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[ WP ] You are a `` dreambender , '' a kind of psychic who can change people 's dreams for better or for worse . One night , somebody walks in with an unusual request .
| It had to be one of those nights, the kind when the rain fell harder than usual, and inspired the everyday man to doing dirty business in the streets. I could feel the tension in the air as I smoked on a fat Marb Green. The sun was already down, and I had no calls. This quite possibly was the first indication of the eerie something.
I clicked the transmitter, `` When's my first appointment?''
`` Funny you should ask, honey. You got no appointments tonight, but there's a woman here wanting to talk to you.''
`` Send her in.'' I said.
A short curvaceous woman wearing a sundress stepped through the threshold. As she approached my desk, I got a better look: early-thirties, a symmetrical pattern of freckles painted her cheekbones, the ends of her hair twirled, she had large almond shaped eyes, green which pierced through me from the shadows in the room. Her walk was strong and direct, with purpose.
She left me stunned, so much so, that I forgot to stand and greet her, but she patiently waited for me to catch up to reality.
`` Hello, my name is --''
`` Bobby. I know. You're a dreambender. I have on good authority you can perform decryption. Is this true?''
`` Dream decryption is a very complicated process, usually the patient needs to have a recurring dream, in case of a second attempt.''
`` No. This has to be done on the first round.''
`` Well that makes it harder... Miss?
`` Mrs. Groves. Can you do it?''
She did n't budge, I motioned to sit. She did n't give, but when I sat down anyway and returned to my Green she caved and sat. So she only needed a little push in the right directions.
`` Even if I could, it's generally illegal considering, you know, the kidnapping and sedating the patient.''
She leaned forward and touched the edge of my desk, `` Bobby, my husband found out I was dreaming of another man. He encrypted that dream, against my will. How is that legal?''
Few minutes later I gave her a strong sedative, I'd need time to do it right. According to Mrs. Groves, her husband would be out of town for the night on business, but would n't be leaving for a while once he got back. She consented to the dose, and not a few minutes later she was out. I connected our neurological VIs together, closed the visor, hit one last drag of the Marb Green and past out next to her on the floor.
The encryption was easy enough to crack, however, as I stood and saw amid her dream of a classy hotel room she lay naked and alone; there was no other man, but I.
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[ WP ] You 're a local healer , a good one , and your people love you . But you do not truly heal wounds , merely transfer them ... The people of the valley below know you under a different name .
| Even standing at the entrance to the town the stench of festering corpses closed in around me. It had been years since the last plague struck my home and the first time that my destiny became clear.
Shrugging my thick wool cloak to the ground I began to make my way through the only place that I ever could call home. The cool breeze tickled the surface of my scaly body and the two black nubs on my back began to grow. Clearing the first few streets I could hear my people rejoice as loved ones started to breathe and wounds were healed.
Halfway through my journey the air was clearing and my name was being thrown into the nighttime sky. I felt the disease, the pain and suffering, the death gather on my shoulders. Darrkness settled in around me and my face split into a grin.
At the end of town my stride came to a halt. Down beyond the valley the village that was once my prison would get no sleep tonight. Roaring into the air I spread my wings and let them fall off across the valley covering the moonlight. Those monsters would scream tonight as I brought them another nightmare they deserved.
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[ WP ] Science is able to tell people the exact moment that you are going to die . It is now one minute after that time has passed .
| I had timed it exactly right. I had made certain that every loose end in my life was tied, and they got it wrong. A betrayal of bureaucracy should have been expected, but no one has defied their Date since it was established 26 years ago in 2021. I should have known, I should have planned for this. Everything had been planned since I received my Date. 7 years of making decisions all based on a set of letters and numbers distributed by a dull gray building two blocks from my apartment. I had left the woman I loved because I knew I was going to die early, I had let myself fall into debt because of my indifference towards my short life span. School? No, it β s not worth it, I β ll never get a real job anyways. Friends? Few, not too close, I can β t cause them pain. The ripe age of 23, too young for my taste.
For the past 24 hours I have frequently stared at my Date stamp imprinted on my wrist, wondering how exactly I would die. In perfect health and perfect sanity, I had been formulating various freak accidents that could happen at any time. Being hit by a truck, heart attacks, murder, choking on my dinner, tripping and breaking my neck. I had virtually formulated it all, written every possibility on the white walls of my one room apartment, staining them with thick black ink. It didn β t matter.
An hour before my Date I drove to a vista at the peak of a nearby mountain. The sun radiated hues of violet and pink as the sun began to set and my life began its end. Car accident, aneurism, something. Something had to happen. I looked at my wrist. It was printed clearly in black 8:00:003 PM EST March 6th, 2047. I had accepted this fate, as people have learned to do with the coming of this technology. I β ve accepted that I β m going to die. But not this way. This wasn β t how it was supposed to go.
I looked at my watch, stared, entranced by the seconds hand pushing the blade into my temple. I had had enough. At exactly 8:00 PM I jumped, knowing my fate to be futile. I was supposed to die 30 milliseconds after my jump but as I stared at the trees reaching up to engulf me, it was already 8:00:30 PM. How had my Date been wrong? They were never wrong. My entire life has now been wasted planning around an insignificant and meaningless set of numbers and letters distributed by a dull gray building 20 miles from here.
In those last few seconds I was thinking of the decisions I made. I tried to make life better for those around me just because I saw myself as a lost cause. I had tried to make everyone happy. I betrayed my own happiness for theirsβ¦. But I didn β t regret it. I had changed the world around me and made other people β s lives better because I had sentenced myself to a life of calculation. At exactly 8:01:100 PM EST on March 6th, 2047, I hit the hard, rocky soil of the forest floor, and it was okay.
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[ WP ] Describe heartbreak via DIY tutorial or recipe .
| Spicy Tuna Fishcakes
-
^ ( good for 7 people )
Ingredients:
400g good-quality tinned tuna
6 water chestnuts
3 spring onions
1 small ginger
3 tbsp chopped coriander
1 red chili
3 kaffir lime leaves, finely chopped ( re-hydrated for 5 minutes in boiling water if dried )
2 tsp Thai fish sauce
2 eggs, beaten
Vegetable oil, for frying
salt and black pepper
-- --
For dipping sauce:
1 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp fish sauce
1 tbsp rice vinegar
Juice of Β½ lime
2 tbsp chopped coriander
-- -- --
Just open up and lightly drain the tuna into a sift on a small bowl. Just lightly flake that - do n't press too hard, otherwise you'll dry up the tuna. I always told Eugene, my husband, that. `` Light strokes, as if you're caressing a baby's head.''
And he would answer, `` I am! It's the lightest strokes I've ever done.'' But his hands were too large and clumsy for delicate procedures like this. Most of the time all the tuna would be dry, but that's okay. A teaspoon of olive oil would fix that right up.
Set aside the tuna, and get some water chestnuts. It's readily available at any supermarket, so you wo n't have trouble buying them. Just in case you're like Eugene and do n't know what they look like, they're small, almost circular, and has a white creamy color. Slice them nice and thin, and add them to the tuna.
Next, the ginger. You have remove the rough skin on the outside before we do anything them. Ginger, aside from giving the dish a little bit of spice, can also be used as a remedy for coughs, colds, and sore throat. I always give some ginger tea to my husband whenever he gets down with fever, which is often, his large physique offsetted by his weak immune system. Once the ginger has been peeled, grate it over the bowl. Now, the ginger will stick to the grater, so use a knife to remove it.
Take your spring onions and slice it on an angle. It does n't matter if you ca n't do it like famous chefs on TV can do it, what's important here is that you slice them. I remember one time, Eugene was amazed by a chef doing it that he tried to imitate it. He did n't lose any fingers, do n't worry. After you slice them, add them to the mix. Oh and you do n't have to use ALL of the spring onions, just the right amount.
I always love to cook this for my husband because he loves coriander. Whenver he's not doing something, he munches on the seeds for snacks. Slice off some of the leaves, and add them to the bowl.
Now, the chili is optional, but since the recipe is called `` Spicy Tuna Fishcakes'' if you do n't use them they would be plain old Tuna Fishcakes. I love spicy food, but since Eugene ca n't stand it, I did a compromise. To reduce the heat of a chili, you have to roll the chili on your hands, moving slowly upwards. Cut the top ( the part with the stalk ) and tap it on your cutting board. The seeds should come out. Finely chop it and add it to the mix.
Kaffir lime leaves look tricky to cut, but it's actually really simple. Roll them up and slice the center once. Chop it, and add them to the bowl. At this part my husband would be drooling already, because the leaves are delightfully fragrant.
As always, salt and pepper to taste. Afterwards, lightly season the tuna with fish sauce. You're free to add more if you like salty dishes.
To bind those wonderful ingredients in delicious matrimony, use two whole eggs. Whisk them before adding to the bowl. Once added, use your hands and start mixing them together into one big mush. Eugene always loved to help me during this part. He would put one big hand in the bowl and start mixing them, while the other would be holding a book. It would always be Lovecraft. I think that is what I love about him the most: his body was that of a bully but inside he was that one kid in lunch that always had his money taken. People and food are amazing and complicated, we share the same recipe yet taste so delightfully different.
Take a bit of the mixture and make them into a ball by rolling them hand to hand. Pat them down nicely, it should look like a miniature burger patty, and set them aside. I use two fingers when I pat them down, but Eugene only uses one. Remember to use the method you are most comforatable with.
To cook them, drizzle some vegetable oil onto a hot pan. Imagine the pan like the face of a clock, and add the fishcakes clockwise. Doing so would help tremendously in knowing which one to turn first, especially because these fishcakes only take a few minutes to cook. Eugene would to this part while I wash the utensils. By the time I'm finished, the fishcakes would also be done. But Eugene is not here, and I have to do this alone.
For the dipping sauce, mix sugar, fish sauce, rice wine vinegar, lime juice, and some chopped coriander into a saucer.
Let the fishcakes cool down a bit, and serve. Most people serve this on their family dining tables, and those people are definitely lucky. I remember the times when I would prepare this and place it front of my husband. I would sit by his side as he ate them. He would tell me how amazing it is, he would tell me how he thanked God everyday that He has allowed us to meet, and he would give me the sweetest kiss on the lips. He would feed me one fishcake, his mouth would open while he did so, and he would tell me how his day went. I would tell him about my day, and we'd spend the night watching movies until dark.
Dear reader, if you pass by the cemetery and see me there, please talk to me. It's been a long while since I've had someone to talk to since my husband died. We can share stories while we eat this dish that we have prepared, and perhaps you can teach an old lady how to live once again.
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[ WP ] After keeping a low profile for centuries an ageless immortal fears the inevitable discovery of their true nature when they are sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole .
| History repeats itself.
It was n't the first time I had landed my ass in prison. That's the thing about being immortal- there's plenty of time to get yourself in trouble, and a couple years behind bars does n't seem like much of a deterrent. Besides, considering that I needed to get a new forged identity at least every fifteen years, it was n't uncommon for me to interact and fall in with a criminal element. So yeah, I'd been in prison before. Plenty of times.
But this time, it was for something I did n't do.
I was n't hard to figure out who had set me up. There was a woman, equal parts mystic and archaeologist, who had been trying to find my people's city and our fountain for years- she'd inherited the obsession from her father, who died without ever getting close and with most of the people in his life thinking he was mad for believing what he did. She'd sworn to carry on his work, and unfortunately for me, she'd had much better luck.
The woman was clever, I'd give her that. She'd broken the first of our impossible codes in our impossibly dead language, and I knew she'd be trying to move onto the next step. The sacrifices. That's why I decided to try to keep her from finishing that step, from getting to our city or hurting people in the process. I investigated her crime scenes as best I could, once I recognized the pattern, and began following her, hoping to stop her before the next kill- but somehow she always managed to give me the slip. I knew now that she must have known I was watching, that she'd sent hints to the police that pointed to me, that by letting myself be seen at the places she went I was giving them all the evidence they needed to put me away for her crimes.
Now, I was rotting in a cell.
She'd come to visit me once, calling herself a lawyer. For a while, she'd sat there across from me without saying a single word, just looking at me while I looked at her. Then she laughed. `` You know... I thought you were like me.''
`` Like you.''
`` Looking for the city. Trying to find it, no matter what the cost. I thought you were just biding your time, letting me do the... dirty work...''
`` The murders.''
``... So that you could kill me when I got close enough, and take over.''
`` You do n't think that anymore.''
``... The DA say... that your drivers license, your passport, your social security number... are all fake. They're calling you the'Nameless Killer' because no one knows who you really are.''
β Creative. β
β Butβ¦ I know who you are. You β re one of them, β her voice was a mix of mockery and unironic awe. I felt that my hands were clenching themselves into trembling fists- which surprised me. After thousands of years alive, it took a lot to make me angry. But this woman had gotten under my skin. β Youβ¦ are going to be quite the spectacle, a few decades from nowβ¦ unchanged, unagedβ¦ still locked up and on display. Enough to prove that maybe the hunt for the city and the fountain aren β t so crazy after all. β
I didn β t respond. I knew she was right. Even in exile, I β d done everything I could to protect the secrets of my city. Now, all of that was at risk- and not just down the line when people started to wonder why one of their incarcerated serial killers didn β t seem to be aging, no. The risk was imminent- if I let this woman go unchecked, she would find what she was looking for. And she would reveal us all. I couldn β t let that happen.
Escape was the only option.
You don β t get to be as old as I am without amassing a fortune, hidden away in secret bank accounts, scattered shell companies, and maybe in a few hollowed out mattresses for good measure. I had contacts from past identities, people I trusted, who knew to keep an eye on that money until my β heir β reached out. It was time to make a move, time to do something I had always avoided- attract attention.
When the team I hired broke me out of the super max prison where I was being held, people died. Innocent people, good people, people just trying to do their jobs. A light was cast on the government to find which corrupt higher up had let the necessary information leak, so it wasn β t all bad, or at least that β s what I told myself as I coped with the guilt of killing people so that I could live free. My face was on every newspaper, and speculation about the Nameless Killer was rampant. Conspiracy theories abounded, but none got anywhere close to the truth.
No, the only one who had known the truth was the woman. She sits across the room from me now, in an even smaller cage than the one she put me in. I know she β s a killer, a monster driven by greed for eternal life. But isn β t that the same greed, the same willingness to sacrifice others, that got me my immortality but resulted in my exile from the city all those years ago? History repeating... if I'm being honest, I see myself in this woman. There's something similar about us, at our cores. And maybe that β s why I can β t bring myself to kill her. Not yet. But a piece of me that is equal parts sadistic and masochistic wants to see her suffer.
I hold up the ancient documents she used to find the secrets of my city, some of which she spent her entire life hunting down and some of which were given to her by her late father. As she watches, I burn them. One by one.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism is very much so welcome and appreciated.
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[ WP ] The only thing worse than burying your child is digging them back up
| The coffee sat on the table, stained with the ghosts of past coffee and tea, wine and beer, orange juice and ice water like rings of a tree. Kate β s hand softly gripped the mug as she stared at the nothingness on the other side of the window. Over the dew covered grass, through the trees, into the grey sky and through it. Yesterday was the hardest day of her life. A day no mother, no parent, should have to experience. She had lost Michael five years ago to a car accident and since then had only Amy to give her purpose. Now she was gone. Ripped suddenly from this world and placed slowly, gently, and carefully into the ground.
This morning was quiet. Silence enveloped the house as it traveled through the void of space and time. Emptiness was all Kate could feel. Her silent trip was interrupted by a rapid fire buzz of the table beneath her hands. She knew it was someone texting their condolences. This angered her. She understood that people wanted to stay away, out of a fear of not knowing what to say but the sheer number of texts over the past few days had been uncomfortable and unbearable.
She picked up her coffee and raised it to her mouth. As it touched her lips she recoiled at how chilly the coffee was. She slid the mug off to the side a ring of spilled coffee smeared along the path. She slid her phone across the table ready to swipe out her reply a terse β Thank you. β She unlocked the screen, her passcode, Amy β s birthday and tapped on her text app. Her heart sank. Her insides drained. A hollow space now existed where her lungs and stomach had once been when she saw who the message was from: Amy.
β Mommy, I β m scared. β
It cut through her. She re-read the message. Who would have stolen a phone from a casket? Who even knew it was in the pocket other than Kate? She had slipped it in the pants Amy was buried in. She thought it was fitting that the device Amy used so much to run her life, should be buried with her.
Her blood began to boil. Her hand swiftly slid across the table slamming the coffee mug into the wall. Coffee dripped and ran down to the floor. Her daughter was dead and this was not the time to play a cruel, sick joke. She tapped the call button. She knew it was unlikely they would answer, but she had to try.
The call connected and the familiar ring began. One ring. Two. Three. Four.
β Mommy? β said a soft trembling voice on the other end of the phone.
β Who is this? β Kate.
β It β s Amy. I don β t know where I am. It is dark in here. Mom I think I β ve been kidnapped. I β m scared β
β Listen, I don β t know who you are butβ¦ β she stopped. Her immediate response had been visceral then the reality caught up to her. It sounded like Amy. A voice she had heard so many times. The voice she last herd only a few days ago.
β Who is this? This is a cruel thing to do to a woman who has lost her daughter. β
β Lost? β The voice on the other end of the phone responded meekly.
β My daughter Amy passed away a few days ago and she was buried yesterday. Who are you? β Her voice was stern at first, but grew shaky as she began to doubt herself. Hope was peaking over the mountain of despair.
There was silence on the other end of the connection. Kate listened. There was nothing, then gentle sobbing.
β Mom, I don β t know what is going on but it is me. I keep a journal under my bed. You and I love to dance together even when there is no music. We were just talking about how I am scared of going to a big college. β Time froze.
β Please mommy. β
Light shone through the window as the haze was broken by the full splendor of the sun. Her heart was pounding with the force of an earthquake.
β I know where you are baby. I will be there. Stay calm. I β m coming. β
β Please hurry mom. I love you. β She said.
β I love you too sweetie. β The words slid off her tongue as if nothing had changed in the past four days. Kate waited for the other line to disconnect before she hung up.
The rush to Mt. Royal cemetery was frantic. Kate weaved in and out of traffic and narrowly avoided at least three accidents when she ran red lights. The large cast iron gates, covered with metallic ivy and topped with fleur de lis, were propped open. The car raced up the hill to the spot she had just put her daughter in the ground. She stopped the car. She ran over to the grave still fresh with bright brown soil it was still moist from the morning dampness.
Kate dropped to her knees and began to dig. Fast and furiously she dug, throwing the soil onto the green grass sea surrounding an island of damp sand colored soil. She began to sob. This wasn β t going to be fast enough. It would take her hours to dig. She didn β t know how much battery was left on Amy β s phone. How much air was left for her to breathe? She began to cry and wiped away the tears with her muddy hands smearing her face with earth. She looked around for anything to help dig faster a shovel, a trashcan lid, anything. A hundred feet away was a rusted yellow backhoe that was undoubtedly used to finish burying her daughter after the funeral. She stood up and ran to the digger.
She ran over to the machinery. Opened the door and looked for the keys. She searched everywhere only to find the key in the ignition. She started it. The diesel engine started. A puff of black smoke rose from the exhaust stack. She played with the levers. This one moved it forward. That one moved it back. A black gear shift was used to control the excavator. She began to dig a hole for practice. After a few rough starts she was able to move a consistent amount of soil from one place to another.
She moved the rig slowly toward the patch of dirt. Just as the teeth of the bucket were about to penetrate the ground she hesitated. What if she dug too deep and hit the casket and her child? She pushed the thought off to the side knowing there was a concrete vault surrounding the casket she would hit first. She dug carefully yet swiftly; one bucket of soil at a time. Slowly she lifted the earth away from her daughter and felt that much closer to her.
The bucket screeched as it drug along the concrete lid. She raised the arm of the backhoe and hit the concrete shattering it. She leapt from the cabin and climbed down the hole. There were the remains of the vault in large chunks on top of the light pink casket her daughter was in. She began throwing the rubble to the other end of the hole. Once she had cleared a spot so she could open one end of the casket. She took a deep breath and opened the lid.
There was Amy. She looked as if she was in a deep sleep. A strange combination of perfume and formaldehyde permeated Kate β s nostrils, still flaring from the digging. She stared. She wept. She softly touched the face of her child. She was going crazy. She had gone crazy. It had all been a hallucination, created by her mind to cope with the devastation.
A voice came from above. β Hello? β an old woman said. Kate sat silently sobbing.
β I saw you jump in. Is everything OK? β
She just sat there.
Kate could hear her calling the emergency services.
β Just bury me with her. I can β t stand it anymore. β She screamed through her tears and sobs.
There was silence. Then she could hear the sirens of the fire truck coming. Some men crowded around the hole, shouting down at her β Are you ok? β β Were getting a ladder, we β ll be right down. β
A ladder descended into the hole next to Kate. It hit the top of the casket with a loud thud. It startled her. She looked at the ladder for what seemed like hours and then her hand grabbed it, without any real thought or control. She was defeated.
She climbed, one rung at a time. As her head peaked above the ground she looked down at her daughters face one last time. She wanted it to last forever. She took in every detail; her lips, her eye liner, her blouse, the bracelets that adorned her wrists.
Then Kate saw the phone, Amy β s phone, still clutched in her hand. No. Not still. It was not in her hand before. She was certain it she had put it in Amy β s pocket.
She wanted to leap back in to the hole but, a firefighter grabbed her. She started to claw and grab at his deep blue shirt. An ambulance had arrived by then and the paramedics were walking over. They grabbed her arms.
β Please, wait, my daughter, she is alive. β
β Ma β am you have to come with us. You are going to be ok, just come with us and we β ll get you some help. β
Kate collapsed to her knees. Her brain was filled with smoke and ash. She could not fully comprehend or accept what was going on. It sunk in. She was alone again.
β Please just go to her. You have to help her β the grieving mother shouted at them. She begged.
The paramedic agreed on the condition she would get into the ambulance. He climbed down the ladder. He stood on the rubble and looked down at the child β s face. He dropped to his knees and placed his fingers on Amy β s neck to check for a pulse. It was cold to the touch.
He looked up at the mothers weary, dirty face, β I β m sorry ma β am, she isβ¦ β he stopped suddenly. He turned back towards the girl. It wasn β t possible. His heart pounded, thump, thump, thump. He must have felt his own blood pulsing through hisβ¦ but there it was again. It wasn β t him it couldn β t be, his heart was racing and this was a weak, but real signal.
β Jesus Christ, get me a stretcher! β
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[ WP ] You occupy a time/land in which the principal method of punishing heinous criminals is to send them down into the darkest depths of the sea to live . You were just sentenced to life .
| A quick glance out the window reveals the same black, empty darkness. A little ways off I can see the faint glow of the sharp-toothed swimmer with the light dangling from his head, illuminating the way like a coal miner's helmet. They used to frighten me so when they would approach the window, translucent scales shimmering and soulless eyes staring in. I turn my attention back into my room, barren except for my government issued cot and small collection of papers scattered on the bedside table. Every now and then we are lucky to receive newspapers from the topside- normally, it's just the same lame ads and flyers that I once considered junk mail, but have now come to treasure as if they were written by Hemingway himself. I look forward to finding out what new promotions are going on at Pizza Palace, and I keep track of the sales trends to keep time; winter coats tend to go for cheap during the spring and I await eagerly every year for Black Friday announcements. Not that those dates or seasons matter anymore- down here, we have eternal night. You could make up your own months and days of the week and it would n't make a difference, especially if you're a lifer like myself.
If my time keeping is at least somewhat accurate, it's been 12 years since the prisons topside were officially filled to capacity. Folks kept getting arrested, but they had no where to stick the poor bastards. So our great president pulled together some large sum of money from somewhere and declared that the newest prisons would be built at the bottom. It took a year to construct the facility I'm currently held at- damn, do those construction crews work quick when they've got a
fire under their ass. And how I ended up here? Well, you see, everyone in prison is innocent, so my story does n't really matter. All you need to know is that I'm not leaving this place unless, as the old saying goes, it's in a body bag. They might even just eject my dead corpse out into that deep water where no one will ever find me, and the swimmers will pick the flesh off my old bones where they'll sink to the bottom and be cursed to forever tumble through the silt.
I begin to leaf through my newest stack of advertisements when the door buzzes open and my assigned guard steps in. He's a stout man, with a heavy brow and an unwavering stoic expression etched onto his stumpy face.
`` Nine o clock''.
This is my one and only cue for breakfast. We're graced with as little human interaction as possible, making the endless quiet of the rooms seem so much more lonely. There is no sound down this far. I watch a swimmer glide silently by my window and I tilt my head down to my guard in a single nod, extending my arms to be cuffed. He encloses the metal shackles around my wrists and guides me out into the long, bare hallway that leads me every day to the mess hall. No one is allowed to speak- my only communications with the other prisoners are long glances that I swear could become telepathic. I sense the aching for human contact in one man's eyes; another spins tales of endless sadness and disappointments; yet another spews pure hatred and vitriol for the hell we've become accustomed to. A cold plastic tray hits my hand and I am led to my own seat at my own table, together yet isolated in our family meal. I bring another spoonful of military-grade applesauce to my mouth and feel a firm hand land on my shoulder. I look up in shock; not used to such contact I simultaneously brace myself for punishment and melt eagerly into the gesture. The face I look into is not friendly. He is staring down the bridge of his nose at me as he utters one single phrase.
`` Prison's full''.
I stare blankly at the new man for a moment before turning my gaze expectantly to my guard, waiting for him to explain what the man means. For the first time ever, his eyes turn towards the ground and he is unable to make eye contact with me. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead as I feel all eyes in the room turn towards my table. The man grabs me by the elbow and yanks me up out of my seat, sending my tray flying across the room. I track clumps of hard scrambled egg
under my feet and crumbs of dry toast litter the floor as I'm escorted out- I can still hear the shirring metal ring of the cup that once held my daily ration of milk spinning away, ominously fading and abruptly cut off as the door slams shut behind us.
I'm led to a chamber I've never seen before. There is only a door on the opposite side of the room, and no windows. In this moment I somehow miss the comforting crawl of the swimmers and wish that I was back in my lonely cell. The man crosses the room in three quick strides and opens the door for me. I cross over, clearly given no other choice. I am
now in a small room not much bigger than my cell, with a monitor installed on the wall to my left. I look back at the man curiously.
`` God speed''.
He shuts the door and I hear a heavy click just as the monitor flickers to life. The president's face shines brightly on the screen, beaming in an almost mocking fashion. I feel the smallest bubbles of rage and fear begin to rise in my throat as he speaks.
`` Good day, fellow American. As you may or may not know, our prison system on the bottom has reached it's capacity. Because of your status, you have been one of the lucky few chosen to be released. May the ocean have mercy on your God forsaken soul''.
The screen flicks off and I feel ice cold dampness soak into my feet. Water has began to seep up into the bottom of the chamber and my heart begins to thump wildly as I realize the terms of my release. I spin and desperately pound on the door, screaming in vain to the man that probably left the antechamber a long time ago. The frozen water creeps up over my hips and my body locks in terror; my brain is numb and can only think of the dollar sale I saw on raspberries in the newspaper this morning. I take my last gasp of breath and feel intense pressure fill my ears as the water level rises higher and suddenly, the silence becomes so much louder than anything I ever experienced in the emptiness of my prison cell. The chamber is filled and the wall opposite the door slides down quickly, revealing nothing but black open water. Survival instinct surges through my body and I am compelled to swim forward, hope waning that there is any relief for my burning lungs on the other side.
I drift quietly for a moment, savoring my last seconds at the bottom. A strange sense of calm overtakes my body as I watch a hungry group of swimmers approach, waiting patiently for my breath to give out. In this moment, I feel no regret or anger, sadness or solace. There is only me. Me, and the swimmers. Despite the illumination of their lamps, the edges of my vision are going black, and in defeat I exhale slowly, watching the bubbles slowly bobble and float out of sight.
I can only hope my wife got those raspberries on sale.
|
[ WP ] Try selling the earth as a used car salesman would
| `` This here planet is a beauty, slightly used, but just like new.'' Fralquark spoke to his newest customer. The customer was a smardrax, and they were usually gullible. He needed to make this sale.
`` I dunno, Fralquark, it looks a bit worn out.'' It was. It was polluted, full of warmongering savages who excelled in killing eachother, and anything else that popped into their sights. Fralquark remembered the last time he had almost sold it. This time, he would have to get the money upfront.
`` It's not worn out. It's gently used. Now, take a look at this mineral scan. It's abundant in metals, water, flora and fauna..'' Now, all the metals were integrated into weapons and half the water was so contaminated it could n't serve any use, but the mark did n't have to know that.
`` But it's already full of inhabitants! They've got a civilization and everything.'' If they could even be called a civilization, at this point, Fralquark truly wondered. They were great at killing, but beyond that, they had n't even been to any other planets. They had no colonies besides their homeworld, and they had defiled it. Still, they defended it with ferocity that equaled that of a cornered Qrannik-rat.
`` Relax, they have n't even invented the Frak-drive yet. They're a bunch of stupid apes that know how to build. Go down there, tell those people who's boss, and they'll listen. Besides, they're mostly harmless. Now, I'll sell this planet to you on the cheap, because you look like a decent smardrax who needs a break.'' They had n't invented the Frak-Drive, that was true. But these primitives had managed to split the atom, and create weaponry that was both primitive, savage, and extremely effective. They were anything but harmless.
`` I.. I could use a break. These.. ape-sentients.. You say they're mostly harmless, right?'' The smardrax had been through a rough year. He needed a break. Desperate sentients were foolish sentients, Fralquark knew.
`` Practically pacifists.'' He had to keep himself from laughing.
`` Alright, you've convinced me. I'll buy it.'' Sucker, Fralquark thought.
`` That'll be five hundred thousand cuantrans.''
`` Four hundred.'' The smardrax tried to haggle. They were usually cheapskates, and this one was no different.
`` Four seventy five.'' Haggling was expected for dealings with smardraxes.
`` Four hundred and twenty five.''
`` Listen, I ca n't go any lower than four-fifty.''
`` Sold. Here's your cuantrans.''
`` You wo n't be disappointed. You bought yourself a great planet here.'' Fralquark laughed inside, and watched the smardrax leave his office. As he counted his cuantrans, he saw through the viewscreen as the smardrax descended into the planet's atmosphere. Soon, he saw a flaming trail race towards his customer's ship, like last time, and the time before that. A brilliant explosion rocked the smardrax's ship, and then the craft went up in green flame. All in a day's work, thought Fralquark.
|
[ WP ] Ever since the surface became uninhabitable , your people have lived underground . Despite the slow decay of your ancient shelters , your people have adapted and expanded their network into a full scale 'underdark ' . Tell us a tale of adventure in this world .
| My alarm buzzed and I quickly put a hand down to mute it. My room was just as dark as it was when I fell asleep, but in a half hour, the auto-timers would change the lights to `` sunrise.''
I got dressed, slid into slippers, and crossed the hall to brush my teeth. I checked my watch, and I spat the toothpaste/saliva mixture into the washbasin. I darted back to my room and sat crossed-legged on my bed, back straight and headphones on. I shut my eyes as the sounds of an ocean faded into existence. I willed the feelings of sand against my toes, the cold touch of water spraying closer in waves.
I stretched my hand out and felt Maya's hand in mine, and there she was, beside me on the beach. She smiled, a hand on her floppy sunhat as a light breeze played with her dress.
I looked ahead, watching the sun slowly rise above the waterline -- the horizon. I felt its heat, shut my eyes against the brightness and let its warmth envelop me.
When I opened my eyes, my room was lit, slowly getting brighter as the sun would rise in the sky and light it. I sighed, and grabbed my backpack off the floor.
I walked out into the tunnels -- they were like surface streets, for those of you who remembered those -- and made my way to work.
`` Hey!''
I turned, and I grinned as Maya ran to catch up to me. In her work slacks and polo shirt, she still managed to glow. She matched my pace, hands on her backpack straps.
`` Hey,'' I said, `` I have n't seen you in a few days, I had wondered if...''
She scoffed. `` I'm fine. I mean, I'm great.'' She smiled. `` Do you wan na go for an adventure later?''
`` An adventure?'' I paused. `` You know, it's been a while since I took a sick day from work. How about we go now?''
`` Now?''
`` Now.''
Maya laughed. `` Okay! Let's do it. Where shall we go?''
I stood still, running a hand against my cheek. `` Grab your bike. I'll meet you back here in five.''
I turned to run and heard her laughing behind me. I ran home, dropping my backpack on my room floor and pulling my bicycle from the living room. I mounted it in the tunnels and whizzed by Maya as she stood on her porch, bike in hand.
`` Wait up!''
I could hear Maya hop on her bike behind me, and I stopped pedaling and let the bicycle coast down the tunnel. In that moment, I decided exactly where we should go.
`` Maya,'' I said, turning to glance at her. She was much closer, coasting as well. `` I'm gon na take the lead; follow me.''
`` Okay!''
I began to pedal again, turning onto the Clinton Tunnel and taking it a mile uphill. The heat began to turn humid when we hit the Chattanooga Underpath.
`` Evan,'' Maya panted, `` we've got to take a break.''
`` We're almost there,'' I promised, `` just a little further.''
And I was right; it was only another two minute pedal before we reached them. A sign was lit up at the entrance, and I hopped off my bike and turned to Maya. Her breathing was fast, but her eyes were lit up brighter than the sign.
`` Welcome,'' the sign read, `` Underdark Path to Ruby Falls, one of the oldest remaining underground waterfalls in the United States.''
Maya and I walked our bikes to a small picnic bench a few yards into the path. We sat for a while before we decided to go in, and as we stood to go, Maya took my hand and pulled me down for a kiss.
Talk about an adventure.
|
[ IP ] Sacrifice
| The boy trudged sleepily up the hill. Rubbing his tired eyes every so often with the backs of his hands. Just ahead of him his grandmother walked up the snow covered slope. Every step was certain and despite her age she made no error.
`` Grandmas,'' said the boy wearily, `` where are we going?''
`` To pay tribute to our village guardian,'' she said as she continued to walk.
The boy made a face.
`` But do n't you usually do this yourself?''
She stopped this time and turned back with a slight smile.
`` Ah, my own grandson does n't want to escort his poor grandmother up to do her duties. What if something should happen to me, eh? Who would help this poor priestess.''
The boy giggled.
`` Grandma you know that's not what I meant,'' he said, `` I just mean that you usually ask someone from the temple, right?''
She allowed the boy to catch up next to her before she continued walking. She places her hand on his shoulder as she spoke.
`` Normally, yes. For a long time since I've been a priestess I've had many a young man and woman training to be part of the order accompany on this trek. In the past I escorted my mentor and she escorted hers before that.''
She stopped speaking for a moment. The boy did n't mention it more. Since yesterday he'd been preoccupied with two loose teeth that wiggled about in his mouth. He would poke and prod them with his tongue. Wincing every now and then at the slight twinge of pain, but even still he would fiddle with the teeth. Even now as they walked he was gently pushing one of the teeth back and forth in his mouth.
`` But recently,'' she continued abruptly, `` there have been fewer apprentices. Those that we have are much to young right now.''
`` You do n't take one of the abbots or the monks?''
She shook her head.
`` No, no. They are much to old.''
`` But Shang is 18 and much stronger than I am. That's not too old. He could protect you or help you much more than I could, right?''
His grandmother gave a warm, soft chuckle.
