved stone steps, and began to climb softly up, the torch in his hand casting flickering shadows ahead of him. The dragon stirring slightly at an errant clank of the bold knights armour, but settling once more into steady snores.
Sir Kevin pushed gently at the heavy wooden door that must surely lead to the cell where the fair maiden was confined. The empty black iron eye of the lock mocking him as he pushed futilely at the wooden expanse. Downstairs again, he regarded the dragon with hatred and fear inextricably interwoven. This foul and depraved creature had hurt his love, but no more. Tonight they would be gone, and may the devil take the dragon. Reaching into the dragons pit with his sword, so careful, so quiet. Withdrawing the sword now, on it's trembling plastic tip, the key. His talisman. Plucked smartly from the dragons hoard but almost lost as Sir Kevins foot slides in a puddle of gore, doubtless from the dragons last meal. Indeed the terrible creature is still streaked crimson with it.
The key twists in the lock and the door swings open. The princess tumbles out into the arms of her rescuer, tears streaming down her face and her bosom racked with suppressed sobs. `` Kevin! Oh. Oh God.'' She sniffles quietly. `` Oh Kevin! He's killed mom Kevin!''
`` Fear not fair maiden'' Sir Kevin reassures her. `` for we shall soon be away!''
Sir Kevin in his heroic bravado fails to notice that the basso snores from the dragons stinking maw have stopped however.
The dragon is awake, and the dragon has fire.
|
Write a story with only dialogue
| -004
______
Adam?!?
*Hey. *
Good god! Adam!
*Hey, ace. How are you? *
What are you doing here?!
*I should ask you that question. *
I do n't know. Where the fuck are we?
*Haha! Where do you think? *
I was just at my apartment.
*Let's take a walk. *
Where have you been, Adam?
*You know the answer to that. *
You were sick. And dad started drinking when you...
*Yup. Now, can you tell me where we are? *
Uh...
*Do you remember what happened? *
There was a fire.
*Yes. *
I went back in for mom's ring.
*Yes. *
And I...
*Yes? *
I...
*... *
Oh, fuck.
|
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