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[ WP ] When the Aliens came , the Swiss were neutral . When they started to conquer Earth , the Swiss were still neutral . When the Aliens came for the Swiss , they learned the hard way why the Swiss prefer to be neutral .
| 'They're closing in.' He whispered in my ear.
It did n't matter what he said, it already started. My veins began to boil and swell, I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw the real me.
'Hun?' His voice wavered with fear.
'Americans, they never understand.' My last words, as the girl he fell in love with was ripped from his heart.
My body began to crack, harden and grey. My eyes grew to the size of tangerines, my voice shattered and a mighty roar was strewn around me. This is why the Swiss stay neutral, this is why we do n't get involved.
'What are you' an almost childlike voice crept from my 42-year old husband.
'I- We- The Swiss, we're not like the rest of the world, we're not like you. We are different, from technology found in ruins. It changed us, made us stronger, faster, tougher... Better. The government never found out where it originated, but we know it's not from here.' I said as soft as I could, but my gravelly voice shattered any sense of the word.
'Not from here? What Sweden? England? What do you mean? Space? His confusion went straight through my rock hard skin and hit me where my heart should have been.
'Space, yes, an asteroid. Centuries ago, when it crashed, they built around it, worshiped it, opened it. The rest, as they say, is history.' I tried to say without concerning him, not that it worked.
'They? Opened? What are you talking about?' His voice raised to an alarming shout.
'Ssh! They'll hear!' I snapped at him.'I'll explain when this is all ov-' I stopped, I could feel the change finalising.'Aarrgh' They only sound I could make. This was louder than the last. His faced dropped, fast.
'I- I- It's not over?' He stuttered. This, this did n't matter. One by one, the sound of Switzerland screamed out in rage. It was time, maybe the asteroid was given to us, or maybe it was luck. But all I know is when it starts there is no going back. We stay like this, till death. Cognitive function leaves when it starts, rage takes over, fills the heart.
The last this I saw, was my husband, as I instinctively crush his skull with just one of my hands.'I'm sorry was the last thing I did, before I became it.'
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[ WP ] A ghost re-reading his or her own suicide note .
| Joshua looked down at his incorporeal hands. Red blood still seemed to pump through the green veins the accented his pale limbs... he had always been pale... so the familiarity of the sight was perhaps the most surprising thing about his current appearance.
It had been a week since he had hanged himself from a beam in his sparsely furnished loft, and the claustrophobia and frustration had long since set in. The pangs of loneliness and boredom ached in the cavity where his heart still was. Unable to affect anything in his living space but unable to leave, bound by some cruel unseen force he had already resorted to quantifying the objects in the room. Four hundred and thirty-six unique objects, none of which he could touch. The final object was the bone white note on his desk, his final missive to the material world, one that he could not bring himself to look at.
” Why am I still here? ” The thought echoed in his dead skull. All he wanted was a clean break, an end to an existence he found meaningless and now he found himself in a far more meaningless non-existence.
The door to his loft slowly creaked open and two familiar shadows entered, some small hope at last. His mother, still dressed in mourning clothes clung to his father, himself putting on a brave face for the sake of his grieving wife.
She took a silent appraisal of the room, looking for a connection with a son she realized she had n't known well enough. Her gaze traced the perimeter of the room, posters from bands she had never heard of, a half empty bottle of vodka, the worn brown jacket he had worn to Christmas last year and finally, his desk.
The note remained where the building sup had left it the day he saw the odd shadow in the window. With tears welling up in her eyes she marshaled her broken courage and picked up the note.
Shaken, Joshua peered over her shoulder, unable to comfort her or offer any apologies as she read aloud to her husband, “ I hope their is peace on the other side... ” Joshua's eyes widened in horror, meanwhile his mother let out a gentle chuckle for the first time since she got the news.
“ How do you like that, dear? Joshy always prided himself on his grammar and here his final letter has a typo... ``
Panicked realization surged through him. His final regret, the awful mistake that kept him tied to this room. “ Mom, please, burn that! ”
She hugged the note to her chest as a single tear fell from her eye. “ I'll keep this for as long as I can, a reminder that our little man was n't as uptight as we thought he was. ”
Joshua's silent sceam echoed nowhere as his parents shut the door behind them...
Edited for grammar... appropriately enough...
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[ WP ] Every time your hands touch you lose your sight until you separate them . You do n't know why .
| Tentatively, David pressed his hands together, palm to palm.
Blackness.
He quickly separated them and his vision instantly returned.
He'd been pondering the implications of this new condition all morning, as soon as his hands touched each other he would instantly go blind, it had been frightening at first, but he was slowly getting used to it.
David was hard pressed to think of any situations that would force him to place his two hands together. If such a situation did arise he would simple separate them again with no harm done.
David shrugged, it was nothing to get worked up over, briefly going blind when two parts of your body touched was n't really that unusual, it happened to everybody whenever they blinked.
He touched his hands together.
Black.
Pulled them apart.
Vision.
David smirked, it really was nothing to worry about.
Two weeks later David had an epileptic fit when he took part in a round of applause.
|
You find yourself stuck at the Mexican Border . ( Go from there )
| The CBP agent held our vegetables over a wastebasket and asked if I was some kind of vegetarian. I said, “ No ” and he placed everything back into the icebox. They were her vegetables. When she bought them she felt their skin for bumps and bruises and then placed each one into her canvas bag. Everything green in there was hers: the zucchini, the lettuce, the cucumbers, the kale. Maybe I ’ d chop them up into a salad. I couldn ’ t imagine eating them though. I was almost home––to my parents home. Maybe I ’ d hide the vegetables there, deep into the corner of the refrigerator, where they could survive for another day.
“ What ’ s all this food? ” my father asked from the kitchen counter. She was still in the car contemplating her next move. “ It ’ s Saturday. You ’ re not supposed to be back yet. ” I noticed the faint hairs on his chest. He used to tell me that having little-to-no chest hair was a sign of a well-traveled path.
“ It didn ’ t workout. ”
“ Mexico? Her? The weather? ”
“ She ’ s still in the car. ”
“ She ’ s still in the car? What is she still doing in the car? ”
We had a salad later that night for dinner. My father cracked an egg over it as an adhesive for the dressing. I looked at her as he did it, and she grinned as if she could be excited again. I thought about the next morning. We could drive back, through to Mexico, and finish our trip. My father grabbed a bottle of wine, one from the cabinet, behind all of the liquor. He said, `` Vires acquirit eundo.'' We gather strength as we go.
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[ WP ] Your username is the central theme of the writing prompt
| `` Mother nature, the enigmatic creator of life on earth in all its shapes and sizes; from organisms as basic as plankton to those stunningly complex such as ourselves. Im David Attenborough and today we will be looking at the wonderful Enhydra lutris; the sea otter.''
`` These beautiful marine mammals are known for their use of tools and their sociable nature and also - whats that? My god we may be about to film behaviour never before caught on camera.... Oh no, heavens no not this.''
`` We *ahem* we are terribly sorry but it would appear that the behaviour being displayed is much too graphic to be recorded `` *aside; my god man you could n't have warned me that the otter was raping a seal pup? You perverted imbecile we almost recorded that! My god its killing it now! Why is it still - that is vile *retching* No wonder this has never been recorded*
`` Ahem closer to home now we will be taking a look at the common mallard duck, a nice, ordinary animal with no revolting attributes.....
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[ WP ] A mind reader rubs a genie lamp . They both try to outsmart the other .
| I knew he'd be trouble from the moment our eyes met as I rose from the lamp. A thin face, a jaw ill-suited to refined speech and eyes that had n't been out of disdainful mode for months. The scruffy T-shirt and dirty jeans did n't help either, but I was always a bit fussy about clothes. Yes, this guy was going to be trouble.
`` You're right, I am trouble,'' he said. `` I'm a mindreader. So no tricks!''
I presumed he did n't mean the stage-magic kind of mind-reader. How did a human get that power? It was reserved for several ranks above me.
`` The mindreading's a wish too,'' he said. `` Two years ago I was throwing stones by a lake, and one went into a bush and hit something. It pokes its head out and it's a unicorn! He said he was a lord - Lord Splendid Hostility, or something.''
`` Lord Splendid *Humility*, I think.''
`` Well, I know how that works. I've read the comics. You hit a unicorn, you get a wish. So I chose mindreading. He said it'd be too distracting if I could read everyone's mind at once, so he just did it for whoever I'm looking at. He had to think about it for a bit, but he did it OK.''
`` Does n't surprise me.'' Unicorns were n't always terribly bright - and they did n't grant as many wishes as we did.
`` Right. So I know you think I'm ugly, but it does n't matter - I've rubbed your lamp, so you have to give me a wish. I want infinity more wishes.''
`` Sorry, I ca n't change my own terms. People have tried that before. It's one wish per rub, and only one a day - but you can keep coming back as long as you like. And you ca n't make wishes for other people, only yourself.''
The useful thing about mind-reading is that you can tell what people are saying is true. It saved a lot of arguing. `` Oh. OK, then... Well, there's this girl I like - can you get her for me?''
`` Get you to where she is? No problem.'' I raised my hand and began to prepare the teleportation spell -
`` **No**. I said **no tricks! ** I want her to go out with me. I want her to love me. I want her to be mine...''
Somehow, I suspected that would be the case. `` OK, so how about I make you attractive to women?'' ( I thought attractive in general would be a bit beyond me. )
`` Will that be enough?''
`` Do n't know. Go and try, and if it does n't work come back tomorrow. One wish a day, remember?''
`` OK. And if you keep making cracks about my looks I'll bend your spout round so far you'll be coming out of your handle!''
`` Do n't care, it's only a company lamp. It needs replacing anyway. See you tomorrow...''
*****
The next day, he was back. `` It did n't work. Are you actually any good at granting wishes?''
`` Oh, yes - there's just the odd problem now and then. What happened?''
`` It seemed to go OK to start with. She looked interested when she first saw me, but when I started talking to her she just lost interest and went away. What went wrong? Your spells?''
`` No, there's a more important reason. I was n't going to tell you for a while, but you're starting to bore me, so I'm finishing this right now.''
`` Come on, then, tell me, what's the problem?''
`` Your mind-reading wish. Did n't you know that connections like that can never be one-way? If you can read other people's minds, it follows that they can read yours. You've been broadcasting your thoughts to everyone you've looked at - me, your friends, your family... *and* that girl you've been chasing!''
The awful thing about mind-reading is that you can tell what people are saying is true - even when you'd rather believe it was a lie. His jaw dropped as he realised what he'd given away about himself over the last two years.
`` No!'' he cried. `` *Take it off!! *''
`` I ca n't. Unicorns grant wishes in a different way from genies; you'll have to find another unicorn. When you meet one, remember it can tell what you're thinking. By the way, they do n't *all* appreciate being hit with rocks!''
I could n't help feeling a little sorry for him. If Lord Splendid Humility had known how serious it would be for him, I was pretty sure he would n't have granted the wish; but unicorns are much less deceitful than humans. He sensed my feeling, of course, and he did n't like it.
`` F*ck off!'' he yelled. `` Get back in that bloody lamp, and take your wishes with you!''
`` Wish granted!'' And I zipped back into the lamp and closed the spout.
As he kicked my lamp round the cave, I made a mental note: when I contacted my boss to get the lamp replaced, I should get permission to break one of our rules. Genies are supposed to be unpredictable and even-handed, but I felt that to be fair to humanity I would have to do so many good things that I'd start to get predictable.
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[ WP ] People can buy , sell , trade , or give away their skills . Some skills are passed from father to son , like woodworking . Your uncle recently died and left you a box . Inside is a warning , and a very particular set of skills , skills he acquired over a very long career .
| I have n't actually written anything before, so advice and constructive criticism would be appreciated,
It has been only two weeks since my life took a sharp left turn at weird. Wow, it's weird to think that it was only two weeks ago that I was a normal guy at college. That the biggest concerns I would have in my life were tests and girls. Now here I am, crouched on the roof of a skyscraper like freaking batman watching my mark make his tipsy way to his waiting limo.
It all started with my uncle ’ s death. We were pretty close. Or, well, as close as we could be what with him traveling all around the world for his work. Uncle Rob was always willing to listen to my teenager ’ s problems. He even answered my frantic two AM phone call when I slid off the road and could n't reach my parents; within thirty minutes there was a tow truck pulling me out of the ditch. That would n't have been too strange if I had n't been in the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm ( I was on my way home for Christmas, not whatever it was you were thinking ).
His death came as a shock to me. I mean, he was only 37 and in perfect health. I half expected him to live to be a hundred and fifty. But still, the news came that he had died in a car crash. The police said that alcohol was involved, but I could n't believe that. Uncle Rob had sworn off alcohol before I was born, said it clouded his judgment too much.
Speaking of which, that man Down there is really drunk. It's honesty astonishing that he is still upright. Oop there he goes, he has fallen over and it looks like he is swearing at a nearby trashcan.
Anyway, that is all beside the point. The day after his funeral I got a box in the mail from him. I was understandably confused, I mean, it is n't every day that you get mail from a dead relative add to that the fact that it was post marked as having been sent the day he died, I was dying to know what his last words for me were. Inside was a note and a small wooden box, like the kind my mom keeps her jewlery in.
My hands were shaking as I unfolded the note:
“ Steve,
If you are reading this then I am dead. There are many who would kill for what I am giving you, this is the only way I can think of to keep these SKILLS out of their hands. I am sorry, they will be coming for you now. I wish I could leave you something better than this, but I have no choice, the literal fate of a world is in this box.
Melodrama aside, I do wish the best for you. What you do with this gift is up to you. I hope you can forgive me.
With love,
Uncle Rob
P.S. you can trust Morgan, she can help you adjust. ”
SKILLS… of course I knew what SKILLS were, who does n't? The ability to crystalize and share abilities has been used for hundreds of years. Most SKILLS were passed down family lines, father to son, mother to daughter. I had even inherited a SKILL in woodworking from my maternal grandfather a few years before. But something seemed off about this. I mean, killing for SKILLS? Most SKILLS were available for purchase if you had enough money, what could possibly be worth murder?
If I thought my hands were shaking when I read the note, it was nothing to what they were doing as I picked up the box. It certainly did n't look special, plain dark wood with a simple metal latch. I took a moment to compose myself before flipping the latch and opening the box.
Inside was not what I expected. Most SKILLS are manifested as a two inch long crystal with swirling colored light that relates to the ability inside. The woodworking SKILL I got from my grandfather for example was a very pleasant brown light that swirled like flakes of glowing sawdust. This was different. Instead of the two or three crystals I expected, there was one six inch long four inch thick crystal with the brightest, most intense white light I had ever seen.
The significance of this is probably lost on you so I'll explain: each SKILL gives off one and only one color of light. Woodworking is brown, swimming might be blue, and camping might be green. If two SKILLS are put in one crystal then it will be a combination of the colors of those two SKILLS. For a crystal to glow this brightly and this white, there had to have been a lot of skills inside.
The only other SKILL crystal I had seen glow like this was from I video I saw in my history class; the king of some European monarchy passing the royal abilities on to his successor.
The crystal in this box was easily as bright or even brighter than that one.
So here I am, two weeks later, still sorting through my new abilities and the odd turn my life has taken. Maybe in the future I'll write something down about those two weeks. How I found Morgan, how she did indeed help me adjust, how I learned just what my Uncle did on all those international trips, the reason people would kill for the SKILLS I now possessed. Perhaps most importantly, what I could do to stop those people.
Speaking of which, I look down at my target again, he had finally made it to his limo, which is now pulling away from the club at which he had spent his last evening. I reach up and tap my earpiece
“ Subdirector Williams is on the move, we are a go ”
Morgan responds almost instantly “ I have a visual, good luck hunter ”
I grin and take a deep breath, reaching for the feeling of warmth and electricity in my chest as I throw myself off the roof.
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[ WP ] Mankind lost the war . In the final seconds before his execution , the last human looks up with a smile and says `` We left you a present . ''
|
The officer strolled through the grass field, the last pureblooded human being paraded behind him like a dog. Angelic faces, cold and beautiful like diamonds, watched him with flapping wings. The Emperor of the Elohim sat as the human was brought to his feet, studying him like the human was an insect to be crushed under a boot.
`` Speak your name human.'' The human spat out blood, glaring up at the Emperor on his silver throne.
`` Sargent Dimitri Markov, of the 45th Expeditionary Force.'' He grinned, teeth yellow and broken.
`` You have resisted ascendance for 30 years, stealing ships and flying from planet to planet. You are a war criminal and a terrorist, murdering innocent soldiers and workers. Before I kill you, and your blood stains the green grass we are on, I will ask you one thing. Why?''
Dimitri coughed violently, blood flecks staining his salt and pepper beard. When the fit had finished, he started to speak. `` You call yourself the children of God... but you are not a child of God. Humanity crawled itself out of the fuckhole called Earth and spread across the stars. I saw beauty that was unearthly, pillars of rock rising for miles, forests of mushrooms and flowers-'' He coughed again. `` And then some scientist decided to make you. And you made all of this beauty into the same. Look around you! Every planet we colonized, it became this!'' He looked around at the gentle hills, the green grass with tulips blooming, with the occasional tree to add verticality. It was beautiful yes, but it was the same thing on hundreds of other planets, not unique.
The Emperor raised an eyebrow. `` We perfected this land. We made it into Heaven.''
`` You ruined the galaxy by perfecting it! So much was lost because you have some idea of Heaven given to you by a dying man!''
The feathers of the crowd ruffled and they stared disapprovingly at Dimitri. His ropes were tightened as the Emperor got up, Dimitri forced to kneel.
`` Sargent Dimitri Markov, I pronounce you guilty of crimes against the Elohim people, including terrorism, murder, disturbing the peace, theft, heresy, and the worst crime of all, being unascended. You are sentenced to death.''
The Emperor drew a burning blade, holding it in one hand. `` May you find peace Dimitri, and may you find the beauty you claim was lost.''
Dimitri chuckled. `` Emperor... I wanted to show you real beauty before I died. That's why I aimed my stolen ship at this system's Sun.''
The Emperor's eyes widened as a small dot crossed the sun and then exploded into a firey blaze that englufed the sky. Dimitri watched, crying. `` I guess a FTL drive and a sun do n't mix.'' The explosion became blue, then pink, then a dark red. The ground started to shake.
`` What have you done?!''
Dimitri bit into a false tooth, the poison inside entering his body. He was going to die in a few minutes, and he looked up at the Emperor for one last time.
`` It's a blackhole.'' The Emperor flew away to his ship, and the rest of his court followed. Their ship was caught in the gravity, individual strands of DNA ripped apart by the black maw. Dimitri died before he was ripped apart, a wide smile on his face. He had seen true beauty again.
|
[ IP ] `` It looks like a helmet ... let me try it on ... ''
| Samsara was an adventurer. Along winding steppes and grassy avenues, she walked. She danced through clear streams with the fish, collecting trinkets and pebbles to add to her growing collection. Glimmering stones, proof of her tall tales for her awed friends. It was a tradition. To not go out without bringing something back. Her village upheld it, her parents upheld it, and her spirited curiosity upheld it. It was the way.