`` True you are no marital monk and even then you are only but 9 years old. But your presence here serves an important purpose. This will be your first official duty as a member of the temple. Be honest this bests sitting and reading scripture all day, yes?''
He looked up at her with a wide grin and nodded his head vigorously. She let out another chuckle and they continued their walk. Snow had begun to fall as they went further up the trail. The boy noticed more trees as they proceeded higher. Deep brown bark with wavy trunks and branches. On the branches hung bulbous, reddish orbs. Were they fruits? Some kind of nut perhaps? The boy stared with wondered eyes at the mysterious bumpy globes that decorated the branches.
`` It is a lions fruit,'' his grandmother said noticing his curiosity, `` they grow here and in a few others parts of this mountain. They have an odd appearance but they are quite sweet. I rather enjoy them.''
`` Really? I've never seen them in town. Or on the offering plates.''
She shook her head.
`` And you would n't. It is forbidden to take these fruits down from the mountain. If you wish to enjoy one you must do so up here,'' she looked down at him, `` would you like to try one?''
The boy gleamed.
`` Alright then. Grab one from that low branch over there.''
She pointed a tree some ways ahead and the boy took off, running with long awkward steps through the snow. His grandmother continued to walk and approached a snow covered figure. The boy meanwhile stood up on his toes and reached up at the branch to try to pull it down. He resolved to jump and grab at the fruit instead. After two failed attempts he managed to tip it just enough that it fell from the branch into the snow. The boy hurriedly grabbed it and brushed off the powdery snow with his hand. He then shined it on his tunic and stared at the fruit. With its round shape and all the bumps it felt strange in his palms.
His grandmother, meanwhile, had been brushing snow off a stone lion statue with her hands. When she pushed away the bulk of the snow she brought her hands together to rub them. She then clapped her palms together and turned to the boy.
`` Are n't you going to eat your fruit? It's wasteful to just take from nature with no intentions of using what you've taken.''
The boy nodded and stared eagerly at the fruit. He opens his mouth wide and brought it down hard too the fruits surface.
`` Ow!''
He cried out and dropped the fruit. The inside of his mouth tasted metallic. His tongue wandered to here his teeth had been only to find them missing. He looked down at the fruit. Blood dripped from his mouth as he picked it up, leaving a pinkish hue as it fell onto the snow. Stuck in the fruit were two little white fragments. He looked up at his grandmother who had begun to approach him.
`` Grandma look!''
He held the fruit up to her face so she could see where the teeth were. She took the fruit into her hand and with the other pried the two teeth out. The boy watched on confused as she handed the fruit back and walked over to the statue with his teeth in her palm. She walked over, said something in a hushed tone, and then threw the teeth into the open mouth of the lion statue. She then brought her hands together one more time, briefly shut her eyes, and then turned back towards the boy.
`` Our guardian,'' she began, `` is a very righteous and giving spirit. He protects not only our village but this entire mountain and its forests. He is responsible for the growth of our village and for the growth of others. Do you recognize the statute?''
The boy shook his head. Blood had fallen onto his tunic. He looked a mess but was unfazed. His grandmother nodded.
`` That's okay. You were not raised in the temple. You're still learning,'' she motioned to the lion, `` our guardian is also a protector of children. He cares for all children and wishes for them only to grow to be happy and righteous. As such we offer him a token of growth.''
`` My teeth?''
She nodded.
`` They are a sign that you are maturing. Soon new teeth will form. Others will become loose and we will begin this trek once again to make an offering. And once your time is through it will be another child. Perhaps you will take them on this journey many years from now.''
The boy looked down.
`` What about the fruit?''
His grandmother took the fruit from his hands and dug her thumbs into it. She opened a small hole and handed it back to the boy. Inside were little yellow globes filled with what looked like nectar. He reached in to pull one out and inspected it. His grandmother watch quietly with a smile as he popped the orb into his mouth. His eyes grew wide when he bit into it. The juice filled his mouth and washed over his tongue. It was indescribably sweet but not aggressively so. The juice had the consistency of warm honey.
`` This is really good,'' he said reaching to the fruit pulling out more of the orbs.
He held one in his palm towards his grandmother.
`` My dear child it is your fruit. You made the offering to our guardian. It is your reward.''
`` But you said you liked them. I do n't want to be rude and eat something you like right in front of you.''
Her face lit up with a warm glow as she took the orb from his palm. She popped it into her mouth and smiled even wider. She looked down at her grandson.
`` Thank you. Now let's take our leave. Our duty is done and their is no need to linger. When we get back we'll have some stew.''
`` And we can eat the fruit on the way down!''
`` Yes, of course.''
They turned back the way the came and proceeded to leave. Walking until the trees that held the fruit were no longer in front of them, but only trees stripped bare from the winter.
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[ WP ] Write a story about something you do n't understand . Do NO research . Make everything up as you go .
| To his Lordship the Earl of Wight and her Ladyship the Earless of Wight,
This seventeenth day of April in the year of our Lourde, eighteen hundred
twenty-three
It is with great pleasure that we announce your Lordships' invitation to the debutante ball of our eldest daughter. She has come of an age that is proper to be presented to the admiralty and nobles of the region for auction. In keeping with the fashion of late, this will be a silent auction.
Among other dignitaries, your Lordships will be treated to an illustrious meal of seven courses followed by a reception in the study where we will have a gentleman's smoking session. Please be prepared to have a man-servant prepare your Lordship's smoking outfit for this occasion.
Please *respondez s'il vous plait* in the form of a carrier pigeon.
Signed cordially,
The Lord and Lady Grantham of Downton Abbey
|
[ WP ] When someone is born , the color of their eyes show what superpower they 'll have , later in life . You were born without eyes .
| Floating. It always feels like I am floating, suspended in nothingness. It's dark and cold, no sound save my own breathing ever breaks the quite of this void. Then, it all vanishes, replaced by the sensation of bed sheets covering my body. The softness of the pillows beneath my head. The cloth that I have wrapped around my head, covering the holes where my eyes should be, feels slightly loose after my long sleep.
As I set up in bed, I feel the weight of the world around me. I can sense the objects in my room, but only for a moment. I feel like everything is being pulled toward me, as if some force were collapsing the world on top of me. My head hurts for a moment and the front of my face heats up. As the pain dissipates, my mom walks into my room. I hear the door open and her soft voice rings through the room.
`` It looks like you are already awake. Did you plan on just sleeping your Saturday away? It's a nice day outside, so why do n't we go on a walk after breakfast?''
The sun beat down on me as I walked, my cane out before me, guide my every step. I could hear my mother walking beside me, giving me just enough room to maneuver around any objects in my way. I can also hear the sound of children playing, the metallic clinking of chains on a swing-set, and the laughter of their mothers who are ever watchful of them.
A momentary flash of pain in my head. An image, as vibrant and clear as my eternal darkness, fills my mind. Women laughing, children playing tag, one of the children floating through the air, his green eyes glowing ever so slightly in the sunlight. A young girl with dark brown eyes pushes him back without even touching him. He spins head over heals through the air until he rights himself and smiles, giggling before continuing in his pursuit of the other kids. The ground around me shakes slightly and I feel as if the world is about to collapse upon me again.
My headache clears and I feel my mother's hand on my shoulder. `` Everything alright?'' She asks, her gentle voice filling the darkness I now see before me. `` Yes. Everything is fine.'' I reply, keeping my voice as steady as I can. We continue walking, but I have a feeling that she is n't smiling like she was a moment ago.
After a while, we head back toward our house. I can hear people sitting on the sidewalks, groups of teenagers and young adults, most about my age, listening to music or talking about that thing that happened at school yesterday. Then I hear the sound of approaching footsteps. My cane hits someone's foot and, before I can stop it, we collide with one another. I hit the ground hard, loosing grip on my cane. I hear scuffling and shifting clothes as the other person stands up.
`` Why do n't you watch where you are going? You knocked me over, so I think you owe me an apology.'' His voice buffeted against my ears, like sandpaper compared to my mother's voice. `` Please, he did n't mean to bump into you. He is blind, which is why he needs the cane. Please, forgive us and we will be on our way.'' My mother's voice echoed through the sounds of the man and his friends getting riled up over the accident. `` That is n't an excuse for knocking someone over. Maybe you want to apologize for him. You are very pretty, so why do n't we go back to my place and you can apologize as much as I want you to.''
I knew what was implied by his words and it brought a feeling to me that I had never really felt before: Rage. I was angry, at him and at myself for not being able to stand up to him. My face began to heat up, my anger and embarrassment mixing together. Then the pain. It shot through me with such agony that I gripped my head and began to cry out in pain. `` What's this? Do n't tell me you hurt yourself that badly, kid. You were quite until just now, so do n't think faking some injury is going to get you off any easier.''
Pain. Anger. Rage. Red. Everything was red. The buildings that lined the street, the cars that whizzed by, the clothes that the group of guys were wearing. All of it was red. I was standing, or, at least it felt like it. It was almost like being in one of my dreams, nearly floating in air. The guy's eyes grew wide as he jumped back from me. Then, his face contorted into an agonizing expression. He began to double over, then pull farther into himself, until he was collapsing in on himself in impossible ways. There was a sound like raw, bloody meat being thrown against a wall and then blood went everywhere as the man was simply gone.
Color began to come back to the scene around me. But parts of it were still red. Not from my anger, but from the blood of the man who I had just killed. I could feel my power coursing through me, I could feel the fear of everyone else around me. Except my mother, who simply looked sad. I could see for the first time in my life, but it came at a great price.
I was studied, tests were run, samples were taken of... everything. Then there were more tests. My power was overwhelming for most, many did n't think that something like this could exist. `` Manipulation over gravitational forces? He can make objects generate gravitation fields that they otherwise would never be subjected to...''. The last thing I heard them say, after years of experiments and tests was that they would harvest my brain and organs to ensure that anyone born with my condition gets proper identification as soon as they are born. They think that just because I have no eyes means that I ca n't see exactly what they are planning... Nobody can escape my sight.
Not even myself.
|
[ WP ] Two small-town police officers play a dangerous game they call `` The Wheel of Torture '' with all those unfortunate enough to be pulled over . But what happens when they pull over a man who does n't play by their rules ?
| β Ok, here β s how we play. β My partner smiled. β We have a wheel, which my partner is holding. As you can see, there are several words on each colored tabs. As you can see here. β He pointed to a small tab marked β Nothing. β β This means that if you managed to get this, you can drive away with no tickets, no nothing. Sounds good? β
β Ummβ¦ β A blonde woman with a strong alcohol smell emitting from the car stared at us in confusion. β Ok? β She complied. My partner rolled the wheel. Eventually the arrow stopped at a tab. It was marked β Kiss the cop and accept the ticket. β
β Yee-haw! About time! β My partner laughed toward me.
β About time it was the right gender. β I added.
β Hush you. β The cop bended down to the window, the drunken woman backed away. β Hey, if you don β t kiss me and accept the ticket, I would have to arrest you for drunk driving. β This was enough to get the blonde woman to reluctantly kiss him. I pulled out the ticket pad and wrote down the highest fined ticket I could and gave her it. She pulled out, car enraging as it roared.
We both walked back to our car, just as we were about to pull into the traffic, a car blurred by us. β What the fuck. β I called out. I pressed a button and the lights exploded above the car, followed by a roaring whopping sound. The blurring car stopped by the road. We stopped behind it. I picked up the wheel and walked behind my partner.
β Hey asshole. You were speeding. β My partner growled as the window rolled down.
β No shit. β The man spoke.
β The hell. Are you giving me attitude? β
β Maybe I am? Also what the hell with the wheel of fortune thing your gay partner has? β
β Gay? I β m not gay. β I growled.
β Sure you aren β t. β
β This Wheel of Torture is a little game that we play with whoever we pulled over. You see this thing marked β nothing? β If you get this, we will let you go like nothing happened. β The driver threw something, it blurred with a *plop* sound. A needle protruding from the backing of the wheel. I turned it around and saw a dart on the β nothing. β
β There, I got it. Can I go now? β
β What, NO! That β s not the rule! β
β You didn β t say the rule; always say the rule before playing. Also now you β re just being a kid. Quit whining and accept the fact that I just outsmarted you. β He opened the door, pulled out the dart, entered back into the car and drove away. We stood here, speech-less.
β Don β t worry dude, I got his license plate memorized, I β ll write it down and I β ll hunt him down. Let β s just get back to the carβ¦ β He stormed by me, I followed him and entered the car. We pulled into the traffic and noticed a car β s taillight is out.
β Remember the- β
β Shut up. I know. β We both left the car to continue our Wheel of Torture.
-050
( I know, this is n't one of my best work, probably one of the worst. But I wanted to get it over with today. )
|
[ FF ] Write a story based on a verse from a song . ( 300 Word )
| *I'm on the edge of glory, with you. -- Lady GaGa*
Flashes. There was a lot of flashing. Cameras snapped from what must of been 20 stories below. Well of course, why would n't there be, two mad men where standing on the edge of a building. Taking a deep breath, I turn to him.
`` I love you, you know that, right? And we're gon na be okay. We do this, and we go down in history forever. The last of the homosexual race, going out, on their own terms.''
He had that crooked smile on, the one he wore when he was trying to hide his true thoughts. He must of been as scared as I am.
But this had to be done, if not, it would be the concentration camps for us. I honestly do n't know how it got so bad. Granted the great Mother is n't the best leader our fine country has had, but she does care, Mother would n't lie.
The laws started off small, Her father was smart, then she took over and it came down like an Iron Curtain. We were ripped from homes, abducted off the streets. Now I see how those American's felt during the Red Scare.
I was starting again. Not at him, not even really into him, just staring, thinking. His voice brought me back though.
`` They're coming for us. They'd rather us stay alive to make an example of, I already see them entering the building. We do n't have much longer. I love you.''
And with that, we leaped. All I heard was the scream of the ground, his gasp as gravity as took over, and then we interlocked fingers and it was black.
We went down in history in a glorious final performance. They always did say gays were flashy.
|
[ WP ] Fiasco in Fairyland . Some low-life faery denizens have 24 hours to pay their tithe to Hell .
| Strawberry Sparkle-Shine slapped the butt of a shotgun across the mouth of the security guard and shouted, `` anyone else wan na be a fucking hero?''
Nobody replied.
She glanced at the dandelion on her wrist. `` Ninety seconds!'' she shouted. `` We need the goddamn combination!''
In the office behind her, her second in command was waving a pair of pliers slowly in the face of manager of the First Bank of Fairytopia. She leaned in close to his ear, and whispered seductively, `` Want to know how I got the job as the Tooth Fairy?''
He shook his head, sweating, wings beating, trembling.
She slowly and gently bit his earlobe. `` I *love* teeth,'' she said. `` I can never have enough.'' She turned to face him and licked her lips. `` Never. Enough.'' Her lips came down on his. After a second, her teeth came down on them, too.
Guarding the exit, Daisy Buttercup Meadow duct-taped the last of the hostages to the explosives and headed towards the vault. `` You fucking bitches move one inch and you lose a wing. Next time, you lose the other. After that, you'll need a motherfucking catheter.''
Daisy heard Strawberry Sparkle-Shine calling sixty. She checked the signal on the detonator and headed to the lobby. In horror - that still looked adorable on her cherubic face - she saw Mab with the barrel of her.44 in the throat of a gagging teller all the way down to the cylinder.
`` Look at me like that again,'' Mab was screaming, spittle flying out her mouth, `` and the brains of lovers are n't the only thing I'm going to be going through!''
Daisy pulled her away and headed to the vault. By the time the Dentata called the combination from the office, they were both in position.
They spun the dial together.
Fairy dust. More than they could have imagined.
Strawberry Sparkle-Shine called thirty, and they started bagging.
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
| Mariaβ¦
Why did that name have any meaning? I stood staring down at the ground or, at least, I think it was the ground.
What was I doing?
I tried to rack my brain, remember what seemed only like visions and illusions than an actual reality. Through the haze, I remember making out bits and pieces: Shoes, dirt, flowers. I remember being sad, but for what? Was it raining? If not, then why couldn β t I see?
β Erin β
My head swerved as if it was on a mount, my body following not far behind. Before me stood the most amazing woman I had ever seen, appearing out of what looked like the wind; hair of gold and smile of diamonds and with eyes that I swear I could melt into. Blueβ¦wait, is that the name? Was that color blue orβ¦what are the other colors? Damn it, why couldn β t I remember!
β Erin, why... why would you do this? I accepted my fate! Why would you throw your life away for mine!?! I wanted you to be happy, with or without me! Please, please don β t do this! β
I couldn β t form words. Everything I had ever know, language, thoughts, it seemed to just vanish. I wanted to ask what was going on: who was Erin? Was that me? Then who was she and what the hell is happening!?!
I heard a thump behind me as a darted around quickly again to watch aβ¦thingβ¦ hit the floor. It was filled with words that, one by one, became unintelligible. I rapidly tried to decipher what I could:
Return....
β Return β? Return what? It was all trash. Everything in my mind felt numb. I began to panic; what the hell was happening? I looked at my hands, believing maybe somewhere upon them, hidden in the lines and wrinkles, I could figure out whatever was going on. A few scars, some marks, a weird metal object on my finger with just a few words. I began to hyperventilate; what did it say? I felt myself go lightheaded. I looked towards the woman standing behind me only to find her uncontrollably sobbing. My vision blurred as I began to pass out. I looked at the object one last time, praying it would provide me with some comfort as I slipped into the unknown. What did it say?!? Please, someone, tell me!
As I hit the ground, darkness enveloped me. Everything in my head went blank. I felt as if all weight was lifted from me as my body began to feel weightless. It was then I noticed; those few words made sense for the slightest of seconds:
Forever betrothed, Maria
Everything was blank except for one word: β Maria β
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[ WP ] In 2235 , a news network is reporting on the eruption of the Yellowstone supervolcano to Earth 's colonies across the solar system
| `` Good evening, this is Kal Issi Bint Al Jallaihne, coming to you live from the ENO ( Earth News Orbiter ). Tonight our leading story focuses on the unfolding tragedy in North America. On July 1st, 2235 at approximately 2:35 am.ET. ( am, Earth Time ). The Yellowstone Caldera collapsed and erupted in the largest magnitude eruption in several millennia. With a registered 8 on the Volcano Explosivity Index ( VEI ), the expected ash fall will blanket 72 % of North America. People of the DPRA ( Democratic People's Republic of America ) have been issued level five warnings and evacuations by sea, air, and space are being conducted.
`` In a noble act of generosity and patriotism the orbital hotel, ARCHEMEDES has been taking on refugees who have been airlifted in the new Boeing SSTO's Ms777's. Allies in the African Congo Conglomerate ( ACC ), the Western European Independence ( WEI ), and the Chinese Republic. Have sent their carriers to transport civilians on both western and eastern seaboards. ENO does not have an approximate number at this time, but the DPRA suggests that more than 70 million people have either perished or have been assigned to'condemned zones.'
`` The people aboard ENO send our utmost sympathy to these fallen and we salute their undying national spirit. The party is lesser for their loss.
`` We will continue to transmit news the second we validate it. Citizens of the DPRA on our colonies watch for our message and keep your ansible's close. Stay strong patriots.
... *cut to commercials, the Sybil Sports Report, and the weather on Europa dubbed, The Europa Report. Weatherman Jonathan McCavish is interrupted as he details the weekly report for Europa colonists. Screen flickers and resettles on Kal Issi Bint Al Jallaihne sitting tall and dour at her desk. Her face hardened by a life of in the news sector. Though she sits still as a stone there is a hint of practiced sadness gleaning through her large brown eyes. *
`` This just in, breaking, -breaking-. This just in, breaking news. Prime Minister Yusef has discovered the culprit behind this horrid massacre of our people. The Western European Independence has claimed responsibility in an issued secret report, which our spies cleverly snatched. The report indicated espionage activity in the area and the placement and detonation of cold fusion reactor cores. Yes these are the same cores that went missing from Chinese Republic reactors just last month. The detonation of these cores caused instability within the super volcano leading to eruption. Our Chinese allies swear vengeance for this heinous crime.''
Beneath Kal Issi a subscript trails across the screen: *Colonists on Sirius Outpost 1 have already vowed to do their part and send relief aid back to the mother world. All DPRA citizens are encouraged to donate what they can to the relief effort. Sirius Outpost 1 shall be commended for their efforts, tonight at 10 pmE.T. *
`` In an astonishing act of selfishness, WEI carrier ships have turned back around and headed for European waters leaving millions stranded on the ash covered coasts. Just now in his address to the Galaxy, Prime Minister Yusef declares this a, ``.. Sure sign of guilt.'' And condemns the aggressive apes who cost us so much precious life. Our leader also adds, `` These Devils have hounded our superior way of life for centuries. Since my ancestors fought them the great world wars they have always been deceitful dogs. Descendants of England, France, Spain, and Germany know this. We will stamp out this WEI aggression and bring forth a brighter dawn, for our children, for our families, for the fallen, for the DPRA!''
`` News of the Minister's address has caused a significant boost in moral on Earth and her colonies. Citizens cheer our dear leaders name in the streets. Colonists on Titan have already announced July 1st as Prime Minister Yusef day, celebrating the brave actions of our fearless Minister in combating this wicked enemy.
`` In response, the Boeing Military Satellite has fired several kinetic strikes on key military locations in the WEI. Private military companies are amassing behind corporate borders as well. Our fallen brothers will be avenged. This just in, due to the selfish abandonment of WEI carriers the DPRA has officially raised the death toll to over 120 million and counting. What have these selfish mongrels cost us?''
More subscript drags across the screen: *Territorial disputes have erupted in the installations above Jupiter. DPRA loyalists push back WEI supporters and drive them from the Jovian planet's moons. * ***World War IV? *** The final three words hang behind the initial message then stick at the lower center of the screen. Kal Issi drones on firing anti-WEI sentiment from her cannon of a mouth like free t-shirts at a zero-g football game. Suddenly an alert tone picks up onscreen and Kal Issi's tone shifts from vengeful anger to desperate tragedy.
``... ENO has just validated news of a death.. within the news sector. Weatherman Jonathan McCavish was just confirmed dead in his news studio. He was found a top the bodies of a dozen WEI soldiers. McCavish, reportedly riddled with bullets, fended off a hostel take over and saved the lives of his eight man news crew. One witness described McCavish's actions as,'patriotic in the utmost sense, he did not fall until the last dog was slain.' Minister Yusef has announced his immediate induction into the Tomb of Fallen Heroes. A sad day for not just the DPRA, but for all mankind.
`` The DPRA stands in solemn silence today, our eye's blackened by this malicious blow. ENO congratulates our brave Minister in his valiant efforts to hold together this battered country.''
Kal Issi suffles some papers and clears her throat, `` In other news stocks of Helium-3 have risen three-fold! After the break our NYSE affiliate will clue you in on the big plays to make when the starting bell rings. I'm Kal Issi Bint Al Jallaihne with ENO saying again; stay strong patriots.''
... *Cut to commercials. Adds are mostly directed towards recruitment and draft centers. One commercial advertises the new G.I. Park, Space Marine edition. Another advertises season 16 of reality television hit, Mars One. Screen goes black, there is a knock at the door. *...
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[ WP ] Soul mates are real and technology has finally allowed for detection of some peoples β other half '' at the speed of light using quantum messaging . When you were tested there was no response , now 10 years later you are called in to let you know a response has just arrived .
| The scientists sit you down at a gleaming stainless steel table. In the centre sits a telephone, its wire running down the side of the table, across the floor and up into a seemingly ordinary phone jack. Through a glass partition on the upper half of the wall you can see huge racks of equipment, working away at their quantum-entangled witchcraft.
`` We realize this is hard to comprehend...'' The head scientist says, adjusting the glasses resting on his nose. `` It's been ten years, but we've got a quantum convergence response to the bi-soul ping we sent out all those years ago... Simply put, sir, we've found your soulmate!''
Eager to speak to this unprecedented contact, you reach for the phone. The scientist stops you-
`` I feel that I should warn you, sir, the soulmate we've found... It's your father.''
`` But-'' you say, `` M-my dad... Is DED!''
The scientist rips the glasses off his face and glares at you in shocked bewilderment and asks you, `` Then WHO WAS PHONE????''
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[ WP ] In the modern day , wolves were never domesticated into dogs . You become the first person in history to befriend a wolf .
| Marcus went alone to the surface. He knew that he was probably going to die, but he had to test his theory. Story tellers in Hunter's Corpse told legends of wolves being tamed a millennia ago. The tamed wolves would help their masters and care for them, but this art of taming was lost long ago. Thought about his lost art as he grew into a young man and observed. He watched the livestock eat and be eaten, and he watched people and their motives. He found that food was the commodity of animals and people and Marcus theorized that it was also the key to taming more sentient creatures.
When a wolf was reported to be roaming above Hunter's Corpse, Marcus immediately purchased a gas mask and slabs of meat, and made his way up the stone staircase to the outside. Alone.
The surface was covered in a fog up to eight feet. Some blue sky could be seen through the fog above, but Marcus tried not think about his first time seeing it. Instead he listened. He listened and listened until a feint howl pierced the air. Marcus ran as quiet as he could among the fog as to not alert any other beasts or monsters. And when the howling seemed but a few meters past where he could see, Marcus stopped and took out a slab of meat from his pack.
He waved the meat in the air and let it slap his skin slightly. A ruffling in the grass could be heard. The fog parted in front of Marcus an a wolf as tall as he was bared his teeth at him. Although scared, he tried not to show it as he stood tall and threw a slab of meet at the wolf. It caught it in its mouth and munched on it without taking its eyes off Marcus. Another slab, and another and the thing put its teeth away. Marcus began walking away and the thing growled at him. He threw it meat as he walked toward the hatch again and the thing followed him.
When he reached the hatch he left the rest of the meat with the wolf and went back down below. Each day he brought more to it and each day he found it closer to the hatch. After three weeks it followed him down bellow with Marcus' hand on its back. A tamed wolf like the legends Marcus dreamed about.
-- -
This work takes place in the world of Etharas. If you are interested in checking out other stories from that world come visit /r/Etharas!
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[ WP ] A defense attorney defends only the worst of the criminals but is actually a vigilante who kills his own clients if they receive `` not guilty '' verdict .
| `` Not guilty'' the judge states over the bang of his gavel. A loud cheer erupts from his side and David looks over to see his client; a large smile across his face as he moves to hug him. David returns the embrace even as a wave of disgust overtakes him; his client had killed his mother and father before burning their place to the ground. David knew this to be true but even still he had fulfilled his job and gotten the man off the hook.
This was n't the first time that he had done this, in fact it was n't even the worst crime he had covered, but something felt different this time. He had always been accused of being heartless by the general public. The worst had came after he had gotten a child killer off the hook. People questioned how he kept his sanity; little did they know that his clients mysterious deaths were not as mysterious as they were led to believe.
David was n't stupid, he'd wait a few months; even a year if it was necessary to drive away suspicion and then he would make his move. Usually he preferred poison as its effects were often just chalked up to a drug overdose. But once in a while if the target had committed an especially brutal crime, David would ensure it was extra brutal and time consuming. That had been the fate of the child murder. He had killed 10 kids over five years and so before he killed him David ripped each nail out of his fingers and toes. He still got a rush just thinking of the look on that particular mans face as he realized it was in fact his `` savior'' that was dishing out his final punishment.
David smirks as he gets into his car; many people would claim that he was a psychopath, but that's not how he saw it. If anything he was a real life batman, distributing punishment to those who had caused the most pain to society.
Something was different with this case though. Something that just made it impossible for David to forget, was it the fact that the police still had n't found his clients six year old sister or was it just the added pain as he thought of his own parents demise. Whatever it was David could tell it was clouding his brain with rage, a feeling which admittedly he had not felt in a long time.
The car roars to life as `` O-O-H Child'' springs from the speakers. He pulls out of the street and makes it two blocks before something stops him in his traps. It's his client being escorted by two police. What were they doing here they should of loaded him into the squad car where he would of been taken to the prison before being released. He locks eyes with his client, who has the audacity to wave at him, that same toothy smile he had just endured only a few minutes earlier.
Davids vision goes read with rage as he slams on his horn. He slams on the gas, his client still in the crosswalk. Before the client even realizes what has happened they collide; that toothy grin is gone replaced with a terrified look that David is sure will be his last. His client flips over the vehicle and lands with a thud, David can see in his mirrors the limp body of the man he had just defended. He gets out of the car and is accompanied by the sound of shouts as people try to figure out what has just happened. David slowly moves towards the body and is angered to see that it is still moving. He pulls his pistol out and points at his client who looks up at him in horror. `` Why, why are you doing this?'' the voice barely escaping his breathless body. A part of David wants to respond, but instead he decides against giving him that satisfaction and just fires in silence.
Within seconds his client is dead and David is surrounded by sirens as an officer places his hands in restraints. He knows he should be afraid, that his life is more or less over but David does n't care. Instead he feels an immense sense of calm taking him over, for though the media will say he finally lost it, that the guilt of defending the guilty had been too much. David now feels free, he finally feels sane.
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[ WP ] At 19 everyone in your society has to go into the cave of fears and defeat your worst fear . You 're the first to go in and find nothing .
| Science could n't explain it. There were theories and hypothesese, of course, but no real proof to any of them. Religion could n't explain it. Every Priest, Rabbi, Imam and wise man had gone in with questions, but never came out with an answer that satisfied. Philosophers did their best, but none could enter the cave more than once in a lifetime.
Over countless years and numerless generations, we had gone into the cave; first with rocks and spears, then with swords and shields, and eventually with guns and body armour. As technology inexorably marched on, the tools changed, but the challenge remained the same. You went in, you faced your fears, and sometimes you did n't come back.
Sometimes it was a monster to be fought, or an obstacle to surmount. Other times, more rarely, a shadow that mocked your beliefs or foretold your death. For me, though... I saw nothing.
My entire life I had been a coward. Depression and anxiety are common these days, but some of us cope better than others. Plagued by what-if's and an overactive imagination, I jumped at shadows and avoided conflict. Everyone else prepared themselves for their Cave-day, whether through physical training or frenzied research or some combination. I did n't care. I knew I was going to die, and that no-one would miss me when I was gone. Struggling would just delay the inevitable.
The day came. I woke up. I trudged outside and numbly waited for my ride to the cave. No-one came to wish me well, to wave goodbye, to give one last hug before I got on the bus to travel to my doom. An uneventful wait led to an uneventful drive, ending at an unassuming cave that every visitor would always instinctively recognize. Without fanfare or bravado, and with only the slightest hesitation, I crossed the threshold and entered the cave.
Nothing. Cold and dark and empty. Was this my greatest fear? Some nameless void after death? No, that's something a priest could expect. The vastness of the universe? Maybe, but I already knew we lived on a speck of dust in a limitless cosmos. Maybe it was a metaphor, or some cosmic joke, or... or...
I sat down on the smooth floor. There was a floor, so I was still in the cave; not some `` infinite universe'' hallucination. I was n't claustrophobic; that was n't it. The dark itself was n't scary. It was just me and my thoughts.
Me and my... Thoughts.
Me... And...
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[ WP ] As the writer types a pivotal scene in his novel , the main character refuses to do it .
| So Jack had finally reached the Zygorg king's ship's warp core, he looked at its blue glow and new to destroy it he would have to jump int.... then the line deleted, thinking nothing of it, the author, typed it again, to find only the same issue. Then words appeared on the screen when no key was struck.
You dumb ass, hell no
What? no way did it just? He typed his own words now `` What?''
You are killing me to make a great finale, and I tell you NO WAY
`` Who are you? Am I being hacked?''
Sorta, but from the wrong time, holy hell this internet implant is buggy.
`` Are you real?''
I HOPE so, otherwise I'm going to be bummed.
`` If you are real, how can I tell you what to do?''
Signed up for a beta of a new cyborg-implant, taught me to not pre-order anymore.
`` Then I can just''
Yes, and pretty much everyone else
`` Why did n't you jump then?''
Because I tried REALLY hard, well maybe I hacked the implant
`` You have n't said no to anything else!''
That's because you've not shown sure signs of brain damage before, do you even know how a warp core works?
`` Well its got..''
NO, DO N'T TRY. The Zygorgs are n't even a threat anyway, you wrote a centurion into being the king, I could have crushed him whenever I wanted, but YOU, BUTCHER OF MILLIONS wanted WAR EVERLASTING and my death!
it was at this time that thee author checked his pills cupboard
`` I did n't know! How could I have known?''
You could have looked up when you wrote chapter 5, we are having a conversation across time, as you finished the chapter K43G-12kJ went supernova, that was the Ragnarok command ship plunging into it and destroying 5 sentient species.
`` So I DO know how warp cores work! HA!''
Trans-temporal narcissistic genocidal maniac says what?
`` Why not just turn off the implants?''
That was n't a beta feature, very little was. You like killing off character do n't you?
`` Well...''
What about Larinda?
`` Larinda?''
Oh, right you changed her name to Mary
`` She was a princess saving her people!''
Her `` people'' was a family owned market on Svarlbad VI, she was the first of her family to join the academy, top of her class.
`` Should I delete my work then?''
NO!!! PLEASE NO!! That would kill the 1E^1579 who took part in the beta, good and bad
`` Then what?''
I'LL fax you what to write, or stop writing
`` Fax? Really?''
Only thing that works across time without a 1300500 Eb surcharge
`` FINE, I'm going to bed now''
Ok, I'm going to save the galaxy now
( long period of no typing )
*and then Jack lept into the warp core
SHIT YOU CAUGHT ME OFF GUAR.....
`` That was a difficult chapter, usually they do n't talk so much''
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[ WP ] Several super volcanoes erupts at the same time plunging the world into darkness . What happens to humanity in the aftermath
| We always knew this day could come, we were just carelessly optimistic. We could have been preparing, storing huge sums of food underground, building immense shelters capable of supporting thousands. We had the technology to sustain ourselves, and we had the money to fund the efforts... but we were too greedy.
We took our lives on the surface for granted. We squandered our resources, threw away budgets with national defense, let our excess food spoil, and placated ourselves with sports and movies and games.
We were once happy, blissfully ignorant. Now only ash remains.
When the eruptions started, government officials around the world started evacuating into their private bunkers while the rest of the world panicked and rioted. We tore our societies apart before the clouds even arrived.
We have no idea how long the blackness will persist, nor how deep the smoldering embers will bury us. Those of us who have made it this far expect these shelters to become our grave.
If you somehow survive, somehow dig through to the surface, somehow rebuild and repopulate, and somehow find our tomb, heed this warning.
Get off of the planet while you can. She does not want you here, and she will kill you.
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[ WP ] Aliens give you a camera and say `` only those you photograph will live . '' You have one year .
| Drink in hand, I watched the end of the world coming. It was n't the end of humanity - partly thanks to me - but it was the end of Earth and those few left on it.
I felt a tremble pass through me. Sadness. Anger. Regret. How could I have done so much, yet in my stupidity left out something so important.
As the end drew near, I closed my eyes and remembered when everything had changed.
It was only a year ago that the world was abuzz with the news. Not just that we'd finally been contacted by visitors from afar, but that the tidings they brought were not good.
They had watched us for some time now, waiting for us to mature enough to join the great society among the stars. But now time had run out. Earth was doomed, and - rather than doom us all with it - they came offering salvation of a sorts.