Of course, not all knew the way. Strangers had been coming in like the quiet flow of a stream. They arrived from the east and the west, from the north and the south. But some arrived from nowhere known. And these ones were the strangest. They would huddle, with their strange clothes and their strange accents, in alleys and in the marketplace, scanning around with their odd expressions. Mama Lu-Yan called them `` ghosts.'' They would disappear just as easily as they arrived, as if on the wind.
Samsara was a detective. She was drawn to mystery. Yet oddly, the adventurer in her reveled in it. The unknown should stay unknown, but also become known. Her beliefs intermingled like the streams of two riverbeds, a simple yin and yang that only a child could experience. So early one morning, she set out along a path unexplored. With trusty Mio by her side, she would be safe.
Up along the path, the trek grew arduous. The path was rocky and steep, snaking to and fro between rocks, deeper in the empty countryside, browning and arid. Few along the path waved to her or stopped themselves to offer her water and bread. Such was odd. Rather, they carried the heavy looks on their face like Grandpa, when he would talk about the Long War. The lines in his face would become trenches, and the eyes would stare far away, as if in a trance. There was never happiness when he was asked about it. Just regret, molting and bubbling and pooling onto the floor shamefully for his family to see, all without any words spoken. The Heavy Look, these strangers carried it like rucksacks, and they walked past Samsara with no words.
`` Perhaps I should turn back, to make it home before dusk,'' mused Samsara aloud. She shook her head. The sky was cloudless, and a gentle wind blew down the path. She turned her head and saw mystery. A great birdlike contraption lay gutted atop a rockhead. It coiled like a scorpion, its long tail hanging skyward. Scraps of metal lay scattered around it, surrounded by flecks of white and blue. It sat there, decrepit and yet majestic. Here was mystery. Here was adventure. Samsara had never seen anything like it. Endless ideas took flight in her mind like an eagle aloft in the sky. She saw a soft reddish glow pulsing in her peripheral vision. Walking towards it, she felt a creeping strangeness upon her skin. It hummed and pulsed and whispered something. Mio sat calmly, watching.
`` It... it looks like a helmet...'' It whispered something unknowable to her, and laughed. `` Maybe... let me try it on...'' Wriggling softly, it grasped her face. And then Samsara saw.
She saw across the countryside and down the galloping hills and past the flowing rivers and beyond the snow-peaked mountains. She saw into the lands of men, tinted colors of brown and red and white. And she saw how they fought. How they captured and enslaved, how they beat and pillaged, how they returned to their homes to love their wives. She saw the `` ghosts'' driven from their homelands, the dead and loved lying at their feet. She saw warriors and conquerors. They were coming.
With the Helmet in hand, and Mio by her side, she ran back to her village. Samsara was an adventurer.
|
[ WP ] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them . When you receive yours it says simply `` Welcome to Starbucks . Can I take your order ? ''
| John trudged his way towards bus stop, this must be the worst birthday ever. He could n't believe what he just saw. His 4 yr old relationship breaking apart. He always thought Sara was his soulmate and loved her more than anything else in the world. His plans of skipping college and spending the day with Sara was tragic, he just saw her with another guy. He sat at the bus stop staring at nothing, thinking about the first day he had met her at Starbucks, where she used to work and then the 4 beautiful years that they had spent together. Everything was going so good, why would she cheat him. Johns phone rang, it was Sara. John switched off his mobile and slid the phone back into his pocket. He found a piece of envelope. It was the traditional first words of soulmate that his grandfather had given him. John did n't bother as he thought he had already found his soulmate. After staring few seconds to the envelope, John removed the paper slip from envelope. He turned the paper to see `` Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?''. John was shattered, he could n't believe what he saw. Though he did n't remember exact first words of Sara, but this is exactly what it must have been. How can this be possible. His eyes got teary and his hand lost the grip of the paper.
The paper flew and was dragged to a distance. John got up to pick it up, as he got close he saw a girl pick the paper up. She looked pretty, somewhere 18-20 yrs old. She looked towards John, then the paper and read `` Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?'' She giggled `` hehe, let me guess, this must be your first word from soulmate letter? So she works at Starbucks. Lucky you, at least you know where you can find her. You know what I got on my 18th bday? I just got'Hey'. Yeah, just a single word `` Hey''. Now how do I find my soulmate with one single word. Its pathetic. I do n't think I'll ever find him''. John starred her for few seconds, smiled and said..
Note: English is n't my first language, so pardon the poor English.
|
[ WP ] You are a new god and it 's time to speak to your first prophet .
| `` Do I have to?''
`` Yes.''
`` Come one man, I'm not ready yet, Just another couple hundred years, I swear, I could handle it then.''
`` No. We're doing this now. I've been cutting you some serious slack and the higher ups are riding my ass to get you on this. Besides, I have lunch with Aphrodite in an hour, and I am *not* missing that. Just pick one.
`` Fiiiiine!'' I whine, even though Aries scares the crap out of me and I know I'm pushing my luck. I scan the small expanse of land below me, looking for someone who looks at least somewhat reasonable.
`` How about that one?''
`` Which one?''
`` The dude with the sheep and the...''
`` No no no no nooo. Not that one. He's been claimed. He almost killed his kid last year for some nut job in the other district. Pick someone else.''
`` Ooookay,'' I say, feeling a bit creeped out. I had to remember to add infanticide to my list of no-no's. `` Man in the little hut. He's young, he does n't have any family to sacrifice, I do n't see any symbols... What do you think? He looks pretty poor, I bet I give him a little farmland and he's mine.''
`` Yeah, sure, whatever, just do it now.''
I exhale deeply, feeling less than divine about what was about to happen. What if I picked a total hack? Or worse, a philosopher? I zapped myself down to him anyway, seeing as I had little choice in the matter.
`` Behold, human! Be on your knees! Before stand Zaarina, Goddess of... That Which Has Yet To Be Decided! Humble yourself and heed my commands, and I shall give you all that you deserve in life!''
The man blinked at me groggily, not at all terrified or humbled as I had desired. In fact, he looked rather annoyed. `` No.''
`` What? No? You ca n't just...'' oh, that was it, I thought. I snapped my fingers and summoned a bolt of lighting to come down, aiming to give him a bit of a show. It struck his hut, and the straw roof lit up instantly, the flames licking away at what meager possessions he might have in there. Crap.
`` Why did you go and do that? That's my house! I live there!''
`` I know!'' I snarled from behind grinding teeth. `` That was just a taste of my power, to show you what I'm capable of. Now, are you going to listen to me? I'll give you a new house and everything. Just do as I say. It wo n't be that hard.''
`` Fine,'' he said, looking defeated. `` Who do you want me to go kill?''
`` What?! No, I -- No! No killing!''
At that, he looked a bit surprised. `` Really? Gods always want us to kill people. What else could you possibly need from me?''
I rolled my eyes in disgust. If I needed someone dead, I'd do it myself, in seconds. Humans are hardly a challenge to eliminate. `` Go out, spread my word, live by and teach my rules. Worship me a little bit. Throw in the occasional sacrifice -- of gold and silver, or goats, not children, okay?''
He blinked, still wearing that dazed expression. Then a light bulb seemed to pop up over his head. `` Oh. You want me to tell everyone of the danger of people of a certain skin color or something. Alright, fine, is it the white guys next town over? They're new and they're violently invading, so that wo n't be hard.''
`` No! Alright, you foolish child, let me spell it out for you. These are my laws:
**Thou shalt not kill unless you really, really have to in order to save somebody, and even then a good choke hold is preferable. **
**Thou shalt not copulate with an unwilling partner. That means no rape. And the partner needs to be well past puberty. Other than that, thou can copulate with whoever you want. **
**Though shalt judge your fellow humans based on their actions, not their gender, ethnicity, or even other religions. Seriously, live and let live. **
**Thou shalt do something nice for your wife and children every now and then, and not work so hard that they never see you. Providing for them and abandoning them are two separate things, and you all deserve better than the seven-year-journey ordeal. For this reason I'm going to say that divorce is totally okay. **
**Oh, and thou shalt not kill thy children. Ever. For any reason. Do n't beat them either, if I see that I'm going to come down here and take care of you myself. **''
I cut off there, out of breath. The Godly Voice thing took a lot of lung power. I was about to try to tack on a few more when I noticed the smirk on his face.
`` What, did I forget something?''
`` Oh, I'm sure you did, but it would n't be something I did n't already know.'' he replied in a smug voice. `` Seriously, do n't rape or murder people, and do n't beat your kids? You do n't think we already knew that? How stupid do you think we are?''
I was smoldering now. `` What are you talking about?! You pricks rape and murder people all the time! I watch you do it!''
`` Yeah, well, that's not our fault. We do just fine until Gods step in. Then all of a sudden it's murder this, burn that, sacrifice all your first born sons in my name, make fun of the guys wearing stars around their necks. You know what we'd do without Gods? We'd stay put, where we are, raise sheep and take baths a lot. Life would be good.''
I was pinching the bridge of my nose to hold back the exasperated tears. We had n't covered smart-asses in training. `` You know what? Whatever. I do n't care. Just go forth, at *least* to the local village, and start spreading around my word anyway. We'll meet up in a week to discuss the new farm deal.''
`` But what about my --''
I flashed out of there, up to my safe, comfy house, ready to drink some ambrosia until this migraine disappeared forever.
`` How'd I do?'' I asked.
Aries was choking on his laughter. `` Oh, that will work fine, girl. That will work fine. Did you catch the guys name, by the way?''
`` No,'' I said, feeling more than a little stupid. But Aries just grinned further.
`` Well, take it from the guys in divination department, everyone's gon na know it soon it enough.''
|
[ WP ] : Every morning , you find a tiny note somewhere in your apartment . The green text are simple , `` pick up laundry '' , `` Sarah 's birthday '' , etc . Yellow is moderately important things , and the only red notes you ever had both saved your life . Today you have the third red note . `` DO NOT WEAR A HAT . ''
| It is always the same routine every day. I wake up and check the note, start the coffeemaker, jump in the shower, brush, dress and sit down and drink my coffee. And reread the note. And read it in full once more, as per our family ritual. Today, I somehow skipped opening the box right away. It had never happened before. I opened the box, and my hand with my coffee froze in midair as my heart had turned to ice.
It was a red note.
“ DO NOT WEAR A HAT. ”
It was only my third Red note in my life, but I clearly remembered my first two. Both had saved my life; the second one saved another nine along with me. I had known about the notes since I was 6. My mom would make her small jokes and tease my dad about the quirky ones, but he would never discuss them with us. Although they would sometimes disagree with her plans, over time she grew to grudgingly accept them, perhaps even look forward to them. I was 12 when my Dad took me on one of his walks to the cliffs above the beach, pointing out the different interesting things we could see along the way. He was enamored with nature, very knowledgeable and well educated, and usually kept up a steady conversation. This time was was very different, as he seemed distracted and was mostly silent. We reached the top and he suddenly turned to me, with the most serious expression than I had ever seen. I was a little nervous, but curious what was on his mind. “ I know that you are only 12, but it is time for me to pass along the responsibilities of our family, regarding the notes. While there is still a lot we do not know, I will explain enough for you to understand the basics. The tradition goes back for generations, but the importance is crucial. As you know, every day in the morning, like my father before me, I check the note. But what is the note? I will describe it in a simple way, but as you grow older you will realize that there is a much more complex background and depth that you will learn in time. The universe is affected by every action of every human being. Everything is connected to everything, which creates a scary ripple of cause and effect. At the end of each day, there remain a few anomalies that must be adjusted, so that the balance of the universe is maintained. The notes are subtle tasks that are very powerful, and reverse the ripple of negative effects. There are three kinds of notes, Green, Yellow and Red. The Green notes seem to be more personal, less severe, and the effects more subtle. The yellow notes are more significant, not limited to you on a personal level, and the effects are usually somewhat more substantial. The red ones are always the most crucial, terrifying yet breathtaking, woven in the choreography of the mundane activities, yet as integral as the beating of your heart. Although you will have a new note written every morning, it may be years before you see your first Red. I am sure you will do great things in your time. Make me proud. ”
He seemed to still be struggling with a lump in his throat, debating whether to tell me more or let me learn the rest on my own. I was only twelve at the time, yet I understood the tender and powerful emotions surrounding this moment. It was as if the world was waiting for me, the waves and the wind seemed to be holding their breath, as I perceived a calming silence beneath all the ambient sounds. After a long pause, he chose to continue. “ Personally, I make sure to read the note 3 times, just to be safe. And of course, obviously, the red notes are so imperative that they can not be disregarded; your life or the lives of others may depend on it. ”
Looking wistfully into the horizon as the breeze toyed with his hair, he reached into his pocket, and handed me a small black box with an intricate white motif inlaid on the top. I found it fascinating. He showed me his note from that morning. It was in green writing, and said “ Give the second note to your son today ”. I opened my new box, and inside was a 4x4 square piece of paper. My very own note, with two words in green. “ Welcome Back ”.
No hat. Easy, but important. I stepped out of my house without a hat and started walking to catch my train, wondering what would happen today. It was cold and windy, and I smiled knowingly. I knew it would be. I stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change, always aware of those around me. I found myself between a middle aged businessman carrying a newspaper and a briefcase, and an athletic thirty-something-but-in-shape woman with her phone on her arm attached to neon yellow earphones holding a water bottle. Both were wearing hats. His hat was a classic black fedora with a feather, and hers, a pink Yankees cap, with a white interlocking NY on the front. The light changed and we began to cross the street, and as we were 4 feet from the curb, a strong gust of wind blew into our faces. My senses were tingling as time sped into slow-motion. I knew the wind would blow their hats off and that they would try to retrieve them. I instantly knew why I was there with no hat of my own. They both turned toward me as they tried to grab their hats, both a fraction of a second too late. In this timeless state I could sense profoundly without the need to see, the danger rapidly approaching in the form of a tractor trailer barreling towards us, the driver on his phone. I could actually feel both hats, as if every fiber was somehow attached to me. I didn ’ t hesitate. I instantly lowered my shoulders and spread out my arms, and pushed them forward into a bear hug, shoving them onto the sidewalk. The newspaper was swept away into the wind like a giant angry bird, desperately flapping its pages to escape into its new found freedom. Her water bottle skittered down the street, until it violently hit the curb and cracked, splashing the water all around. I stepped over them as they watched the blur of the truck gliding by, both hats run over by the wheels. They turned their heads to look at me, but I had never stopped, I was already halfway down the block. As they helped each other up, I could somehow still feel the conversation.
“ Are you OK? ” asked the man with the smashed fedora.
“ Yeah, how ‘ bout you? ” asked the girl with the grayish pink baseball cap.
“ Never better ”, he said with a grin.
“ I ’ m Tom, by the way. ”
I could feel her shy smile, and I absorbed the instant spark of warmth as their eyes met, and their souls said hello.
As I turned the corner, I whispered along with her,
“ Clara. ”
|
[ WP ] Write a sad story using only google searches
| How to propose
Wedding chapels
Atheist weddings
Wedding licence fees
Honeymoon ideas
How to get on the property market
Do woodchucks chuck wood?
Birth control failure
Pregnancy symptoms
Are pregnancy tests accurate?
Ethics of abortion
How to prepare for a baby.
Real estate services.
Estate agents.
Moving services.
Maternity leave.
Paternity leave.
Does insurance cover child birth?
Maternity hospitals.
Bottle feeding vs. Breast feeding.
Breast pumps.
How to change a diaper.
Baby wo n't stop crying!
Post natal depression.
Postpartum depression.
How to deal with post natal depression.
Councelling services.
Mental health services.
9 month old baby wo n't stop crying.
Postpartum depression after 9 months?
Funeral homes.
Does insurance cover suicide?
Single father help services.
Grief benefits.
Dealing with depression.
Dealing with grief.
Is god real?
How to love your child.
|
[ WP ] Everytime you or your girlfriend try to break up , timetravellers from the future appear and tell you that the nature of the universe depends upon you being together . It 's been 4 years and you 're both miserable .
| Charlie and Carly. We used to think that we were meant to be, in the drunken blur that was our 20's. But after cheating, and jealousy, and lies, and deception, eventually we both decided that there was nothing between us except utter contempt.
I moved on with my life. I graduated college, and went on to work as a paralegal for a small law firm here in town. I had recently started seeing this great girl, Leslie, when a time traveler showed up.
You heard me right. A time traveler. He showed up at my office one day, and asked where Carly was. I told him I had no idea where she was, and was n't exactly privy to her location. He mumbled on about how the continuation of the universe depended on Carly and I being together in a relationship.
It took some convincing, but to ensure the universe continued to function and not implode on itself, Carly and I got back together. This has been the most miserable four months of my life.
It's not even that Carly is a bad person, or pushes my buttons intentionally. It's just that we're incompatible. She can pass the salt a certain way, and I'll have to bite my tongue. The way I fold laundry pisses her off. We're just not meant to be.
I've been keeping it secret from all parties involved, but I've still been seeing Leslie. She's a cute thing from downtown, and she works at a coffee shop I frequent. I think I'm really starting to feel something for her.
But I ca n't be with her. I have to be with Carly.
`` What's this?''
I'm shaken from my thoughts. Carly is standing over me, in her hand is a slip of pictures of Leslie and I at a carnival photo booth. In the last picture, Leslie and I are kissing.
`` Why are you going through my stuff?'' I am immediately defensive, standing up to my full height in front of her. She scoffs.
`` Look, Charlie, you came to me with that creepy man who says he's from the future and TOLD ME that if we were n't together, the universe would collapse. At first I assumed that it was some desperate attempt to get back with me, but... after seeing how miserable you are, I knew it had to be true.''
She drops down to the sofa, and I sit down gently beside her. `` Before you came, I was seeing this guy, Derek. And he was my own kind of crazy, you know?'' Tears well in her eyes, and although I do n't love her, I feel bad for her. She wipes the tears, and sniffs. `` I broke things off with him after you and that man convinced me to be with you, but....what if the universe is n't worth it? Why do WE have to be miserable?''
I place my hand on the small of her back, and rub gently. There's no good answer.
`` Maybe we do n't owe the universe anything.'' The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them. She jerks her head up, and the tears have stopped.
`` You mean --''
`` I mean that we should n't be so concerned with the universe collapsing or imploding or whatever's gon na happen. Whatever's gon na happen could happen three years after we die, or it could happen for any other reason! Who are we to stop it?''
She stands up, and I stand up. I gently wipe her cheek, a stray tear having fallen. `` Go be with Derek.'' She smiles at me, and she laughs genuinely. I realize it's the first time I've heard her genuinely laugh in my presence since we were in our twenties.
`` I would say it's not the end of the world, but...'' She laughs, and I find myself laughing, too. She grabs her phone, and on her way out the door, she's calling Derek. I pull my phone out of my pocket, and call Leslie.
****************************************************************
`` So, why did you want me to meet you in the park at ten o' clock on a Wednesday?'' Leslie asks me, as she sits on the swing of a large swing set in the middle of the park.
I smile. I'm carrying a lunch box, and a blanket folded up underneath my arm. `` Have n't you heard? The world's ending. And I want to spend my last moments with you.''
She laughs, clearly not believing me. She walks towards me, her blonde hair glistens in the moonlight. She is beautiful. I would -- and have -- given the universe for her.