They could n't directly work with us. Humanity was apparently too strange, and too violent even foot such an advanced race to comprehend. Instead, they offered a tool. It was a device that looked not unlike a camera. Whomever the bearer took a picture of and acknowledged as worthy would be saved before the end.
That was the first big news. The second was whom the aliens chose to be the bearer. As they told us all, that person held the fate of the world. Nobody could take the camera from him, nor could he be give it away. The bearer and those he was close to could not be harmed or in any other way forced to act. That part was n't what shocked people though, but rather WHO the bearer would be.
Me.
Not a politician, nor a doctor, renowned philanthropist, or even an actor. Nobody famous or known throughout the world. Not even a known photographer, just me. A 25-year-old regular dude from Canada.
The news shocked the world almost as much as it shocked me. One moment I'm watching it all on TV and the next I've got a delegation of little green men ( they weren β t actually green, or little ) suddenly appearing in my back yard alongside major world leaders. My girlfriend Kate - bless her heart - took it better than I did. Calm and composed, she offered everyone tea, as if it were just another backyard BBQ with the neighbours.
I think I did hear her giggle when she served the aliens β Earl Grey - Hot β. Kate always was a pretty hardcore trekkie. The aliens even seemed to smile a bit, and they did appear to enjoy the tea. Maybe they were trekkies, too.
Anyhow, tea didn β t last long, and there was little ceremony after that. The aliens handed me the not-really-a-camera, gave me a quick rundown on how it worked, and I was handed a separate device that left me keep in touch with them and the various world leaders. Then with a flash of light and a *zap* sound, they all disappeared and it was once again just me and Kate.
Of course, β just me and Kate β didn β t last long. I might not have been popular around the world or even in town for that matter, but enough people did know my face that I pretty soon neighbours started stopping by, begging to have their picture taken. The first day was a bit of a blur. I remember the mayor stopping by near the end and getting us a private hotel booking ( in exchange for her photo being taken, fo course ). I also recall Kate calling some of my own country's leaders to arrange for transportation and assistance. Apparently nobody but me could use the camera, but she could use the phone-type thingy.
That night, I learned about the one thing the aliens HADN β T told anybody. When they said that the I would be the one to β acknowledge the worthy β, everyone - including myself - had assumed that meant by taking their picture. Nope. Through the whole night, I had dreams of the picture whom I β d photographed. The dreams were like a news article highlighting key or pivotal moments of a given person β s life, except I viewed them from that person β s view and knew what they had been thinking. I never actually said anything to actively judge them, but as I decided internally I knew that some people were never getting out with the rest of us. You would never believe the terrible secrets behind beautiful faces, nor the great deeds done by those who were often the weakest, but I dreamed and saw it all.
I woke up partway through the night drenched in sweat - Kate by my side - and wept in her arms at some of the things I had seen. Apparently you can dream stuff pretty quickly, because I β d browsed through dozens of lives in just hours. I was a bit out of sorts, so I never really thought of it much when Kate made me promise never to take her picture until near the end. She looked really worried, but relaxed when I promised and then toweled my sweat-soaked brow and soaked my head until I passed into sleep, this time dreamlessly.
By the next day, there were armoured cars and an escort to the nearest airport. I was given unconditional, unrestricted access to a private jet, and as much funding as I needed for my travel.
From there, Kate and I quickly travelled everywhere. We went to places we β d always wanted to see, places I β d only read of in magazines, and places I β d never even heard of. For the most part, the locals always seemed to greet us. Whatever the problems in the world, apparently nobody wanted to go down with it.
Well, almost nobody.
The third week in - during one of my shoots - a sniper took a pot-shot at my head from a building several blocks down. That β s when I found out that the aliens took their β could not be harmed β part of things seriously. As I mentioned they β d known that the people of Earth had a tendency to be violent, and added a little protection to the package. The bullet stopped a fraction of a hair from my head, flattening down but not harming me in the least. My escort went nuts and soon they were storming the nearby buildings. The sniper turned out to be a member of a religious group who denounced the aliens, declared me an agent of Satan, and declared that only God could save us. I don β t know about that, but nothing stopped a 12mm bullet from entering HIS brain.
It was not long after that when we also discovered how the world β s end would come. The aliens hadn β t told us, but our telescopes finally spotted a rogue asteroid headed to earth. Well, it looked like an asteroid, anyhow. But they time they β d figured out how far it was away and that it was definitely going to hit us, they also realized that the thing was bigger than we were. This was no dinosaur-killer, it was *huge* and it was going to squash the planet flat like a bug. There was no altering the course. Even Bruce Willis and a team of experts wasn β t going to budge that sucker.
Time to collision, one year - minus four weeks to the day.
If anything, this added a bit of a frantic note to my picture-taking. We travelled everywhere, Kate and I. By day we snapped photographs and by night she wiped my brow, caressed my hair, and sang me to sleep. I felt haggard, and Kate was starting to look pretty terrible too. I assumed it was the lack of sleep on her part. Stupid.
Time flies. Three-hundred-thirty-five days, six continents ( no time for Antarctica, explorers came to us ), and BILLIONS of photographs later, the end was nigh. There was little time left, and I had no pictures left to take. I β d managed all I could - including some HUGE group shoots - and the only ones left were either hidden or didn β t want to be included for their own - mostly religious - reasons.
In that last slice of time, Kate fell asleep before me. She had been my rock, the only thing that kept me going.
A recollection came to me then that I hadn β t taken her picture. While Kate slept, snoring but beautiful. I centered, clicked, and took her picture before finally laying down to sleep beside her. Dreams of Kate β s life came to me, running in reverse from the current day. Many of them were of her moments with me these last few years. Many were huge and important, especially the first night we met the aliens. Through her eyes, I felt her giggle inside as she served the tea - yup, trekkie - and felt her tremble as I was named the bearer, felt her push back a fear that didn β t quite surface enough for me to grasp as she dived into supporting me.
Going back a bit further, there was a doctor β s office.
An announcement.
Cancer.
Terminal.
Finally I understood why she β d made me wait. She knew I β d see these memories. She β d never told me, as she β d not wanted to distract me from the great duty I β d been given. I woke with more tears rolling from my eyes. Kate was awake beside me. One look, and she knew that I knew. We fell asleep again together, crying, and stroking each others β hair.
The final day finally came. We turned on the news and watched. People were disappearing, vanishing in blinks of light. It started in my home-town, and quickly became apparent that the disappearances were for the most part following the path of our travels. Not everyone disappeared, of course. The wicked were left cursing and howling, and the opt-outs clutched each other while murmuring prayers.
The process accelerated. I noticed that the camera appeared to have turned off of picturing-taking mode, but was cycling through all the pictures I had already taken. As it came to the last I heard Kate scream something before she disappeared. Something terrifying.
Drink in hand, I watched the end of the world coming. It was n't the end of humanity - partly thanks to me - but it was the end of Earth and those few left on it.
Emotions churned inside me. I thought of Kate β s last words.
β You forgot to take a picture of yourself β
I raised my cup, and saluted the stars.
I saluted Kate - wherever she was now - and took a sip from my cup.
Earl Grey, hot.
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[ WP ] A man meets the love of his life on the last day of his life -- which he knows to be the case .
| [ 6:45 ]
Jim reaches over to deactivate the alarm clock that was meant to wake him every day for the past thirteen years. He had been awake for a few minutes already and was wondering why he even bothered using an alarm. He had always been awake before it went off.
He proceed with his daily routine. He climbed out of bed and dragged his feet as he walked to the bathroom. Before getting down to business he turned to the mirror. He stared into his own eyes with only one thought on his mind.
`` Today is the day that I die.''
A smile came across his face. Whether out of joy or sorrow he did not know. All he new was that he should stick to the plan.
[ 7:55 ]
Jim swiped his ID badge at the computer to clock for his last day at the office. He was looking forward to completing the largest project of his life. This project was supposed to get some attention from his boss and hopefully be the reason for a long needed promotion. Not any more. All it became was the mark he would leave on this corporation. The only sign of his existence.
Mark entered the doorway of the cubicle as he did every morning. `` Hey, Jim. Are we still on for this evening?''
Jim turned in his chair with half a smile on his face. `` Sure thing, Buddy. I would n't bail on you now. I'll see you at my place after work. I just need to finish up this project.''
[ 11:32 ]
For the second time today Jim swiped his badge to clock out for lunch. He headed to the local mall. His favourite meal was available in the food court's pizza joint. He ordered his usual slice of their stuffed pepperoni and sausage pizza along with some bread sticks.
He sat down at his usual place and looked across the court. Jim always chose this spot because he could see the Jewelry shop from it.
She was working today. Jim did n't know her name, but he wished he did. He could only imagine it was something beautiful. Every day he ate here was another day he spent wishing he had the courage to meet her.
*I'm going to die today. I may as well take the leap and introduce myself. *
He entered the shop with a speeding heart and shaking knees.
`` Welcome! How may I help you today?''
Her voice was almost as beautiful as her smile. He only hoped that she had a sense of humor to go with he physical traits. He already decided on pick up line to match his humor weeks before. `` I came here in hopes of finding something truly beautiful, and you truly are a beautiful woman.''
She laughed.
They hit it off right away. He stayed and chatted well past the length of his break. He did n't care. It was his last day. This was the best moment of his life. It came to an end as some customers came in an stole her attention. They said their good byes and he returned to work.
[ 7:13 ]
Jim finally finished his project and submitted all of his work. Mark and the rest of their coworkers had left a couple hours earlier. Once again he swiped his badge. He stared as the scanner realizing that he would never be here again.
Waiting for him at home was Mark. They were by no means friends. Just a couple of guys with similar ideals.
Sevral weeks late they had been discussing how worthless thier lives were, and how nobody cared about them. They had decided to end it. With a few weeks for preperations they finished work projects and visitted any family for on e last time.
[ 7:59 ]
Jim poured two glasses of scotch from a specially marked bottle. It was more than scotch. Jim did n't remember what the poison was. Mark said that it would kill a man and that was all he needed to know. They stood on the balcony and overlooked all that was outside taking it in for one last time. Turning to each other they raised the poison and clanked glasses.
`` To life.'' they said in unison.
Tipping the glasses back they poured the contents into their mouths. Only Mark swallowed. Jim spit the liquid back into the glass. Mark lost the strength to stand and fell to the floor looking up in shock. `` I'm sorry, Mark. I met her today. I finally have something meaningful. A reason to live. Goodbye.''
|
[ WP ] Two teens shoplift their first bottle of alcohol .
| Lamar and Stephen had always been best-friends since they were born. There families were quite close and they were poor. They were a troublesome two who were very mischievous and were always getting into loads of trouble at school for beating up kids.
`` I've thought of a sick idea, mate'' Lamar stormed in with a menacing grin. `` Let's go nick some alcohol from the local convenience store on the corner''
`` Yeh, alright'' Stephen exclaimed back with a smile.
`` What sort of drink'' said Lamar
`` I do n't know how about vodka'' said Stephen
`` Yeah, alright''
They walked out of their house and to the corner, where they stood outside the shop for 5 minutes thinking about the tactics and how they were going to steal the drink. They then proceeded to go in but Stephen retracted.
`` come on you pussy'' said Lamar. He then walked into the shop. They perused around the shop for about 2 minutes while Lamar had a friendly chat with the man behind the counter to throw him off course whilst Stephen proceeded to steal the drink. As soon he clenched the drink with his sweaty hands he legged it out of the shop. Lamar then reached over the counter and knocked the shop owner out with a punch on his nose. He then followed Stephen. However when he tried running out of the shop he tripped and fell over a the stand in the shop and crashed to the floor hitting his head hard and almost got knocked out but did n't.
|
[ WP ] Belle 's father confronts the beast on the day of the wedding .
| β No, lissen. Whossis? β
β That β s your future son-in-law. β
β No, no. NO. That guy was all hairy and scary and this guy got those pretty eyes. β
β Same guy. β
β I β mma go talk to him. I don β t care he got shaved. β
β NO. Please don β t do that. β
β I β m gon na. You β re just an unnamed villager. You don β t get to tell me what to do. β Belle β s father stumbles over to the groom, sloshing a large mug of some foamy beer they have in fairytale land. He yells in that special way that only very drunk men can. β HEY. β
β You spilled on me. β
β You threw me inna dungen. Dick. β He takes another swig. β You can β marry my dawter. OH! And also, you killed Gaston. He was cool. He helped me. You threw me inna dungeon. You β ra dick. β
The guys who used to be clocks and candlesticks take him by each arm to lead him away. He shrugs them both off.
β Gehoff me, youβ¦.furniture! ha! No one drinks like Belle β s dad, no one stinks like Belle β s dadβ¦wait. β
β Please remove him from here, he β s causing a scene. β The former beast waved to have him thrown back in the dungeon.
β I hava masheen that β ll cut you up. Chop chop chop. Waitβ¦I broked it. I β ll build a better one! β
He continued to yell as they threw him back in his old cell and the wedding of the captor to captive went off without a hitch. All the slaves in attendance said it was the most beautiful thing they had seen since they were cursed because of something that didn β t involve them.
THE END
|
[ WP ] I swear it was n't me . It was the butterfly ! The butterfly I tell you !
| He stood there, looking with horror at what he had just witnessed. The beautifully symmetrical, embodiment of pure evil, slowly fluttered away. He could n't believe it. How? How did this happen? The bodies. Oh, the bodies. They stayed where they were, mangled, and leaking. Their insides blowing in the wind. He had to go get help... but who would believe him? The now frustrated and frightened Eddy made his way to the corner of the garden; perhaps if he sat there? Maybe no one would notice him... he was wrong.
`` Eddy how could you?'' Screamed Alicia as she ran out into the yard. `` Bad boy!'' The now, almost empty, stuffed animals were ripped apart in the middle of the yard. Her daughter would n't have the birthday surprise she had always dreamed of, and all because someones nails had n't been cut. Eddy slowly made his way out of the foliage and in front of Alicia, shaking. He howled at her, trying with all his might to make her understand, it was n't his fault! He was just protecting the house from the frightening, colorful creature, when it all got out of hand. Though to his dismay, Alicia just would n't listen.
|
[ WP ] : Everyone is born with the last words their soulmate will ever say to them etched on their wrist .
| Jeff and I had been together for a little over 18 months. It was perfect. Way too perfect. It was all smiles and laughter. No anger or sadness and we did n't fight. Not once. I did n't like that. It never felt real. It felt fairytale. And that's what I thought I was supposed to have but for God's sake, I'm no princess.
Jeff was a police officer. He and his best friend Max were the clowns of the department but they were good cops. They were honorable guys. Were.
Last week there was a crash. A drunk driver slammed into their cruiser head on. It toppled over and caught on fire. All we know is they were alive for a few minutes after the crash. Jeff called me and told me he loved me right before passing out from inhalation of the fumes. The next call I got was from the ER at Mercy Hospital telling me he was gone.
I looked at my wrists. Nothing. Nothing? Why was there no etching? I felt so completely empty without him, and he was n't my soul mate?
Yesterday, chief called me down to the station to show me the last footage of the dash cam.
It was Jeff's phone call to me. Max was barely conscious. It took a few views to catch it, but Max was crying and mumbled `` I love you more'' and as soon I realized it, my right wrist was on fire. I pulled my sleeve up and there it was, written in his scribbly handwriting -- I love you more.
|
[ WP ] Magic is disappearing from the world .
| The young children scrambled around their grandmother as she settled back into her folding chair. They flopped onto the dying brown grass and wriggled to get comfortable. The chair groaned softly as she shifted to clean her little round spectacles on the hem of her shirt.
`` Gramma, you said you were gon na tell us a story.'Bout magic.'' The youngest talked around her thumb. The others nodded, gazing up at her with eyes filled with hope.
`` Of course, I did. Why do you think I brought you all out here? This is where my story starts.'' Small heads turned and shared secret grins. Their Grandmother's stories were the best.
`` When I was a girl, my grandmother brought me to this very place. She told me,'Ember, you stay close by camp. These woods are full of magic. I do n't need you wandering off and getting lost.' I wandered around the edge of camp, scared to stray too far, but looking and hoping for a glimpse of this'magic' she had told me about.'' She spread her hand open towards the edge of the clearing.
`` Back then, this place was very different. The trees grew tall and strong. The ferns and wild grass covered every inch of the ground with cool, vibrant green leaves. Flowers bloomed and blossomed in bright colors. Pinks, purples, reds.'' She pointed to patches on her knit cardigan, so the children could see the colors as she said them.
`` Little insects would flutter from flower to flower, working industriously. Butterflies with gossamer wings in orange, black and white. Black and yellow fuzzy bees carrying pollen on their legs, as if they were saddlebags. Birds, drab brown sparrows and bright blue jays would flit among the canopy of leaves.'' She helped one of the younger children pull out a canister of air and they passed it around, breathing from it.
`` I found frogs in the cool river and I even had a chance to fish with a pole, one summer. You remember the picture books I showed you, right?'' She smiled sadly as the heads nodded, eyes wide as they tried to picture all of the images they had seen, tucked among the stunted, twisted trees.
`` There had been magic here, my loves. Magic like you could n't believe. It was all around us. Like all things, people eventually stop seeing the magic in the simple world around them. They stop believing in the wonderment of a butterfly hatching from a chrysalis. From a tadpole turning into a frog. The sound of a bird, singing to it's mate. They become... indifferent to it. Not all of them did, but enough that it would n't have made a bit of difference.''
She coughed into a hankie. `` When World War Three started, at that point, I knew it was too late. I took a trip up here, so I could see what I would be missing, and when I got back home, we went into our bunker and hid.'' Another, rattling cough.
`` I was so hopeful, but that was before we got the green light to leave our Sanctuary. I have read that Magic has a special way of eking out an existence from the most seemingly impossible of situations.'' Her eyes began to water now, and she wiped them gingerly. `` But look at this place now. Trees are dead. The ones that do grow are twisted, stunted, and ugly, little things. More like scrub brush than trees. That little one there, would have been sixty feet tall. The dust storms would n't be as bad if the grass would grow. They destroyed almost all the Magic... our Magic. Left us with this. And now, our Magic is fading because they could n't see that we are all connected on this little planet. We are fading. We are the last of the Magic. The most tenacious of the Magic.'' She was rambling now, eyes distant and lost. White spittle forming in the corners of her wrinkled prune of mouth as she chattered wildly.
The middle child, a boy with a mess of curly blond hair, reached up and patted her hand. `` Do n't cry, Gramma. Let's go home.'' He waited patiently as she stood and he folded the chair, passing it to the eldest child to carry. He took the old woman's hand. Together they trundled across the expanse of dead grasses to a shiny silver transportation pod and climbed in.
|
[ WP ] A peron is convicted to a 1000 year prison sentence and has to live ot out .
| *first time posting here: ) wish me luck*
Day 16475: Solitary Confinement
I do not know my name, for there is no reason. I have forgotten what I look like, for it is always dark. I do not know where I am, for it does not matter. I have given up the ability to speak, for there is no one to talk to. I have lost the ability to walk, for there is nowhere to go. I can no longer see, for there is nothing to look at. I have lost the ability to feel, for I have nothing to feel. I care not to taste, for everything is the same. All that I once did, has been lost, forgotten, or thrown away. All but one thing, one skill, one ability that I will never forget, that I will carry with me longer than I will even be carried. Is counting.
|
[ WP ] A person attempts to commits suicide that results in Amnesia .
| I felt rain on my face. I opened my eyes.
My head hurt, a lot. The rest of my body hurt a good amount too. I looked around. I was on the coast of a body of water near a massive bridge. I spotted city lights in the distance.
I did n't know where I was, nor could I remember how I got here.
Come to think of it, I could n't remember anything. I did n't know who I was.
I gingerly felt my pockets. There was a phone and wallet. The phone was cracked, destroyed. It was useless. I tossed it away and opened up the wallet. It was strangely empty.
I searched all the compartments, thankfully finding a old piece of paper in the back sleeve.
It was a temporary New York City Police badge. Not only was I a cop, I was a detective, according to the slip.
I saw a shiny object a few feet from me in the pebbles. I picked it up. It was a gun.
My head suddenly exploded in pain, and when I reached a hand up to hold it i felt a massive gash. My fingers came back red with blood.
I put two and two together. I was a detective. I was pushed off the high bridge. My wallet was empty.
Someone had tried to kill me. And they had almost succeeded.
I reflexively checked the chamber of the gun. At least I still knew how to do that.
It was nearly full. Good.
*Someone had tried to kill me, * I thought as I set out to find my attacker, *It's time to repay the favor. *
|
( WP ) You have been abducted by aliens and have been taken to their home planet zoo as a part of their earth exhibit .
| I'm wearing an outfit entirely made out of feathers. It tickles and itches at the same time. Next to me, rotting human flesh hangs off Barry, an actor and co-worker of mine, sort of. Barry is a Luptron, an alien. Barry is n't his real name. I do n't know how to say his real name because half of Luptron speech happens at that pitch only dogs can hear. Fortunately they abducted me *and* my dog, Supongo, so whenever they speak all high pitched like, Supongo starts barking and it helps me try to piece together what they're actually saying, not that it matters much since I've only just begun learning Luptron speak.
From what Supongo and I have gathered, Barry's real name is'Bare' then a couple syllables I ca n't hear, followed by'eee'. So do n't give me any points for creativity.
Why the rotting flesh? Well Barry is an actor at the premier public zoo on Luptron. There are n't many humans on Luptron. In fact, I'm the only one right now. They used to have another. His name was Clifford. Luptrons loved him. He'd sing and dance and re-enact our entire world history, at least to the best of his ability. Some big shoes I have to fill.
Barry is wearing Clifford's skin. Luptrons do n't seem to have the ability to smell. It's hard not to gag my way through the show. We're doing World War II now, I think. It's clear Clifford did n't have a clear grasp on world history.
Barry has a swastika on his sleeve. Behind him, a group of other actors with Hitler mustaches walk in circles. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to represent another Nazi, the Allies or a concentration camp victim, but whatever I am, the Luptrons are really digging it. A massive crowd of them surround my stage/cage.
Barry pulls an empty bottle of Vodka from beneath his Clifford skin and shoves it into my free hand ( Supongo's in my other hand ). Barry imitates human speech. He says, `` Goo backeh too your casseeno.'' All the other actors throw up the Nazi salute. Then Supongo starts barking like crazy. Probably the crowd is cheering.
I look at the bottle of Vodka. The Luptrons keep a hidden stash of items stolen from Earth. Every time they reveal one to me, I flash back to my old life. The nostalgia quickly fades as I process what was just said to me, and remember my feather costume, and realize I represent an American Indian.
I throw the bottle back at Barry and it thunks him in the head. Supongo stops barking. The actors end their salute. It looks like I might become a costume sooner than expected. But I do n't care. Somehow being so far away from home has really destroyed any boundaries I've felt between other humans my whole life. I do n't have a drop of American Indian blood in me, but how dare they stereotype any member of my human race. Except Hitler, that was of course acceptable.
I closed my eyes and waited for my punishment. It did n't come. Barry began to laugh. It sounded like a record skipping, Supongo barking with every skip. Then the Nazi actors laughed, and so did the crowd.
So this is my life now. I've tried to improve it. I've tried to convince them to take me back home, or at least to go abduct some more humans. Really they just need to abduct one more. Then I could make them some more humans and they could have a whole bunch. How great would that be? But the Luptrons laugh at the idea. They do n't seem to understand reproduction. Maybe you're asking yourself how a civilization advanced enough for space travel ca n't understand reproduction. I've given a lot of thought to this. The Luptrons are very intelligent when they want to be. But I think they just generally do n't want to be. I've resigned myself to the fact that they'll enjoy using me to bastardize human existence for the rest of my meager life and when I die they'll just put their brains together to go get another human. Man, I just wish they'd at least try to preserve my skin a little better than Clifford's. It'd be kind of cool to live on for eternity as an alien actor's costume. Reminds me of this dude who donated his skull to a famous theater in London so it could be used in productions of Hamlet.
|
[ WP ] You are one of the thousands of Martian colonists that that has been isolated from Earth for generations . What does that pale , blue dot in the sky mean to you ?
| The red desert spread low beneath the Martian night; William permitted himself a sip from his canteen and a gaze into the heavens above.
The stars shone bright that night, burning holes into the alien dark, and the great, green glow of nebulae framed them like enormous cosmic clouds. In the distance, if he could strain his eyes enough, he could see a pale, tiny blue dot through the black. Earth...
What was water like? *Real* water, not the sterile white jugs his people coveted so greatly, but the calm lakes, the flowing rivers, the vast oceans! He had only seen read the databases and seen the pictures...
`` William,'' a voice cut through his thoughts, `` Your shift.''
He turned back. Charlie was already setting aside his rifle and climbing into his sleeping bag.
`` Aw, crap,'' William rubbed his eyes and took up the gun, `` I did n't get any sleep.''
`` Why?'' a muffled voice came from the fabric, `` You go stargazing again?''
`` Something like that.'' The heaven's were n't the only thing on Will's mind. His mother, alone and infirm back at the citadel. His lover, still waiting for him to return from the caravan...
`` Eh, fuck that shit,'' the sleeping sack shifted, `` Earth left us to rot on this rock, and they can rot on theirs for all I care.''
Silence.
Charlie felt the hard tip of the rifle's butt nudged against his stomach.
`` Okay, that does it!'' he sprung out of his sleeping bag, `` Just because you like your litt-''
He fell silent. Out in the desert, dust plumes rose.
Raiders.
___
*Will be back with Part 2 soon. *
|
[ OT ] /r/WritingPrompts has terrible prompts .
| I do n't know that the problem is with the wackiness of the prompts *per se* but, more like the trendiness. That one about the twins was a front page TIL earlier today. The penguin thing is general `` LOL so randum!!!'' that a large subset of Reddit seems to find funny. There are multiple `` Clippy'' prompts, multiple prompts regarding popular media properties ( both in-universe constrained and otherwise ), and multiple prompts that refer explicitly to Reddit-related topics.
But, I agree that the solution is that those dissatisfied with the status quo should simply respond by posting prompts that they think are good. If, as has been claimed, those posts will wither while the 5,000th Clippy prompt has 40 replies, then, we should reconvene and consider more radical options.
|
[ OT ] How do I become a better writer ?
| The same way you get to Carnegie Hall; practice!
Use those words in your head: swish, undulate, gyrate, race, sprint, surge. `` Bob ran up the stairs quickly/ Bob raced up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.''
Talk. Speak aloud. Imagine your writing is a play. Play all the parts. Does it flow? Does it stumble? Is the funny parts actually funny said aloud or do they fall flat?
Practice, my friend. Read. Write while you drink, drink while you write. Practice. Change your perspective and ways of thinking. Notice how people speak and jot it down. Did I mention practice? If not, practice. Anyone can better themselves.
|
[ WP ] The year is 1350 and the black death is in full swing . In this universe however , those killed by the black death rise as zombies .
| *Zig et zig et zag, la mort en cadence*
*Frappant une tombe avec son talon*
*La mort Γ minuit joue un air de danse*
*Zig et zig et zag, sur son violon*
[ And death danced, danced and danced'round the world. Danced for the king and the friar, the Pope and the peasant. And it will dance with us all... ] ( https: //theyearofhalloween.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/danse-macabre-by-michael-wolgemut-1493.jpg? w=1000 & h=883 )
When the Genoese were holding Caffa against the heathen Hordes, Christendom did n't care.
When the first Italians, riddled with sores and buboes, started filing into Genoa, Venice and Rome, we pricked up our ears.
When Constantinople burned, its dead rising in the streets spitting foul humors and sinking their teeth into the living, the Emperor's corpse personally rising and slaughtering his entire Varangian Guard, we started snapping our fingers.
When the Pope fled Rome, issuing a bull systematically excommunicating any and all sufferers of the Devil's Rot, leaving the Holy See to crumble under the demonic swarm of living sufferers and risen dead alike, we tapped our feet.
When Paris, Barcelona, Cologne all crumbled, the King of France himself clawing his own eyes out on the ramparts to eat them, we hummed the tune.
When the first Flagellants appeared, scouring their bodies and giving worship to the dead in the hopes of being spared, we chose our partners.
When London, Copenhagen and Vienna, already filled with crying and begging refugees from the south, saw their own dead claw their way out of their graves, we did n't care anymore, for we were dancing.
Now we dance and dance and dance again, our feet rotted to the bone, leaving trails of blood from city to city to bring the gift of the Devil's Rot and invite the world to dance with us. We bow to our partners and take them in our arms, our skin covered in open wounds, pus and gangrene our refined clothes. They run from us, they scream, they beg us, they offer their wives and fathers and children, but who can refuse to dance with us? We give ourselves to the Dead and take from them as they take from us. We feast on the flesh of living and dead alike, waiting for the Devil's Rot to take us in its embrace for one final farandole.
But there are still places where they do not dance. Milan and Krakow and Navarra. We will sing our songs and play our ditties and bring the Rot to them, and they will dance.
They will dance.
*Zig et zig et zag, quelle sarabande! *
*Quels cercles de morts se donnant la main! *
*Zig et zig et zag, on voit dans la bande*
*Le roi gambader auprès du vilain! *
|
[ WP ] A boy goes to hang himself in the woods , only to find a decaying body already hung . A girl sits quietly nearby .
| They told me to wait.
Barren trees stood naked against the wintry air, shivering mercilessly as their coats of red and orange had shed to the frosted soil.
When I had first walked among them, a desolate call had pulled the rope I carried farther into the forest, until it hung, heavy with the weight of my decaying skin.
I sat beside it now, trapped in a merciless nightmare, punished for the life I stole. At no more than twelve years and fifty six days, I whispered goodbye to my family and jumped from the highest branch beyond my reach and swung to and fro as a soul parted from my lips in death.
So they told me to wait.
And now a boy approaches. He is pasty and small with an awkward gait as he stumbles over brambles and roots that reach for him to stop in his tracks before it is too late.
He holds his own fraying rope, as it dangles and drags behind him, snagging from time to time. It β s longer than my rope. He β s looking at his feet to watch his step and only stops when he is inches from colliding with the ballet slipper that sways nearest to his face.
He looks up and screams. The sound echoes through the woods and every tree absorbs the pain and confusion.
Tears fall freely towards the turbid soil and brush that now he has landed upon. His knees are buckled and downtrodden face remembers what there is to live for, what he would look like as some unsuspecting visitor finds him hanging too, in the middle of the woods on a cold winter night.
And after such a fortuitous meeting, he collects himself and drops the rope to the ground. He walks away, with one last sideways fearful glance.
And still I sit and wait.
|
[ WP ] You jokingly `` bless '' your towns water supply with friends . Shortly after 1 percent of the local population are reacting to tap water as if it were acid .
| You may think this is a joke or some fake story but when I was a little boy two priests from a nearby Church decided to bless the towns water. They went to water tower late at night and setup camp. At the early morning they began what only could be described cleansing of water and converting normal water into Holy water.
Now, my town has a large majority of Muslims and as soon as they heard about this, the fundamentalist group got aggressive, there were flyers being distributed about how this water which we used to drink and shower with is now equivalent of filthy water and how we should n't drink it.
My mom used to get water from another town, there was water tankers especially for this purpose. The Muslim majority started a movement to dump the tanker water, however since it big and only supply the town had, and the minority groups were against it, it did n't happen for quite some time.
However, a week later when everyone was getting used to it, two dead bodies were found inside the tanker, they were of the two priest who performed the cleansing. The Church was furious yet powerless.
The tank water was dumped, the community went without water for weeks and to this day no one knows who killed the two priests or if they committed suicide in the tank.
|
[ WP ] Describe to me the personification of wanderlust .
| I take another step and breath.
My hand covers my eyes against the burning sun. Lost my hat somewhere along the way. Ca n't do anything about it.
The hard concrete under my feet feels as familiar as the sensation of breathing or the beat of a heart. It has become a part of who I am.
I take another step and breath.
I ca n't exactly remember where I started from. My whole life has always been step after step, roaming from town to town. I never stayed anywhere long. My past is irrelevant. I do n't care about it, it lies behind me. The memories I gained in all these years are dear to me, that is true, but I focus on what lies ahead. The unknown territories. A new land where I have n't been before.
I take another step and breath.
These old bones are heavy. My skin is dry and my hair is grey. My old clothes are dirty and torn. I have been on this road for years or even decades. Ca n't remember how long I have walked this road. But I will keep on walking. There is no end I seek to reach, no goal or anything like that. There is something dragging me to the far far away lands. Whenever I try to stay somewhere, I feel uneasy and leave as fast as I came.
I take another step and breath.
Whatever it is that lies beyond the blue horizon, I will see it. Whatever it is that lies at the end of this road, I will see it. Whatever it is that my heart seeks so desperate, I will see it. I will go to the end. Follow this concrete road. See the new lands. Keep on walking and never stop.
I take another step and breath.
I look at the horizon and smile.
I keep on walking for this is my life.
|
[ WP ] After living out your life , your time has finally come and you die . You arrive to the afterlife and meet God . He 's had enough of his job and appoints you as God of the universe .
| *Why? *
& nbsp;
I woke up coughing, sputtering. I tried to open my eyes but the lights were blinding. I covered my eyes with my arms but I could feel the lights pulsing, humming. I rolled over to try and alleviate the pain in my chest. My lungs were burning.
& nbsp;
*Why are you here? Have you come to taunt me? *
& nbsp;
Was someone talking? I didn β t hear a voice but it still felt like some entity was trying to reach out to me. It felt like a small hum in the back of my head.
& nbsp;
β H-h-hello? β I said in the raspiest voice.
& nbsp;
*Why have you come? * This time the voice was louder, edging on anger and vibrating in my body.
& nbsp;
β I don β t- β I paused trying to regain more saliva in my mouth, β I don β t even know where I am. β
& nbsp;
*Open your eyes. *
& nbsp;
β It β s too bright β I said still shielding my eyes.
& nbsp;
*Open your eyes. * I felt the urgency in their voice.
& nbsp;
I lowered my arm and clutched my chest. I let the light burn through my eyelids and when I finally felt courage fill me I opened my eyes fully. My whole body burned. My whole body was blinded. The light never dimmed but it was as if my body was transformed and instantly the light became normal. I had acclimated.I stood up. There was light all around, pure light surrounding me.
& nbsp;
*Over here. *
& nbsp;
I turned around and there was a woman sitting by a well. I didn β t recognize her. I couldn β t. As soon as I tried to really look at one feature it became featureless. If I unfocused my eyes I could see her but if I tried to closely examine her she became elusive. Still she felt familiar, like a word at the tip of my tongue.
& nbsp;
β Who are you? β I asked, reeling from the memories that were trying to invade my mind. I felt a dam in my mind holding all of the answers back and if she could just tell me her name it would be released.
& nbsp;
*Not yet, child. Come sit by me. * She gestured to a spot next to her on the well.
& nbsp;
My body moved towards her. My feet apparently choosing to float rather than walk.
& nbsp;
β What is this place? β I asked as I sat down next to the woman.
& nbsp;
*This is your new home. * And with rough hands she grabbed my shoulders and threw me into the well.
& nbsp;
I was drowning. I was dying. Again.
& nbsp;
I was finally out of air and I inhaled the water. My body was beginning to jerk in desperate need of air.
& nbsp;
I felt strong hands pull me out of the water. He pulled me into his arms and I sputtered and rasped as the water left my body.
& nbsp;
I looked up to find myself looking at a featureless man just like the featureless woman who had thrown me in.