I drop the blanket onto the ground, and gesture for her to sit next to me. I pull wrapped sandwiches from the lunch box, and hand one to her.
Above us, across the night sky, streaks of white, red, green, blue, and orange mix in with the black, mixing and twisting like droplets of food coloring. The sky twists and contracts in on itself, cracks forming in the night. Around us, trees turn upside down, uprooted from the earth, their roots reaching and extending towards the sky.
I turn to her, and the world inverts on itself. We are now in the sky, and the cracking and breaking sky is beneath us, pooling into a swirling mass. `` I love you, Leslie.''
`` oot, uoy evol I'' Her smile appears as a frown, because her lips have turned upside down on her face, but I know she's smiling. She does n't seem alarmed that she just spoke backwards. And neither do I.
|
[ WP ] `` I 'm sorry , but I have to know for sure . ''
| The gun feels heavier than it had all those years ago. My hand shakes as I load the bullets, and it gets worse as the chamber clicks into place, like as though gravity turned up a few notches for this one particular instance.
*Breathe in. Hold it, focus it. Let it out. *
It does n't help. Never has. The gun still feels like the world, and I am Atlas forced to carry it's burdens. The goddamn shaking is n't helping matters either.
`` Do you want me to hold the gun?'' Matthew asks.
I shake my head, `` No.''
He takes that for what it's worth and nods, his eyes bloodshot. Such a good boy. I remember how he and Cheryl would hop into backyard, pretending as if they were so sneaky by stealing lemons from my tree, as though I did n't have a near panoramic view of them from my living room. His eyes seemed to sparkle back then, so full of youth and vigor.
Not so much anymore. His face is lined with stress, crow's feet for the eyes, and the scars peeking from beneath his clerical collar have never seemed so pronounced.
The other's are patient as we stand in the street, flash-lights and rain-coats abound. The Sun has n't gone down just yet, but the light rain and cloudy-sky is threatening to darken the day. It would n't be *bad* but the people are spooked enough as it is, thus the precautions.
A safety net for the mind.
*Darkness means the unknown and the unknown means death. * I heard the *Thing's* voice clearly in memory. A lesson in human nature I was n't soon to forget. This town did n't need a leader who was so scared that they shook whenever they held a gun, but I was the only thing they had after Cheryl's death. The mistaken assumption that, in my case, experience meant acclimatization and wisdom in the face of these plague of horrors.
Oh how I wanted to *scream* at them. Tell them that I would gladly let any of them have my position if I did n't know they'd collapse from shear panic and fail to organize themselves in time to prevent the next season of terror.
I would n't have though. It would have spelling everyone's death sentences, and I would not go down that road as my predecessor once had. We were still licking our wounds and hiding our scars when this cropped up.
But my god was the temptation *vexing*.
My eyes fell onto the house before us. The Martins. Knew the husband from his work in the fields, rarely saw the wife and kids unless in passing. We knew they were home, what with them shutting the curtains and locking the door upon our approach.
I felt my heart grow heavy at the thought of why.
For a moment, as I stepped forward, it felt less like I was in control and more like my body was simply going with the motions it had ingrained from years of trial and error. I did n't want to have to do this, did n't want to be a part of any of this, but I knew if I turned back now I'd never be able to go forward again.
Hearing the others follow behind me, their shoes and parka's shuffling but otherwise silent, did not fill me with any strength.
My hand and gun continued to shake as I spoke, `` Matthew, keep the knife hidden until we are inside.''
`` Yes Ma'am.''
I could hear voices from within the home, strained, on the edge of panic. I knocked once and the voices stopped. A moment of silence, then the rapid pitter-patter of feet on wood and a couple more strained-curt words immediately after.
*Do n't bother knocking twice. * `` Mr and Mrs. Martin you can stop all the skulking about. You and I both know what needs to happen and your dilly-dallying is n't helping matters.''
A pause and the voice that responds is faint, flustered and undoubtedly Mrs. Martin. `` I-I'm not sure what you mean Ms. Summers, but I do n't appreciate being called upon at such an hour a-and-''
`` *Enough. *'' I do n't shout the words, but she quiets immediately. Even if she knew me as much as I knew her, she knew enough *about* me to make my words carry weight.
`` Mrs. Martin, I am an old woman. I ca n't deny that. But do not for one moment believe that I am an old *fool*. I do n't know what your husband has said or what *it* has promised, but let me tell you this: your child would never have wanted this for you. What happened then was an accident, but what is happening now is pre-planned and it can only end in one way.''
Silence and that was damning in every sense of the word.
`` Let us in Mrs. Martin.''
There was n't a pause, but as the door inched open it felt like an eternity. Mrs. Martin stood behind the door, black rings around her eyes, of which were even more bloodshot that Matthews. She bit her lip when our eyes met and she quickly looked downward, shame filling her expression.
Below, the sounds of frantic shouting and pleading, muffled by the floorboards. Mr. Martin speaking to *it* or trying to most likely. The young were weak to the day, no matter how cloudy after all.
Mrs. Martin flinched as she caught sight of the gun in my hand. She spoke so quietly that I had to strain to hear it, `` It might be nothing, ca n't it? Maybe it could be a miracle and he's different?''
*That's what we all thought the first time. What I thought the first time. *''
`` I'm sorry,'' I said honestly, pointing the still shaking gun at her and making it clear what stopping me would entail, `` but I have to know for sure.''
Almost on command, the thunder above us roared at the same time a scream echoed from below.
|
[ WP ] Anyone can get into Heaven but you have to face the person you hurt the most and apologize . They get to decide your fate .
| “ Why were you so mean to me? ” were the first words I heard when I entered Heaven.
“ I couldn ’ t control myself. I was addicted to you. You left me, ” I responded meekly. I had killed myself a week after we broke up.
Except it wasn ’ t her. It was my mother ’ s voice. It became clear to me now. Tears streaming down her eyes, she didn ’ t understand why I had done the unthinkable.
“ You left me here. I loved you more than anything else in the entire world. I would have died for you, ” she cried out.
I thought it would have been her. My only true love. But it wasn ’ t. I hadn ’ t realized who I had hurt when I left everyone. Who I had truly hurt the most.
“ I would have died for you too, ” I responded.
“ I never needed that. I never would have allowed it. But it ’ s too late now, ” my mother said to me in Heaven.
I began weeping in self pity. I thought there would only be joy in Heaven.
“ I suppose it ’ s up to me now, whether you go in or not, ” she said to me.
“ I don ’ t deserve this, ” I said with tears streaming down my face.
“ Of course you do. I love you more than anything. ”
The gates opened, and I never saw her again.
|
[ WP ] A new color is discovered . It does not exist in nature , and must be artificially made . Only 10 % of people can see it .
| `` Right there.''
`` There?''
`` No. It's higher, like past the corner of the shelf, see?''
`` No, Michael I do n't see.''
`` Kind of reminds me of the blue and black dress thing. ``, Michael laughed alone.
`` It was white and gold. And that's stupid. ``, replied Dana stonefaced.
Michael put the new color back in the box feeling he had wasted $ 32 on another useless novelty item. Just a piece of play-doh. Still he thought it was pretty cool nobody else he knew saw the color. Maybe there could be some application in the form of a paint. What would happen in the eyes of someone who could n't see the color if he painted a chair in the color? Would it be invisible or would they just see the red mahogany of the wood he was staring at now.
Dana snapped her fingers together. `` Hey!''
`` Wha-? ``, Michael came back to reality and wiped drool off of his mouth. He was embarassed more though by the depth of thought he had given to a child's plaything. He was 35.
`` We have dinner tonight with my parents. Please do n't bring that thing. ``, Dana pleaded.
`` Yeah. ``, Michael nodded as he stepped up to the sink. He twisted the faucet and its squeeking made him cringe as if he had n't heard the sound every other time he had started handwashing the dishes. They had a dishwasher but he found this more relaxing. He grabbed a fake china dish and ran it under the inconsistent flow of water. It sputtered often but still gave him enough to clean plates to Dana's liking.
She was still in the room standing next to the fridge like she was waiting for something else to be said. Michael looked out the window at the rapidly fading sunlight. It was 2:30 in the afternoon. The sky was dark like sunset, fast encroaching on the house and.... indescribable like... the color.
`` Honey come here! Do you see this?!''
`` No. ``, said Dana.
|
[ WP ] `` Team Fortress 2 '' Directed by Quentin Tarantino
| *scene is a detective's office*
`` So what do you want me to do?'' enquired the BLU spy, as he blew smoke rings above the Scout's head.
`` Find this basterd, and kill him.'' The scout threw down a black and white picture of the RED spy onto the spy's desk.
`` Is there any reason to do so?''
`` He did something to me.''
`` To you, or to someone close to you?'' said the spy with a smirk on his face.
`` IT AINT GON NA MATTER ONCE HE'S DEAD AI N'T IT?''
`` All the same, consider it done, mon ami.''
`` Mhmp, better be'' said the scout as he headed towards the door.
`` One last thing, boy'' called the spy.
`` What?''
`` Revenge is never a straight line. It's easy to get lost. So are you sure you want to play this game?''
`` Whatever, as long as he's dead.''
The scout slams the door on the way out.
*Close up shot of the spy's mouth. He grins as his balaclava turns RED*
*fade to black*
|
[ WP ] You are acing every class at the International Espionage Academy except one : Post Kill Puns .
| The knife flew through the air, shimmering and deadly, and struck home deep into the ballistic gelatin torso of the dummy they were practicing on. The ingenious ice-knife began to melt, and Martinez stepped forward.
`` *ice* to meet you.'' Martinez smiled. It was a classic, but it worked. Hell, it worked better than most. Martinez was good with the classics, hence the nickname: Casablanca. Though he seemed to hate that name, it was apt. Especially now that he had passed the last test at the Academy. That would be his code name in 12 hours time.
Krochev was next. He wound up, released, and just as the ice-blade sank into the gelatin, he bellowed `` Told you I was sharp!'' Nods of approval all around. He had really gone above and beyond, forgoing mentioning the ice at all and sticking with the true nature of the weapon as a knife. In any sense of the test, he had passed.
And then there was Johnson. Johnson cracked his knuckles, wound up, and released the ice-knife. It went whistling through the air at twice the speed of any one else's. It sank deep into the gelatin, and made a pleasent *thunk* against the plywood stopper before melting. He stepped forward.
`` Guess you'll be saying, um, H2WHOA!.'' Dead. Silence. The instructor's mouth was agape in dissapointment.
`` Jesus... Jesus *Christ, * Johnson. Really? Oh my... oh my god.'' The instructor held his temples, trying to will away the absolute shit pun that was still floating in the air and everyone's memory. The instructor turned toward the one-way mirror. `` I've... I've never done this before, but I think it's warranted. Can we get the memory eraser up in here for a moment? The fucking brain damage is worth it to scrub that hamster turd out of my mind. No, no, I'm serious! Flash us!''
A bright, blinding light cascaded over everyone in the practice room. There was a moment of dazed confusion, and then the instructor stepped forward.
`` Okay, Johnson! You're up!''
Behind the mirror, the head of the academy was almost in tears.
`` 42 times...'' he whispered, `` 42 times we've flashed them over that crap. If he says that H2Whoa thing again, just fuckin' kill him.''
|
[ WP ] you are stuck in a coma . The only way to wake up is to fight your way through your subconscious by actually fighting your `` demons ''
| The square was bustling with life, the conversations bled into one another, creating a droning murmur of sound. One conversation between two women walking toward him began to stand out, he strained to make out what they were saying “... thought I ’ d visit. He really was a good person ” a woman with her back turned to him said.
His thoughts latched on to the statement. Ran with it. If they only knew. But maybe they did know... We ’ ve all broken oaths to ourselves, committed atrocities on a minor scale, cursed ourselves for them and resolved to never do them again. Only to do them again. They must not have known this person very well; his mask never slipped during the tenure of their acquaintanceship, he thought.
Who would make for a good person he wondered. Someone average, given to routine, averse to risk... boring. Someone who both revered and feared authority. Someone whose had a taste of the lash, or someone fear stricken by tales of eternal burning. Both. Whatever.
The woman with her back turned continued “ It ’ s a shame, really, never expected this from him ”. His curiously overruled his comfort; he stood up, made a 4 point sweep of his periphery, strategically avoiding looking at them directly. He ambled for a couple of needless half steps and casually circled around the woman ’ s back to see what she looked like.
The other woman, her face obscured by the body of the first, chimed in, “ He had his license suspended, he should never have been driving in the first place ”. He knew that voice. It was his mother. “ Mom? ”, he quizzically asked as he charged forward to catch her attention. She continued, “ He got what he deserved... ”. “ Don ’ t say that... no one deserves to be like this. His car flipped 5 times, can you imagine? ”, the first woman said.
He stopped in his tracks. He could imagine it. He remembered it. She continued, “ thrown clear 40 feet... ” That too. “ What about the woman he hit?, she died on impact, 24 and her whole life ahead of her. ” his mother asked. He remembered her too; the panic in her face, the impact. Her body rocking his car as he drove over her. The chase, losing control.
With a start, he began making his way toward them. But every step brought him further away. He struggled with everything inside him, sprinting toward them as their voices began to blend into the chatter.
Through the crowd, his mother looked directly at him, pity written across her face. “ I regret having him ” she said, his eyes opening at that moment, to see her unfazed at his awakening and turn to walk away.
|
[ WP ] It turns out that literally everything we know about history prior to a certain year is complete fiction . What happened that year ?
| `` That does n't make any sense man, I was born in the 90's. The third one only came a year after the second, and that was, what, 2004? That does n't make sense,'' I said.
`` Yeah and I'm telling you that it does n't matter!'' the man started to raise his voice. `` Listen, it's all made up. Everything before the third, if you even want to call it that. The new one brought more than just graphics with better quality than real-life, it brought history!''
`` Half-Life 2 was n't even that great man, what's the big—''
`` That's what they want you to think! It revolutionized how humans interact with virtual worlds!'' He stood taller and raised his arms. `` How do you even know you're not in the Half-Life 3 right now?! How does anyone even know if there is a Half-Life 1 or 2? Valve is humanity as we know it, and there's nothing we can do.''
`` Of course Valve is humanity,'' I chuckled. `` Well whatever man, I'm busy'' I walked away from the man back towards the citadel. `` Fucking crazies... the things they come up with.''
The overwatch radio turned on and shook the air. `` Attention. Anti-citizen reported in this community,'' the woman said. There was nothing of interest in the streets today, it seemed.
|
[ WP ] Russian roulette is the worlds most prestigious sport and you 've been the world 's champion for many years , but you have a very bad feeling about your next match
| I went to school to become a chemist, I never knew I would end up as a professional athlete.
Well, athlete is a stretch. I hold guns up to my head for a living and hope to god my head is still there when I put it down.
I have been playing Russian Roulette as a sport and as a source of income for over two years. I have won millions of dollars on blind luck. And I have watched 86 people die.
The first was a man named Clark. I had known Clark, we had went to middle school together. Clark was a piece of shit. Seeing the pink matter getting sprayed from the area his temporal lobe used to be was strangely satisfying. The last was some kid named Chuck who could n't have been more than fourteen years old. The fact they were letting kids play this game was fucking sick. But that was to be expected. The world was fucked up beyond repair nowadays.
At the moment, I'm sitting in my penthouse apartment. Tomorrow I am supposed to play my final match of roulette, and then I will go into retirement. Retiring at 24 years old. I'd say that's a pretty solid life.
I do n't know why, but I ca n't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen tomorrow. Maybe it's the stress of the past two years, maybe it's the fact I have watched 86 people die, the absurd amount of alcohol I'm currently drinking probably does n't help much either. As I go to take a last shot of vodka, all of the memories come to me. All of the people dying, all of the cries of agony shouted from the friend's and family of the deceased. Everything comes over me like a flood of despair. This only makes me more on edge. I'm sweating by this point. What am I supposed to do?
And idea finally hits me. I'll do a practice run! Surely that will make me feel better. Yes, a quick practice is all I need! I chug the last of the vodka and pick up the gun. With a smile on my face, I hold my 9mm up to my head.
Yes, this will make all the pain go away.
|
[ WP ] You end up as an exhibit in the Intergalactic Zoo . While at the Zoo , you find many extinct Earth Animals .
| I awoke with a start. My face was pressed against cold, clean metal. Sitting up, I looked down at myself. My clothes had been replaced with a skintight single-piece black jumpsuit with a single silvery strip running from my left shoulder down to my right hip. It covered every part of my body except my head, and try as I might, I could n't tear it off.
My head was still pounding. The last thing I remembered was a bright white light bursting around me as I had walked home from school. Then, nothing. I had just woken up here.
But where *was* here, exactly? I looked around. I was lying in the corner of a large box, about ten metres square and three or four metres high. It seemed to be made of some sort of clear glass-like material, but much stronger.
A small black shape came bounding up to me from the other end. I barely had time to react before it bowled me over. I felt a warm roughness on my cheek and realised it was a small terrier. The dog barked a couple of times at me and then sat on my chest wagging its tail. I scratched its head a few times and it began to try to lick my face again.
I held it in my arms as I stood up and looked around. Then my gaze strayed to what was outside the box.
The box appeared to be suspended by unknown means above a large hole, through which stars were visible. It took me a moment to realise that it was actually outer space and not some sort of screen. There was a chest-high barrier around the hole, with figures standing outside the perimeter.
I put the dog down and pressed my nose to the glass. They were n't people. No person had a mass of tentacles supporting a single great eye, nor did they have purple skin. My heart leapt into my throat. These were *aliens*.
Then I realised that my box was n't the only one here. It was suspended in the centre of a gigantic room, surrounded by similar boxes floating over similar holes. Around the barrier below each box there was a crowd of aliens, all staring up at the occupants. I squinted, trying to see what the other boxes held.
I saw a gorilla in the nearest box, pounding on the glass ineffectively. A pair of tigers prowled back and forth in another. A taller one held several different types of bird. Was this some sort of... *zoo*? Why was I here?
A change in the star-studded scenery below caught my eye. A blue-white sphere was drifting into view. With a start, I realised it was Earth. Then where was I?
Suddenly, there was a flash of bright blue light, blinding me as I watched the planet. When it faded, I could no longer see Earth; just a lot of rubble slowly floating away. Earth was gone.
I understood now. This *was* a zoo. And like all the other animals here, I was the only surviving member of a species that was now extinct.
|
[ WP ] Someone from modern times dies and finds themselves a little short when it comes to paying the ferryman
| It was a river of fire. A river as old as man themselves. Bones floated and sizzled in it. The ferryman looked over it. They had all challenged to cross the river Styx. Tantalized by the reward to return to life, with their weight in gold.
The ferryman chuckled. Humans were so full of themselves, he thought. They have become foolish, and weak, with age. The sound of foot steps echoed through the underworld. Charon raised his burning eyes to the stairway.
A man appeared, walking down the stairs. He paused at the gate, looked up, and scoffed. He pushed open the ancient iron gate, and swaggered in. He was dressed in a grey stripe suit, and wore a golden watch. He adjusted his collar as he approached the ferryman.