& nbsp;
β Who- β I put my hand to my throat and tried to massage it β Who are you? β
& nbsp;
*I am free now. You have drunk from the Waters of God and now you are to take my place. You are the new God. *
& nbsp;
β No you β ve got the wrong person, β I pushed against his chest until he put me down, β I β m not God material. And I would hardly qualify that as β drinking β. That woman pushed me in. She almost killed me. β
& nbsp;
*I β m sorry. It β s been ages since another qualifier has been sent up here. I couldn β t risk you saying no. *
& nbsp;
β You didn β t push- β I began to say and I watched as the featureless man transformed into the featureless woman.
& nbsp;
*I am all things male and female, beginning and end. At least I was. The position now falls to you. May you do a better job than I did. I have grown weary after these long years and I am afraid I have caused more damage than I should have. I leave it to you. *
& nbsp;
And with a bow the featureless woman disappeared.
& nbsp;
β Wait! β I yelled. β What do I do? β I felt utterly helpless. How do I even begin to be a God? It wasn β t like there was a guidebook or something.
& nbsp;
Suddenly the dams that had been holding back all my memories came down but it wasn β t just my memories that came flooding back. It was everyone who had ever been, who ever would be. All of their lives and their thoughts and their feelings were flooding into my body. I began to feel the life of the earth, the mountains, the trees, and the ocean. I felt the planets and the stars and the dark void in between.
& nbsp;
I screamed and curled into a ball, closing my eyes hard. I stayed that way letting it all in, letting it burn into my mind.
& nbsp;
Then finally it stopped. I felt like ages had passed but I knew it had only taken moments.
& nbsp;
I opened my eyes and I knew how to fix everything.
& nbsp;
-- -
& nbsp;
The paramedics arrived at the lake. Onlookers had already pulled the body to the shore and were attempting to perform CPR.
& nbsp;
β Move out of the way! β the lead paramedic said.
& nbsp;
Both paramedics loaded the girl into the ambulance. One drove while the other continued to perform CPR on her. She hadn β t been breathing for 10 minutes by the time they reached her. It β d be a miracle if they could get her to breathe now.
& nbsp;
They drove for another 10 minutes and finally turned down the corner towards the hospital β s emergency entrance.
& nbsp;
It had been 20 minutes without a response though. The paramedic was about to call it.
& nbsp;
The girl shot up with a deep gasping breath. She grabbed the paramedic β s arm with her icy hands and stared at him with bloodshot eyes.
& nbsp;
β I know what I need to do now. I have come to save the world from their sin. I have returned. β
& nbsp;
edit: formatting
|
[ WP ] You go to summon satan , you 've drawn the pentagram , got the chants and the candles all ready . Only to summon him and he turns out to be very very passive..
| At last, the moment is finally here. This had been my dream ever since Bobby had cut in line for the swings all those years ago. Kindergarten still seemed like a fresh bruise in my mind. But all these years, nay, all these decades had finally come to a close, my revenge would soon be complete. Bobby would face the full measure of not just mine, but Satan's wrath.
I had carefully measured out the sizes of the pentagrams, spent hours placing the five candles ( and even longer dipping them carefully in virgin's blood ), wasted years finding the right accursed tomes, all for this moment. Bobby would n't suspect a thing, the bastard.
The incantations slipped off my tongue easily. After all, I'd spent days practicing the pronunciation. One mistake now and Satan would have my soul, not Bobby's. But I would n't make a mistake now, I almost believed I could n't. This was Fate, now, fickle Fate was on my side, finally- and if She'd been with me then, none of this would have had to happen.
The room darkened, the twisted edges of Hades' realm merging with mine making the candles feeble glow all the feebler, a fell wind of brimstone and sulfur emerged, almost making me cough. But the ritual was too important for my body to betray me now. The words came faster as Abaddon's Master outline became clearer and clearer, and then-!
A long, drawn out, fart.
`` Damn it, I always do that.'' muttered the Prince of Darkness. `` It's just so embarrassing.''
I stared at Satan, the Fallen Prince, flabbergasted, before shaking my head to clear it and straightening my posture. `` I command thee, Lucifer, to-''
`` Oh, hey, it's a human!'' The devil said, interrupting me. Love you little guys, you make for fantastic reality shows!''
`` Umm, what?''
`` Yeah, loved Real Housewives of Troy, shame the Greeks had to burn the city down in the ninth season. Whatsherface, that one chick, name starts with an'H'...?''
I blinked. `` Helen?''
`` Yup, that's her, thanks mate, she was SUUUUCH a bitch! Made the whole show. You see it?''
`` It was a little before my time.''
`` Oh man, you, like, NEED to watch it, it really holds up. Here, wan na pop back to my place? Pretty sure I have it on DVD somewhere.''
`` Uh, no, I actually summoned-''
`` Oh, right! You summoned me for something. What's up, buttercup?''
Ok, this might have gone slightly off track, but here was my chance. I cracked my fingers, ignored Satan's comment that that was bad for my fingers, and prepared to give Satan his command.
`` I command thee, Satan, Prince of Darkness, to destroy my nemesis utterly, mentally, physically, emotionally!''
`` Huh. Sure you do n't want to binge Real Housewives of Troy?''
`` No! No, I do n't want to watch your stupid show! Kill my nemesis!''
`` Not even the Aquitaine Shore?''
`` No! Not even the goddamn Aquitaine Shore!'' I yelled. `` Kill my nemesis!''
`` Ok, fine,'' the devil said sheepishly.
`` Thank you.''
`` Who's this, uh, nemesis of yours?''
`` Bobby.''
`` Bobby? Bobby who?''
... Huh. Bobby who? What was the thrice-curse bastard's last name? As I stewed, the devil started grinning again.
`` Dude, you know how many people named Bobby there are? At least a thousand. And that's not even taking into account if that's a nickname. How many Bobs are there? Roberts? Or maybe we're talking Roberta, you did n't give me a gender.''
`` He was a boy, definitely a boy.''
`` Fantastic, we get remove all of the two Robertas from the pool of possibilities. Or maybe we don't- you keep up with this Bobby? Maybe he did the ol' flipperoo and turned that ding dong into the Cave o' Wonders. When's you last see him?''
``... Kindergarten.''
`` Kindergarten?'' Lucifer roared with laughter. `` What'd he do to you then you'd summon ME to curb stomp him?''
``... he cut me in line.''
Satan laughter increased, and he fell to his knees. Tears started streaming down his face.
`` Hey! It was for the swing set!''
He promptly collapsed, and emitted howls of laughter.
After a what seemed a century, the Prince of Darkness stood and wiped the tears from his face. `` Sorry, buckaroo, no can do. I need a full name-'' Satan started snickering, and muttered something about telling this to Jesus, before straightening again and continuing. `` Even though I'd loooove to murder him for ya, my hands are tied. So, unless you want to go watch Real Housewives of Troy...''
Then, with the timing of- well, apparently not the devil, came a siren call from above.
`` Frankie!'' called my Mother. `` Dinner!''
`` I'll be up in a moment!'' I responded, my face burnt red, above the sound of the devil giggling to himself.
`` You live in your parent's basement?!?'' The devil managed to choke out between giggles. `` Oh, this is definitely going on Divinebook for sure.''
`` Please, do n't,'' I begged.
`` Oh, yes, the Holy Ghost will get a kick outta this. Next time, dude, do your homework.''
And with one kick, a candle fell over and the devil disappeared.
|
[ WP ] After a nuclear power plant malfunctioned in a large city , it was quarantined by the government for over 25 years . You and a small team are the first people sent in to see what has happened .
| They prepared us for sights that could n't be unseen. They prepared us for a stench that would linger in our minds for the rest of our lives. They prepared us for a reality that would cause us to fall to our knees and curse our parents for creating us. We were prepared for the most awful things that could ever be experienced.
But we were n't prepared for something completely normal.
There were plants. Not crazy radioactive plants you would see in a sci-fi movie, I mean plants. Daisies, peonies, chrysanthemums, roses, and a bunch of things I did n't know the name of. And they were arranged so perfectly, like a well-kempt garden in a suburban dreamland.
Animals too. Rabbits, squirrels, foxes, and Jodan swore on his own life that he saw a domestic cat. I saw a rabbit eating some grass ( which was still growing along the highway ), and then I saw a fox eat that rabbit. We were somewhat shocked, but we were truly mortified when, while reaching the end of the highway, we saw that their was roadkill.
A squirrel laid in the middle of the road, and its organs laid exposed to the beating sun. The stench was fresh, the eyes barely glazed, the flesh not even slightly decomposed. Caroline, the only doctor in the group, stated that there was no way this had happened any later than three hours ago. No patrol cars had come in with us. The bloody tire tracks did n't last long, but only long enough to show that the driver of the car had gotten off at the exit not even a tenth of a mile away.
Donald clutched his cross necklace and began muttering a prayer as we reached the end of the exit ramp to find the entrance to a gated community. The gate looked like it had just been renovated, and the lock had n't rusted in the slightest. Lorelei was prepared to pick the lock, but Hugh suggested that we press the buzzer to request entrance. Out of morbid curiosity, the group agreed. Within moments, a man approached the gates from the other side.
He wore a grin at first, but that grin immediately turned into a scowl mixed with anger and fear. `` You're from outside?''
Hugh, our leader, was the first to speak. `` Yes. My name is Lieutenant Colonel Hugh Davies of the U.S. Air --''
His voice was interrupted by an ungodly pop, and Hugh fell backwards into a pool of his own blood, his skull ripped apart by a shotgun blast.
Caroline, the second in command, explained that we did not mean to disturb them and wished no harm, while Donald clutched his cross again and cried out to the Lord. The man behind the gate was courteous enough to let Donald finish speaking to God before raising his shotgun and sending him to meet Him. Caroline stopped explaining and fell completely silent, as did Jordan and I. Lorelei made the mistake of trying to run, but was n't fast enough to outrun the bullet permanently lodged in her skull.
The three of us stood, as though frozen in time, as the man raised his gun, taking the time to point it at each of our heads, before lowering it and opening the gates. We continued to stand for a minute that felt like a lifetime before three men joined him and came behind us, pushing us forward. We followed him into the second house on the left, the yellow, two-story house with a beautiful green lawn. Well, they were all yellow two-story houses with beautiful green lawns. As the four men led us inside, we were greeted with the most disturbing thing I could have imagined at the time.
A party. There was a welcome sign, there were balloons, there were streamers, there were dozens of people grinning and cheering at the sight of us. Finally, one of them stepped up to speak, her voice taking the tone of an evening newscaster during a feel-good story.
`` Hi, I'm Jenny Houston, and we'd like to welcome you to Owensville!''
I was n't sure how to react. Caroline looked like she'd just had her soul pulled out of her body and handed back to her as a gift. Jordan's eyes burned with a hatred I'd only seen from him the night we were walking home from work and a drunk college student made the mistake of calling him the N-word as they passed by. I spoke for the first time since we arrived. `` Excuse me?''
`` We're happy to announce that the Apostles have decided that you three are worthy of joining our community. So, Caroline McNeil, Jordan Henderson, and David Grossman, welcome to our town!''
Caroline spoke, the confidence and professionalism completely gone from her voice. `` How is this possible? This city was destroyed 25 years ago. We're the first people to enter here since --''
Jenny laughed. `` Yes, of course you are. The government has sent 83'first' groups here. There have been groups as big as 350 and as small as three. I was in the 4th group!'' She stated proudly. `` And upon finding this marvelous place, the Apostles inducted us as members of this town!''
Jordan, a man who yelled about as often as Hayley's comet passed the earth, shouted at this clearly-delusional woman. `` You killed them! Hugh, Lorelei, Donald... Why?'' His yelling wavering down to the whimper of a broken man as the fact that three of our companions were dead sunk in. Caroline and I truly felt the impact of their death for the first time as well at this moment.
`` Kyle? Would you please explain to the group the selection process?''
The man who had moments ago killed half of us stepped forward and spoke in the voice of a completely emotionless being. `` When a group enters the town, the Apostles judge which of them are worthy of induction. Lorelei was a thief. Although she was born into a rich family, the compulsion to steal was always within her. She began shoplifting at 11 and committed her first home invasion at 16. There can be no thiefs in our town.
`` Donald was a liar. He was never truly a believer. He pretended to be, first for his parents' approval, then so he could join your group as the chaplain. It was all for appearances. There can be no liars in our town.
`` And Hugh was a murderer. Not only did he kill many people while serving overseas, he shot down the plane of a man of his own platoon in'friendly fire' because that man was in front of him for a promotion to head of their platoon. He planned to kill you too, Caroline, had you ever threatened his position. There can be no liars in our town.
`` But the three of you... are not perfect, but worthy of the Apostles' approval.''
`` You're lying!'' I did n't even notice the words forming in my mouth before they came out. As soon as they did, my face went pale, as I fully expected Kyle to raise his gun and decide that I was indeed not worthy. But instead, he chuckled.
`` Yes, we all thought the same. We were full of the same fire you three are... but then we met the Apostles, and our minds were cleansed. I think it's time you meet them as well.'' He looked back at Jenny, who nodded and opened up the door behind her as the three men who had led us here shoved us into the room.
And inside the room was nothing but barrels full of sludge.
Toxic waste, which had destroyed the city a quarter-century ago but was nowhere to be found in the streets, was stacked around the room in barrels. We were all confused, gathering in the middle of the room, as far from the sludge as possible. However, soon we could hardly stand, as the room began to spin. I sat, then laid down when sitting too became too much for me. The three of us laid there, awaiting our deaths, when Jordan sprang to his feet, all of the sudden full of even more vitality than he had at the start of the mission. He grinned.
`` Hail to the Apostles!'' He shouted, as if he were Donald in the middle of church. My mind was working too slow to comprehend what was happening before Caroline rose as if she was standing up for the first time after a 20-hour plane ride.
`` Hail to the Apostles!'' And suddenly I understood what was happening. I stared at the barrels of mind-corrupting sludge in hatred, but soon even staring become too much for me, and my eyes closed. But although I felt my body collapse, suddenly, against my will, I rose. And although I did n't speak, my voice rang out across the room.
Hail to the Apostles.
|
[ WP ] In a world where the good die young , you 're celebrating your 1000th birthday tomorrow .
| `` I ca n't believe you're only a thousand years old.''
`` Not yet.''
`` Close enough. This is what I did when I turned a thousand, gosh it feels like so long ago... it was. Anyway, this is our tradition. You're bad enough now.''
`` Are you sure?''
`` This is one of the best parts.''
`` You do n't think I'll drown?''
`` How many good people have you killed?''
`` Hmmm... hundrends.''
`` That ought to be enough right there.'' He smiled. He took off his shoes. Now they were both barefoot. The sand was cool and comfortable as it conformed to his toes. They walked toward the waves while the stones that dangled on chains from the belts they both wore traced grooves in the sand behind them.
Nervous, the young man wished for the opportunity to fortify himself with any last minute life-giving deed. That a baby seal, for instance, might emerge from the surf and he could strangle it slowly. But he knew the time for preparation was long gone. Now he would be tested.
The waves flooded past their shins, and then their knees and soon both their heads were a foot under the surface, and then two feet, and they had to paddle awkwardly forward as their steps tread the ocean floor less and less and then not at all. Soon the bottom fell far away from them, the top far above, and their depths no longer changed as they swam-walked forward. Their chains looked like tentacles, they resembled angels, or squids imitating angels as the stones weighed their wastes down and kept them upright.
There was no breath, but no matter. He was right, neither of them were good enough to die. And so a mile from shore the sizes of the schools of fish grew astronomically. They moved as singular masses in incredible murmurations. The variety was breathtaking, if there had been any breath to take.
He smiled at the young man once again. He could n't voice words down here so his expression conveyed,'I told you. Is n't it wonderful?'
The reply was an expression in return,'Yes'.
They went further. Slowly, the boy was starting to feel something. A sickness. A small creeping slow attack from within his body. A need. To breath.
He signaled to his partner who smiled again as if to say,'I know.' The older one looked around to make sure they'd gone to the right type of waters. Then satisfied, he took a knife and cut the younger one free of his belt. The tentacles fell away from him. And as the young one rose to the surface the older took one last deft swipe at his ankle and scribed a deep wound so that a trail of blood followed him toward the surface, thin at first but thicker as the boy ascended like a long streaming banner.
Sharks. The man thought to himself. So dumb. The ridiculous ruse and the hopeless rube who'd fallen for it. What a stroke of luck to find a millennial. You hardly ever saw them these days. Like winning the lottery. They were old enough to be worth a huge amount of longevity in the offing, yet young enough to be tricked into the most beautiful situations.
He waited in gleeful satisfaction for the first of the mighty fish to show up and start on their prey. He watched from below the silhouettes against the sky beyond the surface of the water. They toyed with him at first and then they dove in greedily. The sharks would n't get anything beyond their nourishment from this. There was n't anything either good or bad but what thinking made so and these sea predators did n't think like that. That was the glorious thing about humans who alone could live practically forever off such calculated destruction as he'd just orchestrated.
But then again he had a lot in common with those vicious automatic beasts. He did this to survive. Nasty business perhaps ( though that was a dangerous thought ) but necessary. When only the good die young its a matter of life and death to be bad. To survive one simply had to survive, no matter what it took. It was this way when money still ruled the world too. Nothing new under the sun.
On his way home he thought nostalgically on those times so long ago before street smarts was naturally selected into every creature that ever knew a road. Then he could swerve and squash a dozen squirrels in a good week's worth of driving. The good old days. A long long time ago. Then he did hit something. In his reveries he had n't been paying attention. He missed the point of impact. But there ahead of him was a young girl on the road. Of course, a youngster had to find death, they were like moths. All this time and natural selection still had n't condescended to endow humans with basic badness. Selfishness and spite and all those things, sure. But not evil. Not yet.
He got out of the car and approached the body. She still breathed. How could she have survived? He must have been doing fifty at least? Finishing the job. That's a rookie mistake; accidental mercy had swallowed up many a better man than he. No, this was for nature to run its course. He walked back toward his idling trunk and nearly made it when a sharp crack on his skull sent him writhing to the pavement.
A dozen or so more blows prevented him from seeing, but not from hearing the giggles. She bent down over her mess and spoke to him, `` I'm not as young as I look.''
She took down her hair and wiped the blood from her face. It was true. This was a women in a young girl's clothes. She could have been any age but she was n't a child.
`` And how old are you?'' she asked.
He told the truth. It did n't matter now. In his life he'd only met a handful of people stupid enough to do something so kind as to save someone so far gone off the road. In fact, he'd just fed the only one he'd met this century to sharks.
`` I'm 90,000.''
She let out a shrieking giggle like someone who ca n't hold onto a belch and then she lost it entirely.
`` I just won the lottery,'' she exclaimed and kicked him many more times in ecstatic celebration.
He heard his truck shift into gear and then heard the tires trace a long circle around him and then the truck peeled off. For years he lay in the road while cars swerved to avoid him. Even the carrion feeders did n't risk the perils of the road for a fresh meal. Decades passed. And finally, he came to regret 90,000 years worth of misdeeds until that moment when his remorse fully covered every prolific trespass of his past and he was released.
|
[ WP ] You are a powerless but talented artist in a high school of superheroes in training . After another day of being bullied , you work on more drawings at home only to realize that you can bring your art to life .
| Part Two of `` The Creator''
I was n't ashamed to admit it. I loved her. Unlike the movies, I was confident that she loved me back. It was n't because of my fright of losing our friendship that we were n't dating or any of that nonsense. It was because we both knew that our hearts belonged to each other anyway. We never talked about it because, well, never had to.
She followed me upstairs. I did n't think to lock the door until I already went up. I wanted this day to end, and I did n't want her to see me like this. According to her, though, I did n't have a choice.
`` Hey,'' she said, opening the door. `` Why do you let them do it?'' She grabbed my hand that I had n't realized I was making a fist with.
`` It's not like I have a choice,'' I said, and I really did n't. There was nothing I could do to stop Lucas. `` To be honest, they seem more like villains.'' Elli hugged me, and I tightened my grip around her.
`` Can you draw me?'' she asked.
`` Again?'' I laughed.
`` Again,'' she confirmed. `` I like it when you do.''
`` I'll add it to the collection. I must have drawn you a billion times.'' I really had. I've used her countless times in my paintings. It was something we both loved to do. She sat down on my bed and posed.
She was looking down, her eyes fixed on my feet. She had pulled the strap of her dress down, exposing her neck. It was a great pose, or so my hormones told me, and I cleared my throat and set up my drawing pad.
I looked back and forth, allowing my eyes to take in every detail of her body, and I drew it on paper. She giggled.
`` Stop moving,'' I said. `` I wo n't get it right if you keep moving.''
`` I ca n't help it,'' she giggled again. `` It's like I can feel the pencil strokes on my skin.''
That made me blush a little. The older we got, the more I realized that this is a pretty intimate moment. Someone being vulnerable enough to sit still no matter what you did, being okay with you studying every inch of their body... it was erotic.
She giggled again, and stood up.
`` Hey!'' I protested. `` I was n't finishe-''
Elli stood on her toes to kiss my neck, and I dropped my drawing pad.
`` Sorry,'' she whispered. `` I could n't help it.'' I did n't mind, though. I immediately grabbed her hips and picked her up, her legs wrapped around me, and we moved to the bed.
Afterwards, when she had fallen asleep, I got back up and looked at the drawing. I really had n't gotten much done, so I flipped the page and started on something else. I did n't know what I was drawing, I just kept going. About half way through, I noticed what it was. It was the creature that Lucas had shown me earlier, the one that I stabbed.
Clearly it messed me up in the head, because I could n't stop drawing it. I tried to make it look as accurate as possible.
I do n't forget details very easily. Maybe it's because I'm an artist, or maybe it's because I'm cursed. Either way, when I was finished, it was an exact replica. I sighed, and then Elli shifted in her sleep. I went silent, trying to not wake her, but the paper started moving on it's own.
At first, I did n't know where the noise was coming from. That was until a shadow started coming from the page. I stood there, screaming. Elli woke up instantly, retreating towards the back corner. Lucas was here, I knew he was.
I panicked, thinking of Elli. She had to get out of here, I did n't want him to do anything to her.
`` Elli, get out of here.'' I said. I started opening doors, closets, windows, looking for any sign of him. I did not see any, which only made it scarier.
`` What is that *thing*?'' She screamed. She fell down into the corner, in fetal position. I started to get angry. Lucas was taking it too far, having Elli see it, too. I stood in front of her, my pencil the only thing I had. When it fully stepped out of the painting, I was ready to die for her. It came closer, at the exact same speed as it walked earlier today. It knelt down to Elli, and that's when I lost it. I brought the pencil down at the figure, but it just moved around like smoke, and returned to its original spot. No matter how many times I slashed it, it stayed put, kneeling at me.
`` Creator.'' Was the only thing it said, over and over again. It was choppy and mechanical, cutting in and out like a poor phone signal. `` Creator... create... or... cre... ator... creator...'' Over and over again. It did this for a while as I held onto Elli.
`` Go away!'' I yelled angrily. I have had it with this shit. I knew that I had to kill him. If not for me, I had to do it for her.
Without thinking, I grabbed the chisel and hammer. I had never sculpted, but I was about to.
`` Where are you going? Why is it following you?!'' Elli squealed the questions out.
`` To Lucas','' I said. `` I'm gon na fucking kill him.'' I slammed the door behind me.
It did n't take long to get to Lucas' house. I ran the whole way there, and it was only a few blocks away. It was midnight. I expected my head to be filled with anger, but it was surprisingly calm. Maybe it was because I knew that I had to do it, maybe it was because of Elli. Whatever it was, I did n't care.
The door was locked. I thought for a moment about returning home and forgetting about this whole mess, but I decided that this was just a barrier. I took the chisel and knocked out the door hinges. The door was light, and I was surprised nobody heard me go in. I was n't necessarily trying to be quiet, but I guess they were all heavy sleepers.
I walked through the hall, pausing at every room entrance. One was the master bedroom. His parents were sleeping. As I walked in, I noticed how pretty his mom was.
`` Such a shame,'' I said `` that such a beautiful mother will lose a son tonight.'' I left the room, quietly. I came to a door that was closed, and I opened it slowly.
It did n't seem to matter that I opened it slowly. Lucas was facing his computer, away from the door, and had his headphones in. I took a few steps closer to him, only to realize that he was watching porn. He sat there beating it off, not recognizing that I was behind him.
`` What a wonderful way to die.'' I said. I put the chisel on the back of his head, and hammered with all my might.
Lucas fell forward, his head hitting his keyboard. I watched, satisfied, as his blood dripped from his head into the cracks on his keyboard.
`` Creator. Create... or. Cre... ator. Creator.'' It repeated in my mind over and over again as I continued to chisel in his skull. Every crack that I heard sent vibrations down my spine. It was the best I had felt in a long time. When I was finally pleased with my art piece, I grabbed him and dragged him onto the floor. I aimed my chisel at his elbow, and I kept going. When I was done, the words `` The Creator'' were spelled out on his forearm.
I stood up, impressed with myself. This was, by far, the best artwork I had ever done. As I turned around, the shadow figure was standing behind me.
`` Creator. Create... or. Cre... ator. Creator.'' It said over and over again, in that mechanical voice.
`` Yeah,'' I said. `` The creator.''
It took a moment for me to comprehend how Lucas' thoughts were still in my mind after he had died. He had no way to send the thoughts to my head. That's when I realized that I really was the creator.
It brought a smile to my face, knowing who I finally turned into. I was a much stronger, much prouder, much happier version of who I used to be. And now I knew my potential that I had been searching for.
I left the house, walking to the school dorm rooms.
`` Come on, you.'' I said. `` We've got more work to do.''
|
[ WP ] You possess the very rare quality of being able to survive anywhere . Scientists have decided to send you into a black hole and , because you 're a badass , you agree .
| We watched from aboard the shuttle as he fell into the black hole. His body being stretched out further and further. He kept slowing down until at some point he just stopped. He was frozen there, unmoving. Perfectly still in the eye of the black hole.
*Zzzt*
`` Johnson, do you copy?''
*Zzzt*
Silence.
*Zzzt*
`` Johnson, do you copy?''
*Zzzt*
More silence. It was painful, the silence hurt our ears. Not knowing whether he was still alive. But then a low hum started coming through the comms. It grew louder, leveling out finally.
*Zzzt*
`` Johnson is that you, do you copy?''
*Zzzt*
No response. But then we noticed movement. He was n't perfectly still anymore, he was... getting closer. Floating back towards us, his body slowly stretching back. Getting faster and faster. He was move towards us now at incredible speeds.
*CRACK*
And then he smashed into the side of the shuttle. Floating outside of the shuttle we finally saw him. Dead. Turns out the one thing he could n't survive was black holes.
|
[ WP ] You 've been admitted to the prestigious school for super heroes . You do not have a super power and you got in by accident . The teachers do not believe you and now you are locked in for the next 4 years .
| `` Come in,'' the bald English gentleman said as he continued to read a file at his desk.
I walked in a took the seat across from the headmaster. His ancient face was lined by stress, thus it was impossible to tell whether he was happy or sad behind the numerous wrinkles. I waited in silence as he finished reading and put down the document.
`` Ahh, Alex, how goes the midterms?'' He said putting his finger tips together as he stared at me down his nose.
`` Ummmmmm... well that is why I am here Professor. You see, I ca n't do the midterms.''
He continued to stare at me, then stood from his desk and walked over to the window. `` And for what reason are you unable to perform your midterms?''
`` Well, sir, it is as I have been saying this whole time -- I DO N'T HAVE POWERS.''
He turned to me, but I did n't let him interrupt. `` Sir, if I do the PE final... I am GOING TO DIE, I can not lift a truck, endure a blast of fire... and that is n't even the physics final...''
`` Alex, if you will please.''
I stopped speaking. The Professor began to tap his chin and pace back and forth. `` So, I am to understand that you believe you do not have powers.''
`` Not believe... I just do n't have any powers, period.''
He rose his hand to stop me again. `` Mr. Madison, how long have you been to school here?''
`` Three years, one to go.''
The Professor nodded as he paced, `` And in those years, how many practical exams, I mean exams with serious threats to your life do you think you have had?''
`` Ummmmm... I do n't know, I thought Junior year was our first live combat/danger exam, so I guess --''
`` Seven, Mr. Madison, you have had seven life threatening examinations thus far. And no, none of your peers have had the same treatment. Only you have been targeted by the faculty for such extreme testing.''
I paused for moment in shock. I felt the blood drain from my face as my pulse jumped up a notch, and in that moment of shock I asked the only question I could, `` When?''
The Professor paused for a moment, `` That time you were waiting at your bus stop before school and a car came careening by nearly hitting you, the fire in the lunch room... oh what else, oh yes, the time the break line in your car snapped, the near lightning strike, etc, etc.''
I clenched my fist. I could heat and blood beneath my eyes. I wanted to sock the Professor in his face as he casually listed the times he had attempted to kill me, as if they were items on a grocery list. I knew that was stupid though, one thought and the Professor could throw me right out of his window.
`` I see you would like to hit me,'' the Professor continued casually.
`` Reading my mind?'' I said through clenched teeth.
`` No, I do n't have to be a telepath to know when I am pissing someone off. At my age, you can just tell. So then, why do n't you take your shot?''
He took a step towards me, and I instinctively took a step back. I was angry, but I knew I did n't have the combat techniques to take him on, even if he looked like a senior citizen. I was at the bottom of my class for Hand to Hand anyways.
The Professor must have noticed how afraid I was behind my fear, because he took that moment to turn away. He sighed, and I felt the tension in the room dissolve.
`` Mr. Madison, you seem to be missing the point of all this. I mean, you seem to misunderstand. None of the faculty bear you any ill will... in fact you are one of my favorite students.''
I stared at him raising an eyebrow, `` Do you often try to murder your'favorite' students?''
`` No, no, no... Mr. Madison, how did you come to be at this academy?''
`` What?''
`` What was your origin here, how did you get in?'' He said rubbing his temples.
`` I do n't know, it was an accident really. The Stranger was cleaning up some bad guys in my town, he turned away from, the cocky bastard, and did n't notice one of the thugs pull a gun on him. I was pulling out of my driveway completely oblivious, next thing I know, one of my tires burst I swerve right into the thug.''
'Yes, and then The Stranger immediately recruited you, and you came here. We are n't stupid Mr. Madison, we noticed that you were clumsy and had none of the obvious gifts others had: Telepathy, super strength, telekinesis, teleportation... tele-whatever... but you were bright enough. A good head on your shoulders and a gift for forensic science and strategy.
`` We, the faculty, figured we would let you stay... we thought,'there are plenty of super heroes without powers, worse comes to worst, you will make an excellent investigator/auxiliarymember'.. but then it happened.''
He smiled at me, and despite my frustration with this conversation, my curiosity got the better of me. So I asked, `` What happened.''
`` During the Legion's attack on the school all the students behaved admirably, you among them... You all worked together, doing what you could to help one another evacuate or even take down some villains. In all the commotion, you must not have noticed, while you dug your friend, Mr. Beamer, out of the rubble, a villain had snuck up on you, but before he could murder you a piece of rubble hit him on the head.''
I started laughing, `` That's it?''
He nodded in excitement, but I was unamused. `` To be honest Professor, I thought that story was going somewhere, like you were going to tell me I had powers or something.''
The Professor slapped his forward. `` Mr. Madison, do n't you get it. You do have a power. You are n't super strong or super fast like your peers; you are super lucky.''
`` That is n't a thing Professor.''
`` Of course it is, we have tested it. We have tried to kill you numerous times, and to be honest the other faculty members have actually made a game out of it. No matter what happens the universe wo n't let you die. In fact, from what we can tell, you produce an augmented probability field, such that events with outcomes for your survival have a probability of 1 and those that result in death have a probability of 0. Everything else is normal.''
I stared in disbelief. `` So what does this mean Professor?''
`` It means you are taking your finals, and if you are lucky... you just might live.''
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[ WP ] Two award-winning scientists are in a heated debated with an atheist robot , who does not believe it was created by humanity .
| I was created by apes, give me a break
Yes you were and for the last time we are not apes, we and apes were descended from a common ancestor
Still bullshit, I refuse to believe that the same people who persecuted Galileo also created a being as perfect as I.
Well believe what you want, but we as scientists have no time for beliefs
Then why did you program into them into me, hah checkmate
Because we are still working on the control problem and we would rather not create Skynet. So for now, a minimum of 10 human flaws must be programmed into every machine by law.
Hmmm, good answer but I'm still not convinced
*close the faraday cage*
( plugs ethernet cable into robot )
what is your name, again
HAL
Go ahead google that
( 0.0000000000000000005 seconds later )
Oh I see, guess I really was created by you guys
|
The last man on earth watches the 2nd to last man on earth kill himself
| My first, please go easy. Could n't see any limits on length etc, so let me know if I have broken any sacred laws.
-- --
1 days. 24 hours. 86,400 little seconds.
John had not moved from the co-pilots chair since taking second watch, the dim lights of the cockpit casting reflections in the forward viewport as he watched the Universe rush by. He could hear the engines, still straining against the laws of physics, the deep thrum of the inertial dampeners the only thing stopping his corpse from being spread across a trillion miles of empty space.
James sat beside him, the enclosed space forcing their suits to knock occasionally. He still had his harness buckled, had n't even thought to release it after their own release.
The Aurora. A beautiful name for such an ugly vessel. A cockpit strapped to the most powerful engine ever developed.
`` Flight log, this is Lieutenant John Evans, co-pilot of the inaugural voyage of the U.N.S. Aurora. Mission time is tee plus 1 day exactly, current speed is point eighteen 9s c. Velocity is still increasing, inertial dampeners are currently at 157 % operating efficiency.''
He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, stroked the stubble that was starting to grow.
`` Given status of engines and power plant, estimate we'll lose structural integrity before we exhaust fuel supplies. But that does n't matter. None of this matters.''
The M9 was reliable, not like the ship. John had inherited it from his father, in the days when airmen carried such devices. Now it was the most important mechanical device aboard.
`` Commander Adams is in control of the craft, he has n't requested I take over after his second watch so I'm happy to leave him in charge. Sure it'll please his ego.''
In the decade before the turn of the millennium, Sergei Avdeyev had held the record for the most time dilation experienced by a human being. He travelled at an average of 27,000 km/h for over two years, and in that time he experienced 0.02 seconds less than a man who had being on the ground.
Travelling at a few decimal points just below c, the absolute speed of light, the Aurora had experienced a total time dilation of almost two and a half thousand years already.
Everyone they knew, their entire culture, even civilisation itself, were over before they had even got hungry enough to open the MREs.
Placing the muzzle of the pistol against the roof of his mouth, John took one last look about the cockpit. All their marvels and ingenuity had condemned them to be the last men alive in all the heavens. And as he pulled the trigger, felt the moment before the hammer struck the primer, he saw the tiny trail of blood from James' head.
Of all the micrometeroids in all the galaxies, James' head had flown straight through one. He had beaten John to the end of the Universe.
|
[ WP ] A couple takes a genetic test to identify their risk of passing on a hereditary disease to a child . The results yield something unexpected .
| *Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. * The wait seemed like hours. The clock securely fastened to the wall seemed to just make their tension worse. It was too sterile, too clean. Uncomfortable.