The ferryman watched him. Another one full of himself, thought the ferryman. He walked as if he owned the world, and the underworld. He removed a cigar from his pocket and lit it. The smoke drifted upwards, into the infinite black space.
`` Ey there buddy boy, where's old pete?'' snipped the man, blowing smoke rings.
`` There is no Peter, only me.'' said the ferryman, his voice like cold wind. The man examined the face of the ferryman. It was a bleach white, bird skull, cracked and ruff from time. In the shadows of the eye holes two orange lights burned.
`` You are?'' asked the man, arrogeant.
`` I am Charon. The ferryman. Escort of the dead, but in these days there are few to escort.'' crackled Charon, hands gripping his scythe.
`` You death? Old grim?'' asked the man, examining the underworld.
`` No. He is, but a poor reflection of me. A mimic so to say.'' cracked Charon, his voice like dry twigs snapping.
`` So dis ai n't heaven?'' asked the man, blowing smoke in Charon's face.
`` No...'' hissed Charon, some how able to leer at the man.
`` Ah well, never expected to end up there anyways.'' shrugged the man, unscathed by his surroundings. `` So where do I go?'' asked the man, sucking on his cigar.
`` For a simple payment I will carry you to the underworld...'' suggested Charon, hitting his boat with his sycth.
`` AH... I see what you're getting at...'' winked the man. Charon gave a faint grin of satisfaction.
`` Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty.'' said the man, placing a stack of dollars in Charon's hand.
`` I have no need for your mortal currency. I require something of value that will never decay.'' said Charon, emotionless.
The man gave a conspiratorially grin. `` Ah, a man of hard value...'' the man placed his watch atop the dollars.
Charon only looked at him. `` Ok, let's getting going bird brain.'' the man walked towards the ship, Charon blocked him with his scythe.
`` I require a coin.'' hissed Charon. The man looked at him, clueless. Charon pointed into his beak.
`` Oh... I gotche ya.'' the man placed a box of cigars into Charon's hand. `` Those are Cubans my friend, very rare.'' winked the man.
`` Something you always have... Not your shoes.'' said Charon, as the man leaned down. The man's face locked into thinking position. Charon sighed. He had never met a human these dense. Even Odysseus had some sense.
The man put a hand in his mouth, and pulled out a golden tooth. `` No.'' glared Charon.
`` Look man. I ai n't getting what you're putting down. So it's looking like, you're price is too high for my bones. I think I'll just go somewhere else.'' shrugged the man. Charon watched the man leave, open the gate, and walk up the ancient marble stairs.
`` Wait... what just happened?'' glanced Charon.
***
A man snored. Head rested against an ancient sword. He sat on a rainbow bridge, waiting. The sound of footsteps broke the silence.
`` What?'' asked the ancient warrior, to the open air.
`` My dogs are killing me.'' said the man.
|
[ WP ] The Second Coming has arrived , Revelation with all its plagues . The problem ? Someone got the wrong planet . Now , 6 martian astronauts face the end of times , but no one else does .
| **DAY ONE OF THE END OF THE WORLD. **
`` Houston, you're not going to believe this.'' John looked at the camera and then back to his crew. `` We found, well, I do n't know how to put this.''
Margaret moved closer to the camera, `` Locusts! We found locusts! And they're everywhere.''
John continued, `` All dead though. No idea how they got here. No idea how the rovers missed'em, because from what we can tell, they're just all over the place. They're dead, but not old. Not fossils! Looked like they died either from the temp or from the lack of oxygen.''
**DAY TWO OF THE END OF THE WORLD. **
`` Hey, I'm detecting more water over here.''
`` Frozen?''
`` Yeah.''
`` Let's take a look.''
Kate and Margaret got on their knees, pushing the soil out of the way. It brushed quickly off of the ice underneath. `` Yep. That looks like ice all right. Let's chip off a few pieces. We've got enough back at base, but more samples from this altitude would n't hurt.''
Kate opened the field testing kit and began hammering away parts of the ice. `` Uh, Mags. Is this water... different?''
`` How do you mean?'' She got closer, `` It's definitely a frozen liquid. Just looks redder than usual. Could be more like permafrost than just ice.''
`` No. This is definitely not water,'' she held up the first few crumbles she had managed to chip away, `` This looks like, I do n't know, blood, maybe?''
**DAY THREE OF THE END OF THE WORLD**
`` John! Your fish is back!''
`` What?''
`` Yeah! You remember you said you thought he was dead,'' Margaret pointed at the aquarium, `` Well it looks like the little guy was just taking a break.'' The two goldfish swam around in the tank, one slowly chasing the other. `` Looks like he wants to play.''
John moved to check out the fish tank, `` Huh. I could have sworn he was definitely dead. Belly up and everything.''
`` If Houston thought that the locusts were weird, they're going to freak when they found out we discovered a zombie on Mars,'' Margaret laughed.
**DAY FOUR OF THE END OF THE WORLD**
`` Houston, we've got unexpected weather conditions here this morning,'' Kate leaned back, alone in front of the camera. `` It's,'' she checked her monitor's clock, `` 0800 Mars time, and we've still got no daylight. The past several weeks, we've had sunrise around 0540, so we do n't know what to make this right now.''
`` Tell them about the temp,'' called someone in the back of the base.
`` And the temperature is abnormal as well. We're looking at scorching temperatures. Well, scorching by Martian standards. It's a'boiling' 23 Celsius / 73 Fahrenheit. Short-sleeve weather!''
**DAY FIVE OF THE END OF THE WORLD**
Margaret huddled over her breakfast, `` Did command ever say anything about the weather?''
John did n't look up from his book, `` Nope. They do n't know what's going on. Today's forecast calls for sand and wind, though.''
`` That's fine. I did n't want to go out today anyways.''
Kate walked into the dining commons, `` John, when you talked to Houston yesterday, did they say anything about the rovers?''
`` Rovers?'' Margaret ask, with a mouth full of powdered eggs, `` They'll all be missing the storm today, I would guess. Too far away.''
`` Yeah, that's what I thought too.'' Kate looked over her shoulder and hitched her thumb back at the communications room, `` But I'm getting what looks like four rovers moving towards base.''
John set his book down. `` Four rovers? There's only two functional on the ground right now.''
`` I do n't know. You both should take a look. They're in the storm, headed our way, single-file.''
|
[ WP ] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy . We 're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race , but we surpass them in spades in one thing .
| `` They're unsophisticated. They're loud. Many of them smell like zlirpkling intestines. Why do you keep them around?''
And so on and so forth go the copious complaints of my competent and dedicated right-hand man, Ms. Sgourlzog Smorlzog from the Slurzog Planetary Union of the Srugzog Peoples. My day as an inter galactic police chief aboard the third-ever commissioned Lawyers and Warriors Super Space Police Boat. Well, officially it's a `` Multi Jurisdictional Police Spacecraft'' but I like the other name better so that's what I have written on my desk in something called `` pink crayon'' by a young human spawn. Ms. Smorlzog does n't like that either.
`` Chief! Please, heed what I'm saying. They consume our space and resources that are payed for by the tax-payer money that we ca n't afford to waste. Moreover, they're a hindrance to the smooth operation of this ship.'' She took a deep breath, filling her scaled chest and causing her two deposits of adipose fat ( what I'm told the human's call `` boobles'' ) to rise, drawing my eyes away from her ribbed cavernous face to her reproductive tissue. `` Therefore, I've submitted an official complaint to the Multi-Galactic Police --''
`` LISTEN UP WEAKLINGS'' boomed out from the loudspeakers surrounding the ship's control room. Throughout the room the screens that had previously contained radar, infrared, and Planetary Echo Positioning Systems changed to the mealy face of a snarling, grimacing Bligsschmug.
`` My god, it's hideous'' I heard Ms. Smorlzog mutter in horror from behind me.
The snout of the Bliggsschmug dripped purple snot all over its engorged moldy green lips. Bliggschmugs were an infamous, ruthless race that were growing in dangerous number, lighting many a spaceship ablaze with atrocious roiling gases after raping and pillaging for weapons and treasures.
`` EITHER YOU SURRENDER NOW AND SELF DESTRUCT YOUR PUNY LITTLE BODIES OR --'' I held up a hand to stop the smug Bliggsschmug from continuing.
`` Guys,'' I said, `` I got this.'' and whistled over one of the quivering, terrified humans cowering behind a computer. It looked at me for reassurance, cleared its throat, and looked up at the slimy warty monster on the main screen.
`` Who's a good pookie pie? Who's my cuddly honey bunches of oats?'' The creature's eyes narrowed for a millisecond then went wide and round like a newborn baby getting its first glimpse of the world.
`` Who wants a snuggie snuggle?''
The Bligsschmug blinked and shed a single, swollen tear bursting with surface tension. `` I do want a snuggie snuggle.''
I turned to the incredulous Ms. Smorlzog. `` I told you they were good for something.''
|
[ WP ] A man is scheduled for execution by lethal injection . However , he is immune to the drug .
| `` Is it in yet?''
`` Ummm... yes.''
There was a very uncomfortable silence in the theatre. No-one was sure what to do.
`` So... am I dead?''
The executioner pinched him. The criminal flinched.
`` No, you're still feeling pain. Very much alive.''
`` Well... this is awkward.''
`` SHOOT HIM!''
The scream came from behind the glass. A family member of the victim slammed her hands against the glass. Soundproof, my foot.
`` KILL THE BASTARD! SHOOT HIM BETWEEN THE EYES!''
`` Ma'am, we have a strict procedure to follow. Do n't worry, we'll make sure he gets his due.''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Wow, I guess you really wo n't get your due.''
The court case following the failed execution ruled in favour of the criminal; the state had attempted to kill him through legal means and failed. Repeated attempts found that the only way to kill him would either be through force or a more toxic chemical, both illegal under US law. Besides, the case had reached the news networks and papers. It was too big a story to sweep under the rug.
Under the Double Jeopardy law, the criminal could not be re-tried. In order for him to not be hounded by the press ( or killed by the public ), a dummy would go through the standard entrance, while the criminal would be escorted out of a side entrance, anonymously. While the crowds were distracted, the criminal reached the side gate, escorted by the guard who was his executioner. As he was about to leave, he heard a rustling through the trees. There was the family member, brandishing a gun, adamant on completing the job the executioner could not. As the executioner reached for his weapon, the criminal spoke:
`` Why are you doing this?''
`` You have to pay for what you did.''
`` I already have - 20 years, within the walls behind me. No care, no love. No soul could care for a man like me. Yes, there are those sick enough to support me - racists, Anti-Semites, homophobes - people who believe I had a sentiment to my actions. That they can be justified. But they can not. Nothing can. There was no pattern - it was just a crime that went tragically wrong.''
`` You took my father's life.''
`` I know. And I meant it at the trial when I said that not a day goes by where I do n't regret it. But you need to ask yourself - is what you're doing right? Even after I die - and believe me, if not here, then it will still be soon - would you find peace?''
The family member paused.
`` Stop trying to change me! I know what I have to do.''
`` Your father was a good man, who just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the time has changed to now and the place has changed to here. What will you choose to be - like your father, or like his killer?''
The family member paused again. Then, broke down in tears and dropped the gun. As they lay there sobbing, the criminal picked up his things and walked down the road. He had been lucky again, but he knew all too well that a man's luck will eventually run out.
|
[ WP ] You are one of the devil 's minions . Your job is to steal as much pens and pencils as you can from the mortal world without being caught .
| `` I just really do n't see the point,'' I tried to explain to my manager.
`` Listen man, we've been through this. It's basic chaos theory. Taking the pens leads to a whole fucking cascade of effects. You make people waste time finding one, make them waste their money buying more of the things, and it builds distrust in their fellow man. Everyone thinks their friends have stolen at least one pen from them in their lifetimes.'' He explained to me in the way he had explained to a thousand peons before me.
`` Also, I'm pretty sure fucking George from Accounting stole like 5 pens from me last week, so raid his desk the next time you're out,'' he said, making a prolonged wanking motion after saying George's name. He does this everytime he talks about him. I am not sure of the nature of their conflict, but he does this enough that a deaf child would assume that'jerking off' was George's name.
`` Distrust is good and all, but no one ever went to war over a pen...''
`` Listen asshole,'' my manager cut me off, `` you're a pen goblin. If you did n't want to be reincarnated at the lowest level, you should n't have tried to solo the goddamn Warrior of Light last month.''
`` Well no one told me he could throw holy imbued hammers! Fucking hammers, man!''
`` He's the goddamn Warrior of Light, that's kinda his thing. Even his dick is powered by the Light. He once gave a girl an exorcism via sodomy, that lucky son of a bitch. Now get the fuck out of here, because I got shit to do.''
A month later, I was 10 pens short of a promotion. Mulling around an office at night, I thought that I had that promotion to Sock Thief in the bag. Then I saw a flash of light, something that I still see in my nightmares. It was a girl.
`` Who the fuck are you? You better get out of here, little girl, before I destroy you.'' This, of course, was a bluff, as my only weapons were a couple of pens and like 50 pen caps.
`` I'm just a new light warrior, looking for some easy experience.'' she said in an annoying singsong way.
My blood ran cold. So cold, that I missed the easy joke about her looking for easy experience. `` B-but, I'm way too low level to be sensed by you guys... how did you know I was here?''
`` Some guy named George. Nice fellow, but kinda obsessed with pens.''
As I was engulfed in her all-consuming light, only one final thought came to my mind before reincarnation.
``... fucking George...''
|
[ WP ] It 's July 4th of the first year that the United States of America no longer exists .
| We sat together there in the place that used to be called the'Keyhole'. It was where the red rocks of Devil's Backbone arched up to an opening that when the sun hit it right, sent a ray of light down the hills. Now it was just another unintelligible lump of light crimsons stones and overgrowing brush. Still we sat there under the bright starlight. We missed how we used to hate the sharp grow of the city in the distance. It was so much better back when we could hate such an important thing simply because it made it harder to buy into the romanticism of starlight. Now with all those sparkling things above us, all we could possibly want, what we really missed was the city that deprived us so callously of their light.
`` What day is it?'' You asked me. You knew I did n't know and on top of that you also knew I would answer anyways.
`` I think summer... Yeah, definitely summer. It feels a little warmer in the day than usual. Before...'' I paused at that word as we always did. Before. Such a small word and that is all we had to explain the great changes we had made in the past year. `` Before, around this time we would have the corn festival.''
`` Like with a parade and stalls filled with corn and shit?''
Thinking about it, it all seemed really silly and wasteful.
`` Yeah! Tons of it, we had contest to see who could eat the most.'' The sharp sting of nostalgia was growing in my chest but I pressed onward.
`` There would be a parade and stalls and all sorts of food. God the food was so good. Turkey legs, hot dogs, funnel cake, these potato things with cheese and...''
`` Stop it!'' You did n't have to explain why, I was getting carried away. I looked back down and kicked a rock down the hill into the darkness.
`` Hey you know what is also in the summer?''
`` Hmmm?'' I answered disinterested but you must've seen the hurt look in my eye and my memory and mind fade back to Before.
`` Independence Day. You know, the real one. The one we all had. Not the Texas one or the New Republic one, or the dumb New Canada one where they just spend the day silent. Y'know? When we celebrated winning this country by simultaneously blowing up little bits of it.'' Those really were good times. I fought back the urge to think of food that was n't rabbit or canned mystery slop.
`` When you say it like that, it makes it seem really ridiculous.'' I flashed you a dim sly smile just obvious enough to be seen in the embers of our fire.
`` Well maybe it was a little bit ridiculous,'' you retorted back `` but thats ok. It all got a lot more ridiculous after the successions and then the Launches.'' We shared another moment of silence out of the sudden shock of remembering an inseparable moment. I remember where I was when I heard we had launched on ourselves-North Colorado with family. You? Well I never asked and I never intended to. We both knew it happened and probably knew the moment too vividly to ever share but that was ok. Because despite the cold fire near our feet and the radiation that swept the plains far to the east, we were ok for at least that moment.
`` Lets get some sleep.'' I said and stamped out our fire.
`` Uh-huh... happy fourth by the way, whenever that is.''
|
[ WP ] A world where our inner fan boy/girl spirit fights our battles for us . The bigger the fan base , the stronger the spirit .
| The war started slowly. It was the 29th Annual Reddit Meetup. Only the most hardcore Redditors, too invested in their karma to let go of the site after the great migration of 2016, remained. They met by subreddit, and planned their activities accordingly. /r/trees toked, /r/gonewild took a pole-dancing lesson together, and /r/whowouldwin... they fought. Well, they argued. Over who would win, obviously. On this year, the 10th Anniversary of the subreddit-based meetups, they decided to break their most sacred rule. They argued who would win: Superman or Goku. The debate was like no other, until... something happened. As the sides separated, an aura surrounded them, taking the shape of their respective characters. The spirit of the fanboys clashed, taking notice of passerby, who began to join in. Superman's fame earned him the win, and all was peaceful for a time...
Until tumblr.
Now giant boy bands roam the land, nodding deferentially to the 14th Doctor, who tirelessly pursues Han and Chewie. The Star Wars fanboys learned their lesson after One Direction annihilated every football avatar in the World Superdome, going into hiding. Meanwhile, an underground group plots a revolution, waiting for their silent hero to take full power, prying open freedom and lifting it before them. They wait for the catalyst to unite them, for their savior to say the sacred words: Half-Life 3.
|
[ FF ] The mind of a condemned man moments before execution ( 150 words/less )
| Thanks for the essay idea I needed it to be a little longer.
*Final Thoughts*
The day was actually very nice outside from what I could tell. Even through the dark and cold of my mask I could feel the sun's rays bathe me in its golden warmth and, at just the right angle, facing towards the east, I could see a glimmer of beautiful sunshine peek through the black fabric of my mask. Every once in a while a quick breeze would swivel past my face and cool my skin and soothe my bruises and sores from the ropes on my hands all of last night. Even this early, the birds were out singing their songs in the tree above me, and if I concentrated enough I could sense a whiff of grass and flowers in the meadow upwind.
However, though the day around me was quite gorgeous, I really could not stop thinking of all the annoyances around me. The tight necklace around my neck irritated my skin and made thinking about the sunlight near impossible; the mask over my face made breathing the sweet wind and smelling the nearby fields unfeasible; and the loud man beside me along with the shouting crowd in front of me transformed a pretty bird song into an unbearable chorus of yelling and awful noise-making.
Finally, everything is settling down the crowd goes silent, the man beside me goes silent, and all nature around me seems to stop. All my little cares before mean nothing now; it is almost the end. A final noise like a door slamming open, and a falling feeling followed by a hard tug upwards on my neck signals that any future sensations are over and all of my thoughts were final.
|
[ WP ] You get a chance to send your mind back into your own body when you were 16 . Retaining all your memories and knowledge , you immediately gain an incredible advantage . What 's your plan ?
| My plan seemed simple when I first discovered the machine; go back in time, generate obscene amounts of money in lotteries, bets and investments, and spend it all trying to find a cure. I had prepared by reading Sports Almanacs, Time's Richest 100 Articles, and all the advancements in research of her disease. Yet I still felt the trepidation as I powered the machine up, ready to be transported a decade into the past.
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was her lying next to me - of course, that was why I'd chosen today, this was the day when I'd first woken up knowing I loved her. She looked so young, so healthy... Not yet as beautiful as she would become, at this age, yet I still felt my teenage `` urges'' rising. I kissed her sleeping brow and got out of bed. As much as I wanted to enjoy the moment with her, I could n't.
I knew exactly how many moments left I had.
|
[ WP ] A drug has been discovered that upon injection causes a person to fall in love with the person they see first after using it .
| The brothers at Theta Pi Epsilon had made their fun with a black market branch of Amourphrion with their pledges during Hell week, after hours of painstaking research into what the most awkward and possibly disastrous love at first sight trials would need to be surmounted.
They had warmed up with an Ethics major name Jim, who was unhooded and injected with the love drug right before walking into his academic advisor's office. The brothers took delight in watching through the open door as Jim awkwardly attempted to make small talk with the 54 year old, 290 pound beast of a woman.
The second of the pledges, an aspiring social worker named Eric, was injected before being thrown into the university's daycare center, where the young children of non-traditional and grad students were cared for. He was required to volunteer. He opted to close his eyes for the whole ideal, even turning it into a game with the children. He was forced to open them when the center coordinator demanded his attention to ask him if he wanted to become a regular. Apparently she was impressed. He took the opportunity to lock with her, a process that was enhanced by the waves of relief hormones that went over his body when he realized he was in the clear. They were apparently dating now.
The third pledge, a political science major named Dave, was fitted with a wifi-enabled auto-injector one of the house's computer science majors hooked up, before attending the school's weekly LGBTQ fellowship and support group meeting, not knowing when the drug would kick in. Unbeknownst to him, however, was that the injector was n't filled with Amourphrion, but just run-of-the-mill DMT. He was never told of this, even after experiencing vivid hallucinations while a transitioning Linguistics major named Becky ( birth name Brett ) gave a particularly emotional account of her coming out to her family. Having just `` experienced what Love really was,'' he resigned his post as the treasurer for their school's College Republicans club the next day.
It was Paul, an undecided transfer student from a rival university, who underwent what the ThePiEps had deemed the most extreme challenge of them all: Blindfolded and with his ears covered, Paul was guided through the State Fair that had so fortuitously been scheduled during Pledge week, and was placed in the Fun House. Who knew what the first human, or semi-human, face he would see in there was, but they hoped that it would be his own, but horribly distorted, which is indeed what happened. After failing to come out of the house for two hours, the brothers had to go in and find him, weeping and laughing maniacally in the middle of the mirror maze, naked, with the oily imprint of his body pressed against the warped mirror's wavy surface. When he became coherent again, he claimed that he'd had a personal epiphany and had `` truly learned to love himself, flaws and all.''
It was a good week for the university's most exclusive fraternal brotherhood. Their initiates had completed their trials, and they were ready to join in the Initiation. All they needed was an unblemished goat and a knife forged by a virgin.
|
[ WP ] A day in the life at Magic Support .
| I just arrived at work. Quite frankly, I'm getting tired of having to walk all these stairs to my office, the elevator's been under maintenance for over a month.
Sometimes, even I do n't know why I work here. Each and every day, I get up, come to this place, spend 10-12 hours listening to a bunch of morons complaining about how their spells did n't come out as it said on the box, or how someone's ritual accidentally turned their grandmother inside out; I'm sick and tired of it.
The dreadful phone is ringing again...
`` Hello, Magic Support, how may I be of assistance?'' I ask, dully.
As soon as I finish, the endless session of unrelated banter begins. Another misused love potion.
`` Sir, it is clearly stated that the effects are irreversible.''
The voice starts shouting.
`` Sir, I am deeply sorry about your mother, but the effects are irreversible!'' I try to outshout him.
The banter goes on.
`` I am very sorry to hear about that, but look at it this way, incest worked out pretty well on Game of Thr...'' and another customer hangs up before I could finish. I do n't even know how they have n't fired me yet.
Ring-ring goes the phone...
`` Hello, M. Support, how may I help you''
A woman starts explaining to me how her TV wo n't go on.
`` Ma'am, this is the Magic Support, please try your luck at technical support.''
As soon as I put the phone down, it starts ringing again.
`` Hello, Magic Support, how may I be of assistance?''
A customer starts explaining to me how he managed to `` accidentally'' kill his ex during a ritual spell.
I hang up, call the police, and as soon as I told them I was from Magic Support, they started laughing and hung up.
The phone rang again...
`` Hello, how may I....'' and before I could finish, the same woman from before started explaining how she tried everything, but the TV just would n't turn on.
`` For the last time Ma'am, this is not fucking tech support.''
I hang up. Why ca n't I just get fired.
|
[ WP ] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy . Not due to superior strength , speed , skill or strategy . In fact , it 's because in comparison to the other species , humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with .
| Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
`` Humans''
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility, but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier, then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever. ( Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers )
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle, outnumbered 60:1 while shouting `` Tenno hekai banzai! ``, and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because `` Those idiots do n't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour. `` Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core, then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy, then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
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[ IP ] Where are they ? What are they doing there ?
| Lamps jumped about, dangling on their wires. Gentle sea breezes coming with the evening breathed around the couple, as if the world itself were alive, and on the verse of sleep.
He held her close. He held her to steady her, but not physically. He wanted to anchor her, to keep her from flying away inside her head, like she usually did when she felt uncomfortable. The sunset sank down until it was a world of blue-black resting on an orange bed with white sheets. She was still. Her eyes were on a fixed point outside the atmosphere, stare piercing through anything caught in the way. The umbrella swayed slightly, and then swung down as her arm stopped receiving direction.
As a photographer, he had gained a sense of timing. The wedding was going great, except for the couple down by the boat. He figured they would want at least one picture for themselves, and since they were n't making it easy for him, he would make it easy for them. They did n't seem to notice him, as he approached, camera in hand. The pair looked like they were already frozen, a fixed amount of light captured and replicated on a flat, glossy sheet. Acquiring the photo was easier than expected.
Seconds later, immediately after the photographer started to walk away, the umbrella began to dance face-down across the sand. When he looked back, the portrait had shifted. Her arms lay at her sides, and she leaned away from the man who seemingly rooted her in place. His gaze was downward, through the earth, at some fixed point outside the atmosphere, stare boring through sand and stone out of either sorrow, desperation, or both.
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[ WP ] You are a high school student in the year 2165 , and in your English class you have been assigned to write a paper conducting a literary analysis on one of the classic novels of the early 21st century .
| Ok, I could n't keep this up for a full five paragraphs. The joke is there ( and it's so obvious that maybe it does n't even bear telling ), but I'm not going to torture myself by beating it to death. The worst kind of novel meets the worst kind of writer of literary analysis.
( Note: `` I'' am a highschool freshman, a poor writer, and completely disinterested in the topic at hand. )
****
Symbolism in Stephanie Myer's Twilight
Throughout the novel Twilight, Stephanie Myers uses many interesting symbols. One important symbol is the use of vehicles to represent the personalities of her protagonists. Bella Swan is very clumsy, and she drives an old, clumsy truck. The vampires, including Edward Cullen, are exotic and attractive, and they drive fancy cars that match their personalities. Even the side characters, like Mike, have cars that would have seemed “ boring ” in 2005. Mike is supposed to be boring, so this makes sense in the book. All in all, Stephanie Myers carefully matched each of her characters to the car that they drive.
Bella Swan, the main character in Twilight, is very clumsy. We can see this in chapter one, page 11, where Bella describes herself as, “ so clumsy that I'm almost disabled. ”. Bella drives a pickup truck from the 1950s. Even in 2005, this would have seemed very old. Even before hovercars, speed and maneuverability were desirable qualities in vehicles. A 1950s pickup would have been hard to handle compared to the more modern cars from the time period. This shows that Bella ’ s car is clumsy, like her. It is also worth noticing that her truck is described as beat up throughout the book, and Bella is always described as having bruises from the accidents she gets into because of being clumsy.
Unlike Bella Swan, the vampires in Twilight are supposed to be very beautiful and graceful. All of the Cullen vampires drive beautiful expensive cars, and the more flashy and outgoing the character is, the more flashy their car is.
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[ WP ] Pick a random object within eyesight of yourself right now ... and go on the angriest rant that you possibly can about it .
| I seriously ca n't believe this fucking thing. Even though it's inanimate it out this smug air, like, `` Oh, I shine light everywhere. Without me you could n't see.'' Well whoop-da-fucking-do! The sun also shines light everywhere, and does a much better job than you ever could. Just because you can cast a small amount of light *inside* a building does n't mean squat to me. The fact that you were a shade makes the light even more pitiful. `` Oh, look at me, I'm so bright that humans put a shade on me.'' No you asshat, we put a shade on you because we could n't stand looking directly at you. And do n't even get me started on how easy it is to break you. One drop and we have to go back to the store to buy another fragile part. All I'm saying is that you need to get off your high horse you little turd. NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT LAMPS!
|
[ WP ] A mentally ill and unstable child becomes so dangerous that even his imaginary friend thinks `` damn , this is fucked up ''
| A little trigger warning, i know these are annoying but better safe then sorry, suicide is mentioned.
Soft noises of a hurt child, a mother comforting but bitter and light flooded weakly under the thin cracks of the door. I gripped my legs tighter, the cold metal of the small pocket knife in my hand was trembling. The corners of the wall dug into my back as I hunched over in the dark corner that I called home. Loose strands of red hair and tears mixed with an array of astonishing thoughts and emotions blurred my vision. The blood on my hands were not my own. I would never hurt my brother like that. You can ’ t run from your thoughts forever, little girl, the hiddy voice in the farthest corner of my head remarked.
It wasn ’ t lucifer for once. He was my best friend, or so he said. My mom say ’ s lucifer ’ s bad, he ’ s messing me up. That he ’ s my little demon, fitting name I assume. He told me I shouldn ’ t, I should n't because even though mom did love Steven more, killing my twin was not going to make thing better. I know he said it only because he don ’ t want mom to send me back the the office with the old man again. He had put his pale hand on my shoulder, his were blue eyes pleading. But a new, scratchy, hissy voice had been settling in my mind for a while now, and he was louder. “ This is the only way bitch, stop listening to your imaginary friends, it ’ s a little too old for that don ’ t you think? ” I think we all know how successful Lucifer was in the end.
I heard a small yelp of pain, cutting off the voice in the back of my head. I had begun to grow accustomed to it always being there like background noise. A harsh growl followed. “ I hope Callum dies in a pit of his worst nightmares and burns in hell. Dove, peace, why the did i give her, that disgrace such an unfitting name. ” Steven, my brother, simply sniffled in response. I pressed the flat side of blade against my knee, the sharp tang of iron from the crimson drops of sin clinging to it left my mind racing. Why was i the messed up twin? Why was it that when my brother learned how to play the piano at 7 he was gifted but i was messed up for painting a picture of Lucifer. Why was I a broken person for killing the cat but Steven wasn ’ t for shooting his first rabbit with dad? None of this was fair. It was Lucifer ’ s idea to kill the cat but no one believed me.
Lucifer. Where was he, the root of all my problems, the reason my mind is torn and mixed up, my one and only “ friend ”. He was always around leaning against the wall with another plot made up by his poisoned brian to share with me. Maybe I am messed up, if Lucifer is just a figment of my imagination, wouldn ’ t that mean he was just a part of who I was? I shoveled that thought a grave and buried it deep down. No. Lucifer was real, where was he?
Lucifer was sitting with the back against the door. His face was a mixture of shock and fear, something i ’ ve never seen from him. His hands shook a little as he saw that I noticed. “ You really messed up this time didn ’ t you? ” He chided, the defeat in his voice wavered. “ I warned you not to. ” The musty, dark bedroom seemed to shrink. “ Shutupshutupshutup ” I muttered. “ You ’ re not real, none of this is real, my whole life might aswell be a dream, maybe i ’ m a hibernating bear, yeah that ’ s it. Wake up, wake up, wake up. ” The tears and the hissy voice at the back of my head came tumbling down. It screamed all the things I hated about myself at me. “ You ’ re worthless. You're messed up. You have no friends for a reason- ”
Click.
Suddenly light flooded in the door and Lucifer bolted out. A red faced ( and haired ) man with freckles and a a face with such white rage even the hissy would be impressed.
“ Out of my house you sociopath. ”
The blood on the knife was still has n't clotted, the streetlights seemed to make everything sway and swirl a little more than usual. I was ready to wake up.
I'm 13 have pity, also i'm half asleep as I write this. I went through it a few times, though I probably missed something or messed up continuity here or there.
|
[ WP ] A love story that starts and ends in 7 days . From strangers to strangers .
| The first day was magnificent.
I could see her everywhere I went.
In my coffee, in my shoes,
In the t.v while watching news.
She had me acting like a kid.
Though I did n't know her name.
On the second day, a slow approach.
I felt I had to make the most.
I looked at her and she at me.
We both saw the spark quite instantly.
I said, `` Hello, my name is Sid''
and thus I lit the flame.
Things were quickening by the third.
We both were fond of watching birds.
She played checkers, I played chess.
We played each other to see who's best
I fell hard. You bet I did.
When she beat me at my game.
Day four, our hearts kept up the pace.
Though we knew it was not a race.
Just being in her company,
was the best kind of fun for me.
Nothing about it was a quiz.
She was my kind of dame.
A question came up upon the fifth.
I asked exactly where she lived.
And the answer so perfect you can ignore
her room was down one floor!
Hopeless romance, I'm in bliss.
Love the culprit to blame.
6 days have passed and still I see.
The reasons why it's meant to be.
Gracefully across the common room
she is dancing with a broom!
Truly a small world this is.
We both wound up insane.
A week has now come and gone.
I ask the nurse if she's seen my blonde.
I find her and a blank stare in her eyes.
I see, my face, she does n't recognize.
Just one day of meds she missed.
now I swallow the pain.
|
[ WP ] Write whatever kind of story you 'd like . All I ask is that your story have a happy ending .
| A young man, nearly out of high school, stood fidgeting in a room alone. Dark hair falling just past the tops of his eyes and nearly touching his shoulders did nothing to hide his anxiety. He stood inside of the Bureau of Powers and Abilities, the government agency tasked with the cataloging and policing of anyone with a power as well as deciding if a power user warranted being drafted into their ranks. And today was the day of Sam ’ s 18th birthday, the day they would test his power to its fullest extent.
Standing alone in a room the size of a small auditorium, with walls as high as they were long he couldn ’ t help but think of gym class from his first two years. “ Good times, right Kit? ” A ball of brilliant blue flame burst into being at his side and out stepped his lifelong companion a light smile played across her face, framed by platinum hair that then fell to cover the shoulder of a navy hoodie that extended past her knees, drowning her in the folds of fabric and hiding the tail that matched the two silver ears on top of her head.
“ Which time? The one where you sent me to spy on the girls during their gym hour, or the time you sprained your ankle and I had to drag of all of your crap around for the rest of the day? ” She asked playfully shoving his arm, trying to alleviate some of Sam ’ s nervousness though Kit had little success it was something. Now he looked more focused on the task at hand and none too soon. The door at the other end of the room burst open as an irritated and impatient looking officer walked in. “ We can do this Sam. ”
“ ALRIGHT! Let me explain the process! ” The Officer yelled as he crossed to the halfway point of the room. “ You will fight my familiar with your own, if I deem you worthy of investing our resources in, you will get to go to the National Academy. Understood? ” He wasted no time going through the usual spiel for the test, and barely paused long enough for Sam and Kit to give a positive answer. “ Then on my mark send her at my familiar as if she was fighting for your life! ”
All summoners were tested the same way, they would fight an active duty officer and if they had enough strength they would be recruited, no choice given in the matter. After being recruited into the Bureau they would serve a minimum of six years effectively removing all other avenue of education and the additional four years of reservist status excluded any chance of a normal career path due to required weekly evaluations. And no politician had dared to upset the general population by suggesting the elimination of the Powers Draft Act, meaning that there was no chance for change within the immediate future. And anyone with a worthwhile power could be drafted, whether it was flight or teleportation, a criminal or a politician ’ s kid, it made no difference in eligibility for being drafted.
“ Okay Kit, get ready! ” Sam said as he reached deep within himself, grabbing hold of all of the energy he had and focusing the power into Kit. Suddenly the view of the testing officer was obstructed by a cloud of oily black smoke as a new familiar was summoned into the room. Metal dragged across metal, groaning and creaking ass the noxious smoke was pulled from the room by the ventilation system. Soon there stood the familiar, an automaton type creature with exposed gears and an exhaust pipe that belched a constant stream of the same oily black smoke that the creature had arrived in. With a voice like gears meshing together it surprising produced an intelligible word.
“ Hello. ” With incredibly smooth motions the metal being waved as though it wasn ’ t about to have to fight against Kit. With a curse the officer gave the signal to begin the battle, causing his familiar to visible sag in sadness at what would have to be done. Another word, much lower in tone. “ Sorry. ” And with that the battle began.
Lurching forward with speed and grace impossible for something made of metal the familiar shot towards Kit and Sam ’ s stomach performed some amazing acrobatics as he braced himself for what was about to happen. Kit dodged to the side of the behemoth, hair streaming behind her and her hands now alight with bright blue flames which she shot forth in a stream that splashed harmlessly against the metal skin of her opponent. Her reward was a cold fist extending out like a piston, and slamming her across the room. Crumpled on the ground she was making noises that were definitely not healthy as she tried, and then failed, to get up to defend herself. The once clean jacket was now stained indigo as blood seeped from abdomen, some of it even leaked onto the floor. Sam ’ s energy was draining fast as he kept her functional, and then left in one surge as she flung a fireball at the speeding locomotive that was coming to smash her into the ground with its iron fist pulled back. Crunch! Whoosh! It was over. Kit was dispersed in a flash of light and tongues of flame.
“ You can leave, I ’ m marking you as unremarkable. ” The officer walked out as his familiar started to dissolve into smoke it ground out one last word “ Sorry… ”
Sam collapsed, his energy spent and the sympathy pains of having watched his lifelong partner being crushed beneath the hands of that monster as well as the trauma of the experience all came together at once to knock him to his knees. Then the relief came. They had avoided it. They had cheated the system! Kit had used her most mismatched power to fight and had lost in the most convincing way possible. There was no contest, no discernable damage delt to his opponent ’ s summon, and Sam had burnt all of his energy after that lethal punch, so if they checked him for cheating it would look like he gave his all.
Hours later Sam arrived home, drained but in good spirits. The moment he got in the door of his room he gathered the last dregs of his energy, barely enough to pull her body together. “ Kit! ” Again the blue light of her fires blinded him as even through closed eyes. By the time he could see again she was no longer in front of him, looking around Sam called out to her. “ Where did you go? ”
“ I ’ m over here! ” She called from behind the closet door, before stepping out in his bath robe a blush very evident on her face. “ And you need to more energy next time! You didn ’ t even manage to make clothes for me! How would you like to be pulled out of nap and into the cold like that?! ” She ranted as she clutched the fabric shut in one hand.