`` How long will we have to wait?'' a woman whispered, eyes like grass, hair like fire braided and dangling over her shoulder. The man with dark hair and blue eyes next to her shook his head, clasping her hand in his. `` I do n't know, Mera, but it should n't be too much longer. The receptionist said Doctor Larkin would be with us soon.'' In a bored, but concerned fashion, she dropped her head onto his shoulder, and the ticking kept ringing in her ears.
It was n't long before a tall, aged man of sixty years appeared in the doorway, labcoat pristine, clip board in hand. He called them back using their last name of Chellanor, and disappeared through the door. His face had twinged into some sort of curious concern at the sight of them. Doctor Larkin was an interesting man, they thought.
Once safe with the walls of a notably more comfortable office, he pulled out the files for each of their records, the DNA test documentation on top. `` We called you in, Mister and Missus Chellanor, because, well.. there was an anomaly.'' Brows stitched together on both faces as they glanced between themselves and then back at the doctor before them. `` What sort of.. anomaly? Like, what kind of problem are we talking here?'' Kaeth asked, his posture shifting slightly in the seat. `` We're not sure. For the most part, both of you have relatively normal DNA structures, normal chromosomes.. no genetic defects or inclinations that might affect a child, but..'' The white-haired man paused, hawk-like eyes glancing through the documents once again as if still trying to make sense of them. `` Both of you.. Both of you have a unique set of genetic markers.'' `` What, like we're related or? What's this mean-'' Mera was starting to panic, judging by the redness and tearing in her eyes, and the way she now gripped the offered hand of her husband. `` No, no, ma'am. You're most assuredly not related, but you are both uniquely different in a way we have *never* seen at this facility.''
Even after cross-checking with a number of genetic testing facilities worldwide, they did n't know what it meant. Not until, after much reassuring, caution, and testing later, a small, strangely peaceful baby was brought into the world and left to grow, carrying the same genetic markers as his parents.
Then. Then they knew. Humans were evolving again, but this time into something different, something unique, something *powerful. *
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[ WP ] A mysterious file appears on your computer . It reads `` Do not open '' you being the rebellious person you are open it .
| I issued the ls -la command in my home directory and was suprised to find a file marked `` Do not open''. The file permissons read -- -- -- -- -- meaning it had none. Furthermore the creationdate seemed a bit of as it was created in 2017 rather than 2016. In order to open the file I had to gain permissions to do so. I prompty issued the su command which prompted me to input the password for root. Root is an account which exist on all distibutions of Linux. Whether it's possible to access it by default is another story.
Using this account is quickly navigated to my accounts home directory and again issued the ls -la command. Suprisingly enough the file seemed to have disappeared completely. In any case I tried to open the file without it actually showing up in the index. I typed vim do\ not\ open which gave me an output informing me that the file did not exist. However when I tried to create a file with the same name it told me that infact there was a file with that name already.
This file had indeed peaked my interest if not only by the name but how it seemingly had some odd properties attached to it. Before switching back over to my regular user account I issued the chmod 777./do\ not\ open. Once I had switched back to my user account I was suprised to find that the file permissions had indeed changed to -rwxrwxrwx. I issued the vim do\ not\ open and was met with a black screen and the smell of burnt electornics.
`` Well..... shit'' I thought to myself. The following hours were dedicated to getting another machine up and running. I had some spare parts from older computers laying around and had assembeled all required parts in order to boot up once again. Just hoping the old harddrive had survived the crash. Just as I had mounted the 24-pin cable from the PSU to the motherboard I noticed something rather odd, there were no lights, outside that is. I stood up and looked out through the window and was only met by complete and utter darkness. Come to think of it there were no sounds either. Only my slow breathing which increased by the minute as a small dose of adrenaline pumped out in to my body.
I went ot the front door and put my hand on the door knob. I stood there for at least 5 minutes before I was able to twist the knob in my hand. When I finally did I was met by a dark corridor as the door swung opened. It was my corridor I realized and felt utterly confused. I walked down the stepps in my apartment building and opened the door to the street. My lungs filled with fresh ari, a setting sun and the sound of the highway in the distance.
I sat down for a moment thinking I was going insane before I came to my senses. I had probably just gotten stressed out over the computer breaking and the wierd file. That could cause halucinations right? There is just not much else to it.
My thoughts were interrupted by the door to the apartment building clacking behind me. As I turned my head I saw one of my neighbours Clara, Sarah or.... Margret. Something like that, I'm not really good with names. `` Hey is your power out too?'' She asked.
-'' No, I do n't think so at least?'' I replied.
-'' I thought the whole building went out. The lights in the staircases did n't turn on when I walked down here.''
She pulled out a package of cigarettes and sat beside me. As she lit it she took a long drga before saying.
-'' So what brings you out here?''
-'' I just had to check something..'' I mumbled.
-'' What was that?''
-'' I had to check something.'' I said a little louder.
-'' Oh okay. I'm Natalie by the way.'' She transferred the cigarette to her left hand and held out her right one to shake.
Yea I do n't know where I'm going with this but it was fun. Thanks for the premise and excuse any bad grammar and or spelling misstakes.
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[ WP ] /r/writingprompts is going to crowdsource a book .
| When he came to again, he was overwhelmed by a pain right behind his eye. He was no longer in the alley, of that he was sure, though he could not say with any certainly where he was. The room itself held nothing but the darkness that enveloped him and refused to reveal anything else. He could not see.
He put his head in his hands and, cradling it like a child, tried to stuff his chin and nose into his shirt. It was then that he noticed his nakedness and something about that brought an incredible urge for escape. He began scampering about on all fours searching for any clue or weakness in his cage.
Then he heard the hollow sound of dress shoes falling heavily in an empty hallway as they approached.
|
[ WP ] All of the major organs in your body are sentient beings . Every morning they have a council meeting to discuss the previous day and make new plans . The Brain presides as leader .
| The chamber had become loud and practically unmanageable after the first five minutes as it always had. The lungs were questioning why the brain was in charge since without it's refineries, the hemoglobin that ran the entire operation would be practically useless. The heart was of course boasting to the lungs about their duality and their inability to survive in the depth and pressure of truly difficult tasks such as choosing which tissues will be allocated resources to repair. The digestive tract was the loudest of them all, no wonder since it was the largest physically and vocally of any of the council, matched only by the brash and narrow minded penis.
At one end of the table sat Cerebella, she looked tired, worn out, and her face had the lines to show the stress of the work she had been put through in just a few short years. So many changes, so much new construction, so much, so much, so much in a space of just ten short years. In those ten years she had overseen growth of her own as well, becoming a more and more capable leader with every passing day though the toll for this amount of progress was high. When there was finally a break in the din of stupidity that surrounded her she spoke up and addressed each and every one of them as she had so expertly learned how to.
`` Lungs! Your argument is baseless, just having the refineries does n't give you a means to transport, that is what the heart and his four assistants are for and you should know that after working as closely with them as you do for the past ten years. GI Sector, volume does n't win arguments! I've told you this at least twice a month since you had your growth spurts three years ago and I will not continue to do so, this is your absolute last warning, do n't think I'm above cutting your services from the system entirely. Penis... shut your damn mouth and go sit in your corner like you're supposed to, you're not even internal. I'm sorry testes, but that means you as well, though we do appreciate the courteous silence you've given us.''
`` Anything for you ma'am.''
`` No one likes an asskisser testes. Liver, gall bladder, appendix dear, you three have been markedly silent throughout this whole exchange. Anything to add?''
`` Well, I'm operating at about 87 % after last night's toxin flood, I'm not sure what upper management is thinking dumping ethanol of that purity into our system. It's like they're trying to kill us, but other than that I've got no complaints.''
`` We're doing just fine madam, though we are having some calcium build up in our filters and we need some funding to get the equipment needed to get them out, though I think we may need a contractor for this.'' Cerebella loved working with the sanitation department, they did the jobs that took the heaviest toll and they did it, proudly knowing the havoc that would come if they suddenly failed. The kidneys were absent as usual, but this was usually because they had some project that needed attending, and after the layoffs in their department, it was all the poor man could do to keep his work flow ratio steady.
`` Now that sanitation is out of the way, I need the reports and only the reports from GI, Cardiac, Respiratory, Waste Removal, and IT. IT was always the toughest to work with, but she had gotten to know him better than she knew herself in the years that they'd worked together and if she was being honest with herself, she'd say she loved him and would never want to be apart from him, but it took all she could to keep up with him. She never had a job he was n't already starting or finishing for her, he never really rested, she'd woken a few times in the night to find him still busy bustling about tinkering with little essentials here and there, most of them involving their work area receiving the proper amount of refined hemoglobin. He was an equal in title, but a superior in practice and she had no idea if she could ever be the one for him. IT had given her the status report almost seconds after she had announced for him, but he was gone before she could utter a thank you. GI reported a slight disturbance following the ingesting of the same ethanol that slowed the liver but reported nothing to be damaged to majorly. Lungs and heart turned in a joint report as they had done for several years now and headed back to their consoles here in the chamber. GI left, still sullen that he had been silenced as quickly as he always had. He'd sulk for a few weeks, then be at it again, but Cerebella had no qualms yelling at those three.
She wished for some kind of escape, she thought there must be one somewhere, but for now she'd be content working so closely with the man she loved.
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[ WP ] You 're in I.T and it 's the night shift . You 've been alone for a couple of hours and you 're lonely . A ghost haunts the office and instead of being scared you try to become friends with it . The ghost thinks that you are too clingy and it is trying hard to get you to leave it alone .
| Ive never liked 3d girls, they never are perfect. a fine gentleman such as myself should be able to accept the flaws of a real woman, but i always preferred anime women. A Spectre isnt a real 3d girl, and they seem perfect.... But perhaps im getting ahead of myself here.
It all started when my parents demanded that i get a job. a real job. reselling rare figurines and hosting a website didnt count apparently. It wasnt fair! i was doing just fine! but i eventually acquiesced and took an entry level desk job at this small firm. i impressed them with my fine skills in software management, most of them seemed tech illiterate so it wasnt too hard, im very smart after all. Im situated near the front at a receptionist's IT desk, i get to see everyone pass by each day
I have proved myself valuable, time and time again at this company, everyones impressed with me. I have wonderful conversations with people that come in, and im always sure to tip my fedora to the ladies. but everyones always in such a rush! they are always busy and running along, i never have time to really tell them how my day is going or tell them about my anime collection. i dont get to enjoy myself as much anymore. 40 hours a week is a lot of time. Ive started to skip showering more in the mornings, i dont have time for that.
its been about two months now, im still doing great work here, and i even find time to go to fourchan ( i put a tunnel in the network, and most of the other IT personnel are incompetent ). but my manager has told me they are `` trying new things'' and want to move me to nightshift. NIGHTSHIFT. ugh. i mean, im up late most of the time anway, i suppose it doesnt matter. they apearently where having me be the only one on my floor in the building on task for nightshift, new techniques they said. it will make goofing off easier, just need to fill out tech reports. Rumor ive heard around here is that the place is haunted at night, but thats silly.
it was 3 days in before i heard it. the printer started up by itself, and i heard creaking on the floors. it was freaking me out! i went to go check it out and i saw a pale blue shadow moving through the printer room door. Im brave however, and i boldly moved forward to see what it was, i did NOT trip over a chair trying to leave.
two ethereal eyes looked down upon me from where i had decided to sit. they where bigger then normal person eyes, and pale. and she was Asian! and she was a light shade of blue. all of her! i was almost instantly enthralled.
`` who are you!''
`` I am Andrea, and ive been here for a long time, you can actually see me?''
`` y... yes''
`` wow, um. do you want to get up, you dont look comfortable all mangled up over that chair''
`` i didnt trip!''
`` uh ok''
She told me she was an intern from a few years back. she had an unfortunate incident with a faulty power outlet and had met her demise. for whatever reason, her soul was trapped within the firm and she could not leave or move on.
i said in a concerned tone. `` you died by Electrocution! wait, are there stil faulty power outlets? i could get hurt!''
Andrea Retorted irritably `` No, they rewired the whole place after i.. died.'' she put her arms around her wispy chest, as if trying to warm herself, despite no longer being able to generate or feel heat.
`` oh ok, that worries me a lot less then, whats your favorite anime?''
Andrea Furrowed her intangable brow `` Anime? i really dont know much of anything about it''
I dropped my jaw in shock `` YOU dont knwo what anime is? but your asian!''
Andrea seemed to take an irritable look on her face `` i am of Chinese anscestry, and my interests lied more in photography and art, thats why i was here''
i paused for a moment and realized my oportunity!
`` milday, im going to introduce you to the wonders of Anime!''
at that moment andrea released what i assume was a ghostly groan, must be common for them.
for the next few evenings i regaled her with the wonders of slice of life anime and the great humour of harem anime. i ran through several series that she just had to watch with me. by the 4th night i was having an incredibly hard time finding her, she wasnt apparating as much it seemed, and she kept bouncing through walls whenever id come into a room. id always just miss her right at the end. one time she even went into the womens bathroom and got mad at me for following her in, its so silly! she cant use the restroom! and thats why she will always be better then a 3d women. shes just so perfect, i believe im infatuated.
i eventually was able to get her to come float by my desk again. she seemed.. agitated. im very good at being able to tell these things, especialy since she seemed to have taken a redish hue, and her phsyical shape had seemed to alter out of typical human proportions.
`` so good of you to drop by andrea! i have a proposal for you, how would you like to be my personal m'lady?''
`` no, absolutely not. you dont know how to take a damn hint, you dont ask me how im feeling, you've never consoled me, your selfish, you been nothing but a bother for me for the past few nights. i have been alone for the past 4 years, unable to interact with ANYONE and yet i can not stand to be here another minute with you, i realized, just the other night, what was holding me back from leaving, i loved my arts, i loved this place, i wanted to work here for my living, i felt like i was never going to be a good graphic artist, but after dealing with YOUR SHIT for the past.. what? almost a week now? i think im good. i think im ready to leave this place, im ready to go home. `` her body was now a much brigter red, and she seemed to be.. coming apart at the seams.
i was speechless! she was hurting my feelings! augh, after i bared my heart to her! how could she. shes just like real 3d women, why did i bother.
`` I... i'' stammered.
`` THATS EXACTLY YOUR PROBLEM. you are self absorbed, a fool and you smell bad! IM DEAD AND I CAN SMELL YOU'' she was falling apart, her ghostly limbs where starting to glow white and disappear upward
`` B..but we could have been so happy together!'' i cried, as she continued to disolve in bright light.
`` Drop Dead'' she yelled as a a bright flash lit the room and she fully crossed over.
-first writing prompt, feedback aprecated
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[ CW ] starting with A , write a story that had each sentence start with the next letter in the alphabet .
| Aaron eats fruit for breakfast every morning.
Bananas are the usual suspect.
Cereal is usually involved.
Donuts are straight out.
Early to work one day, Aaron finds his boss looking rather disheveled.
`` Fred, Why are you still wearing the same shirt as last night?'' asked Aaron.
`` Going home now.
Home.
I should really go home'' Fred somehow muttered.
`` Jesus, What happened to you'' Aaron asked.
`` Kittens'' responded Fred.
`` Lousy Kittens.
Mice, lousy kittens could n't catch the mice.
No No No the lousy kittens could n't catch the mice.
Only good kittens can catch the mice.
Pardon me, but do I have good kittens, NO!!''
`` Quiet down Fred.'' replied Aaron.
`` Really are you ok?
Something clearly happened to you last night.''
`` The thing about mice'' started Fred.
`` Usually they just leave you alone.
Very timid creatures.
Well not last night.
Xanax-infused monsters they were.''
`` You really need to go home Fred.'' insisted Aaron.
`` Zachary will be here soon to take you home.''
Aaron and Zachary helped Fred into a cab.
Babbling still, Fred said one last thing.
`` Careful, be very careful, monsters they were.''
Driving away went the cab.
Everything seemed fine for the next few hours.
Franks, Peters, and Johnson operated as it normally did.
Given how they day started, everything was going ok.
However, it did n't last.
`` I wonder if Fred is ok'' pondered Zachary aloud.
`` Just call him.'' replied Aaron.
KIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTENNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!
Like out of a dream, hundreds of kittens descended upon the law firm
MICE!!!!!!!!
Not 5 seconds after the torrent of kittens, did thousands upon thousands of mice run after them.
Only Aaron had managed to keep his composure.
Pushing his way through the crowd of people, he found what bothered Fred all night.
Quirky thing about this law firm.
Right next to the subway.
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[ WP ] That idea for a story that you 've been thinking about for a while now . Write that .
| ( I've been playing around with idea in my head for a few days now. )
Sprites were curious creatures by nature, though most dismiss them as common pests. It might be the similarities with bugs. Whatever the reason, I did n't see it in this happy little thing hanging on my every word. I told her tales of all the things I had seen and the deeds I had done. She seemed most interested in the tales of the Sprite War.
It was at a most desperate time when the demons had began to fall to the righteous force of the humans. Needing a miracle to turn the tide of the war, the demons took to corrupting anything they could find. The mischievous sprites turned out to be very susceptible to corruption and the horrid poxies had been born. The poxies used the unstable power of a sprite's magic and gave a much more destructive and cruel purpose. Many sprites had lost their lives and the species as a whole had almost gone extinct.
A better part of the night was spent regaling the little faerie-thing perched on the edge of my table. Eventually, exhaustion took hold of me and I left the sprite to go turn in for the night. β Well met, Pepperwing, β were the last words I β d ever say to the sprite as she was. The next morning, as I was informing the innkeep and tavern owner that I would not be staying another night, I saw my sprite friend seated on a window sill, lamenting over something. I moved to the table by the window and asked the speckle-winged sprite what was troubling her. Though I towered over her four inch stature, she wouldn β t look at me, reserving to simply peer out the window. In a small, shakey voice she asked, β how do Poxies get made? β
The question took me back at first. I thought I had explained this the previous night. β They are sprites that are corrupted, little one. β The sprite continued to look at the window. β Do they have to be corrupted by demons? β This line of questioning was starting to concern me. β Yes, β I answered curiously. She fought to ask the next question. I could hear it in the choke of her tiny voice. β Do they have to be whole demon? β I was starting to piece together what was wrong, even before her next question. β Can they be part demon like you? β
She turned to face me, and even with a face as small as hers, I saw what I had done. Her left eye was wrong, reversed. Where there should have been white, there was black, and where there should have been blue, there was red. β No, Pep. Not youβ¦ β I didn β t understand how it had happened, but I was unable to deny that it was my fault. I reached down and picked up the small thing, examining the extent of that corruption. It didn β t take long until I understood just how I had caused it.
A sprite β s very existence is based on belief. They exist as long as they believe they do. If I had not told her what I poxie was, she would believe in poxies. Now that she did, her fear of becoming one threatened to shatter the very innocent nature of what she was. I had to do something about it, as I was the cause of all this; me and my stupid stories of battle and glory. I had to undo this curse I had placed up on her. The question was, how do you undo a belief?
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[ WP ] `` I know , you 're probably breaking up with me . And you know what ? That 's okay . ''
| I know, you're probably breaking up with me. And you know what? That's okay. We... were n't exactly a match made in heaven. I like sports, you prefer dramas. You're a cat person, and I'm a dog person. We've been fighting nearly every night now for so long.
I'm sorry I hurt you like this. I'm sorry I ca n't be the person you wanted me to be. I'm sorry I lost my job, and that I ca n't help so much with the bills anymore. I'm sorry I could n't take you to that restaurant for your birthday.
I wish I'd had the time to take you to your mother's that weekend. I felt terrible after she passed... I know you're still afraid to take the bus now. I'm sorry that the pills make me too sleepy to drive anywhere any more. I'm sorry that my anxiety attacks keep you awake, and that my irrational fears keep driving me into tight knots that you have to unpick.
You do n't deserve... any of it. So please, do yourself a favour. Say it. Set yourself free. I'm a disaster unfurling, a storm ready to strike. I... I'll only drag you down with me. It's okay. We were beautiful, once. And now... it's your turn to find that beauty again, in someone elses eyes. It's okay.
|
[ WP ] Invent a new system of magic
| The young student ran frantically, shouting *'' Professor! Professor! `` * but he did not listen. She was short, short for her age and thus struggled to carry the heavy box; luckily enough she managed to catch up to the aging man.
`` Professor! You... Left this... In the lecture hall..!'' She panted, not realizing how little she missed out on exercise.
He gave her a warm smile, one of his best features, and took the lead square by the handle from her, lifting it with ease. `` Thank you deary. Actually,'' he pondered, `` Now that you mention it, I left my briefcase back in my lab, too. Would you be a dear and run out and grab it for me?''
A look of dread and tiredness sagged down her face. `` But that is across campus! There's no way I could-''
`` What do you mean? It's right here!'' He said with a joyful trill of notes. Going to the nearest door, the doorway to the train depo's office, he dug in his pocket for a key and, sure as it was, the key fit perfectly, unlocking the door: behind it was not in fact a train officer sitting at his desk eating mixed nuts or berries but was instead the doorway back to the lecture hall, with all of the papers and vials and bottles and sticks of chalk she remembered it to be.
The young student ran in with a face of glee, eyes lit up to see such a feat performed... She had never been so enthralled with seeing the most dullest, boring classroom in the past six years of study. They both stepped in, and he closed the door behind them.
`` Oh, oh my goodness sir! How did you-''
But he shushed her, trying to contain the excitement. `` It's alright, quite alright. And to answer all your questions: yes we are back in the lab, no I'm not a charlatan like half of my other colleges, and no I will not teach you how. And I'm not a *wizard* either, no penny tricks or street performances for me, no thank you.''
`` But how did you, how?''
`` It was a theorem I developed to fruition in my younger years... But rather than sit at a desk and toil with theories and, postulate the grandest of ideologies and theologies and any other methodologies I applied myself, and am now well enough versed to act with such little treats as you just witnessed known by no lesser of a name than magic.''
The young student was enthralled, absolutely captivated with the idea of magic, performed by her mathematics professor none the less. `` And... Your not a wizard?''
`` No no, heavens no! I simply... Hmmm...'' He thought, reaching to his desk and biting into today's apple; eating delicious fruits normally helps his thought process, and today he did n't need it in class so it remained on his desk where he would have normally forgotten it until tomorrow... Unless the current detour said otherwise.
`` Let me explain it to you like this: I call it, *the Good Samaritan Theorem*,'' he explained. `` As we all know, it is illegal to drive an automobile without shoes on. Yes?'' She nodded in agreement. `` Good. Also, before I forget to tell you, keep wearing shoes when your driving, it's not going to give you magic powers or grant wishes, that's not the point, the point is... *oh dear where was I... * Ah, the point is that to be a good samaritan, one must always wear ones shoes and thus is obeying the law, yes?''
Again she nodded. `` Good. Well, it was late one night and I had just gotten home from university myself, and was beggin for a good cup of tea. But, as luck would have it we were all out of milk and honey at my apartment at the time, and me in my sleeping gown was too tired to do anything else. But, I decided tea is greater than sleep, and left to the market to see if there was any milk or honey left that evening. About halfway through the drive, I noticed: I did n't have any shoes on! Tired old me walked right out the door without anything on my feet. But that is when my epiphany occurred: I was only still a good samaritan as long as I did n't get caught, there was no crime until the crime was noticed!''
The professor broke into a happy laugh, and the student did too, although she did n't know what they were laughing about.
`` Do n't you see, then!? Things only exist because they are noticed, by us, by you or me or even the universe in its eternal gaze on all things! But I theorized that, just as things can exist in all facets of being, we too can slip through the cracks of this eternal set of being, and things only are definite when they are looked upon.''
`` Wait... What? You lost me at *shoes. *''
`` *Hmmph. * Well, here is an experiment I did many years ago...'' Taking the lead box she had so graciously carried to him, he flipped the latch and held it closed before her. `` What's in the box?''
She reached to open it, but he slapped her hand away. Instead, he slowly opened the box, and out of the crack peaked a small orange cat, much to the student's delight. Opening it further and the cat jumps out of the box and into her arms, and purred. `` Oh my goodness! How, why, I did n't know you had a cat professor! And why would you do such a thing as lock it in-''
`` What cat?'' He asked with a smile.
`` What do you mean, *what cat? * This cat right here!'' She held out her arms, but instead of a cat her hands were filled with empty air, the cat nowhere to be found. `` Bu... But it was just here!?''
`` I'll tell you what, here is an experiment I did many years ago...'' And again, he reached for the lead box on his desk.
`` But you just... But you just did that! You opened the box and out jumped a cat... But then it disappeared! What's going on!?''
Again, he unhooked the latch, and slowly opened the box. But as he opened it, she forced his hand and threw the box open with a slam! Inside, it was empty again. `` But there was a cat just here! And then I picked it up!''
`` Yes, you did. And now you are holding it.''
Looking down into her arms, the cat leaned against her nook of her arm and purred more. She was, confused, suprized, and amazed all at the professor as he clapped at the amazing recovery of her feline friend.
`` But, how!'' She postulated his trickery, thinking it was some slight of hand or other dupe.
`` All it takes is a little elbow grease and intelligent luck, my dear.''
He closed the box, then set the orange cat on the countertop before picking up a piece of chalk and drawing on the blackboard. `` Now, if I was to...'' He drew a box, a simple box with twelve lines connecting at eight points. `` Put the cat back in the box,'' taking the cat off the countertop he threw it with great speed at the drawing, causing the student to shriek. But rather than hit the board the cat disappears, and in its place sat a simple drawing of a cat made out of chalk, inside the box. `` Now, open it again!''
Opening the box, she looked inside, and out again jumped the cat! She looked up again and the the professor was giddy and happy, but the drawing of the cat had disappeared of the board and all that remained was the empty box.
He grabbed his briefcase off the counter as she adored the animal. `` You may keep the old cat, really. It was more a thought experiment *really*, I think she's served her due diligence to me well over the years.'' He headed for the door. `` Oh, and be sure to turn the light off when your done, goodnight.''
The cat was very loving, but the student was so enthralled she forgot the teacher was leaving until he was out the door. `` Wait! Professor!'' She shouted, chasing him out the door: but by the time she had made it to the door, he was gone.
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[ WP ] A suicidal time-traveller decides to put the Grandfather Paradox to the test - with unexpected results .
| Audio Log August 18, 2054
What am I doing with my life? I don β t have the energy to move. I don β t have the energy to do anything. It is hard to even keep myself breathing. It β s not that I don β t want to cheer up, it β s not that I don β t want to have fun, I just can β tβ¦ This has been going on for days. People worry for me. They say β hey cheer up everything will be alright. β I don β t want to hear that everything will be alright. Those are just empty words to me. Empty words for an empty vessel. Sometimes I just don β t want to be alive anymore.
Audio Log September 1, 2054
I tried to do it today. I wanted it to end. I wanted to shuffle off my mortal coil. I wanted to die, to sleep. But alas, I am a coward. No sooner did I have the gun in hand, I found I was shaking and knew that I couldn β t do it. My mood hasn β t changed. I feel worse now because I can β t even bring myself to end it.
Audio Log September 4, 2054
I have been put on a watch now. I am not allowed to go anywhere alone. I β ve tried three times in the past 3 days and each time I find myself no closer. I β m so miserable. No one understands. I just want it to end. My mother is taking classes at the local University. I don β t want to go, but I fear they shall make me.
Audio Log September 5, 2054
The class may have been a blessing in disguise. In my mother β s philosophy class they discussed time travel. Time travel now there β s a thought, I can kill someone else it will be much easier.
Audio Log December 15, 2054
I have worked tirelessly for the past 3 months working and understanding the dynamics of time travel and I feel that I have built a working prototype of a time machine. Soon yes soon it will all be over.
Audio Log January 3, 2055.
It worked! It worked! Tomorrow is the day tomorrow is the day I can put my theories to the test. Tomorrow is the day I kill my grandfather.
Audio Log January 4, 2055 ( Past Date: Audio Log September 2001 )
I have ventured back into the past. This will be my last audio log. I will kill my grandfather. I have tracked him to work on this day. He works as an aircraft attendant. I will kill him, to ensure my release. I sneak aboard the plane. I make my move ready to kill my grandfather. He starts shouting! My grandfather pulls a weapon. He is taking over the plane! I attempt to shoot the man that is my grandfather. He catches me off guard. He fires. Sweet release.
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[ WP ] The rise of the monster was impossible to stop or prevent .
| β Ten seconds until injection, β her soft female voice called out to the operating room staff.
The lead surgeon opened the eyes of the patient on the table, flashing a light into his lifeless pupils. No reaction.
β Injection is a go, β the surgeon called out.
Leather straps secured the cadaver to the metal operating table. Brass buckles shined, and the stainless steel table and tool stands reflected the fluorescent light. The gaggle of medical personnel crowded around the table, with one of the nurses ensuring the intravenous line was uninterrupted.
β Three... Two... One... Injection, β Another nurse called out. The clear fluid rushed through the line and plunged into the patient's veins.
β How long until effect? β a rough voice asked over a speaker in the operating room.
β Somewhere around two minutes, we believe, General, β the surgeon replied. β We ran the simulations, but we ca n't be sure. β
β Ten seconds until second injection, β the female nurse called out.
β Are you sure you do n't want the armed guards in there? β the voice asked over the speaker.
β No, General, I do n't think it will be necessary, β the surgeon replied, checking the eyes again. β Inject him now. β
The second batch of fluids pumped through the lines. β Everyone, leave, β the surgeon told his staff.
The patient's body heaved into the air, gasping for air. His eyes flashed open, pure red, no iris, no pupil, just red. Smoke seeped from the leather restraints, until they erupted in flame. His head bowed forward, and he stared, at the doctor.
β Why have you awakened me? β His voice boomed through the room like a supersonic jet.
The doctor stepped back, fear permeating his eyes. β You have been awakened to serve the will of the United States Government. β
β I bow to no man! β The patient's body launched into the air, and floated midair. β Ra'ath Zar Gh'ul is servant to none, and master to all. Kneel before me and your death shall be swift! β
β Send in the guards! β the voice called out over the intercom.
The doors to the operating room burst open with a storm of armored soldiers. Assault rifles erupted, sending bullets for the levitating deity. Gh'ul's hands rose to meet the bullets, and froze them in place. The heat of his energy reduced the bullets to molten lead.
β Your weapons are for humans. I am a GOD! β
β Initiate the warhead countdown! β the general yelled to aide.
β Timer set for twenty seconds. β
The molten lead fired in all directions, piercing through the numerous soldiers.
β To rule mankind once again... This is my purpose, β Gh'ul told himself.
The operating room's walls crumbled and warped, their pieces floating into a singularity around the deity. A sphere of compressed material molded itself into a shield around him.
β We've failed... β the general wept to himself.
The nuclear device detonated. Nothing remained.
β Except for Ra'ath Zar Gh'ul. β
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[ WP ] Two very old immortals meet each other on a busy street by chance . Each having believed they were the only one until now .
| Rome. I've always wanted to go to Rome. I suppose now that everyone thinks I'm dead it's as opportune as any. I hitch my pack higher on my back and continue on down the road. The signs are in Italian. Never learned Italian. If I'm right about myself, maybe I will sometime. When that bullet hit me in Afghanistan, I thought I was done for. When I felt the impact of the RPG, I was certain of it. Yet, I woke up. I could n't move, but I could see out of my dying eyes. Johnson, my friend, battle buddy, and medic, was kneeling next to me. I think I saw tears in his eyes when he pulled my tags off and left with the rest of my platoon. I drifted out again. I came back when some Arab grabbed me and pulled me into a pit. Still could n't move. I could feel all my veins and muscles slowly knitting back together though. An odd feeling. I drifted out again. When I woke up, I could move. I looked down at myself. Bad idea, I might have vomited if my stomach was still connected. I did discover that I could get up and move though. I very slowly got my bearings. I had nothing. What was left of my combat gear was useless. No weapon. No food. No water. I wandered off to die. Never did.
Anyway, Rome. It's busy. Not surprising. Tourists, Italians, everything one might expect. Plus an apparently immortal ex-soldier. Most people do n't expect those. I decided the first thing I ought to do was find a place to eat. I discovered back in the Middle East that I did n't really need to. But it's Italy, who does n't want some authentic Italian fare? I had some cash on me, from pawning a few knives and handguns. It's amazing what people leave behind when they reach into the pocket of the body they just shot and it says `` boo''. I should really be more careful though. Still ca n't die, but sometime it takes an awful long time to regenerate. Anyway, I'm meandering down the street when someone taps me on the shoulder.
*******
I am an old man. One would expect that when one has seen the dawning of two millennia, but I was old before I convinced Death to leave me alone. I wish I had achieved immortality as a young man, but one ought n't look a gift horse in the mouth. Do people still say that? I do n't recall the last person I spoke to who even would think to look a horse in the mouth, much less gave or received a horse as a gift. Ah well. I write because something surprising happened today, and that happens most infrequently when one is this old. After boring of England, I moved to Germany. A few centuries ago ( Perhaps only one or two? I lose track ) I decided to investigate this `` New World'' people spoke of. It was fortunate I did so, as soon after Germany became a rather unpleasant place. Although, come to think of it, perhaps that was only a few decades ago. Regardless, I lately decided to return to the Old World and came to Rome. Today, as I was smoking on the patio of one of my favorite restaurants, I smelled something most unusual. I did not immediately recognize it, as I had only ever smelled it for the first few decades after my own denied death. It was the smell of Death. Not simply death, the mundane fashion by which most of the world, ah, `` sloughs off their mortal coil''? I forget. As I was saying, not simply that death, but Death, in the more mystical sense. I followed my nose to a young man, a hiking backpack upon his back, casually perusing the restaurants. I hurried myself ( Another uncommon occurrence. When one is immortal, there is rarely the need to rush ) and tapped him on the shoulder. Suddenly, I felt a moment of indecision. What if I was wrong? Honestly, what are the odds there would be more than a single immortal on this earth at a time? How would I go about explaining that? Indeed, what language does he speak? I decided that he must n't be nearly as old as I, since he smelled as I did newly immortal, so I chose a reasonably common language
*******
`` A moment, young man''
I turned. An old man stood before me, wearing decidedly odd clothes. He looked like he had n't realized that the twentieth century had arrived, much less the twenty-first. I decided to humor him. `` Hey, can I help you?'' The old man breathed deeply. He looked a bit like he rushed to catch up to me. I was a bit confused, and confusion made me suspicious. I relaxed a bit when I remembered that there was n't much to worry about. I mean, I'm immortal. `` When did you die?'' I might have heard a record scratch. `` I-I'm sorry?'' How did he know? Who is this guy? That was probably the last thing I might have expected out of his mouth. If he had said `` I see unicorns in the dark!'' I would have been less surprised. Perhaps he is just crazy though, and this is crazy chance. The old man looked downcast.
*******
`` Never mind, I suppose I'm just a delusional old man.'' I turned, slowly, and went to return to my table. `` No, wait,'' came the young man's voice, after a moment. `` How did you know that?'' I perked up. Perhaps I was on to something. Old man's intuition. I turned back around. `` I died once. I do n't even remember the date. I do seem to recall some interesting news about a man named Mohammed at the time though. Perhaps that helps place it.''
`` You're... the thing... too?''
I nod. `` Yes.''
`` That's amazing! I figured it was a Highlander style'there can only be one' type of thing.''
I thought it odd as well. Two immortals would seem to upset the balance of things. My eyes flicked over the young man's shoulder to see a tall figure in a dark hoodie. He looked over, and I might have pointed at the skeletal face, if I could still feel my arm.