Sam couldn ’ t stop from laughing, it was just too funny. “ Y-y-y ’ know I called you out to-to go help with the party right? ” He said breathlessly still shaking from laughter, although her next reaction brought another round of laughter as she started running around looking for something, anything to wear long enough to help set up the celebration for Sam ’ s 18th birthday.
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[ WP ] A man on his death bed comforts his family .
| This is it. I feel it.
I never wanted this. I never wanted to leave you so soon.
I'm losing the memories that we made.
The pain never subsides despite what they pump into me.
I ca n't stand you seeing me like this. I know you stay by my side because you care but I want more for you.
Promise me you'll move on after I go? I'm not asking you to forget, but I need to know you'll try to be happy. This is n't the end for you.
I'm losing my grasp on what's real and what's from the drugs.
I do n't know if I'll wake up tomorrow.
I love you. Just never forget that I love you.
|
[ WP ] You have photographic memory ... well actually , you have the power to wander into your own mind and relive your life starting from your first memory ( up until whatever past point you want ) . To everyone around you it will appear as if only a moment has passed , but there is no fast forwarding .
| I have to tell you, the first sixteen years of my life are torture. I have lived that part of my life so many times I know it word for word.
When I first realised I could replay I thought it was fun, and while at times it is useful the more of my life I replay, the more I hate using this ability. So many times I have replayed only to forget why I went back making me go through it again.
Once it got out that I could replay my life everything changed, I was put into a program designed to expose me to as much information as possible. I now spend my time as a human reference guide with full dumbed down explanations included.
My life sucks
|
[ PI ] Alone , We Fight Together - FirstChapter - 2125 Words
| I thought this was an interesting beginning to a story! I liked how the first chapter ended on a cliffhanger with the introduction of a new character who may or may not have good intentions regarding Jack. I'd definitely be interested to see where this is going!!
I think the pacing of the first chapter was a little bit fast, though. A lot happened before the reader was properly introduced to the world. I think if the pacing was a bit slower, I would have become even more attached to Jack and more engrossed in the mysteries of his past.
Good job! This is shaping up to be an engrossing thriller.
|
[ WP ] You reflect on how the color purple has completely ruined your day .
| Steam rose up into the cold of the dusk air from the coffee in my hand. I ignored the *ding* and shudder from my phone on the table, my eyes darting to my fingers wrapped around the cup in a Pavlovian response to my SMS notification.
*13 unread messages from Robert*
The pale illumination of the screen faded away after it went ignored, but my eyes stayed locked on my fingertips, steady for the first time all day. It was foolish for me to spend money on a manicure for our anniversary. I knew when I had it done he would end up working late again and show up for dinner distracted and exhausted from work. He would n't even notice I'd had them painted the same soft lavender as the flowers he gave me on our first date. He never noticed things like that anymore. Maybe I did it more for myself than for him.
*ding*
*14 unread messages from Robert*
What stupid little things can make our stomachs churn when we hear them, stupid little things that used to make us happy. How can a subconscious response be changed so quickly and effortlessly? All it takes is one stupid little mistake. The phone buzzed rhythmically against the table as my husband's smiling face lit up the screen. *I remember taking that picture last year*, I thought to myself offhandedly before taking a sip of coffee to calm the twinge of my nerves.
*8 missed calls from Robert*
*1 new voicemail*
When he texted me earlier, before the kids came home from school, I honestly thought it would be to tell me he would be even later than anticipated. More half sincere apologies and empty promises to make up for it `` when this damn project was finally finished''. I did n't expect a cheery message telling me that he `` could n't wait to see me at 5pm and to wear his favorite purple dress, like last time''. I wracked my brain for a bit before it sunk in, I'm ashamed that I nearly chirped back a response before it hit me. I did n't own a purple dress, I'm not particularly a fan of purple.
*ding*
*15 unread messages from Robert*
|
[ WP ] In a world where magic can be cast through song , musicians rule over society . You are the last of your kind , a Scandinavian Death Metal Singer .
| EDIT: OH sidenote, this is my first submission to this subreddit ever
You walked through the impossibly complex and massive facility, paying reverence at an altar whenever a new building was reached. Each new portion had a differing architecture style in accordance to their time periods and era. Far Eastern musicians had elegant and minimalistic black ink portaits drawn on simple scrolls within recreations of pagodas. Ancient singers and poets like Homer were chiseled into tablets and placed in a mockup of Greek architecture. Cramped mid-western bars, spacious European concert halls, Cathedrals, stadiums, the area the holy land took up was mindboggling. Along the halls between buildings very small subgenres may have been lucky enough to garner a small alcove, a shrine to a select few artists. Some artists were famous enough to have their own buildings, while others were jammed together, trying to fit as many within a limited space. Another pop building would probably be constructed within the next year. Your feet hurt.
Arriving in the centre, you find a stairway that seemed to reach to the stars. This was the tallest building in the complex, ten thousand fists tall. You know what your task is, and you wo n't be daunted by such a climb. You play the intro as thanks to Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. You start to climb.
You think back to when you were young, your mother encouraging you from a young age to play in Drop C tuning, and your father showing you how to use a double bass pedal. Your early practice sessions would burst birds in flight or cause avalanches on the pristine slopes near your family's modest abode. Seeing this first-hand, you understood why the council unanimously decided to stop all forms of Death Metal. The greatest had already ascended the tower, and those who could n't make it fell to their deaths.
You had to wear a muzzle to school, and had to clamp your feet to the floor whenever seated for long periods of time in public locations. You even had to take on a bizarre gait, as the rythym could be so powerful as to cause small magnitude earthquakes. It was... an experience to suffer so unfairly. But it fueled you, and gave you inspiration. Recallling this memory forced the stanza in the mongrel metalhead mantra to the forefront of your conscious thought.
*Give me Fuel, Give me fire, Give me that which I desire*
`` **OOah**''
The Hetfield came unbidden, but being in such a secluded place ( and of course the architects knew to prepare the building for such assaults ) it did n't really matter. You kept ascending the stairs, disgusted that you recalled these low and almost sacreligious words.
You trained and practiced for 18 years, and you doubted an equal musician existed on the earth now. You were the last, at least the last willing to use your power, the power spawned nearly 40 years ago by Venom. If the world was going to be freed from the fear that was the power within death metal, you were to make sure there was quite a show for any who cared to gather.
Portraits and album covers lined the wall as you ascended but you paid them no mind, you were approaching the sanctum, and the puny artists below the tall doors were no longer deserving of your attention.
As you reached the top of the stair, you halted a moment to reapply the black makeup under your eyes and around your lips. The door in front of you almost seemed to glare down at you, judging whether or not it would even be worth the time to open to let you in. Simple words were illuminated in red on the surface of the door;
*Welcome to Hell*
You knew the answering song, brought your guitar in front of you, and began playing. High screeching followed by some of the first thrashing ever put into song. As you played, the shining metal surface swam with the names of those already immortalized. You scream the lyrics at the door, almost as if you were trying to force the words through cracks that did n't exist. At least not yet.
A faint white light began to pierce the middle of the doors.
*Your time slips away*
As you played the breakdown and prepared to scream the next line as though you were charging into war, you became vaguely aware of the colossal rolls of thunder outside. For a thousand miles around, as you knew was the power of your music, the sky darkened and lightning crackled. Everyone knew what was happening. Everyone welcomed the pageantry that was involved and required to both ascend you, and to rid themselves of the danger. They all waited with baited breath.
**RAINING BLOOOOOOOOOD**
The heavens let loose a torrent of wind and rain like none had seen since God himself had condemned the world to drown all those years ago. Although this time, the rain was an almost malignant red and was sticky to the touch, but it would cease falling before you were finished here. The doors seemed to hum with a dull blue light, and you know it accepted that you passed the entrance exam. You were prepared for just about anything.
Just then, the entire tower with the walls of steel reinforced concrete, began to shake and sway.
*this is not right, something went wrong, was n't I good enough to at least begin the journey? *
You did n't realize it yet, but because you were the last to ascend this tower, the tower had no reason to exist and it was coming down with you inside it.
Chunks of rock crashed onto the staircase around you, and a thick portion of the stairs behind you cracked and fell away, toppling towards the floor many feet below.
**What did I do wrong? ** You screamed **Mikael Åkerfeldt, Francesco Paoli, Spiros and Christos Antoniou, why have you forsaken me? **
The door did n't budge, you struck it with your fists. The walls were crumbling down around you. You took your guitar into your hands, and leaned on the railing, looking down. It was so far to the bottom that it vanished into nothing.
You stood on the railing, and fell forward.
As you fell, the wind blowing through your hair, you closed your eyes, and serenity over took you.
*I served my duty to the world, and that's all that truly matters. They were safe, all of them. If the holy place did n't want me, then it's their fucking loss. *
You opened your eyes, accepting of your death, but just then you noticed the floor was gone. In its place was nothing but black. It was then you understood; your journey had only just begun.
|
[ WP ] Historical Prompt : It is 1346 - 1353 AD and The Black Death is ravaging Europe
| `` The bad apple must be destroyed''
The night was black, the stars covered by the clouds. The Father stood above us, towering with the sword of God in his right hand, illuminated by the flaming torches of the crowd. `` Or else we will all be poisoned. The Lord's punishment of one man will be spread onto all of his fellow men and the punishment is death''. I stood next to my Father, his hands black from moving the dead, what he believed was the duty the Lord had given him. He hoped for forgiveness from the Lord for what he had done and what he will do.
The Father pointed to the Jew. `` The Lord has punished us for the doings of this man and his people. They poison our wells, murder our children, and yet do not fall sick. They do not fear the lord, and they must be crushed. Do you want those that you love to fall ill with the blackness? We are the sheep and the Lord is the Shepard. He guides us to safety, and we must follow''. Two men grabbed the Jew and dragged him to the center of the crowd.
`` Let he who is without sin cast the first stone''
|
[ WP ] A dyslexic man makes a sacrifice to Santa , hilarity ensues
| Evil Santa sat in his dark, frozen lair, deep into the earth, in the North Pole.
`` M-m-master S-s-s-s-anta,'' stuttered an elf.
`` What is it now?'' boomed Evil Santa.
`` S-S-S-Sacrificial offering,'' said the evil little elf.
Santa scoffed, pulling himself off of his wrought iron throne, decorated with little spiky christmas trees. Santa wore red leather, had neck tattoos of rude words, and a blood-stained beard. His maroon nails were clawlike, sharpened to deadly points. `` About f*** time,'' he said.
The little elf scurried to the drawing room to grab the offering. `` H-here,'' he said, then disappeared into a mouse hole.
`` Whaddaya know,'' said Santa, admiring the sacrificial table. `` A rat. What a letdown. I expect a cat or better, is n't that general knowledge? This better be a letter of apology to go with it.''
*Deer Santa, *
*i hate Jenny. Jneny is such a bich. Can u plaese kill her tonite at 8pm. No i maen 9. after we have diner. its complikayted becos her mum is nice buft also a thac a cathlick sit shit sorry im drunk 2. *
*Thnaks, *
*Jeremiah*
The next day, Jeremiah mysteriously died in a snow-related incident.
|
[ WP ] A young necromancer who has done nothing but help the people in his village is slightly irritated when a paladin barges into his home .
| Young Necro annoyed
A blacksmith wipes the sweat from his brow; he has never repaired a golden mace before. He was surprised how strong it was, considering the purity of the gold it should be very malleable two hits should have squashed it completely.
He knew it must have to do with the shiny glowing runes all over the weapon, the man who it belonged to was getting some sleep in the corner while he waited, his matching golden armour felt like it was watching his every drop of his hammer, the book of the lord with its giant eye staring into his soul.
The blacksmith gulped and continued, unnerved by the sight. He was nearly done, he could feel his secrets being plucked out of his head, he had charged a man two copper more than he should have today.. Maybe he should repent..
Maybe he could give it information? Maybe that would pay for his despicable act? He had heard rumours of a necromancer two days ride from this town, a small village that was very prosperous despite having such low villagers, what with the plague ravaging across the country.
The warrior shifted in his chair, the blacksmith coughed and the eye blinked. He let it slip out “ oh sirr, would you be happening to go north by anny chance? ” the blacksmith stared at his work while he waited for an answer.
“ Would it be beneficial for me to do so? ” the man replied, perking up slightly.
“ Rumours say there be a necromancer not two days ryde from here! Up in Waterford! ”
The man was out of his seat, a flash of gold and a gush of air blew past the blacksmith. Silver rattled on the table and the mace was gone.
Two days later a young man stood on his high tower, it was his morning ritual to come out here and see the sun after a long day of doing his “ dirty work ” he yawned with a smile on his face as everything was as it should be, he put his cowl over his face and walked back down the winding stairs.
The warrior dismounted his horse, tying it to a tree he grabbed his gear to fight the hordes he could see just past the clearing in front of him.
They were all in armour and held weapons; some were carrying what looked to be fresh meat of victims out of the forest toward the centre, most likely for the necromancer ’ s evil incantations.
Would the necromancers vile experiments know no end? Was he hoping to make the virus mutate the dead to feed his army?
He pulled out his mace and slowly crept towards the first zombie, it was smart, it locked eyes with him and readied its shield and sword.
The warrior obviously a paladin cast a spell with such ferocity that a shockwave spread from him and enveloped the entire village. The undead simply stopped moving, the ones closest to the blast exploding into grey limbs and the further ones simply dropping to the ground.
He went for the most obvious place first, the home of the evil, the biggest tower loomed ahead, he found the door to the place while walking past corpses all around.
He knelt down on one knee and said a prayer, once it was done he sprouted wings and his eyes lit with yellow fire, his book flew above his head and power radiated from his equipment and a halo with crown like adornments hovered above his head, he was ready for anything.
He got up and walked toward the door, grass grew anywhere the light touched.
As he neared the door, the wood started to sprout, it grew too large for the supports and smashed the adjoining rocks and frame out, the wood then fell to the ground at his feet and roots started to dig hungrily for the ground.
He peered inside, the light had illuminated the insides and many creatures shrieked back into the corners.
Books, potions and all manner of ingredients were strewn around the place; this was definitely where the necromancer lived.
“ Come out ” his angelic voice deep and bassy commanded of the inhabitant, it was so strong with command that the undead and all manner of spirits could hold back no longer, they came out of their dark hiding places and were being seared by his holy light.
He stood and watched as well dressed zombies walked uncontrollably towards him, spurred on by his command. Some wore the clothing of nobles, some staff and some chefs.
These poor wretches must have died of the plague recently while at work.
The first ghost flew up in a mist of powder and its shriek was horrible to hear.
“ HALT ” came a voice, equally as booming and trembling the very foundation that the house was built on.
The paladins light faded, it was being suppressed somehow. A dark energy spewed down the stairs like an octopus ’ tendrils made of the purest darkness. It covered the zombies and the shades of the room.
A necromancer of great power flowed into the room, his dark robes stealing the very light around him.
“ What business do you have here? ” the necromancer commanded of the paladin, and before the paladin could think or hold himself back he relayed “ I have come to slay all the scourge of this world, and so here I am, to relieve your neck of your bothersome head! ”
The necromancer was taken aback at this, sure his spectacle was grand, sure he looked the part and had much dark energy and all kinds of undead helping him, but evil?
The necromancer let slip a yawn and cleaned his eyes with balled fists “ Sorry im not usually awake this late in the day, im a bit busy controlling the night shift and giving orders for the undead you just casually murdered ”
The necromancer motioned to the door with his head, as the paladin spun around he saw the entire village full of townsfolk and zombie alike, all holding whatever farming implements they could to fight off an intruder.
“ You see, you moron, I raised the townsfolk that died and are dieing from the plague. I set out watches to make sure newcomers are screened so we can control the town from another outbreak! ” the last words said with such hate that the rom shook again.
“ You killed half our soldiers and nearly destroyed many loved citizens family members in this very room! ”
The paladins light dimmed further and the book closed its eye. It drifted behind him in shame.
“ Now we have to make do, as I don ’ t want to end any more lives just to replenish our ranks! ”
The paladins halo had disappeared, its wings had wilted and he felt like he was being scolded by his old teacher back in Paladin U at Knightly Rock.
“ Im sorry ” the paladin pleaded
“ Well sorry isn ’ t going to cut it! ” the young necromancer said, furious purple fire billowing brighter in his eyes.
“ I think I have a good way to make you pay for this… ”
The next ten years the Paladin lived in the village and had the lowly job of day shift, working with the undead he was taught to despise and the necromancer as his superior. Even his armour wasn ’ t so gold anymore, the book had become lazy and slept most of the time, its big eye closed more often than not.
His punishment was bad, he was even forced to marry the ghoul daughter of the mayor. His disgust could not be more complete.
The necromancer had found a way to restore a lot of things for the zombies, they were functional in many ways including reproduction, but their flesh was too far gone to come back properly.
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[ WP ] As you 've slept , the teddy bear you adore has fought off demons to keep you safe . The night before you decide you 're going to get rid of him , seeing as how you 've outgrown him , you awake to witness his last stand against the forces that intend to forever corrupt your childhood innocence .
| Hey, thanks! This prompt really got me going into a weird direction. I hope you dont mind that I did n't stick strickly true to your prompt: D I hope you enjoy!
MR GUMPUS
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
`` Good night Mr Gumpus.'' I said, shifting him into the crook of my arm. His patchy fuzz scratching my neck as it has for so long. Over the years his fur has slowly been going, I have replaced his glass eye's so many times I can do it in my sleep now. I have repaired his arm onto his body before in one of the many fights with my sister. Neither of us every know what we fight for any more but it has been going off and on for the last year or so.
About the same amount of time that mommy has really gotten into those adult drinks she wont share with us.
I try to smile into my pillow as I used to when I thought of mom. The memories of being tucked in, of being soothed to sleep. Her comforting hand on my head when even Mr Gumpus was not enough.
Now I just remember her sitting in front of the tv waiting for daddy to finally get home.
He works so hard these days. Some nights, like tonight, I dont even get to see him before he gets home. He is not there to kiss me good night, to check my closet or below my bed for monsters. He never remembers to leave the door slightly open either. I need Mr Gumpus.
I can feel the soft blanket of night settle over me and snuggle deeper against Mr Gumpus.
`` Poor kid.'' I mutter as I watch Michael finally succumb to sleep. I am too old now, too old for this. Checking my dodgy arm to see if his work will hold this time. Looks good but a little stiff. At least this time I will have both eyes. That was a bad few weeks when I had no depth perception. I barely kept the monster at bay.
Straightening up out of Michael's sleeping grip I readied myself. Another night of battle. I should have been retired years ago but he kept holding on. Poor bastard. I did not have a lot left in me. Looking over my patched and worn form I thought that I probably did not have much longer left, neither of us did.
I could hear Mary down in the den, the TV running way too loud. Another heavy night of drinking. I wonder what excuse Paul will bring home tonight. He has been getting worse and worse. Shivering as I recall the event two weeks ago. That had really taken the stuffing out me. Grinning mirthlessly at the old pun I could still remember the front door banging open. The smell of beer and cigarettes heavy in the air. Fighting against the plume of smoke and alcohol sprites as they tried to enter Michaels room. I had kept them at bay.
Then Mary had heard him. Stomping up the hallway, bringing with her a cloud of betrayal sprites. When she saw him in his state there was no defense that Paul could offer this time. His usual bout of `` Late work'' or `` international call'' would not do it. Even so I could see the lying wisps flickering around his head but thankfully none of them were fully formed.