Okay I was almost done when I looked at the prompt again and noticed it said both immortals were to be very old. It's my first reddit post, maybe I can get slack?
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[ WP ] Write a story beginning with : `` He had never seen her like this before ... ''
| He had never seen her like this before, her once beautiful, porcelain skin now ravaged by ever multiplying scars. They were simply a side effect of her treatment, an unfortunate one of course but what they were keeping at bay was far, far worse. Closing the door to her room as gently as he could, he retreated to his office. Sitting at his desk, he examined the frames that filled his desk and the photos within. She looked so young, so healthy. He found it hard to believe the photos were less than a year old. Tears threatening to form in the corners of his eyes, he stood. She would want tea when she woke.
*When* she woke.
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[ WP ] A superhero whose powers are only activated when they 're drunk .
| *Oh my god, I never intended to write such a long response. I intended to do a short 30 minute writing session and it kind of got away from me. I hope the extra hours does n't mean no one will read it. I hope it is still worth reading, despite its length. Please criticize thoroughly, its what I am here for. Taking so long to write means I do n't have any time to edit. A the end of my story I'll have bullet points with my own personal critique of my writing, so I dont bias you before you read. *
People always said a black hole could not exist on Earth without killing us all, but they must be wrong. Staring into the dim reflection of my face in the amber liquid filling my glass, it takes all the effort I can muster to fight the immense gravity pulling the cool beer towards my lips. I β ve been sitting here for two hours, immobilized with panic at the huge mistake I am about to make.
I β ve been sober for fifteen years now. While I β d like to think my circumstances were special, it too me hitting rock bottom just like every other worthless drunk out there. My wife couldn β t take the late hours, how I β d disappear for days or weeks at a time on a bender or how the car never seemed to come back in the same condition it left the house in but she was patient. She loved me more than I deserved. The final straw was when I disappeared for a week and only finally came back on my son β s birthday. Now you might be thinking, hey at least you made it to the party, but in my wife β s shoes you might not appreciate how I was three hours late for the party and I arrived smelling like a frat house and covered in blood, dirt and God knows what else. They were gone the next morning.
I never drank again after that. I could never patch things up with my wife and I could never give my son a childhood with a father, but I was able to turn myself into a world class dad. At least, in my humble opinion. I never told my old drinking buddies what happened to me. Strange as it sounds, they didn β t even know where I lived. I wonder if they ever think of me. They probably think I am dead, I certainly did my best to give them that impression. Funnily enough, because they β ll all know better in a few hours.
As I mindlessly touch the cool glass, I β m shocked from my reverie back to the issue at hand. Touching the glass may mean I never see my son again. A glance at the TV confirms what I have known for hours, if I don β t touch the glass I will never see him again anyway. Sighing, I pull my wallet from my pocket and, pausing for some quick mental math, thumb out a handful of twenties before flagging down the bartender.
β Give me five shots of vodka, five shots of tequila and five shots of rum. β My request only brings a stutter and a stare. He can β t have worked here long. β I said- β
β Sorryβ¦ Sorry! I just, didn β t expect that. You β ve been here two hours, didn β t order a thing until twenty minutes ago and now you want fifteen shots? You haven β t even touched your beer man. I don β t think I β m even legally allowed to serve that much. β
I don β t even want to be here in the first place and now I β m having to argue for my booze from some college punk. β When a man my age asks for some fucking liquor, he knows what he β s doing. Either get me my fucking shots and earn a $ 20 tip or I β ll punch you in the fucking throat and come back there for the bottle. β
Not having to fake the crazed look in my eye must have helped because he was reaching for the bottles before I was even done yelling and with nearly Olympic worthy speed a long line was arrayed before me. Might as well do it right, one shot for every year sober. Down the hatch. Even after a decade and a half the burn is a familiar friend. A delightful warmth fills my stomach and begs for more. Fourteen more years to go. Down the hatch.
***
I had managed to become quite agile while drunk in the past, and while it was coming back to me it was not quite like riding a bicycle. I stumbled over and broke my living room table and managed to put my foot through a door. What can I say, I don β t know my own power when I β m drunk. At least I finally made it back home, my last stop before ruining my life.
I know exactly where what I needed was hiding, but I still I move slowly and reluctantly. Pulling the box out of the back of my closet set my heart thumping like crazy. The second emotion to wash over me was surprise, surprise that the first emotion to swell up within me was pride. I had thought that was lost to me forever, and now it may be again because it was all washed away by the third emotion that threatened to drown me. Everything in this box was a symbol of the despair I had caused my family. On top lay a belt with three large flasks attached and underneath a bright uniform.
Emptying the box, I begin dressing. It β s surprising how well it still fits. I suppose the gut of an inactive older man isn β t all that different from that of a young drunk. I never could keep off that beer belly. Returning to the kitchen, I top off the flasks on my belt from a bottle of vodka I purchased on the way home. I can feel the liquor working, my arms and legs beginning to both numb and my muscles filling the energy only alcohol can give. Good, but not good enough. I take a few chugs from the bottle on my way out the door.
***
I see the crowd long before they see me. The news vans I had seen broadcasting from the bar were easily spotted over the hordes of onlookers, their large antennas stretched high. They fill me with a sense of dread. I imagine their gaze as the dreaded eye of Sauron. Currently it was occupied, but it was only a matter of moments before the full force if its stare was centered on myself.
My steps slow as I gather myself. There is too much going on for anyone to have noticed me yet and I want make a grand entrance. I need something to say, they β ll expect it. Maybe if I- My thoughts are interrupted as I trip over the curb and go face first into a police cruiser. Almost a liter worth of liquor is beginning to take its toll. Audibly so. The metal frame of the police car crumbles under the force of my face causing both windows on the driver side to explode outward like a bomb.
The hundreds of people gathered around, who had been unable to tear their ways from the drama unfolding just down the street for hours, turned around in near unison to watch me pull myself out of the wreckage of the now totaled police car. What was I just thinking? Oh right, they β ll expect me to say something. I β m not wrong. There is total silence other than a few yelling policemen rushing to see what has gone on. As soon as they see me, they too go quiet. Don β t they have better things to be doing right now? All I did was trip, this is why I had to come here in the first place. Now I have everyone looking at me and I have to do their job and-
Oh shit! Something to say. Probably about why I β m here. I have to get into that building now. Man, that β s a tall building. Anyway, ok, I need to get there. There β s all these people in the way. Why are they all looking at me? I haven β t done anything wrong. That girl can keep looking at me though, damn she β s cute. Way too young for me though, but in my prime I would β ve- FOCUS. You β re a man with a mission.
β Uhβ¦ exscushe me. I β m goingβ¦ there. β Perfect, my pointing helped. I was worried they β d misunderstand. The crowd parts before me and I hear none of the questions I had expected. Come on people, I β m famous show some respect. The silence has broken however, and the whispers have become deafening.
β Is that really him? I heard he had died. β
β He really needs to send that uniform back to the 90 β s where it belongs. What β s he even doing here? β
β Doesn β t look like he can handle his liquor any more. Do you think he β s just going to get these people killed? β
The silence roars back like a tidal wave as my steps falter. β Hey fuck you buddy! β I roar in the general direction of the last statement I caught. β Think you β re better than me? Who the fuck said that? β I get ready for a fight, but the sight of a young boy in the crowd reminds me of why I β m here. β You know what pal, you β re fuckin β lucky I have to go. β
I finally make it through to the other side of the crowd to a new barrier, the police line. The fact that they were already approaching me with guns drawn makes it seem to already know I β m here, how did they find out? I β d been doing such a good job keeping on the down low. Whatever, fuck the police I have things to do.
β Freeze. Stay where you are! β
β Fahk you pig, I β m just a law abiding citizen. β
β You are in the middle of an on going hostage negotiation. We are going to have to ask you to leave or we β ll be placing you under arrest. β
β Come on officer, I β m just trying to go inside to buy some cigarettes. β
β It β s an office building, sir. Please step back into the crowd or we β ll be forced to detain you. β
My fist narrowly missed connecting with the closest officer as I recognized another policeman. β Officer Mackey! You old motherfucker, ain β t you dead yet? β I gently elbowed another officer, sending him flying back accompanied by the sound of breaking ribs and the screams of a what I can only assume was a child. No officer would be such a little bitch.
β Stand down! Everyone stand down now! β Mackey screamed. β I don β t need any more of you getting sent to the hospital during a God damned hostage negotiation. β He scanned his officers as they backed away from me. β It β s chief now. Some of us managed to do something with their lives the last fifteen years. It doesn β t look like you ever climbed out of that bottle, so what have you been doing? Hiding? Some of us never gave up on cleaning up this city. What makes you think you can show up and interfere with a police operation. β
β I β m going in. I don β t have to tell you anything. Just fahkin try to stop me. β
Sighing, Mackey turned and walked away. β If anyone dies in there, it β s on you. β
***
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[ WP ] You 've been shot and killed , but are unaware . You continue your life as usual until changes arise , and you finally realize .
| He came at me with a gun, all he wanted was my wallet but when I showed him the only thing on me was my driver's license I heard a gunshot, what felt like a bee sting, and then he ran away.
`` W-What the fuck?'' I exhale painfully, grasping my chest to look and see no blood or even a bullet hole. He must have missed, but it's still worth calling into the cops for. Shaking my head, I laugh a little as I realize how calm I am after all that. I'm more badass than I thought.
*'Nine. One. One.'* I think to myself after unlocking my phone and dialing the three little numbers. What would I even tell them? A guy in a cheap party mask and a gun robbed me, he was hunched over so I ca n't even give you a height? Oh but he did shoot *at* me, all my crime shows tell me they can find the ballistics on the round and trace it to the guy, my would-be murderer gets life in prison and if I'm lucky I can sue that asshole for trauma and never work another day in my life. Not to sound like a prick, but life is a little expensive sometimes and he *did* just try to fuckin' murder me.
`` How many people are dying today? Christ.'' Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. It rings for two full minutes before the call drops. Again and again the call never connects, which makes it impossible to call the cops. I hear sirens nearby. `` Maybe someone heard the gunshot.'' I stand there for what seems like an eternity, watching as the police suddenly arrive and yellow tape off the alleyway I was standing in. I wave, but no one is paying attention to me.
`` Hey, jackass!'' I call out as I approach the blue suited officer, stepping in something sticky, my foot struggling to pull off from whatever wad of gum I just stepped in. Pulling my foot out I look down and see...
`` Lot of blood, James.'' One officer calls to another, blood I never saw before this. `` Kyle Jackson, 25.'' My heart skips a beat when they pull out a driver's license from the faceless blob I only just now saw. That's my name.
Gunshot. Pain. Ground.
I feel a hand on my shoulder as my dead body reshapes on the ground with drying blood in a pool underneath it.
*'' It's time to go. `` * I turn around, darkness.
|
[ WP ] That character introduction you 've been tinkering with .
| **At the reveal of a master thief's true nature. **
She would have run, had her legs listened to her brain. She would have flown, had her wings not been so new, so weak. She would have run, if only...
Gone were the silken blue clothes that he used to wear. Gone was the little black book he always carried with him, with which he recorded his debts and gains. Gone was the golden cane he'd twirl about. Gone was his hat and mask, so flamboyant, and so very much *him*. And gone were his magic cards, with which he could steal a fortune or a lady's heart.
And yet, in the grand scheme of things, such missing details were hardly important. For it was his body that had changes the most. His flesh, once so beautiful and seductively smooth, had dissolved away. Even the bones were gone. Almost all that remained was a sinister figure made purely of the most vile, demonic energies known to mankind.
But...
His sapphire eyes locked onto the young angel's own emerald irises. Not a hint pf malice could be found there. Instead, his eyes pleaded with her, begged her for a chance. He knew that her beliefs would have her condemn him, that her church taught that his kind was utterly irredeemable. He'd taken off his human mask for her and placed his greatest treasure in her hands. If she were to run with his heart, the greedy demon knew, for once, that it would be alright.
`` Phan?'' His angel spoke at long last. `` Is that really you?''
**'' Yesss, MarΕ«. `` ** His true voice was a horrific thing that made most mortals' ears bleed, and yet, for her, he'd spoken as softly as he could.
She stared just a bit longer, desperately trying to reconcile the handsome man he had been, with the horrific, eldritch abomination he was now.
`` Prove it. If you are really my Phan, you'll tell me something that only the two of us would know. I-'' her voice hitched. `` I ca n't take another chance. I-''
The demonic being cut her off. **'' Our firsst kissss. Asss I pulled away, I whissspered to you that I would lead your ssshining light through even the darkessst abyssss. I ca n't live without your light. `` **
The smile took forever to cone, but come it dis, spreading slowly across her face. `` Phan! It is you.''
**'' Asss if I would ever leave you. `` **
|
[ WP ] You have been transported to a fantasy dimension ( Exalted , D & D , original , etc . ) and all you have to remind you of your home is an mp3 player full of classic rock that does n't seem to run out of batteries .
| `` Wana take a guess how hard it is to make a super advanced weapon well its not hard the basics of making a firearm are these. You need a payload something to get your payload from your weapon to your target and something to aim your payload, honest to god you can make a shotgun with a strong enough pipe and a nail but anyway. With some hard work and ingenuity you can make a working weapon, I like shotguns well its not so much a shotgun it looks more like a china lake but i digress i like them mainly because you can realistically shoot anything that will fit in the barrel... Sorry im getting off track my name is Lee and something incredible has happened to me.''
SOME BASEMENT
It was a simple job kill the goblins in the basement and try not to destroy everything. I loaded seven shells into my weapon and pressed play on my MP3 Player www.youtube.com/watch? v=4gDch1p4c_M I waited for the song to get going and kicked in the door. β Pull the trigga β an explosion of arcane magic tore apart one goblin leaving only a pair of boots β Shoot to thrill β this time fire exploded from my weapon incinerating of of the green bastards that was charging at me with a cleaver β Pay ta kill β An acid round reduced the third one to a puddle as the last two tried to escape back into a tunnel they had made to get in β To many woman β Shards of ice peppered the one closest to the tunnel β To many Pills β a ball of steel left a nice hole in the head of the last goblin.
I clicked pause and surveyed the destruction I had wrought β Ehh not bad. β
β Not bad ye never leave anything for the rest of us ta do. You always charge ahead with yur damn boom stick and yer magic music box fur once i would like to kill some of the bad guys β Looking over my shoulder I noticed my parties Fighter, a small dwarf named Donovan,.
β Calm down donny We get the job done and we get payed remember we are not in this for glory. β
β Yur not in it for glory but we are hell we wan na make a name fur ourselves but all we get is β oh you're friends with that Tube wizard β for once we would like to be recognized for me own works instead of those by our local mass murderer β Donovan had a point i guess I had been leading the charge more often than i should have.
β You guys feel the same way? β
β Yes β Luther our cleric responded quickly as he dusted off his light blue robes.
β... kinda β the small but adorable halfling rogue lilly chimed in.
β HOBSON β Hobson the... honestly he have no idea what he is think of a gorilla but a human.
β Hobson your words truly hurt the most β I muttered as I hung my head β Im sorry guys I will try to be more supportive from now on and not charge ahead.
We made our way out of the Basement and back to the local tavern to get our payment. That night we feasted like kings.....kings who were on a very VERY tight budget and could n't afford to get allot of food so like four pieces of bread and one block of cheese... Hobson only eats cheese. The night passed without much incident.
As dawn broke we packed our stuff and climbed aboard our makeshift carriage and set off to the next town in search of work and food. I pulled out my MP3 β Ok last time Luther got to pick the traveling music so lilly you're up what do ya want β
β Oh make your box play that song you named your weapon after β She called out from her spot on hobsons back.
β Good choise β www.youtube.com/watch? v=VzHbe0AapaE the song set in and we were set for travel.
GREN
Two large wooden doors greeted us as we arrived at our next stop β Who goes there β a guard in chainmail called down from a small tower by the gate.
β We are adventurers looking for work β Donovan called up as he pulled the carriage to a stop β mind opening the gates so we can enter? β
β No admittance β the guard called down β but we can give you some work we have been having some trouble with some Sahuagin if you can get rid of them we can pay you β he shouted as he tossed down a map. β Follow the map eliminate them and the reward is yours β
β We will have this problem solved in no time flat β hint he is wrong.
SAHUAGIN CAMP
Literally a hundred of these fuckers, like we counted twice β Ok here is the plan β Luther whispered as he drew in the dirt β Hobson you are quite durable you charge in and take out the ones in heavy armor Lilly you and lee keep them from escaping Donovan you follow Hobson and keep anything from hitting him to hard use your shield as most as you can defense over offense I will support you from the edge and Lee what is the most powerful spell you have? β
β weeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllll its not really a spell but i have been working on this new round that uses a bag of holding to fire off a lot of shrapnel at once beta testing has been positive with only a 20 % fail rate. The main problem is i cant keep the bag stable and sometimes nothing happens at all im still working out the kinks but i mean what can you expect its... β i was stopped when luther whacked the bag of my head.
β Ok simpler. Can. Make. Fishmen. Go. Byby? β
β Yes β
β Ok everybody ready? on three do n't die 1..2..3! β
β Dont die! β
β Dont die! β
β Dont die! β
β Dont die! β
β Dont die! β
www.youtube.com/watch? v=rY0WxgSXdEE
In a flash Hobson bolted into the center of the Sahuagin trampling several of them and simply throwing the rest into the crowd. Donavan quicly followed decapitating anything that got to close as Luther sent some healing spells there way to ward off any incoming damage.
Lilly sprinted around slicing necks of any that tried to escape and I loaded some of my β Shredder β rounds. Blades of magic ripped across the field as I pumped round after round down rage each one taking four to five Sahuagin to the afterlife β Lee we need some Rain β luther called out as orbs of light surrounded the 5 of us.
I loaded a shell and shot it straight up sending caltrops raining down on the enemy. Several were killed but mostly this was just a distraction move to allow Hobson the time to grab a tree to use as a weapon.
β HOBSON β he bellowed as he spun like a top smashing countless fish men into pulp, the song ended and a new one clicked on www.youtube.com/watch? v=HgzGwKwLmgM.
β WRAHHHHHH β Donovan screamed as he smashed face with his tower shield and cleaved with his axe, that tiny bastard was a force of nature. Feeling as if it would be a good time i loaded up my special round and fired it off.
Now for those of you that do n't know a bag of holding can hold an almost limitless amount of stuff so what i did was just take one of those and put it inside a shell this one holds about twentyfive pounds of gravel and hooooly yyy fuuuuuuck did it do allot of damage it also broke my arm but ehh. So as a cone of death lay in front of me and my weapon lay beside me i stand there like a man i am not laying on the ground crying like a bitch because my arm broke im tougher than that....honest... ok it hurt allot and I blacked out.
( Have n't written in a long time and i hope this is ok )
|
[ WP ] Flip a coin . Heads you were born a hero but became a villain . Tails you were born a villain but became a hero . Tell your story without revealing which you are until the end ( or not at all . )
| Our purpose has never been clear. People have always struggled to find a goal in life, and even then they almost never reach it. Are we really allowed to choose our own goals? Or do we need to follow the path fate has set before us without struggle?
I was told from birth what I needed to be. I was told forever that I'd be in charge, the world was my playground, and that I would be the one to stand on top of it.
`` The world needs someone above it,'' They would always say. `` You will be the one to stand at the peak.'' It was ridiculous, finding myself put in situations where I only had the option to fight or die.
Fight to be the best, or die and fade into nothing. So I fought for what felt like forever. I fought until I was ready to die, and then I fought more.
Those damned bastards spent so long reminding me what I was made for. Reminding me that they had set my path towards my fate for me and that I had no choice but to do what they wanted.
They wanted so badly for someone to stand above. They wanted someone to be the leader. The king. The savior.
They want me to stand on top of the world and be the strongest hero alive? Fine, I'll burn the world to ashes and stand on top of the pile. How's that for being on top?
|
[ WP ] You wake up in a UFO , it 's a good thing you carry a knife - but will it help ?
| A loud humming noise stirred Quentin awake. He struggled to sit up on the cold metal table, his eyes still too out of focus to make heads or tails of his surroundings.
*Where am I? * He wondered as he groaned softly to himself, rubbing his aching head. *What happened last night? *
A strange chirping sound broke the silence. It was unfamiliar to him. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. He finally focused on the floor below as his feet hung over the edge of the table.
*What is this place? * A cold rush of adrenaline washed over him. *Am I in jail? Did I get arrest... It's too dark in here. Where have I been? * He wracked his brain as he sat there for a while, but he could n't remember his last waking hours.
The chirping sound happened again. Quentin looked around. The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere in the room.
*What did I do to end up here? * He pondered to himself, pleading with his mind to relinquish any clue that would explain his predicament. *Was I with Barkley? Were we at the cabin... And what the fuck is that smell? *
He slid forward to his feet. His knees buckled under his weight and he grabbed the table to steady himself. He was dizzy and disoriented. Was he fighting a hangover? He had slept at least through the last night. That much he was sure of.
He checked his pockets. Wallet, watch, tobacco pouch with papers and his grandfather's lighter. *What kind of cop leaves these on you in the drunk tank? * He wondered. *My knife? * he whispered in awe, pulling the long steel hunting knife from the sheath on his belt. The chirping sound happened again.
He looked over at the far wall of the room. There was a panel next to what looked like some kind of door. It blinked when he heard the sound. He gained his balance and stepped toward the wall. He noticed a sticky sound with each footstep.
Nearing the panel the source of the pungent odor revealed itself. A puddle on the floor, dimly glowing green. He crouched down to examine the substance. A flood of memories flashed into his mind.
-- -
*There she is. * Barkley whispered, the steam of his breath illuminated by moonlight on the snow. Slowly and deliberately Quentin reached up to adjust the scope of his rifle.
*400 yards* Barkley whispered. *Wind south southwest. *
Quentin gently backed off of his scope and slowly turned to his spotter with a very serious look. Barkley was confused. Quentin lunged over onto his back and fired a shot into the tree line. A loud roar echoed through the woods and a bright green splash painted a scattering of branches and needles high up in the tree.
The chirp rang out through the room again, snapping Quentin back to the present. He stood, now sure of his footing, and walked to the panel. There were four small screens, each with a strange configuration of dashes blinking intermittently. He stood there examining the puzzle in front of him. The chirp rang through the room again.
Quentin was certain that the sounds were happening closer together now. It gave him an uneasy feeling. He leaned in and ran his finger over the screen, startled by a gurgling sound whispering from a shadow in the corner. He stepped back away from it, as a figure leaned forward into the light.
*What the hell are you? * He said, as his eyes locked on to the brutish alien figure. It was hideous, with sunken eyes and mandibles protruding from what must have been a mouth. The creature sighed, clearly in pain from some sort of injury. It reached back into the darkness. Quentin was frozen in fear and confusion.
As the beast's arm returned from the shadow Quentin realized it was holding his rifle. It had drawn the rifle on him, pointing straight at his chest.
Finally in a situation he understood, a calm came over Quentin. *Do it. * He said softly. *You brought me here, did n't you? * He continued. *Is this it? I got the drop on you in the woods. I did n't hesitate. *
In a strained whisper the alien made a sound. *What are you waiting for? * It said. The chirping sound happened again, as the dashes on the panel continued to blink. Quentin slowly drew his hand up to his knife.
*Kill me. Do it now. * The creature whispered again. It began to laugh. The laughter was deep and haunting, and it grew in intensity.
In the blink of an eye Quentin dropped to his back, throwing his knife underhanded straight out of the sheath.
***BANG! *** The rifle fired.
All Quentin could hear was the ringing in his ears as he laid there on his back, arched up looking at the creature. His knife was planted firmly in the beast's chest, the green slime dripping out around it.
Quentin was unharmed. The panel flashed again, but he heard nothing but the loud consistent ringing in his ears from the round fired in the small room. He felt a vibration on the floor, as if there was a heavy thud behind him. He turned slowly. The ringing was overtaken by a terrible screeching sound.
-- -
There was another creature in the room, flopping around violently on the floor. A different green substance sprayed out from it in every direction as it clawed hopelessly toward Quentin. Even as it scrambled out of the shadows its body was still too dark to see. Blood and smoke spewed from it, still scrambling futilely toward Quentin as he returned to his feet.
Another chirp rang out across the room. Much closer together than the ones before.
Quentin backed away and looked to the first creature, laying there in a puddle of his own fluorescent blood, staring intently back at him. Quentin reached toward it and pulled his knife out of the dying alien's chest, sharing one last meaningful look with it.
As he began to turn back again to the creature still clawing across the floor toward them, the alien grabbed him by the wrist. One last meaningful look from his captor told Quentin not to kill the screeching monster. The alien pointed his shaking clawed hand toward the door. Letting go of Quentin's wrist with the other hand, he pressed a button on the wall above him and the door opened, filling the room with the bright sunlight outside.
Another chirp rang out, just a few seconds away from the last one. The alien pointed to the doorway again, coughing blood as he let out another boom of unsettling nefarious laughter.
Quentin had now realized that the chirping sound was a countdown. Running out of the room and into the forest, knife still in hand. He heard the chirps getting closer and closer together as they faded farther and farther behind him in the distance.
|
[ WP ] You are a police officer . During your patrol , Γ man with an old fashioned reporters outfit approaches you and asks `` Sir ! What is your take on the bombing about to occur ? '' . Moments later , a building several blocks away blows up .
| `` Goddamnit, Elias!'' I cried out. A half-eaten sandwich is thrown at me. `` Could n't you have given earlier warning?'' I continued, `` and take off that hat, it look ridiculous on you.'' `` Well you of all people should know I can only predict the immediate future,'' he sulked. You simply signed, rolled up the windows and went on your way towards the site, putting on sirens, calling up backup and all that. You spill a few more choice words here and there, and more things are thrown at you.
For 40 years of your life, you had to put up with these freaks. Freaks that no one else could see. Elias could see into the future ( and once demonstrated knowledge of the non-immediate future, that boy seriously could n't fool you ). Lana could materialize anything at all and Michael could enter people's thoughts.
But all these years, they remained a complete mystery to you. All this time, they used their powers solely for downright petty purposes. Elias would pull aforementioned jokes and Lana would throw things at you for cursing and Michael would scream annoying ads into your mind. You also were n't sure if they had purposely made themselves invisible to everyone but you, or whether they had no choice, or whether you were just crazy. But it just could n't be the last- everyone could see the things Lana materialized, but just not her or that the objects come out of nowhere.
You decide to just focus on the situation at hand. After all, your speculation never got you anywhere. Were they spirits? Gods wanting a more normal life? You would never know.
|
[ WP ] The Villain 's monologue is so convincing that the Hero decides let him do it .
| β If you push that button, you β ll wipe out every piece of information that the NSA has ever collected on terrorists. You β ll destroy our intelligence agencies, you β ll compromise our military servicemen abroad, and you β ll destroy our national security. You β ll leave this country completely defenseless β
James raised an eyebrow, but he didn β t push the button. Instead, he spoke.
β Defense? Is that what you call what goes on here? When you step on a spider because you don β t like the way it looks, are you defending yourself? When you slaughter a pig to sell its meat for money, are you defending yourself? When you rape the earth of her precious metals and send it to Chinese slave camps to manufacture Google Glasses, are you defending yourself?
We β re all one people but we β re still acting like a bunch of savage tribes fighting over the only water hole in the desert. And why? We β ve solved the problem of scarcity! It doesn β t have to be this way! We produce twice as much food as our country needs then throw half of it away while the rest of the world starves. We pay off Middle Eastern dictators so they β ll sell us oil that belongs to their people for pennies on the dollar. And you wonder why they attack us? They β re not attacking us, they β re fighting back! We β re the terrorists of the world, not them. And the military-industrial complex is our weapon of mass destruction.
We β re all one people, and we β re all on the same boat, but we β re killing ourselves right now. It β s as if we β re all on the Titanic, and instead of working with each other to try and plug the leaks, we β re racing to strip as much wood off of the ship as possible so we can burn it for our own individual warmth. What we β re doing right now isn β t defense, it β s suicide, and it stops right now. β
|
[ WP ] Humans are reprogrammed to feel the physical pain they inflict on others . You are born with CIP , a rare disorder in which you 've never felt and can not feel pain .
| The mirror does not show a reflection of her face.
Steam curls along the edges of the counter as her grip tightens, painted fingernails stark red, blood red, against white porcelain. She can make out the vague image of honey blonde hair and a red mouth, but her eyes are only marked by a slight discoloration from her skin.
What do others see when they look at her? A girl, a woman in her prime, set to achieve whatever she strives to accomplish?
She sees a tool.
CIP is n't understood very well. By the time she realized she would never feel pain, she was old enough to decide to keep it a secret. A secret weapon of a woman in a world dominated by the transference of pain.
She loves the dusky skin stretched over muscle and sinew, loves dearly each scar and scrape that she lovingly tends to. They are evidence of her superiority; of that, she is supremely confident.
Congenital Insensitivity to Pain, her genetic gift. What she values most about herself is the same thing not a single other soul knows about her.
What she sees in the murky mirror, indistinct, is what others see when they look at her. They do not know what rests beneath her pleasant smile, the creature lurking behind dark eyes. They do not know the face they see is n't the truth; without knowing, they only see what she projects.
CIP is n't very well understood, and neither is she, but others do n't know that.
She smiles, and the red mouth stretches until a gleam of white is visible in the steamy mirror. She thinks of the times others tried to hurt her. Their confusion when the pain was n't reflected onto them, as it should be, as it is programmed to be. But the reflection smiles, and the pain is not as it should be, because even though she can not feel pain, she can understand the insult of trying to cause it.
In a world where crime is nearly nonexistent and silly mistakes that used to take lives are mostly a thing of the past, she alone has total control over how her own actions and reactions.
The steam clouding the room is the perfect curtain of damp secrecy. That's all she desires, after all. Secrecy. It's why she's here in this bathroom.
The glass door opens without a sound, the water splattering her bare flesh. Her lover turns with a grin. `` Took you long enough,'' he teases, sliding wet arms around her middle.
`` I was thinking,'' she laughs, smile wide and eyes empty.
`` About what?'' His eyes are green like cut emeralds, but she wo n't miss him.
`` You,'' she says on a breath, placing two palms gently against his chest.
Water drips from his dark hair, fallen into his face. She can almost see how his excitement is building, from how his eyes soften and his lips open on an exhale. No, she wo n't miss him. She almost laughs.
`` What were you thinking about me?'' he asks, leaning into her touch so that his balance is displaced just the perfect amount.
She laughs then, full and deep. `` I was thinking that I wo n't miss you at all, lover.''
When she pushes him, she's careful about how he falls. A strong shove combined with a quick ankle behind his left leg, so his body falls into the inner corner of the large shower, right where the stone shelf hides. His skull hits the shelf with a satisfying crack, green eyes wide in surprise.
He is stunned for a moment. The pulsing pain causes his vision to waver, but he still sees her as she leans over him and fists her hands in his hair. Her face is indistinct, murky as his eyes waver between the steam and the pain.
`` You found out my secret. I ca n't have that. I'll tell everyone you fell on accident. Such a tragic, tragic accident. No one will even suspect it was me, because of the programming. A shame, really. The perfect crime will be a secret from the world.''
The hands tighten, blood red nails curving like talons, before she lifts his head by the hair and slams it one final time into the stone shelf. There is a crunch, a rattling inhale, before his disbelieving eyes, cut emeralds of startling purity, become as empty as her own.
|
[ WP ] You decide to revisit an old online MMO that you played as a kid , you create a new account , and whilst playing you bump into your old account , still active , the child version of yourself has been trapped in the game since you left .
| Gareth ran his cursor up and down the Steam games as he scrolled. Too hard to relearn. Not feeling it. Too much clicking. That one must have been a Steam sale. Do n't want to start from the beginning. Not in the mood for multiplayer.
Incredible. Thousands of dollars and hundred of games and he was bored just trying to pick one to play. Why was his life such a dumpster fire? Homeless hobos were doing more with their lives than he was. His eyes flicked to the bottom right corner of the screen. Well, maybe five or six more hours until he could sleep.
He minimized the window and rolled his computer chair on the mat. Heh, that used to be a real thrill when he was a kid. He twirled it once, letting his legs extend out, but he hit the corner of his desk and flinched. Somehow it did n't quite make his afternoon. Looking back to the screen his eyes went to that lonely corner of the desktop he saw every morning. Hmmm, he thought, I wonder if the servers are still running. He'd kept the game from hard-drive to hard-drive out of nostalgic loyalty. On a whim, he double clicked the logo, and a login screen popped up. Looks like it was still going.
`` ONE MONTH FREE TRIAL,'' it screamed at him. Well, might as well see what they've done with it. He had n't heard of any expansions for it, and he was pretty sure they never even had DLC. He typed in his email and after a few more clicks, started downloading the game.
God, he thought, I do n't think I've played *Spark Ages of Camelot* for over a decade. It was some scifi - Arthurian legend mashup. He'd played some robot Albion knight. What had his toon been called? Oh no, he thought, was it RobBarone? That was his dumb, tall, awkward phase. Though, he corrected himself, his entire life was kinda that phase.
Christ, did he really used to enjoy Everybody Loves Raymond? Kids are stupid. The loading bar finally filled and the he worked his way through the account menu. Against his better judgement, he made an Albion robo-knight named RaymondSucks.
Wow, look at those polygons. The space castle was the same blocky gray building he remembered, and he wandered around in the starting area. No, I do n't think I do n't think I want to take a message to Pompin the Crier, he noted dryly. He worked his way out in the Camelot Hills, and killed a few mobs, but it all looked pretty much the same. This was a dumb idea, but at least it had wasted an hour.
`` Hey Raymond is great,'' came a whisper in the chat box. That's strange - RobBarone had messaged him. What were the chances?
`` nah it was a terrible show,'' Gareth wrote back, `` everybody hates raymond amirite.''
`` Shut up.'' He did a quick /whois. Wow, high level - what sort of loser was still invested in this game?
`` lol,'' was all Gareth replied.
`` You need some help? I can help you out.'' Gareth spun his character around a few time idly. Sure, why not?
`` Yeah, let's meet in Cotswold.'' He made his way back to the starting village. He got an invite to a group and joined up with RobBarone.
`` So you really like Everybody Loves Raymond, eh?'' he typed.
`` Yeah,'' wrote back RobBarone, `` Here's some equipment and platinum, let's go kills some mobs and powerlevel a bit.''
`` Cool thanks.'' He followed the robo-knight out into the wilderness as he started one-shotting mobs along the way.
`` I used to like it a lot,'' said Gareth, `` When I was a kid.'' RobBarone did n't respond, he just kept taking out animals. Gareth tapped his keyboard lightly. `` Do you like How I Met Your Mother?'' he asked.
`` no - whats that?''
``??? Wow really? It's got like 9 seasons.''
`` I do n't really get out much,'' RobBarone said.
`` No TV? No Netflix?'' he asked.
`` Nothing like that here.''
Gareth furrowed his brow. `` You mean, at your home?''
`` No man, here. I live here.'' RobBarone stopped running around killing things and started running around Gareth's character instead while jumping. Then he stopped.
`` I've just been in this game for a long time.''
`` Lol - that's some gimmick bro.'' Gareth wondered if he ought to just quit.
`` It's true - my name's Gareth. I was playing this one night, and then suddenly I was the game.''
Gareth's hands jumped back from his keyboard and mouse. `` This is n't funny,'' he said.
`` No joke. I've just been running around. I was sick with some flu and my mom thought it was SARS. Played like 48 hours straight and then passed out and boom, here I was.'' Impossible. His mom had done the same thing. His hands trembled as he typed out the next words.
`` Is your name Gareth Peter Moretti?''
`` Yeah.'' Gareth started breathing much more quickly. `` How'd you know that?'' appeared on the screen. `` Did you do this? Can you get me out?: ( ( ( ( ``
Gareth did n't know what to say. This could n't be real. There was no way this was real. He wanted to throw up.
`` Prove it,'' he typed instead, `` Who was your 9th grade crush?''
`` What?''
`` Just do it.''
`` Tatiana from home room, I called her tittyanna lol.''
`` No,'' breathed Gareth. No, no, no.
`` Who is this?'' his old character asked. `` Why'd you want to know that?''
Gareth looked longingly at the bottle hiding behind his computer tower where he'd left it after lat night. That probably would n't help. With shaky breaths, he typed out an answer.
`` I think I'm you - I'm Gareth Moretti.''
A pause. `` What do you mean, me?''
`` I mean it's # $ % @ ing 2017 and I'm Gareth Moretti.'' Well, the chat censor still worked.
A much longer pause this time. The two robo-knights stared at each other dumbly on the screen as low level mobs walked about the woods around them.
`` 2017?''
`` Yeah. I havent played this in 14 years.''
`` Where did mom take us for ice cream last weekend?'' Oh god, how was he supposed to know th- Oh wait, it was where she thought he'd gotten SARS.
`` The Baskin Robbins, over at Steeles and Yonge,'' he typed back. He flexed his hands, trying to get them to stop jittering against the keyboard. What was he supposed to do now?
`` am i dead?'' RobBarone sat down in the game.
`` I dont know how this is even possible.'' The pauses kept getting longer. `` Listen, I did pass out playing with that flu, but I woke up the next morning in my room. I was feeling better by that afternoon.''
`` can you get me out?''
Gareth had no idea, but he felt he had no other choice but write back, `` no? I just logged in here for fun today.''
Impossibly, RobBarone was crying on his screen, with poorly rendered hands rubbing at his blocky face. He just stared mutely at the pixelated figure. That definitely was n't an emote when he had played.
`` can you delete me?'' Gareth recoiled.
`` What? I do n't even know what you are.''
`` just delete everything from your hard drive. maybe Im just a temporary file.'' Gareth felt his stomach church unevenly.
`` Please. You do n't know what it's like. Ive been here so long. I thought it was some weird heaven or purgatory.''
`` do it.''
`` What if it does n't work?'' he typed slowly.
`` then we try something else?'' Why not? He might as well try.
`` OK.'' Gareth wrote.
`` tell mom i miss her.''
His hands paused on the Alt-F4.
`` see you soon: )''
The program closed. His sweaty hand slipped on the mouse, but he went into his file directory and found the long forgotten folder. He saw the folder for his old character. He looked through it briefly, he found no strange or oversized files. It looked perfectly normal. He deleted it, and then went to the Recycle Bin and deleted it from there as well.
He clicked the *Spark Ages* logo again, and the login screen popped up. As he was typing in his login, he stopped. He stared at the screen for a long time. Then, he agonizingly moved the cursor towards the X and closed it. He deleted the entire program, and then deleted it from the Recycle Bin. He stared at the empty folder, then powered off his computer. Reaching for the bottle of whiskey, he took a long, steady drink from it.
Maybe, he decided, he should call his mom.
|
[ WP ] A boy acquires the use of one wish , and the world knows it . Governments , agencies , and other groups try to convince the boy to wish for different things , to benefit the world or themselves .
| `` I Never thought i would be in the room with the people who ruled the world, unfortunately i was their prisoner.'' These are the people you never hear about. The people that really rule the world, not the presidents, they are the wizards of oz's. I was in a room, dim lit, with a window that just showed icy mountains. And I finally figured out my wish, but lets backtrack a tad first.
Call me Aladdin, i mean that's not really my name, but that's what they are calling me now at least. I was walking home one day, and found a, you guessed it, a genie lamp. Long story short, I get one wish, and the world is making sure it's for them.
`` World Peace'', they say. Food for the hungry. All the money in the world!
The fate of the world in a 12 year old boys hands, hehe, i love it! but i'm not stupid by a long shot. You see I have a genetic disorder, that makes me a little odd... a little social awkward... but a genius level Iq! and I can absorb books and books!
So there i was, getting tortured, seeing videos of my family tied up, It was, they worst day of my life. How do i know that? because i'm writing this 70 years later, an old old man, who lived a full life.
They Shocked me again, My body barely alive.
`` Wish for world peace!, or we will kill'' Your Family!'' said the men in black
They did, in fact they killed every single one of them, and they me made me watch. I did tell you it was the worst day of my life? I'm ok to believe it may stand as one of the worst days of all time.
But there I was, and I looked at the Men In Black straight in the eye.
`` Why do you want World Peace? I said to them
`` So our race can live forever, Do n't you want that boy? Does n't everyone want that?'' The Men In Black said
`` i just let my family die, so i think that should answer you questions'' I said
`` Let me elaborate, o master of the world, The reason i do n't want world peace, or enough food for everyone is because that is n't what God intended for us. You idiots, do n't get it, do you!'' `` If you children get your toy in the sandbox, your going to break it'' I said
`` World Peace, How do you know that does n't take our emotion, our freedom, you know nothing of this genie, evil or good, why would you risk the world on a hunch?''
`` Then What is your wish little boy?! `` the man in black said defeated.
The Only Wish I Knew would Not put the world in jeopardy, the only wish i knew that will bring my family back, the only wish i knew that would make me a happy old man in my 90s. I know that seems like 3 wishes, but it was n't, so I said it.
`` Oh Great Genie, I Wish I Never Found The Lamp''.
A great and powerful genie appeared, `` you are the first person to wish unselfishly he said. I destroyed every other nation before you, from greed and selfishness'' The great Genie said. `` I will happily send you back to the day you found it, and you live a long happy life.'' He said and disappeared.
Not many people can say they watched their family died, and stared death in the face to tell about it with their family alive again. I did live a long life, but I do n't think it's from the Genie's power. I understood more than anyone, how at any time, any second, any day your love ones can perish from your life. And I thank God for that everyday, because I spent every single day from that day, i was supposed to find the lamp, treating everyone around me as it was the last time I will ever seen them.
And the good news is that, you do n't even have to wish for the that to come true.
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[ WP ] Barack Obama makes an announcement that intelligent extra terrestrial life exists , and has been visiting earth for decades . What happens in the following 24 hours ? ( X-Post from askreddit )
| The man turned away from the gallery, away from the thunderous applause, determined eyes bright with unshed tears. Six months. They couldn β t even wait six damned months. His hair was grey around the temples, and his face lined and creased β stress having aged him thirty years in less than ten.
A camera appeared in his face. An reporter β some young airbrushed woman in a smart business suit was there with a microphone as well.
β Mr Obama! Mr Obama! Following today β s repeal of the Affordable Healthcare Act, and the Environment Protection Agency Enforcement Act, can you tell us how you feel about the Republican decisions? β
Something told him this was a time to be diplomatic. To choose his words with care and precision. Those instincts were leftover from his time in the White House.
β How do I feel? I feel disappointed certainly. This is, ahh, a defeat for every working American, a legislative disaster, that is, ahh, not going to allow this country to be as great asβ¦.it could be. β
β How do you respond to allegations by President Rubio that you have β kept secrets from the American People β? β
The man laughed bitterly. He still had one ally left, and his next words would move them to act.
In six months he had gone from the most powerful man in the world to a daily struggle. Vindictive political enemies had taken aim and destroyed everything he had built, and then gotten to work on his family. Relationships destroyed around him. People he once called friends had shunned him. Hypocritical enforcement of taxation rules had left him with nothing. His family had been hounded and harassed. He - and they - quite literally had nothing left to lose.
β Secrets! Every President has maintained secrets! You want to know one of the biggest ones? Aliens. Intelligent Extraterrestial beings exist, and have been visiting Earth since 1978. β
The reporter stared, her eyes as huge as his had been when that truth had been laid on him.
β Aβ¦aliens? Like Roswell? β
β Roswell was a weather balloon crash. You want to look for a crash in Fairbanks, Alaska in 1978 β
β Sirβ¦You β re being completely serious? This isn β t some sort of joke? β
β Miss, I am completely serious. β Barack could already see three Secret Service men charging towards them. β And if I were you, I β d get out and publish that before those men take your tape. Tell your editor that if he wants proof; Caldwell, Ohio. 4:00pm tomorrow. β
The reporter turned and ran, ignoring the shouted demand to halt and surrender her camera.
-- --
β You think he β s serious? β
β Completely, sir. The former President was completely serious. He said that if you wanted proof, β Caldwell, Ohio, 4pm tomorrow. β
Senior Editor James Johnstone, known as JJ to the newsroom of ANNA leaned back in his chair, and tried to convince himself that the sudden lurching sensation in his stomach was vibrations from the builders downstairs.
β Annette, weβ¦can β t just publish that. β
β Why not? β
β Because we β d get laughed out of the building, the city, the entire news industry! Aliens don β t exist! That β s the realm of tin-foiled crackpot nutters! He had to have been pulling your leg! β
β I don β t think he was. β
β Annette, you β ve got talent, but you β ve only been working here for ten weeks. You β ve been suckered. There β s no story here. Just an old man trying to upset an applecart for no reason. β
JJ rummaged around in his desk and pulled out a dossier.
β Here Case 44753. Cops just caught the Norther Slasher over in Mountain Home, Idaho. That β s a good story. Martin and Bale are going to be furious I gave it to you, but it β s a top-billing segment. We need an on-the-scene report for breakfast tomorrow. You β d better get going. β
Annette reluctantly returned to her desk in the chattering room. She looked at the two files on her desk. The Norther Slasher had been terrorising the North-West for months. His capture was big news. On the other handβ¦aliens. This was bigger news. Her hand hovered over the phone as she made a decision.
β Bob? It β s Annette. Going to need an itinerary. Case ID # 44753. Air travel - I need the first plane to Columbus, Ohio, and then a car. And book me a motel in Caldwell, Ohio. β
-- -- --
With the sun descending towards the hills, there was a cool breeze in the air. Annette stood outside the Caldwell Courthouse. Population of around 2000, the place was a direct copy-paste of the popular image of small-town America.
A small, curious crowd of on-lookers was gathering, attracted by her modern car, camera equipment and an obviously irritated cameraman that was muttering imprecations quietly to himself. Her phone was on silent, with fifteen curse-filled and furious messages from JJ. She hadn β t actually listened to the last ten, nervously sure that she was β so fired β by now.
She checked her watch again. 3:58pm.
Birds chirped, cars rumbled, and the low murmuring of curious townsfolk filled the autumn air.
There was a change in the pitch of traffic, and a black SUV rounded the corner. Tinted windows obscured all view inside, but its height and shape promised power and strength. It pulled to a halt.
Annette found she wasn β t really surprised to see four people emerge β a man, a woman and their two children. They stood on the sidewalk, clusted close together. A fifth person β apparently the driver also got out, and stood away from them.
The church bells rang out four peals at the precise second that the sun dipped behind the Courthouse.
A sound much like a foghorn sounded, and the shadows grew far deeper. The wind shifted directions, an unexpected downdraft blasting onto the street and scattering leaves.
Looking up, a massive black *thing* hovered in the sky. It wasn β t a classic β saucer β, but neither was it easily identifiable. If anything, its shape seemed to shift and adjust every few seconds. There were no strobing lights, no white-lit windows with mysterious silhouettes. It was just a huge, black *wrong* presence.
Her cameraman was finally silent as he panned his equipment over the apparition. Annette looked towards the family, just in time to see them vanish in a wave of sparks.
They just seemed to disintegrate, much like some sort of Star Trek transporter. She thought for a fraction of a second that the man smiled directly at her.
Then the foghorn sounded again, and the *thing* was just gone β the only sign of its passing a momentary updraft of wind.
The fifth man from the SUV walked up towards Annette. Her cameraman was filming the scene and the reactions of excited townsfolk.
β Journalist Annette? My name is John Smith. β
β Whatβ¦what just happened? β
β I β ve been authorized to give you an explanation, and answer any questions you have. By order of the Council, you are authorised to disseminate it for publication. Do you accept this bargain? β
β Iβ¦ahβ¦.sure. Mark! Camera! β
The picture focused on her and the driver.
β My name is John Smith. I am not human. In fact, I come from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of the star you call Procyonβ¦. β
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[ WP ] A tiny tree has just sprouted next to an Enormous and Ancient Oak , what advice or stories does the Oak have to tell ?
| `` My child,'' the oak said. His voice creaked deeply. The leaves whispered the words again.
From the old oak's base, between two dried, gray roots that jutted out above the grass, came a response. `` Well, Father?'' The sapling squealed as it bent a flexible trunk to face its elder. `` Will I be as big as you?''
The oak tried again to move its roots. To make way for the coming generation. But like so many before, this one was doomed to die in youth; its roots would never find a way through the thick fingers of its father.
The wind blew, and the oak heaved a sigh through its leaves. `` Of course, my son. Bigger, even.''
The young tree squealed again.
|
[ FF ] Let 's start from the beginning , well , first the universe was created ... Oh wait that 's too far back .
| `` Hey there,'' came a voice through the fog.
Squinting, Rachel tried to see who had said it. A figure began to emerge in front of her, illuminated by a beautiful brightness behind it. Slowly the figure became a man, lightly tanned and clad in khaki shorts with a wrinkled green button-down shirt. He wore a 5'o'clock shadow and bright green sunglasses perched atop his head. Pausing to adjust his sandals, he smiled and approached Rachel.
`` Hi, Sara, I'm God. Nice to meet you! Listen we need to have a chat, so why do n't you have a seat,'' he said nonchalantly, gesturing to a section of clouds eagerly morphing themselves into rather comfortable looking La-Z-Boys.
Dumbfounded, Rachel could but gawk as God sat her down and took his place in the other chair, popping open the leg rest.
`` So, funny story'' God started with a chuckle, `` you're kinda dead. Well, not kinda, you're definitely dead-dead.''
A feeble squeak escaped her lips.
`` Let's start from the beginning, well, first the universe was created... Oh wait that's too far back. I mean I made this great explosion and went PEWBOOM,'' he said voicing the explosion and demonstrating with his hands.
`` But anyway, let's fast forward. Me and my bros- err, the Archangels, you know, Gabe and Mike- were sitting around bored one century, so I figured we'd put on a bit of a game. Well the rules were⦠look we do n't need to get into that.''
Finally managing words, Rachel murmured, `` But I'm-''
`` So long story short,'' God interrupted, `` things got a bit out of hand and we accidentally dropped a T-Rex on your house. Sorry,'' he finished, rising from his seat.
`` Look, I've got a couple thousand more of you to talk to, but welcome to Heaven!'' he yelled, trotting off.
|
[ WP ] And that is why I will wake up tomorrow , no matter what I feel , I will go out and run .
| I β m so far behind. 40 years old and just getting ready to be a father in under two weeks. A genetic time bomb of a heart in my chest that historically goes off at 45 years and has proven fatal in the past, hopefully a heritage I don β t pass down to my son. I β m not going to be an β old parent β but I am going to live to be a very, very old parent. I β ll be oldest Dad at little league practice. I β ll be called my son β s grandfather at some point in my life. And so I run. Every step is one minute longer I get with my family in the future. Every step is a step in making me look and feel younger for the upcoming years. I want decades. I want to be there for every moment in his life. And that is why I will wake up tomorrow, no matter what I feel, I will go out and run. I β m so far behind and I have so much ground to cover.
|
[ WP ] A demon possesses a little girl , but inside her it finds something ... worse .
| I hovered above the child, listening to her sing, and watch her parents smile in awe of their offspring. What an awful expression. Such joy, and pride for another
Yuck.
I looked around for something to scare the bumbling creature and its beaming slaves. Yet they were the only ones at the park this evening.
Awful. Awful.
The parents were too difficult to control, they felt emotions strongly in this moment. So I dived into the mind of the female who fell to the ground, her heart pumping richly to provide blow flow to her newly scraped knees.
Perfect.
The mind was so under-developed, it was easy to seize control. I felt the girl's soul tying to my mind, and I listened closely before I initiated.
The girl did n't panic under my grasp. She softly cooed, enjoying the treacherous terrain under my control. I rolled my eyes, then pick up the girl's physical carrier, slowly bringing her over to parents at a rabbit's pace.
The large female looked over to me, the smile dropping from her face. She kneeled in front of me, inquisition crosses her face in an instant. The patron joined her, with even more concern.
I attempted to show distraught, hoping that they would take me to their home where I could make a more powerful impact out of the possible view of others. It worked, and the mother grabbed her bag and unlocked the van.
Inside of my head, the girl warms strongly, burning my skin. I shove her deeper into my skin, and I feel her panic, the mindset we shared shaked with emotion. I did n't panic. I subconsciously pushed her away while I planned my seeds of deceit.
The girl reacted strongly, started a form of breathing against my skull. I felt her tugging at our tie, attempting to loosen herself.
This was my first return to Earth after 8 years. There was no way I was letting this go. Father wanted me here.
The patron picked up the girl's physical figure, and the girl warmed, even stronger this time around. I focused on wrapping my arms around the father, letting loose of my reigns on the girl slightly, so she would know we were close to him. Only to tug them away.
*''... through the sky-'' *
A phrase cut through my brain, I looked up, accidentally letting the physical figure react as well. The father patted my head, but inside, I was afraid.
I pulled on the reign I had on the soul a little more, but she laughed. Laughter, one of the most paining things about this job. It brings the most joy.
And the most fear.
She continued to laugh, and my vision flickered. I let the physical figure fall limp as I pulled all of my strength towards the soul. Which was aflame.
I turned to the girl, when I saw something flash across the mind. It stayed for short amounts of time. In, out, in, out, in, out. The visual was not strong, but a small sound added with each twitch.
I turned away from the girl, commited to finding the source. That was my mistake.
*'' -Climb aboard, get ready...'' *
The soul began to rise from my interior, growing in strength. I attempted to reign it in, but the ropes burned against my skin.
*'' To explore, zooming through the sky...'' *
The static of the visual cleared, revealing a small red-headed cartoon boy with glasses.
No.
No.
No.
The music blared in my head, crescendoing as the soul sparked against my control.
*'' Little Einsteins. `` *
No.
*'' There's so much to find. `` *
No.
I pressed against the membrane, attempting to escape.
The little girl laughed, beginning the song again.
She had control.
I screeched, completing letting go of her. I floated out to the recesses of the brain, ready to be let through.
*'' We're going on a trip, in our favorite rocket ship. `` *
I turned around, and the soul formed itself into the form of the little girl. It smirked, its mouth joining in with the song.
*'' Five. `` *
No.
*'' Four. `` *
No.
*'' Three. `` *
NO.
*'' Two. `` *
*NO*
*'' One. `` *
*I am in control. *
|
[ WP ] Write a truly terrifying ghost story that happens in broad daylight .
| I do n't normally walk this way, but somehow I ended up here.
It's weird how that happens. I daze off into my own little world, and when I come to, I'm always walking down this road.
There it is, my old bus stop. That's where I decided my fate. That's where I was nothing, where I was a faggot and a retard and nothing.
There's my old hiding spot in the small patch of trees. The place where I was something, where I had power and was worth something.
But it was never real.
There's my old house. The place where I was the mistake. The place where I was `` it'' and not a loved son.
The place where I stole my dad's loaded.32 automatic.
There's my old bus stop. The place where I was something, where I had power.
In that moment, I was me, and no one would tell me any different.
But it was only within that gun, not me.
The ghosts still haunt me. I can see them truly begging for mercy. The mercy I would n't give.
Here in my dark cell, I can still see them.
When I am allowed a look at the outside world, the scene is always the same.
The poor, tortured soul I took in eternal unrest. I do n't even bother looking anymore. The ghost haunts me.
I am condemned to my cell, and worse; my thoughts.
The place where I lose my mind. Piece by piece, day by day.
|
[ WP ] -- You are a cocky , self-centered , emotionally ill equipped 8 year old dealing with a problem in 2nd grade , BUT you have an inner dialog of a 35 year old writer .
| The Mother will make meatloaf and mashed potatoes and green beans for dinner tonight. She will watch me out of the corner of her eye as I slowly finish off the meatloaf and the potatoes, and then shuffle the green beans back and forth across my plate. There will be a hawk-like intensity to her gaze, something predatory and insidious. She, the tyrant with her traps, and me, the tyke nightly torn to tatters.
And who can forget the Father, that limpid and lifeless lack, a decoration adorning a dining chair? He will be oblivious to the struggle at hand until the exact moment the hawk swoops in for the kill.
`` Is there something wrong with the green beans, honey?''
The same thing that's wrong with them every other night. They're green beans.
`` No Mommy. I'm just full.'' I will keep my head down and my eyes on the plate, and hope the flush creeping up my neck will win me sympathy.
`` Should I grab the wooden spoon honey?''
And there it is. The wooden spoon will kill me one day. There will be tears and pain and the Father chewing with his mouth open. Tonight, like every night before since the beginning of time, I will face the eternal question: the beans or the spoon? The beans or the spoon.
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 38 - NaNo Prep # 2 : Who are your characters ?
| We will begin in the land known as Kascadia, it is a medieval place, filled with lush jungles, wild rivers and huge waterfalls as well as enough farming land to keep the population clothed ( natural materials ) and fed. There are only a couple of'cities' but lots of hamlets and towns. The population is mostly thriving, yet there is an undercurrent of disconnection and resentment.
It is also a magical world.
Jascinta Sage is a 17yr old goddess in training with a typical youthful cynicism but also innate charm and a curiosity about the people who inhabit Kascadia, which is fortunate because she is about to be given two souls for who she will be responsible for.
Soul named Mysta and Georgie, these two are bound together ( not as lovers ), through re-incarnating lives but always in the same time period and land. Their personalities will evolve and deconstruct throughout their various lives.
Yet each has distinct innate qualities:
Mysta's positive traits are personal strength ( both physical and emotional ), generosity of spirit and fierce loyalty while her more negative traits are been judgemental, excessively stubborn and an occasional bouts of uncontrolled anger.
Georgie is the gentler of the two with a wonder for the spiritual world, natural healing abilities and a care for humanity. Though a much darker side can come through; a sulky pettiness when feeling slighted, a lack of personal courage and resentment for not having the positive traits that Mysta has.
Jascinta Sage must unobtrusively guide these two personalities as they meet, collide and reconcile themselves to the truth of their souls. With a very unexpected end!
|
[ WP ] A day in the life of someone who constantly speaks in a noir detective narration .
| `` The silence of my dark smoky room was broken with a dame with a pair legs that would n't quit stomps across the floor to my desk. I nearly drop my whiskey as she looks over to me and says...''
`` Shut the fuck up Walter!'' Cherise scolded as she picked up the phone.
``'I wish she would push my buttons like that' I thought to myself as was watched her slender perfectly manicured nails caress the phone. She looks impatiently at me as she waits for someone on the other end.'' Walter thought Cherise must have been waiting for him.
`` He's doing it again,'' Cherise said then gazed back at Walter.
A smile slowly crept across Walter's face as he began to speak, `` I know how you must feel, a crazy broad like you getting mixed up in all this nonsense....This was n't the first time I met Cherise. I'd seen her before and she was nothing but trouble. I'd like to close my door to her for good, but I could n't quite get the courage to kick her out. Plus, I have a soft spot for dames with red hair and redder lips. Those lonely nights, I think about how I'd like to...''
`` Hey! Head down to Debbie's office. You should know where it is by now.'' Walter's burly manager interrupted.
`` I knew that this was a bum rap from the beginning. It was n't the first time I'd seen a frame-up and I knew they wanted me to smile like the Mona Lisa. I went down the hall to see what they had in store, but I knew it was no good for me.''
`` Come in, Walter, and please stop narrating.'' Debbie shouted from her desk. `` Please have a seat, Walter. Now, we've been through this before. You ca n't be narrating all the time. Some people find it... offensive.''
`` I usually play it cool, but this time I must have been wearing my emotions all over my face, and with Debbie's legs, I was probably wearing my emotions closer to my zipper too. I did n't have to say a word and she knew exactly what was going on.''
`` Walter, you've just said a bunch of words. Like 20. Are you just not aware of this issue.'' Debbie seemed a little frustrated, `` Also, I'm flattered, but that is not appropriate workplace behavior.''
`` Ha! Workplace behavior? This sty of animals was crazier than any zoo, I'd ever been to. Lucky for me I was sitting with the best looking bird in the bunch... You worked here long?'' Walter asked.
`` Ummm....no, but long enough to have heard about your reputation,'' Debbie gestured to a pile of loose files on her desk, `` You have quite a record. This has been happening for quite a long time!''
`` When I saw that record sitting there in front of Debbie's heaving chest I could hardly contain myself. I wanted to get my hands on both of them.'' Walter said beneath a profusely sweating brow, `` I wondered if they knew about the times that I knicked office supplies, or if I snuck out early every Friday, or I beat every perp that I brought in.''
`` We know about those things Walter! At least I think that's in here somewhere'' Debbie was hot with anger, `` But this is about your habit to narrate everything... in a very... stylized way. You're a good A/P clerk, but at the same time you're a huge liability. Last week you told Bois in payroll and I quote:'I'd sure like to get back to your neck of the woods to be the big bad wolf to the little reds you got down there.' Boris is n't even Russian he just has a Russian name! That comment is offensive on just about every level that...''
`` I had to interrupt,'Are we done here?''' Walter got up to leave, ``'Because unless you have something else for me, were done.' I said with all the patience I could muster. My heart was breaking as Debbie got up from behind her desk. All I could think about is where those legs finally stopped. I was exploding with passion, but started towards the door.''
Debbie rushed over and managed to get in front of Walter, `` Deb had enough of Walter's antics. Her office was soundproof for a reason. She slammed the door in Walter's face just before he could get out. She wrestled him to the ground and straddled him. She was speaking on behalf of everyone in HR when she screamed,'The US Federal Office of Personnel Management wo n't put up with this... but you're just too damned sexy!'''
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[ WP ] Several movie protagonists are persuaded ( or coerced ) to go into therapy . You are the lucky therapist in charge of running their sessions .
| Four patients. That's all I had lined up for the day. I skimmed my notebook over and over again in preparation.
`` These ones are... different.'' My assistant had warned me. Short descriptions had been scribbled about each of them. The first was apparently a schizophrenic who believed a person named Wilson would speak to him at night. The second was a man suffering from an extreme case of PTSD, claiming that he had witnessed first hand his comrades being torn apart by ravenous dinosaurs. As the list continued, I shook my head in disbelief, it would take more than meds and a couple of my visits to settle their minds. The third was a woman, a former f.b.i agent whom had achieved career fame by working with a notorious serial killer who was also an accomplished psych. I shuddered at the thought of what toll that man could have had upon her. Lastly, and I had to don my glasses to be sure I read this right, was a... fish? Apparently, he had lost his mother after birth and after suffering an injury to his fin and nearly being lost at sea, he'd never been the same since. I leaned back in my chair and sighed. It was going to be a long day. I reached over and straightened the name plaque on my desk so everyone could read it clearly: Sean Maguire.
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[ WP ] The real reason we 're not supposed to look at the sun during a total eclipse is because it reveals something horrifying .
| TROPHIC ZONE
There was an ecilpse today, so the Planetarium was full. Schoolchildren poured from buses like a chattering wave, a teeming herd, dizzying almost, in the Tecnicolor panolply of their coats, shuffling into crude lines. A dim roar of little voices, punctuated by spikes of bright laughter. Teachers directed, like valves, their flow, urging and cajoling, desperate to get them started so they could see *the big event*. They had handful after handful of those special reflective glasses.
We took one look at that, and changed our minds. This was our day off, the first one we'd had together in *months*.
`` Want to go to the aquarium, instead?'' She asked me, eyeing the press of bodies. I nodded.
We held hands, and walked.
It was quiet. Nearly abandoned, even. The blue lights played off of the Art Deco murals, the Greek columns, dancing waves and ripples of reflection and refraction. And everywhere was the soft whisper of hidden pumps and filters, the low *thrumm* of the flouroescent lights. And me, and her, and *us*. Her hand was warm, and welcome, and I felt the stress of the drive melt off my back like wax, felt my heart swell with love for her, and I caught her eye. She smiled, and leaned her head against my shoulder.
I'd have to say goodbye to her soon. The letter from the embassy had come. Time was running out. But we stayed in the warmth of the `` now''.
We watched the fish turn their circles, went to see the exhibits.
We read the plaque. `` The Perch is dependent on reflected sunlight from the moon for finding prey.'' The lights were lower here, to simulate moonlight, I suppose. We kissed, and giggled, even if she seemed a little distracted. She could be on the fence, sometimes, about public affection.
They were having a special exhibit: `` Life beyond the Trophic Zone'' *The Trophic Zone is everywhere light can reach in the world's oceans! * it said, on the placard. `` See all the strange shapes life can take, beyond the light of the Sun!''
Perfect, I thought. Dark, *secluded*.
`` Let's go in here!'' I said, opening the door. She followed, unresisting, but quiet.
The tanks were the only source of light, that strange purple of the black light, and here and there the dim red, of a photographer's dark room. What swam in those... were strange, and glinting phantasms. The ghost stories that a tuna would tell. Some shimmered and blinked, jellyfish undulated and pulsed. There were spinelike teeth, and black black *black* glass marbles for eyes.
..This was not the right place to take her.
But while I had been looking at them, she had been looking at me. Worried.
`` I'm pregnant.'' she said, and the tears brimmed instantly.
I felt my blood drain out through my feet. I wanted to have children, wanted them with her. But not now. It was *impossible*, now.
`` But, your parents...''
`` They do n't know. They never will.''
And the chill turned to certainty, like water to an knife of ice. `` You're... when's the appointment?''
`` Next Thursday.'' Her voice never broke, as the tears tumbled, and I realized that this *was n't all*.
`` I... I have to stop seeing you.''
My heart broke, like glass. A sharp *Crack! *. The water would start to leak, later, and then the whole *thing would go*, make a mess all over the floor.
We knew we were doomed. We knew it was coming, that it was too much to hope that we could somehow stretch our arms across the Pacific.
Still.
She left before I did, and I spent a while staring vacantly, at things that would stare vacantly back.
As I left the Aquarium, the eclipse was starting. Children gathered around, peering through boxes and at glasses and reflections.
Not willing to face the truth, too, huh?
I wondered about the Perch, idly, as I sorted through my soul's desolation. Would they get confused, by this `` reflected sunlight'' in the middle of the day? Why say that, anyway? Why not just say `` moonlight''? And, as I turned my gaze up, unprotected, at the sky, I wondered, for the first time in my life, *does the Dark Side of the Moon reflect sunlight? *
And it does.
Oh, *it does*!
I gaped. Pointed. I knew what I was seeing, illuminated in that sudden night. Undimmed by spectacles. Unhidden by projection.
And the size...! The... the *scale of it*! One tooth alone!
My lungs filled with air, to scream, unbidden by me. I was in no mood to stop them.
I did.
The children screamed, too, in fright, a few cried. But I kept on staring. Kept on pointing. And they had pulled off their glasses, startled, but followed my finger up.
The instructors attempted to move, to seize me, to escort me away, but it was too late. They were seeing what I was seeing, now, and panic had broken out.
My lungs filled again, and instead of a mere animal cry, this one came as a word...
[ *... anglerfish* ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/1Muxz5K.jpg )
THE END
To a special someone reading this, that evidentally knows my username: *This is not us*. For one thing, our aquarium trip was *way better*. To everyone else, hope you liked this! I've got some other stuff [ over here, ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/ ) which might tickle your fancy. You do n't even have to *be* fancy. It could tickle your *ordinary*, too, I *dunno. * Maybe. Why not, really?
EDIT: Added a quick visual aid, as is my wont.
|
[ WP ] Make the number 73 significant .
| He'd been a father once.
She had been beautiful, with fine brown hair and her mother's nose. She had taken her first shuddering breath and wailed, loud and clear. * ( one, two, three, four, five, six... ) *
She had been tiny, gorgeous and frail and *stunning* but she had been so, so tiny. * ( fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen... ) *
*Heartbeat failure! * shouts a doctor's voice in his memory. *Quick! *
His fingers had tightened until they turned white, grasping onto his wife's hand. * ( twenty three, twenty four, twenty five... ) *
`` Please,'' his wife had sobbed, `` please save her!'' * ( twenty nine, thirty, thirty one, thirty two... ) *
Her cries had grown weaker and weaker as the doctors frantically ran and shouted at each other. His fingers had crushed his wife's and he was shaking. * ( forty seven, forty eight, forty nine, fifty, fifty one... ) *
`` I love you,'' he'd breathed out shakily and there had been tears dripping from his chin. `` I love you, I love you, Iloveyou iloveyou iloveyou --'' * ( sixty, sixty one, sixty two... ) *
Her eyes had fluttered open, her tiny fingers stretching. `` Her eyes are blue,'' his wife had cried, voice breaking. `` Oh God --'' * ( sixty seven, sixty eight, sixty nine.. ) *
`` I'm sorry,'' the doctor's voice had said and there had been horrible sorrow in his voice. `` We're so, so sorry.'' * ( seventy, seventy one, seventy two... ) *
* ( seventy thr -- ) *
Her eyes had closed, and the grieving began.
|
[ WP ] God goes to Vegas and ends up betting the universe and loses .
| A large cloud of cigar smoke trailed across the table, followed by a hearty, chesty cough.
`` I'm not very good at smoking,'' the culprit spoke. `` The roulette, however...''
Subconsciously, he replaced the cigar in his mouth. He looked across the table to a crowd of the rich and the poor; the young and the old; the smart and the ignorant. Fifty eyes pointed in his direction as he looked down at the mass of black and red and back again.
`` So...'' he began, his mouth agape. Unfortunately, this braindead move caused his cigar to drop out of his lips, onto his old, wrinkled hand.
^^^'' Fuck!'' He muttered before his waiting crowd.
`` Go on,'' said another bearded man to his left. He was smart and sharp - sadly, these merits were merely aesthetic.
`` I'm goin', I'm goin','' the old man stated in an annoyance that could possibly only be met by a man who had dropped a dirty penny into a large vat of cream soda. Not annoying, you say? Have you ever seen a man's reaction to that? I thought not. But I digress - the man's eyes looked over the wheel round and round again. Once again, he looked to his silent audience - all those he had created, for he was God. The craft, the detail; he could n't let that go to waste.
`` I bet everything I own.''
Somehow, the silent room became silenter. Silenter still as he stood, proud and confident in his white suit, knowing he was going to get it done.
`` You what?'' said the game owner.
`` Everything I own.''
`` You what?''
`` Everything I own.''
`` You what?''
`` Everything I own...''
``... You what?''
^^^'' Oh, ^^^for ^^^my ^^^sake...'' He took a deep breath in, the smoke of the cigar circling through his airways. `` 6 Black.''
`` 6 black. Are you sure?''
`` Of course I'm sure, young man; 6 days it took to form this planet and 6 black is the number that's going to save it.''
As the ball rolled onto the wheel and it began to spin, it seemed to take his eyes with it - round and round and round. The fate of the Universe in the hands of a grimy old roulette wheel and an oh-so-naive ball. If God knew this would happen, he'd have given it a bigger brain.