Shaking my head I brought myself back to the present as I heard a taxi outside. Readying myself, I did n't know what to expect tonight but for Michael's sake I would try. I felt so goddamn tired. I should have been given a proper burial years ago, added to the other fallen warriors into the great Box in the Attic. No time for pity now, the front door was opening.
Instantly seduction and infidelity wisps, fully grown, started to stream into Michaels room. I stood straight up on the side of his bed and starting to fight. Shielded with Trust and Faith, my trusty short swords I spun them through the air, matching their dancing flights. There were too many!
Paul's heavy breathing in the hallway summoned alcohol and pain fairies into existence with each breath. They flocked towards Michael, threatening to destroy him. Arms blurring I kept them at bay. Trust and Faith were flashing faster and faster, my repaired arm was already starting to ache. No! Mary had not even shown up yet! Not tonight, I would not let them through tonight! The fairies and wisps were circling ahead trying to find a way past my defenses. I would not let them.
The sound of the TV from the den died.
I got a brief respite from the battle. They attackers were waiting for reinforcements. Mary was coming.
`` What the hell kind of time do you call this!?'' The cry bounced down the corridor bringing jealousy and its own pain fairies winging along with it. The battle was rejoined. They struck.
I was dancing, spinning my way through the forms taught to me by my Master, The Great Pillow Lion. I could do this, I could feel the tide of the battle holding. I just had to keep it up. My fur was fraying more and more but I could keep this up. I could for Michael.
`` Lay off Mary. I have had a long day and I just want to get home without you yelling at me!'' Paul rejoined. Oh God. Resentment worms, giant pale slugs had started to inch their way across the threshold. Spiralling and keeping an eye on them, I had heard tales of these but never had to face them in battle. Not tonight, please.
`` You had a long day? A long day with that'secretary' of yours no doubt!'' These were no longer pain fairies, they were too big! Giant winged monsters, dark black and mottled red started to zip into the room. Their ponderous leathery wings joining the lighter, higher notes of their cousins.
I spared a glance back at Michael, still sleeping the sleep of the innocent. I would not fail tonight. The resentment worms had started to work their way up the edge of the bed. It was too much. I would have to call upon the magics that I knew were running out. It was a scarce resource but I had to keep going and against this onslaught? I needed it.
Muttering a word I tapped into Michaels sleeping form, shunting down through his memories I dug and dug for an unused memory.
There were precious few left for my needs. The Slugs were getting closer, on the blanket now and sliming their sightless way towards Michaels sleeping form. The aerial assault was not stopping, I kept digging through his memories, there had to be something left!
There! I found it. It was a bright and sunny Saturday. Michael was about 5 and Nancy, his sister was 7. It was a family bbq down by the river and they spent the day playing cricket with a tennis ball and bat from a plank of discarded wood.
Trust and Faith burst into brilliant light, lit by Love. They flashed down and severed the leading head of the Resentment Slug clean off. For a moment the onslaught paused in the face of this defense. I did n't wait, winding my way quickly through the last of the slugs, their filthy tar like blood leaving streaks on my blades.
Outside though, I knew it would not last. There were no lies being brought into existence. Ohh God no, he could n't be could he? I shook my head despairingly. Then I hear the soft'Whump' of what should have been Truth angels. But I knew these would be twisted and dark.
`` Yeah. I was. Stacey never yells at me. She loves me as a man. I do n't have to put up with her bitching at me all the time.'' Paul whispered out.
What should have been glorious incarnations of light brought forth via truth did not appear. Instead they were deformed versions, their wings dripping gore, their faces transfigured and horrible. They flew not with their swords of Truth and Faith but with Viciousness and Hate. They were coming straight for me.
Steadying my grip on Trust and Faith I was ready to bring battle. My fur was missing in so many places. My stitched arm was barely holding on. I had lost an ear at some point in the fight but I do n't remember when. The dark ichor from the slugs was eating into my stuffing. I would win this fight for Michael as I had done countless nights before.
Then I heard Mary crying.
More and more winged beast joined the fray. I knew then that I would have to draw on the dark powers. They were shown to me one night by the Great Pillow Lion. That night when Paul and Mary had fought for hours. When they were both crying. We were lost when the Great Pillow Lion had turned to me and said
`` I am going to show you something. I hope you never have to use it. To draw on it too deeply is its own kind of death.''
I needed that power now. The ichor was covering the blades, dulling their fiery glow. I closed my eyes and drew deeply. I could feel it, the black welling up and covering not just the swords but myself. I felt murky and soiled. I drew deeper and hardened myself to it, ready to use the power of Denial.
I stuck true but the glory of victory was not there, each sprite, each fairy that I destroyed just felt like another defeat. Michael was murmuring behind me in his sleep. Mary was crying and Paul was much too quiet.
I could not keep this up. Even with the mighty power of Denial I was failing, I was slowing down. I could n't do it. I was going to fall. A massive hit left me staggering and I fell to my knees. With a great cry the horde knew I was beaten as Mary continued to sob. Paul was saying something but it was lost behind the cacophony of the sound of victory.
As I felt my fur being torn apart I struggle to turn and look once again at Michael's sleeping form. I was done. I just hope that I had done enough, maybe I would end up in the Great Box in the Attic.
Mary uttered the words that would summon my death, I heard her clearly.
`` I want a divorce.'' then it all went dark as I felt what I had been defending for so long, die. I felt Michaels Innocence die.
`` What?'' exclaimed Paul.
`` You heard me you bastard. I want a divorce!''
They both froze when they heard from behind the cracked door a sleepy `` My Gumpus? Mr Gumpus where are you?''
`` Go to sleep!'' Paul barked.
Mary and Paul both watched the door. It slowly creaked open to show Michael rubbing his eyes in his little Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas. He stared blearely at them both, then asked.
`` Whats a divorce?''
|
[ WP ] Two people have just died . They both enter the same location in the afterlife . For one person , it is their personal heaven ; for the other , it is hell . Describe their arrival and first `` day '' there .
| A loud crash.
A soft fizzle.
Then, silence.
I found myself at a boring gray building, the only discernible object in a otherwise completely clear horizon. Am I dead? But... I know this place. My hand instinctively reached into my pocket, pulling out a key. On it, in very scratched numbers: 601. My old college dorm key. I looked around, but nothing else stood in my sight.
Sigh.
I pulled open the door to the building. Got into the elevator and inserted the key into my room, tense as I slowly opened it. I relaxed. Look like death would n't be so bad after all. After what I did, I thought... but I quickly pushed those thoughts from my mind. I would have eternity, after all. The room was exactly how I remembered it. My laptop, my guitar, even my textbooks and papers were all where they should've been. Finally. Peace and quiet. I opened my laptop and started searching the web.
Then I heard it. A knock; one loud, two soft, and one loud again. Our signal. Not her.
“ C ’ mon babe, I know you ’ re in there. I can smell you from here! ” she joked, and the following giggles confused me. Did she forget? If she ’ s here then.. dead?
With dread in my heart, I slowly opened the door. It was her. We gasped simultaneously.
“ You ARE here! Now we can be together forever! ”
I looked at her. She looked good as always, her auburn hair glinting even without sunlight, her face in a perpetual smile. She definitely forgot. Then I glanced down and saw it. A regular kitchen knife, stuck in her chest, and, oddly, purple icing covering the wound. Shakily, I stood, as the guilt came trickling into me.
“ Dear, how did you... die? ”
“ Oh it was so long ago, I barely remember. There was some sort of birthday party... ”
The guilt came gushing in, as the realization hit.
“ Babe, is something wrong? ” Her eyes were concerned. I looked into them, and found only a faint trace of the steeliness I saw only once before: through the reflection on her birthday cake knife the day I left her.
|
[ WP ] Tell the story of someone 's life , but in the wrong order .
| Completely unfinished, but I have a feeling it's going to turn into something much longer. However, from the first two segments ( or so ), I think you'll see how wrong of an order it's really in.
I call it `` The Last Great Adventurer''
-- -
It was raining. But that was to be expected, it had been an unusually rainy autumn. It definitely set the mood as they carried the casket across the moist noiseless leaves. It was a somber end to a life full of colorful adventure. He would have appreciated the irony with a wink, a smile and a quip. They walked, unperturbed by the rain and their growing dampness, through the crowd, up the stairs and into the wide golden hall. Their wet shoes, still shiny, left noticeable imprints on the red runners as they marched to the front and laid it down for all to see. The place was packed to the gills. He had a lot of friends. He had touched a great many lives before he sacrificed his. Adventuring tends to have that effect.
The constant rumbling and buzzing of the audience quieted to a murmur as a small, Asian man hobbled his way up to the podium. He was not dressed in the black suited trappings of the rest of the congregation. No, he dressed more simply, but certainly not out of disrespect. He knew the man would have forgiven him, even encouraged him to come as he had. So he did. Beside him, stood his son dressed in more sophisticated attire. He was now a man of nearly 17 years -- 8 of which would not have been possible without the man in the casket.
“ I never knew his name. ” the old man said in Japanese. His son translated his words into flawless English. “ I don ’ t believe any of us truly knew. But in my experience, it was not his identity, but his spirit that spoke the loudest. It was a near tragedy that brought us together, but I would not trade it for anything else in the world. ” The man paused in reflection, then began again, “ He had not been wandering long when we first met… ”
**
After my wife ’ s death I decided to flee to a more rural life in the north of Japan. The city held too many painful memories. We lived simply, far from any other people. I suppose you could call it a shack or a hovel, but we called it home. Akio had much space to play and I had peace of mind. It was a good life.
But good things are seldom everlasting.
The flames were everywhere. The cause of which I can not be certain. Perhaps a lit candle. It matters little. The house, being made of wood, went up almost instantly. I had managed to get myself outside quickly, but Akio was still inside. I tried to run back in, but the flames were too strong and I had already inhaled enough smoke to send me into a coughing fit. In between grasps for air, I screamed for help, but no one came. How could they? We were miles away from the nearest neighbor.
As I sank to my feet, I heard him crashing through the grass. I looked up to see a black and brown blur rush past me and jump through the window and into the fire.
**
The old man stood silent and looked to his son, who took over the eulogy.
“ I was scared… ”
**
Scared and unable to move. I had moved myself to the corner of my room. The fire was everywhere. I could barely see. Then I heard a crash. He burst his way into my room, and leapt over the fire, licking at his dark jacket. He held a large hat over his face as a makeshift gasmask.
“ Hi. ” He said in the middle of an inferno, the hat what little it could to filter the air and muffle his voice. “ What ’ s your name? ”
I shook my head in fear.
“ No name, huh? Me neither. Too much baggage. ” He reached out his hand. “ Come on, we ’ ve got to get out of here. ”
“ Scared. ” I did not know much English back then.
“ Ah. I know. ” He smiled and nodded to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “ Let me tell you something, I ’ m scared too. Terrified. But if you help me out, maybe we can do this together. ”
The easiness of his words soothed me and I took his hand. He lifted me up into his arms and, with a running leap, crashed his way out the top floor window. His footing was sure as he landed on the slanted roof and slid down with the aid of loose tiles and some straw. The landing was graceful and soft, and he placed me down beside my father before putting his hat back on and coughing up a storm.
“ Sorry about your house. ” He said. “ But I have a feeling this little guy is a little more valuable. ”
My dad thanked him profusely, over and over in a language I was sure he did not understand. He was most gracious and kept insisting that it was nothing. His kindness did not end there. He escorted us to the nearest town, where we were able to get aid and food. He gave us his time and what little money he had to get us back on our feet. Then, just as quickly as he came, he disappeared to the winds. But before he left he thanked us. US, he thanked, when it should have been the other way around.
When I heard news of his sacrifice, I am not ashamed to say that I broke down in tears. To lose such a man to such a meaningless war is a tragedy…even if he did save everyone from a terrible fate.
I just wish I could have saved him the way he saved me.
**
Thunderous applause accompanied the old man and his son as they descended from the podium, each wiping away their respective tears. They were replaced by a young woman, whose Irish-accented voice projected strong and sure.
“ I met him years ago. He thundered onto the scene as he usually did, cocksure and with a funny quip under his hat. They had been chasing him for a while at this point, and he had decided to stick his head into my bed and breakfast. This is the story of how I decided to follow him. ”
... To Be Continued?
|
[ WP ] When you die , you are given the chance to flip a coin . If you call the toss correctly , you are allowed to keep living , while resetting to the age of your choice . You 've been doing this for a couple centuries now . Death is starting to get pretty pissed .
| `` -uck'' My last words are finished as I my eyes adjust to the blackness. I sit up and look at Death. He is sitting at a table.
`` Oh, it is you again. What is it today?'' Death greeted me not with an explanation of the game like he always used to but an apathetic voice.
`` I do n't know, you can choose.'' I watch as Death pulls out a chess board and starts to set up a game on it. `` A classic.''
As I sit down to play, the board orients for me to be white. `` Well you did just die'' Death is at least courteous. `` But do n't expect me to go easy''
As I am making my first moves Death asks, `` Any ideas for the new life, since you know the trick, I can see what I can do to make the transition easy.''
I have tried so many different things. Who knows maybe I will ask to be a grandmaster this time''
`` Oh do n't ruin a good game for me.'' Death quips back
`` One day I will get you into video games then you will really know what a good game is. Check.''
`` What? Oh the bishop. And just because I like board games does n't mean they are bad. Next time we will play Settlers of Catan then you can see how good a board game can be.''
`` Yeah whatever you say'' I roll my eyes at death `` also check again.''
Death just sighs and tries to focus on the game. But it does n't matter He is one move from being checkmated.
`` Checkmate. My streak continues this is what 24 in a row now?''
`` 28'' Death responds. `` I miss the days that we were on an equal level''
`` Yeah well better luck next time. Keep practicing.'' I smile as he tosses me the coin. Our little game is meaningless but since I know his trick we can just keep playing every death of mine.
`` Got your age?''
`` Let ’ s go with a whole new life and say birth. Get a new set of adventures.'' I toss the coin. `` until next time, Death.'' I watch the coin start to bounce around and at the last possible moment say `` Edge.'' Just as I do the coin lands and balances right on the edge and rolls to the corner of the table. Just like every time. The blackness fades and death waves goodbye.
*Edited so that the grammar is actually good.
|
[ WP ] Write about why and how the Nazca lines or something mysterious like that were created .
| Those `` silly'' legends the humans invented about the Nazca lines have always had a grain of truth in them. It's true that we put them there, but the they were not to act as landing markers for our spacecraft. We put them there for a much simpler purpose, a sort of societal intelligence test.
We entrusted those simple peoples with the constant maintenance of the fragile lines we marked down with our god-ships. We sought to test their communal memory and their sense of duty. While not the greatest artists, they certainly maintained the general shapes of the lines.
Such a dreadful shame that they decided to off themselves a few thousand cycles later. They really were my favorite race. The squid people 3 solar systems over will have to suffice. I just wonder how they'll manage anything without hands.
|
[ WP ] You inherit a tropical island
| `` Alright, now that we've got the budgeting and logistics crap out of the way, I've got just a few miscellaneous items to talk about. Number one, the soundtrack to the movie Summer Rental will now be played 24 hours a day. I realize not everyone likes calypso music and Jimmy Buffet, but I own this island and Alan Silvestri did the music and it's here to stay so get used to it. Two, please stop turning volleyballs into Wilson from Castaway. It was pretty funny at first, but then it got racist and things have been spinning out of control since. I do n't think Marcus meant to spear Jeff with the volleyball pole, but I also do n't think this would've happened if Jeff had n't turned that Voit into a giant Aunt Jemima head. On top of that, I tweeted to Gabrielle Reece and on the off chance she actually comes, I'm going to be super pissed if we do n't have a good volleyball for her to use. Lastly, anyone who sings Lonely Island's'I'm on a Boat' while in a boat will be fined $ 20. I'm so sick of that song. You can still reenact the Michael Bolton Titanic thing or do'Jizz in Your Pants' jokes or whatever, but remember that the timing is just absolutely crucial. Once it gets old, man, people start freaking out and we're going to have to ban it. We can coexist together, people, but we got to stay courteous and friendly. Like Leave it to Beaver. Lend your neighbor some sugar.''
`` Jizz... in... my pants.''
`` See, Paul gets it.''
|
[ WP ] Someone 's mail did n't get delivered today . Explain why .
| I tossed in solemn isolation- the fabric of my comforter grazing my thighs gently but just enough to evoke a sense of comfort against my skin.
The night before had not gone well for me as I felt the acids of my stomach still rumbling deep down inside. That now pungent taste of citrus corroding me from the inside, strong musky breath laden with the deep scent of aging whiskey and a weakest to even draw the eyelids to unveil the curtains of my world. There was numbness in ankles as result of an intoxicated tumble some hours ago and a sore throbbed ever so dull in a kneecap.
I was crippled in my own bed with the hours dragging by as my stupor engulfed me. As if paralyzed by the weight of a heavy night, I was pinned down.
Dawn soon broke and brought vertigo to my head. My world spun violently as I mustered up remaining strength to sit up.
With a thud I fell back into the comfort for my sheets before the ever intrusive shrill of the clock echoed in my porous head. Like a stone against tin, it felt like an immense torture. I wanted to filter everything out and cupped my ears in a feeble attempt to do so. My hands felt like paper up against water and I was relentlessly drowned in a deluge of sound.
Every storm clears out eventually and everything mercifully dissipated in my world just as a ray of sunlight penetrated the enclave of my room. All was calm and good again in my world and nothing would matter.
Images of the lush autumn leaves slowly browning on that oak outside soon faded into darkness as I finally lost consciousness. It looked like a beautiful day.
--
Sunlight crept into the room through crevices of a tinted window. Laid out neatly on a chair was a uniform and a messenger bag to match, both in varying shades of brown. A mess of letters spilled out from the bag, uncared for.
Dried stains of alcohol dotted the table alongside empty crushed up beer cans. Bottles sprawled around broken and empty- abandoned of the poisoned it once contained.
--
Susanne stood eagerly at the edge of her lawn clutching a handwoven handkerchief and a pair of damp eyes. Brows furrowed, she snatched eager glances at that long stretch of road.
A bright red letterbox stood prominently by her side as a clear semblance of her wait.
That fixie never swung by that day. Nor did the familiar sight of the brown uniform.
Susanne, knowing that she would have to cry herself to sleep again, slowly walked back into the cool shade of her veranda.
|
[ WP ] : It 's been three years since society has collapsed . Most people who made it through the blast have been claimed by things that came after . You 're doing fine . Going from homeless to a hunter-gatherer was much less of a dramatic change than you 'd think . The meek have inherited the Earth .
| Noster sat in his rags perched up on a shattered dam wall watching a band of tribesmen discover a clean water source, he looked along the walls which was dotted with scavenger birds. This was a good omen, having his band's patrons along meant they should be in the right spot.
Time passed slowly while the tribesmen caroused having long filled up their cateens and bottles, washing their filthy clothes and bodies. It had n't been so long ago that they had been clean every day and they of course longed to'feel normal'. One of the poor bastards had brought out a bar of brittle looking soap. Even far up on his perch Noster could smell the fragrance and had no doubt that it would end up attracting attention from those with unfriendly intentions as the distinctive soap bubbles floated their way down stream.