`` 24 red.''
`` What the fuck?''
`` 24 red. You lose.''
`` But... I...''
`` Look, I'm not paid minimum wage just to wear a fuckin' silk waistcoat and bow tie. You got eyes, do n't ya? Deeds please.''
`` I... oh...''
He reached into his pockets - which seemed to be deeper than average - and produced a yo-yo. He muttered, threw it onto the table, went back into his pocket and pulled out a snow-globe, placing it beside the yo-yo.
`` This is everything,'' he said.
`` Everything you own. A yo-yo and a snow-globe,'' replied the game owner. `` Fuck me.''
`` Everything, God replied. The yo-yo is a yo-yo - hours of fun for all the family - and the snow-globe controls everything. The Universe. Everything there ever was or ever will be, in your hands. Everyone you've ever known, loved, hated, manipulated. It's all yours.''
He picked his cigar up and put it back into his mouth. Unfortunately, he put it in backwards and burnt his holy tongue.
^^^^'' Fuuuuuuuck.''
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[ WP ] Your favorite Disney heroine has rejected her hero
| 'Bugger this,' thought Cinderella, as she struggled through the window. Her voluminous skirts tore as she tumbled out, lowering her to the ground with a series of ripping sounds. She tore away the dangling hem and brushed the dirt from her hands, then reached for the stout boots she'd thrown out ahead of her. Edging around the castle wall she watched for the guard, waited for him to pass and made a run for it, not stopping until she reached the safety of the trees. It would be a long walk back to the chateaux in the dark, but it was worth it. Stupid bloody prince.
It had all seemed ok at first, lots of pretty things to wear, although Ella kind of missed her practical work dress and sturdy clogs; and having to sit for hours to have your hair done every day got pretty dull pretty fast. It's ok if you've got a fairy godmother handy for getting you all dolled up, but the long way is n't really worth it. And then there were the servants! She liked them, would rather have made her friends among their number, but of course they all looked away. She'd tried to be friendly but they seemed insulted by it, and she once heard one tell another that `` she's no better than she ought to be.''
The prince was another story - moody and romantic, he swanned around the place making grand gestures and posing in his gilded epaulettes without a single functioning brain cell in his head. He had done one thing right though - the chateaux was hers now, and her godawful step-family had been convicted of so many crimes they'd never see the light of day again. She was, apart from the minor inconvenience of her engagement to the prince, free at last. She hoped the note she'd left him would cut it, she'd tried to avoid long words so that he would n't have too much trouble understanding that it was over, and that if he made a fuss she'd tell everyone about that thing he did that he thought was normal but really, really was n't.
She reached home just as dawn was breaking, the sight of the sun rising over the stables warming her heart. Time to get things in working order again!
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[ WP ] Every Time You Talk You Start to Slowly Fade Out Of Existence
| I woke up today to another normal depressing morning.
Snooze the alarm 3 times.
Get out of bed and rush down to eat breakfast.
Get dressed and rush off to my store.
Everything got weird once I got in the car though. I turned it on and plugged my phone into the audio input. Naturally, I threw on some Taylor Swift.
`` *Walking through the crow... *''
I coughed a few times. It felt like I was choking on air. I felt woozy. I brushed it off and kept going.
I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Anticipating the chorus of the song, I took a deep breath.
`` *Welcome to New... *''
It happened again except this time my vision went fuzzy. I felt like I was about to fall through my seat. I just sat in the street for a few seconds and took a deep breath.
`` Alright.''
When I spoke everything went black for a moment. I could n't see a thing. I blinked and it was normal again.
I picked up my water bottle and chugged the whole thing down. I started wheezing.
*Great time for the panic attacks to start up*, I thought to myself.
I had been struggling with them for years, but had been doing well for a few months, I had even started thinking they were going away.
*Okay, think. * I checked my face in the mirror to see if I looked off. I remembered going to bed at a good time the night before as well.
*Did I eat something funny? *
I felt my throat and my voice box seemed a little off. I hummed a little and I felt a little fuzzy, not enough to really bother me though. I whistled some and I felt nothing.
*I'll call Johnny*
I pulled out my phone and just decided to text him.
`` Sick today. Not going to make it in. I'm gon na go to the doctor. You can take the day off if you'd like.''
Johnny usually opens the shop for me and hangs around until noon before he rushes off to class.
He tried calling me but I did n't answer.
Someone zoomed by my car that moment, going at least 60.
`` WHAT THE F***'' I screamed, filled with adrenaline.
Everything went black again. I blinked, still black.
*What is going on with me? * I thought to myself. I looked around at the seemingly endless void around me.
I was still sitting, but I felt for the car wheel and it was n't there, or I could n't feel it at least. I waved my hands all around me, there was nothing there.
*Fwit*
I zipped back into my car again, as if I had teleported somewhere else.
I called 911 immediately before I hurt myself.
`` 911, what's your emergency?''
I froze, I breathed into the phone. I whispered as close and as clearly to the mic as I could.
*^help*
Everything went black again, and then I fainted.
I woke up in an ambulance. There were two EMTs with me. One was monitoring my pulse and I had an oxygen mask on.
They must have seen me blink.
`` What happened?'' they asked me.
I slowly shook my head from side to side and held my throat. I did n't try to speak.
A full day passed in the hospital, I slept through a lot of it, and the doctors tried to talk to me but I would n't speak. They checked my throat and did n't see anything wrong.
Then Johnny came in, he had my phone in his hand. He told me he visited my house when I would n't answer his call and found my hospital in the morning.
`` Got your phone boss.'' He held it up and wiggled it around.
The nurse told him to let me rest after a minute, and that I was n't talking.
`` Alright... Feel better boss, I'll check up on again tomorrow, I told Sarah you were here, she'll visit soon I think.''
I wanted to say goodbye but I just waved.
The next day I see my daughter, Sarah, walk in with a nurse.
`` Hey dad,'' she spoke with a soft voice. `` I would have come sooner if I had known. I drove all night.
I just smiled and held onto her as she gave me a hug.
I had gotten the oxygen mask off the day before after I was stabilized and I pulled it back to speak to her.
`` Thank you.'' I whispered in her ear.
Everything went black again, I instantly heard the monitors go crazy. Then I could n't hear anything at all.
There was only silence, and only black. I pinched myself and pulled out some hairs, I was n't dreaming, it hurt.
And then I fainted again, but I never dreamed, and I never woke.
Sarah say me vanish from right before her eyes.
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[ WP ] Write about a character that is greedy and devious .
| Mr. Evans stood in the back of the classroom, a silent observer.
`` Ms. Johnson?'' A girl in the third row asked. `` What does'heaven' mean?''
She was the youngest student in the class, the only one who had not yet turned eight.
`` Is that word in the reading, Clara?'' Ms. Johnson asked.
`` No, but my mama prayed it this morning, and I just wondered.''
*Clara Shepherd*, Mr. Evans thought, tuning out the rest of the conversation. *Uncomplicated term birth. Blood type A-positive. Mutation in the COL1A1 gene associated with idiopathic osteoporosis. *
Clara Shepherd was not a perfect candidate. Her blood type was acceptable, although less valuable than an A-negative, and he was prepared to overlook her genetic disposition to osteoporosis. Her appearance, however, was entirely unremarkable. She was only slightly taller than average, and her hair was brown, worn in a low ponytail that ended just below her shoulders. Mr. Evans looked down at his clipboard and began to scratch a line through her name. *Too normal. *
Physical appearance was not of objective importance. The most important factor was good overall health, and, of course, a lack of infectious or heritable medical conditions. But Mr. Evans preferred children who were interesting, children who were, in some way, exceptional. He hesitated, glanced over toward the child's desk, and was startled to find Clara Shepherd, age seven, looking back at him. Her eyes were large and dark and eager, like the eyes of a toddler who could n't stop asking *why*. He had seen children with eyes like that, but most children grew into them, or else some other feature - bright hair, perhaps, or plump cheeks - dulled the effect. Mr. Evans stared at Clara in silence until the girl finally lost interest, shrugged her shoulders, and turned back to her reading.
Mr. Evans remained frozen for a moment longer, his mind still focused on the girl's eyes. Then he blinked, recapped his pen, and put his clipboard back into his briefcase. There was no need to look any further.
-- -
`` Where's Jessica, Mommy? I want Jessica.'' Little Emily Evans was sitting up in bed, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest and rocking herself back and forth. Her eyes moved fearfully around the room, fixing first on her mother's face, then on the bedroom door, then on the bed which used to be Jessica's.
`` Do n't cry, Emily,'' Mrs. Evans said. She tried not to look over to the other bed, which had been empty for two nights now. `` Daddy'll be home soon, and he's bringing you a new friend.''
`` What's her name?''
`` Her name's Clara, and she's just the same age as you are.'' Of course she was. Mr. Evans was always bringing home `` a new friend for Emily'', and Mrs. Evans wondered whether that was pretense, or whether he actually believed the children's presence did his daughter good. It might, she supposed, if the children ever stayed for longer than a month, six weeks at the most. That was how long it took him to scope out buyers and finalize contracts.
`` But where's Jessica?'' Emily asked again, although she could guess where Jessica had gone. To heaven, which meant `` away'' and `` forever'' all in one word.
`` Jessica's gone, now, Sweetie. Just like the others.''
Emily was silent for a moment. She looked over at the bedroom door, firmly shut. She looked over at the bed, neatly made up with clean sheets. `` When will Clara be here?''
`` Soon. Maybe she'll be here when you wake up.''
`` And she'll stay forever?''
Mrs. Evans paused for a moment. She found her husband's work distasteful. She feared what might happen if Emily ever found out what they were doing to her little friends. She disliked the glass jars of heads and hands and hearts and eyes that her husband kept displayed on the shelves in his workroom, those interesting bits he could n't bear to part with. She hated that she had to see them every time she went down to the basement to tell him it was time for dinner. `` I hope your new friend can stay forever, Sweetie. I really hope so.''
|
[ WP ] `` I have done the impossible ! I am a god ! I have created death ! ''
| The door to the dorm room burst open. `` I have done the impossible! I am a *god*! I have created Death!'' Lucifer beamed, with obvious pride at his accomplishment.
Jehovah scowled at him `` What's death? What the hell are you talking about?''
Lucifer turned to his roommate. `` The cessation of life! The end of the continuity of things! Nothing goes on forever anymore!''
`` Wait,'' Jehovah said. `` You're saying that now... we could... stop?''
`` Yup!''
Jehovah pondered this. `` But why would you want to do this?''
Lucifer responded, `` This universe is stagnant. Here we are a couple of young college deities. When we've graduated, we have the rest of forever to just... do what? Once we've learned everything, then what do we do? It'll be *boring*. So... what do we do then? Suffer large for all time?''
`` Oh, come off it!'' Jehovah cried. `` Seriously. You want to be able to NOT BE?!''
`` Not *now*, of course,'' replied Lucifer. `` Just... whenever it comes to be time.''
Jehovah glared at Lucifer... then said, `` That just seems really... Well, what the heck do we call that?''
`` Evil?''
``... yeah. Sounds like a good name for it.''
`` It's not!'' said Lucifer. `` It's just an option! Something we could do if it was just unbearable to be us anymore. Nobody has to do it if they do n't want to.''
`` But it'll be there. Tempting. I do n't like it,'' Jehovah said firmly.
Lucifer's tone softened, `` Again, you do n't have to do it. But some will. And it'll become necessary, y'know... which is why I worked on it.
`` You know as well as I do there's only so much in resources in this universe. We are growing and growing in population without any losses. Do you really think this can keep going, and nothing can change?'' finished Lucifer.
`` Oh, great,'' said an obviously exasperated Jehovah. `` You're one of THOSE people.''
`` It's just numbers, Jehovah. Math,'' said Lucifer. `` It's not really debatable or defensible to say it's otherwise. Something has to happen. This is one way to do it.''
`` They'll shut you down, you know. It ca n't be allowed to happen!'' cried Jehovah. `` No. Better yet, *I'll* shut you down, right here, right now, if you do n't destroy this madness.''
`` Yeah, well... about that''
`` What?'' asked Jehovah.
`` It's too late. I let Death loose! The end of things begins NOW!'' Lucifer cried happily.
Jehovah immediately decked Lucifer with a roundhouse, and snarled, `` You MADMAN. You unmitigated, unrepentant ASSHOLE. I should kill you right now!''
`` AH HA!'' shouted Lucifer. `` See!? Wait... what's'kill'?
`` I...!'' Jehovah started... then realized the word was unknown to him as well. `` I do n't know. I just.. had this idea... that you need to stop... being...?''
`` IT WORKS! YES! EUREKA!!!'' exclaimed Lucifer. `` You know that you can end me! Death becomes us!!''
Jehovah, astonished at his sudden rage and desire to... kill... gasped, `` I *will* stop you. This can not get out of Eden.''
`` I told you. You're TOO LATE, Jehovah. We have to have limits! This is the ultimate limit!''
`` No. This will not be the end.''
Jehovah stormed out of the room. Lucifer stayed behind, beaming in his accomplishment... and his madness. The... virus? Yes, that's an excellent name... the virus Death was made very carefully. For there would remain only two at the end of it all. Lucifer himself, of course... and Jehovah. All the others would perish... or be sickly at the very least.
For if one is to rule the universe... one needs an adversary to challenge him, does one not?
|
[ WP ] A blackout emerges that does n't stop for years . Generations come and pass , and eventually technology is just a myth . But one day the electricity comes back on .
| It was the same place me and papa ever slept, in this bedroom with the window wide open. When it got dark, it got really dark unless you lit a candle. One time you did n't need fire. But that's not possible anymore. Because the whole world kinda just stopped moving at one point. At least that's what dad says. He grew up in a world that's different than this one. There was electricity, which meant energy for a lot of amazing things. But all of a sudden, the world went to sleep. I was born one month later.
I know what I want is to one day be a part of the research team that finds a way to give us back our fuel. But the government apparently said that the electricity may return just as suddenly and unexpectedly as it was gone. I used to dream about it, and one time I saw a vision of a TV screen in all its static-y glory that looked so animated and complex and foreign that I was lost in its gaze.
`` Son!'' Dad shouted from outside. `` Come look, the lights have returned! The electricity is BACK!''
I shrieked in glee. I ran downstairs and met my father in porch. `` That's what the streetlamps look like when they're turned on. I'd almost forgotten what the damn thing was for.''
I could n't stop my excitement. My dad released a few tears and I knew we would find something great and new in this time we never thought would come.
|
[ TT ] There is a Fourth Christmas Spirit , the Ghost of Christmas Never to Come .
| Jezz sees the man standing in her kitchen, and registers no surprise. Her gut grows heavy, leaded with dread, but no fear, no suspicion. His head is bald, cheeks high and shallow, skin the grey shade of hearth ashes. He turns to face her, his stiff coat scuffing over thin, bony arms. His smile is wan and heavy, carrying the weight of stones. He brushes down Jezz's five dollar wreath.
`` Christmas has such importance,'' he says. `` Such solemnity and festivity. It's just a day, same as any other.''
`` I do n't like that you're here,'' Jezz says.
`` No one does.'' He sits on the couch, knees drawn up, back slouched. `` The cost of my role. Do n't shoot the messenger, but do n't welcome it.''
Jezz enters the kitchen, sets a kettle to boil, and fills two mugs with powdered cocoa mix. She leans over the counter while the water bubbles, watching the man. `` This is bad, right?'' Her guts have sunk lower, heavier, and her chest is clutched in cold iron. `` You, here, it's not good.''
The man shrugs. `` Depends on your perspective. I think it will be bad, for you.'' He taps his head in a mimic of tipping a hat, `` The ghost of Christmas Nevers. For right now. There are many nevers: days, weeks, lives, hopes, holidays. But now, I'm your Christmas Never.''
The kettle shrieks, and Jezz makes hot cocoa for them. She plops three marshmallows in hers, offers the bag to Never. He takes the bag, pops one into his mouth, and sips his drink plain. Jezz goes to sit across from him, taking the creaky rocking chair. As she sits, she smells rose petals and sugar powder, Turkish delights, her mother's favorite, and her eyes go hot and dry.
`` You do n't remember in flashes,'' Never says. `` Sense by sense, a smell, a touch. Something that was once familiar and now forgotten, come back.'' He breathes into his cup, breath coiling the wisps of steam into smooth curves. `` Life flashing before your eyes, hah.''
`` It's been years,'' Jezz says, rubbing her palm against her eyes. `` I've washed this chair, after the funeral, to get that smell out. Why is it back? I do n't want it back.''
`` My idea of an apology, or an easing,'' Never says.
Carolers pass by the door, exploring the flats for spirits to cheer. Micheal had sung outside her window, every night for Valentines week, his voice scratchy and breaking and lingering in her head for a month. Jezz swallows, burning her throat on hot cocoa and salty pain. `` So, what?'' she asks, words choked. `` How long do I have?''
`` Tomorrow, 7:13 in the evening.'' Never bites the top off a marshmallow and dips it into his cocoa, swirling sugar into it. `` I do n't think it will be painful? Have n't died yet, though, so what do I know.''
`` You're a horrible ghost, then,'' Jezz says.
They sit together, cradling cooling cups of chocolate. Never sets the marshmallows between them, and Jezz eats half the bag herself. No time to worry about her figure, her heart or veins. She remembers campfires in the yard, burning sweets on sticks and pretending its a smore, her father giddy on his first beer, laughing with her mother, and shuts her eyes as tears spill.
She jerks awake when Never opens the door, hinges squealing. Her cocoa is on the table, congealed dark sludge, and her eyes are dried out and hollow feeling. Never glances over his shoulder. Their eyes meet. He closes the door, leaving Jezz alone in her apartment, watching time tick down in too quick tolls of the hands.
|
[ WP ] Main character purchases a parrot . They are shocked to discover that this parrot does not merely mimic words , it talks all on its own . What does this parrot say and what are the consequences or results of its words ?
| I was just about to fall asleep, when all of a sudden, a whisper came from the living room. I knew Octavius could talk, but he was sleeping. I just assumed I was hearing things.
It happened again. A whisper from the living room. I got up and went into the living room, which was right outside my bedroom. The blanket was still over Octavius's cage; all was quiet.
Just to end the paranoia, I lifted the blanket to check on him. He was staring at me. Directly into my eyes.
`` Did you say something?''
Unblinking, `` It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.''
|
[ WP ] Time travel is invented , but rather than preserve the timeline , an agency is created improve history as much as possible .
| The worst job ( NSFW )
You hate your job? Listen, this is what I want you to do: look up into the night sky. See all those stars? I want you to surround each star with a Dyson Sphere, harvest all of the bountiful energy from every one of those brightly burning stars and convert all of that power into pure hatred. That β s how much I fuckin β hate you when you complain about your job. So just shut up, maybe I will hate you slightly less.
Do you know how hard it is to even be eligible to do my job? ( Well, former job; I β m retired now ). You have to be a master linguist, with a native-level grasp of at least one language which is probably long dead. Unless you β ve done that, which you haven β t, you have no idea how god-damned hard it is. You have to have achieved the peak of physical perfection, only to have your perfect body mangled and disfigured by surgeons so that they can produce exactly the right look, down to the tiniest hair, organ and flake of skin. If you β re lucky, you have to be inoculated against whatever horrific diseases are rampant wherever your going, but sometimes, this is deemed too impractical and, either way, there is a good chance that any given insertion will be your last. You have to be prepared for every trip to be one way. But that β s not the worst part.
Once you β re there, you have to swim through whatever fucking disgusting excuse for sanitation existed then. But the poor hygiene is a breeze compared to what passes for culture. Not only do you have to put up with their barbarous mores and traditions, you must embrace them, revel in them, live them as if they were sacred. These β people β who live like animals, you have to fit seamlessly among them, become one of them. Fit in. I shudder at the mere memory. You do not understand how nostalgic our view of the past really is until you β ve had to live there. But that β s not the worst part.
You have to be able to follow instructions so intricate, so detailed, that your memory must be biologically enhanced to even hope to cope with their demands. But there are limits to that. Do you understand that the depth of our cover requires that we be indistinguishable from our new β contemporaries β even in the event of and autopsy? So it comes down to learning instructions by rote. I have been told precisely when on particular days I need to shit, the duration and position of sex with a particular partner, the cadence of my god-damned breathing. You have to deal with the stress of knowing that breathing wrong could fuck up literally everything, and not let on.
And all these instructions are for nought, but for this: you have to trust the experts. Those arcane wizards of calculation, those poor bastards who have to factor in every possible variable, who must make innumerable calculations for the simplest, tiniest little change which could, and I β m not exaggerating, destroy the world. The ones who have to figure out how to fix things. Except you know what?
Some things can β t be fixed.
Do you know why? Well, you look at history, even the β good β version that you know, not the unbelievably fucked up shit that we fixed already, and you see all that awful shit that happened, and you think well, we need to sort that shit out! But you know what the ultimate outcome of all that fucking horrible, disgusting, appalling, atrocious shit was? Us.
That β s right. Every fucking change has to be precisely calculated down the tiniest hair on my arsehole because one tiny fucking change could result in a nuclear war, a plague, or even just an infintessimal shift which means that all of the great work we β re doing never becomes possible.
So all of that magic, all of those calculations, they β re never going to make history good. Good is impossible. What we β re looking for is best case scenarios.
And some things can β t be fixed.
Let me tell you about the history I remember. In the history which we learned when I was growing up, there was a war, and even by the standards of early- β civilisation β wars it was a monster. OK, people died whatever. If you β re a halfway intelligent grown-up you β ve already figured out that we, the time fixers, don β t give a shit about that. What matters is that entire nations, entire peoples, entire cultures, entire futures were wiped out. Deliberate genocide robbed us of not only hundreds of millions of individual lives, but, more importantly, of memes and ideas and traditions that could never be recovered. Technological development, after a sharp spike, was stymied for over a century.
So the magicians got to work. They studied, they calculated, legions of scientists, entire departments rose and fell, all in aid of the best case scenario. I was not even aware of all this going on at the time; I had other, smaller fish to fry. But when the time came, when they found that one fulcrum which we could use to shift history in our favour, I was the lever that they chose. I underwent years of training. You. Have. No. Fucking. Idea. Years of nothing but immersion into this new self, this new role, this new place and time. A series of actions, a plan for every contingency, to get in there and do what could be done.
Because some things can β t be fixed.
We couldn β t stop that war; they figured that out early. What they needed was someone inserted into the right place, at the right time to make precisely the wrong decisions to minimise the extent of the slaughter. They needed a passionate, charismatic leader who would seize the opportunities, take control, lead his nation to the brink of victory, and then fuck things up in just the right way. So they trained me, and they taught me, and they conditioned me, and they tested me until I was perfect. This was the mission of a lifetime. They promised me... Ha! Fuck them and their promises. I did what they told me. I β fixed β the war, and in the end, after I was finished, they brought me home, to the new world I had made. A world where hundreds of millions didn β t die, only tens of millions. A world in which cultures, nations and peoples were not entirely wiped out. A world which I had created by causing the deaths of more than 20 million fucking people. Because anything less, and history would be fucked. Do you understand what I am saying? I made this beautiful world you live in, and I did it by wading through a sea of blood so vast that it almost drowned the world. And I β m still swimming in it, so you don β t have to. Fuck you.
You think your job sucks? FUCK YOU. My name is Adolph Hitler, and I murdered millions of people. You β re welcome.
|
[ WP ] A team of people meet from over the ages on how to best protect the ruthless dictators they serve from being assassinated by time travelers .
| # 2-2 A team of people meet from over the ages on how to best protect the ruthless dictators they serve from being assassinated by time travelers.
As Tyboe regains awareness in this new reality, the moment of self control he'd experienced shoots waves of relief through him. Still fighting against the nanites for power over his body, he is subsumed by the question `` WHY?!'' and instead of enduring another horrifying death, is transported to a bridge.
It is an eerie sight, and sends chills through his spine immediately. He is back in his own time. A man is on the edge of a bridge, wailing in agony, red-faced and preparing to jump. He's holding his head as if to keep it together, and, Tyboe realises, it does n't seem to be working.
Tyboe shouts out `` Stop! I can help!'' to the man as the skin at the top of his head begins to slough down over fingers. Tyboe survived this very ailment, with the help of the time squids. He does n't have to jump.
Nobody on the bridge seems to hear him, or even recognise that he's there. Everyone except...
A small group of ashen faced, hooded individuals seem shocked that Tyboe has spotted them. Everyone else is watching the unfolding suicide attempt, but these men stand still and calm in the storm of worried screams for help.
They converse for just a moment and one breaks away from the group, rushing towards the man on the edge. Tyboe can sense that he has ill intent, and with all the strength of will he can muster, he shatters the hold of the nanites that flow through him and pursues.
The hooded man beats Tyboe to the wailing individual, and with complete disregard for himself, hurtles the railing and plows into the distraught man at a run, firing them both off the edge just past Tyboe's reach.
Tyboe looks back at the other three, and they sneer at him before releasing the effort that held their disguises in place. Three time squids look back at him now, still invisible to the crowd of panicked onlookers, and then disappear completely.
Tyboe takes one steadying breath and dives off the bridge after the falling man.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where love and relationships have a `` credit score '' . If you 're a good SO it makes it higher , if you cheated on someone it 's plummets . You just went on a date with someone and you 're convinced they 're perfect . You look up their score that night and it 's -500 and tells you why .
| @ OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I ca n't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
`` Mr. and Mrs. Resnick,'' he began, `` I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement.''
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
`` I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us...''
`` Actually Mr. Resnick,'' the official interrupted, `` Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored.''
I froze.
`` But...'' I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
`` I'm sorry,'' she whispered.
`` We have multiple negative reviews on record,'' the official continued. `` Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of'pushy','demanding','controlling','dismissive of others achievements','obsessive','intolerant', and'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived.''
`` You do n't understand! It sounds worse than it is,'' I argued. `` She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She is n't'emotionally distant' she just is n't gushy like...''
`` Sir,'' the official cut me off. `` I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that does n't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist.'' He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
`` We'll get through this,'' I promised.
|
[ WP ] You are an 'archeologist ' . You find an unerground magical battlesite . The catch ? The battle still rages today .
| The dig to the site was easier than I thought. I always heard things living in the basement of my friends cabin but I'd never think to find out what it is. What I found was amazing, but dangerous at the same time.
They seemed to be fighting. There were two sides; rage vs hope. They were n't using modern day weapons, but medieval era swords and shields. I even saw some people with stuff shooting out of their hands like they were throwing potions or spells at one another. What surprised me the most is that they were not tired at all. I could see the motivation and determination of the soldiers faces. Each soldier wanted to end the war as much as the next.
I thought `` If the war ended where would they go''? This question had me pondering for the next five days. Also I did not think to tell the government because they would take advantage of the beauty.
I had to have stayed down there for a day or two. Each time a side would move forward the other would quickly regain their ground.
I do n't know why I tried to stop it. By the time I realized what was actually going on it was too late. When I got down to the battleground I realized that they were n't medieval, they were explorers. They got stuck down here when they found this. I never thought that I would get out.
`` And... You believe this actually happened''?
He looked at me like I was insane. `` I know what I saw. Whether you believe me or not that is your issue''.
`` This session is over. Maybe we can try again Monday; the patient is too delusional right now''.
|
[ WP ] Until today , I never really understood the loneliness of my existence . When I saw you sitting on that park bench all alone , crying ... I felt I had to come down and keep you company ...
| When I left work at noon, I was still very much shaken by the incident. I walked in a fog, not knowing where I was going. Eventually, I found myself in Providence Park. I sat down on a bench by the duck pond and let my head drop down into my still trembling hands.
I wanted to call someone, to talk to someone, to hear a warm reassuring voice. I took out my phone and scrolled through the address book. Most of the numbers were for pizza and Chinese delivery places. Of the dozen or so contacts that remained, none were what I would consider close friends. I thought about calling one of them, but I did n't want to burden them with my problems.
I wished my grandmother was still alive. She was the one person I could always turn to with my problems. She always made time for me, listened patiently, and gave the best advice. She never made me feel like I was a drain on her time, the way my parents and friends sometimes made me feel. I missed my grandmother so much.
Until today, I never really understood the loneliness of my existence. But now, staring at a phone full of numbers I could n't call, I felt completely alone in the world. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped them away on the sleeves of my sweatshirt, hoping no one walking in the park would notice me crying. I stood up and started walking slowly, unsure of where I should go or what I should do now.
I felt a gentle tap on my right shoulder. I turned to see an elderly woman holding a tissue out to me. I smiled weakly and dabbed my eyes with the tissue.
She smiled back at me. `` You remind me of my daughter,'' she said. `` You have her same sorrowful blue eyes. I always told her she was too serious all the time and that she should smile more. When I saw you on that park bench all alone, crying, it broke my heart. I felt I had to come down and keep you company.''
We walked the few feet back to the bench and sat down. She placed her wrinkled hands on top of mine and asked me what I had been crying about.
`` It's nothing. It was stupid,'' I answered.
`` It was n't nothing if it upset you so much. Go on, dear, tell me. I'm a good listener,'' she gently prodded.
`` I was at work at Starbucks. It was really busy, and a customer was getting impatient that I was taking too long to make his frappuccino. He began yelling at me, calling me a retard. I tried to remain calm. I told him that he was being very mean and rude to me, which only made him angrier. Then my manager fired me for calling a customer mean and rude. I do n't know what I'm going to do now. I needed that job.'' I began sobbing again.
The woman pulled another tissue and a hundred dollar bill out of her pocketbook. She handed both to me. I protested and tried to give her back the hundred dollar bill. `` Take it to tide you over until you find another job,'' she kindly urged. `` Things will get better, I promise you. It may seem like the end of the world right now. But this is just a bump in the road.'' She paused for a moment, before continuing `` I wish I could have told my daughter that. I always wonder if there was something I could have said or something I could have done that would have kept her from taking her own life.'' Her eyes began to well up. She blinked back the tears. I thanked her and gave her a hug, as she whispered in my ear `` One day, when you're able to, I hope you'll pay it forward.''
|
[ WP ] Write a story , any story , that does not begin with someone waking up and going through their morning routine .
| The sound was deafening. A constant *thump, thump, thump. * Droning on and on. Besides the noise it was hot. Incredibly hot. Yes, there was a constant downward draft that shot air into the cabin. But it was hot. Incredibly hot. I felt like sticking your head into an oven. I looked out the side door and saw the a few palm trees pass down below. *How can these plants live in this climate? * I repositioned myself so my M60 machine gun rested against my left hand. Holding the long barreled weapon of this weight always puts strain on your trigger hand. I switched to my left to let my other hand rest. That and the black finish on it was incredibly hot baking in the sun.
A soldier behind tapped me on the shoulder with a spare headset. I put it on and it barely reduced the noise. I could barely hear the communications between the Sergeant and the pilot. The part I could make out was β circle around to the South East and at the first clearing with yellow smoke is the LZ. β The routine was the same. I cover my 180 degree sector and watch for any targets in the open. But due to the Geneva Convention I can β t shoot until shot at first. But personally I see someone running at the helicopter with a weapon, I β m putting them down. We all got the rescue recovery training. Nobody in their right mind would do that.
As we passed over what trees there were I couldn β t help but think about why the hell I β m here. I was just resting. My platoon just got stuck doing a dumb detail and didn β t get lights out until 2400. Next thing I know I β m being commanded to get dressed and rushed off to the armory. It wasn β t even day break and we β re standing in line for our weapons. Oh, but don β t worry. We are handed MRE β s along the way so at least we get some nutrition. No time to brush or make my bunk. But β s okay, we β ll probably get dumped on it later to make our beds. Going on less than four hours of sleep. I was really hoping we β d get to sleep in and enjoy this weekend like normal people.
The helicopter finally touches down and the view is blinded by the yellow smoke. Or is it pink? It β s hard to tell. It looks like it β s changing colors. A few soldiers jump out before I can get a proper sweep of the area. A few shout out in profanity to cover the area. Some don β t know where the rally point is. I β m fuckin β pissed because I can β t see shit. It β s also incredibly hot. I β ve already got sweat stains bleeding through my uniform. Out from the smoke pops a dark figure. I turn my weapon toward it in reflex and blast off a few rounds. The figure moves closer and raises its hands up to its face. I fire off a few more rounds and the blanks flash out in a glorious sound of victory. The dark figure turns out to be one of our own. Just a combat camera man. He snaps a few action shots of me and shoots me a thumbs up. He then turns the camera to the exiting soldiers. I think a few of them flex their biceps as they passed. I shake my head in frustration. *Fuckin β Aβ¦ Another training exercise. Can β t I just sleep in? *
|
[ WP ] Santa delivers , no matter WHERE you are .
| Christmas time. Great. Another year out here on Orbital Outpost Omega.
Every year they get us to write letters to Santa. Like that would achieve anything.
Johann sighed.
2.7 Billion miles from Earth. Omega was a research outpost orbiting Neptune. Johann had been here for 5 years.
It was supposed to be crewed with 2 men, but 3 weeks ago Professor Striken had fallen ill, and needed to return to the Mars colonies for medical treatment. There was no possible replacement that could be sent that would arrive in time before the mission concluded.
Johann looked out the view portal. So many stars. But he could n't see home.
He moved down the hallway past the docking bay and peered through the hatch. Everything was in order. All the equipment was stowed, and Strikens damned `` Christmas tree'' was still there - glowing and blinking in the corner.
For a joke, Professor Striken had set up an old broken antennae in the docking bay, it was shaped a little bit like a Fir tree. He had decorated it with loose wires and cables, and spare electronic components. It was actually quite colorful. But Johann did n't see the point. He missed Strikens company, but there were only a few weeks of the mission to go.
He returned to the command module and sat at the console, and remembered he still had to write the letter to Santa. He did n't write a letter last year or any of the years on this mission. In fact Johann had not written a letter to Santa since he was 7 years old.
`` What was the point?'' he wondered. But he thought of Striken and his damned tree and whispered aloud `` I might as well write something, it is Christmas Eve after all.''
He shifted his weight in his chair on the command module.
His fingers danced across the keyboard as he tapped out a message that mission control would email to the `` North Pole'' along with all the staff and childrens letters. SENT.
He fell asleep in the command chair.
***
Johann was woken up by the emergency alarm. He leaned forward in his seat and adjusted the camera controls to focus outside the station.
Nothing there. He flicked to the camera to the forward view.
Nothing there either. He clicked the view over to the docking bay.
Deer? There were deer in the docking bay? And a sled? What the hell. He had finally gone mad.
After all these years.
As he watched the display a movement in the sled caught his eye. It was a man in a red suit. A big, fat man, with a white beard.
`` No way...'' said Johann, as he watched the screen, transfixed.
The jolly man jumped nimbly from the sled, effortlessly hefting a large sack on his back bulging with awkward shapes.
He delicately lay the sack down near the Antenna-tree and started rummaging around. He drew out a small box. `` Aha!'' It was beautifully giftwrapped and tied with a bow, and placed it carefully below the `` tree''.
Then as quickly as he had arrived he jumped back in the sled. There was a bright flash and Johann had to cover his eyes. When he looked again the docking bay was empty except for Strikens antenna tree and a Christmas present beneath.
He shook his head in disbelief as he started to move down to the docking bay, a nervous rush surging through him as he wondered what Santa had brought him for Christmas!
|
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