It was approaching evening when a small noise of a foot slipping in mud betrayed the presence of new comers. The vultures fluffed their feathers and clicked their bills in anticipation. Noster was always moderately surprised that people never paid particular attention to the birds, they knew what was what.
Slowly dark shapes spread out around the tribesmen who had settled into camp on the river bank. Noster watched with great interest, this was quite advanced ambushing and none of the local nasties were this technical in their attacks. This could change the plans for Noster, usual thugs and killers were n't very savvy with they would take but a more aware force may remove all things of use.
It was going to be a one sided blood bath with no useful loot to be had, the shadows were in striking distance and all bets said they'd be quickly and quietly cutting throats. Noster looked about his perch and gathered a handful of stones and threw them in a wide arc over the water and men. Stones caused a racket and stuck some men alerting them.
Ten minutes it took, the organised men appeared to only have shivs desperation lending tactics they no material strength to their needs. The freshly washed tribesmen were better armed but still startled. The total result was a shit-fight between hungry, frightened and desperate men. A few survivors crawled through the wreckage looking for brethren to help or enemies to throttle into the afterlife. Those few men found one another kept the struggle going until only two were left and they were utterly distraught.
Noster made his way down the scree towards they sobbing men, they were both terribly wounded. Much like the vultures he respected Noster paid them no mind, they were n't dead yet and dealing with the living was too much bother. The corpses offered little rewards to most but for a good finder like Noster there was a lot of booty, newer material, fresh boot laces and even shoe inserts. Replacement water canteens. Anything he could n't carry was stashed away in a supply cairn topped with freshly de-fleshed shin bone, a sign to others of his kind that there were things to had.
The wounded watched with appalled eyes at the wanton looting going on, feeble cries they let loose as Nostor found the dry fuel and got a cooking fire started was pathetic. The carrion birds hung back and then came in close as Nostor started throwing carved hunks of the dead towards them, a gift for guiding him to such a rich haul. All debts and obligations paid Nostor got to the business and started to eat the dead.
There was no longer a society to ignore Nostor in fact the more the left overs ignored him the better he had it.
edit: spelling and stuff.
Eat the dead
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[ WP ] Write about a universe so horrible and grim dark that it makes Warhammer 40,000 look like a fluffy fun land .
| It had been thousands of years since the lights went out. Almost all the stars had been used up or destroyed in wars across the universe. Every planet we could find was permanently obliterated by dirty bombs - radiation slowly killing any life form unlucky enough not to be incinerated by the blasts.
I have survived, alone, for countless years on one of the billions of deaad rocks in space. The planet used to be covered in sprawling cities, their golden towers reaching into the crisp blue skies. Now, the land was a grey cloak, woven from the carcasses of a dead civilisation. The sky an ash filled bag suffocating the dead surface bellow.
Now I sit, a withered skeleton, the last remnant of life in the universe. I look around in the darkness and grab a sharp stone, slicing at my wrists with all my energy. Eventually, the skin breaks and I let out a sigh of releaf. I slump onto the ground, and see as the clouds part for a moment, the last dying star flickering a thousand light-years away.
Written very quickly on my phone. I had the idea and felt I had to write it before going off to bed. Thanks for reading.
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[ WP ] : Trading life time is made available . Minutes , Hours , Years , all giftable , willingly or forcefully .
| I leaned back in my chair, the paperwork neatly prepared on the metal table in front of me. Sitting directly opposite me was a condemned man - his insignificant name escapes me - that had all four limbs handcuffed to the cold, steel chair that he was sitting on. His head was restrained against the Resigned to his fate, his drooping eyelids was that of a tired, defeated man. Well, at least he knew what was about to come.
`` Well, Mr. Parker, I'm sure you know why I am here, and I hope that you are aware that I take no joy in this procedure. I'm sure that you have done this before, so nothing should surprise you. Just a dull throbbing pain and it will all be over - well, at least for one of us.'' I could n't help but let loose a small chuckle at my own joke.
`` I'll just need you to sign the court papers right here, and we are good to go.''
I reached over and handed him a ballpoint pen, which he grabbed reluctantly while straining against the steel cuffs. A quick scribble and I was in the clear.
Setting aside the now complete paperwork, I stood from my extremely uncomfortable chair and reached over with one hand, placing my palm upon his forehead. My fingers dug into his skin, with the pincer-like thumb and pinky gripping onto the sides of his cranium firmly.
I could feel it flowing through my arm, an inexplicable life force that seemed to join with my own already large pool. The pain is only felt at the giving-end of this transaction. Mr. Parker grimaced with his eyes closed, his breathing becoming more and more labored with each passing second.
I could feel him emptying out. The flow reduced to a dribble, before finally becoming nothing at all. Mr. Parker sat there, motionless, with the exception of a few beads of sweat still inching down his chin. What a shame, he was only 19 years old.
Motioning at the 2 expressionless sentinels that were stationed at the entryway of the room, they proceeded to make quick work of what used to be Mr. Parker. I walked over to the entrance and peered down the corridor to check our progress. 15 more condemned people. Business was booming.
It is an admirable business model - if I may say so myself - especially with time being such an expensive commodity; I was swimming in cash. All parties involved win, for nobody wanted to live their last moments on the barbaric contraption called an electric chair.
With the crime rates nowadays, I guess that you could say that - time is on my side.
*Ha ha ha. *
-- -- -
Like my writing style? Desperately need to give me more love with your upvotes? Head over to /r/ZiincWorks to see other works by me.
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[ WP ] You wake up one morning and open up Reddit . Stickied at the top of the front page with 35 thousand upvotes is an AskReddit : `` Did you all just feel that ? ''
| I stumbled out of bed, clad in sweatpants and an old ratty tshirt. The kitchen seemed so bright, like the world was trying to bright me awake. After pouring myself a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee, I started checking the websites that I frequented to see what I had missed while I was asleep. My first stop was Reddit. I always scrolled through Reddit during breakfast. It had become a routine -- albeit a lonely routine -- that I had taken to ever since I moved to my apartment in America and started college.
I opened the website and the first thing I happened to see was a post that with 35,000 upvotes, titled, `` Did you all just feel that?'' My mind immediately went to the horrible tragedy that had occurred five years prior. *It ca n't have been, a tragedy like that was n't predicted to hit for another few years*, I thought to myself. Upon opening the post I saw comments like, `` Not again! ``, `` We're all okay, no need to worry. ``, and `` I watched as my entire neighborhood was swept away.''
These comments worried me, and I had n't even bothered checking what the original post had said. Even if it was n't as bad as 3/11, it would still be horrifying to see what had happened, and I did n't even know where this was centered. Picking up my phone, I saw the alert that confirmed my fears.
**Magnitude 10.6 earthquake. Depth: 30km. Epicenter: Tokyo, Japan. Tsunami warning for 東京都 and the surrounding coastline. Evacuate immediately. **
I had already started to cry as I dialed my parents, opening Facebook at the same time. The lines were busy, which was to be expected. Last time an earthquake of this magnitude had hit, the lines were full of loved ones trying to confirm that their family was safe, every hour of the day. My parents had communicated almost exclusively by Facebook.
The crying turned to weeping as I saw that my other relatives posting non stop, trying to get in touch with my mom, dad, and brother, who were residing in the country at that time. Some were even reaching out to me.
My phone buzzed with a text notification.
**Have you heard anything from them? **
It was from my aunt. I did n't know how to reply. How do you tell your aunt that her brother, sister-in-law, and nephew were most likely dead?
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[ WP ] Science has figured out a way too upload human consciousness onto a hard-drive , but..
| Life; a precious gift, one of which we have no choice in taking. The conscious thought, coming to us as quickly as it takes to flick a switch, yet ending just as quickly. We've done so much to extend our time, to fight against the natural clock that dictates when we, as a conscious entity, cease to be. As is decided by nature, man, or even some great deity who brought us into being.
I guess, in some way, there is a comfort to knowing that you have no choice as to when you shall end; no second guessing, no take backs, making every moment as precious as can be. But now? Now, we've found a way to cheat life, nature, and perhaps even ( heh ) God. We've always had the collective thought of transcending beyond our mortal shell, to live on and forevermore through machines and technology. It was exactly that; just a thought or dream. But we found a way, oh, boy did we find a way.
Humans; we're too quick to put out faith into the unknown. We devote ourselves to religion or the sciences, finding ways to live on through beliefs or technology, to obey God or to play God. Both as equally deluded; believing there is something beyond this existence, or believing that science is final and irrefutable. I guess I'm as guilty as everyone else though; I helped develop the theory, I ran the practices. I've played God with someone's existence. And now?
Well. Now I've got ta announce that there's a flaw we never considered; maybe a glitch, or an error in the hardware. There's over five hundred million consciousness in this network alone, and even more scattered over the planet. And I've got ta tell them, their families, and everybody in-between, that their time is running out. And the kicker? They get to decide when, whether they want to wait it out or taking the bullet and the noose. They get one last choice.
So, what does that make me? A great deity who granted the gift of life and the consequence of death? Or the catalyst of a mass genocide. At the end of the day, they're both two sides of the same coin.
^^^eh ^^^this ^^^sucks
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[ WP ] Write a story that gives me chills , but is n't a horror story
| `` I'll take about ten feet'', Mike said to the sales assistant.
`` We've got a special offer on this rope here, sir,'' the freckled faced employee of Dan's Hardware said back to Mike. `` Oh, and it's stronger than the one you're looking at.''
`` Ok, I'll take ten feet of that,'' Mike conceded.
The sales assistant, cut Mike a generous ten feet and wrote up a docket with the length and price. He glanced and smiled at Mike as he handed him the docket and said, `` So, what ya usin' it for?''.
`` I just need to hang something up at home, is all.'' Mike responded, his throat catching slightly, as he turned and headed towards the checkout counter.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where everyone has super powers which are more frustrating than helpful
| `` It's just a shitty power,'' I tell her, as she nods along, `` Why would anyone want their toenails to be razor-blades? I do n't want to fight crime. I just want to own a pair of shoes that lasts me longer than a day.''
The waiter, stepping over to refill our cups, hears me. `` You think that's bad?'' he asks, `` Listen to this.'' The waiter seems to dislocate his jaw, and lets loose a fierce roar that rattles the cutlery.
`` What the hell was that?'' I ask.
`` That was me saying hello in the language of the Tyrannosaurus Rex'', the waiter informs us, `` I'm fluent in all dinosaur languages, you see. Unfortunately, as there are very few dinosaurs alive in 2016, it's a fairly useless superpower. At least you can mow the lawn with your toes.''
This had n't occurred to me. `` I suppose...'' I muse, as the waiter turns to the next table, `` it's not an *entirely* useless power...''
My date smiles, but does n't respond. `` Forgive me,'' I beg her, `` I've only been complaining, and talking about myself. Tell me about you. What's your power?''
She hesitates. `` Do n't get mad,'' she warns.
`` Why would I be mad?'' I ask, confused.
`` Well...'' she takes a deep breath. `` I do n't need to drink water, you see. My body sustains itself by listening to boring stories.''
`` Ah.'' This hurts. `` I suppose our date is at an end, then?''
`` Actually, would you mind whining a little more? I'm still thirsty.''
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[ WP ] You are the god of dice . Steve plays a lot of dice games . You hate Steve .
| At first the other gods protested in playing poker with a luck god, but after some explanation about my providence being dice only the others let me play.
The Heavenly Poker Table was larger than mortal comprehension as almost all the gods played. Games were even longer than the table, one hand could last for centuries. It was long but while you waited for everyone to speak you were able to preform your duties.
This hand I had a Sun God and a River God next to me.
`` So...'' Mackenzie said smiling, `` God does n't play with dice, eh?'' His voice bubbling beneath the surface.
I had heard this one before, `` Einstein was a smart fellow, but he does n't know how I roll.''
Laughter came from the Sun God, his feathers shaking as he danced in his chair.
`` Tonatiuh,'' I said eyeing his movement, `` You must have a good hand to be in such a good mood.''
He stopped, `` A luck God shoudnt be allowed at the table.'' He grumbled.
*Come on! I just need 3! * Steve's voice called in my ear.
The problem with being a luck god, is that you're never forgotten. Tonatiuh and Mackenzie probably never had mortals praying for their aid. Well at least not anymore.
I looked down upon the Earth, and there was Steve, a youth by human terms, gambling with others in the back of an alley.
I hate Steve, he's one of those humans who blames his luck on us Gods... And while he's not wrong he still prays for fortune. He's a snivling, pathetic excuse for a meat sack who lashes out when he loses. That is fun to see though.
I and the other Luck Gods do like to gamble on how he'll reacts. We have a pool of our own going on who can make him lose the most money.
It's not always easy though. He's poor, probably from all the gambling, so he's got to win some before he calls it quits with his winnings.
With each roll he and his buddies preform I nudge the dice. $ 10 to the man across from him, $ 5 back to Steve, $ 10 to Steve, make him lose $ 5 and give it to the guy taunting him.
This goes on for 10 minutes, leaving Steve ahead $ 50. I know his companions though, they'll try for a last ditch effort to win it all back, an all or nothing double up bet. I wait, hedging on him to want more.
He goes in, blowing on the dice I can hear his voice in my ear *Come on, come on! I need this! * I feel the dice rattle in his hand as I prepare to give him the worst roll.
Sirens explode down the alley as the police call out to him. Startled he grabs his money and they all run, him with the $ 50 I let him get ahead with... Just my luck.
I hate Steve...
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[ WP ] `` You ... Do know I 'm about to kill you , right ? '' A serial killer 's latest victim does n't seem to understand the gravity of the situation .
| The Seven Ps. Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance. The SAS would never have taken an autistic person. Not for this anyway, but that's another story. Killing the autistic was always a challenge and I hated challenge. Did they not realise that I did this for the emotion? A hint of emotion at least. Nope. Fucking idiots. Let's try this again.
`` Look at me, you fucking cunt.'' Bellowed our hooded assailant.
`` Sorry sir, my eyes were getting tired,'' responded Alex, naive and innocent to the last. And in truth his eyes were getting tired; this happens when you're forcibly kept awake for thirty two and three-quarter hours. But Alex did n't mind, he liked the attention. Ma and Pop always ignored him and called him words.'Retard','Pig' and'Forrest' were their favourites although Alex never understood them. And no one else would play Hide and Seek with him. Although Alex did n't know why he had to be tied up.
`` What did I just tell you to fucking do, you worthless shite?'' Screamed Mr Hood. Alex called him Mr Hood.
Alex jumped again, `` You told me to look at you,'' he said.
Alex liked this game.
`` This is not a fucking game,'' muttered Mr Hood under his breath before composing himself, `` YES! Look at me. Me. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?''. Of course he did n't understand. Why do I bother sometimes.
`` Have you heard of'This Little Piggy'?'' Asked Mr H. `` Of course you have n't,'' he thought to himself.
Mr H's temple was pulsing. Unhealthily.
`` Oh yes, Mr Hood,'' answered Alex gleefully, `` I know all the words, shall I tell it to you?''
`` Be my guest,'' responded Mr H. Eerily.
`` This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home,
This little piggy had roast beef,
This little piggy had none,
And this little piggy cried wee wee wee all the way home.''
Mr H gave slow round of applause.
`` Alex do you know the difference between you and this story?'' asked Mr H.
`` No Sir, although I would like some roast beef as we always have it on Sundays'' said Alex hoping in vain that he might get some scrumptious beef.
`` You're never going home,'' Mr H said, pulling a hunting knife from it's scabbard.
Alex's eyes lit up. No more home? No more rude words? That sounded great to Alex although he would miss his beef.
Mr H plunged the knife into Alex's carotid artery. Great spurts of blood erupted from Alex's neck whilst his body motioned spasmodically and the life drifted from his eyes. This Little Piggy was having none.
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[ WP ] Satan is faced with dilemma when one new `` costumer '' has asked for the same thing that and old `` costumer '' is achieving , and the Big Problem is both of their souls have been taken already . Explain how this happen and how Satan , with all his intelligence , will resolve this situation .
| Re: Fwd: WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK YOU FUCKERS!?!?!?!?!
Dear Mr. Johnson,
I received the news of your Olympic Silver Medal with great dismay, and I must extend my sincerest apologies for the poor quality of service you have received from our organization. I assure you that I pride myself on the quality of our customer service, and personally take full responsibility for the error that has resulted in this state of affairs.
In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that not only did our organization fail to live up to the standards we were committed to delivering, but, due to a clerical error, we were regrettably also involved in the enhancement of the performance of your opponent Herr Hoffman.
The issue was one of semantics: Your request to excel as the `` greatest shot putter in the history of track and field,'' was, due to our internal quantification of `` greatness,'' filed under `` Track and field,'' while Herr Hoffman's request to be the `` Best shot putter in the world,'' was filed under `` Shot put.'' We do have quality assurance professionals on staff to try and control for just this sort of slip up, but as they say, nobody's perfect, an aphorism that is rather especially true of the kinds of people who qualify for employment with me.
I tell you all this, Mr. Johnson, not because I'm trying to offer any excuse, but because I feel you deserve to know. I also want you to know just how much your personal spirit of persistence and ambition inspires me personally, and how grieved I am that I have been unable to deliver what I promised you.
As far as our next possible steps, I can see two possible courses of action moving forward. I can certainly offer you a full refund, and I am open to negotiating a penalty fee payable by our organization for not delivering on our previous contract. Given that there was no such fee negotiated in the previous contract, such a penalty would need to be established upon further negotiation with our lawyers, but popular requests that we have granted in the past have been along the lines of personal islands filled with servile and nubile natives, sufficient personal funds to live in luxury for the rest of your life, and the ever-popular enhancements to sexual prowess and desirability.
Alternately, if you still wish to pursue the terms of your original contract and, as you put it, thoroughly `` Fuck that smug motherfucker with his gold fucking medal and stupid fucking grin,'' I have taken the liberty of drawing up an addendum to your original contract ( please see attached ), which details an alternate plan to reinstate you as the greatest shot putter in the world.
In conclusion, I will apologize again for the grief and frustration you have experienced because of our organization, and ask that you give us a final chance to make you whole. If you wish to proceed with the refund, please let me know via reply message, and I will put you in touch with the head of our contracts department to negotiate an amenable contract termination. If you wish to pursue the course of action I have laid out to remedy the original breach of contract, simply click the box below indicating you have read an accept the terms of the contract addendum.
Sincerely,
S. B. Lucifer, Esq.
Hell Inc., Co-Founder and CEO
[ ] I have read and understand the attached contractual addendum, and agree to abide by its terms.
[ cont in reply ]
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[ WP ] Write as if you are responding to the worst prompt in existence .
| It is whispered only in darkness, while houses sleep and lay still. All is quiet, save the few lonely voices of the night. This tale lives in moonlight, the sun's bright rays never shine upon it. None dare tell it twice, for this tale is of an ancient time, a time secrets ruled behind a hidden shroud and the strongest blades were forged by mystery.
`` Better the devil you know than the devil you do n't.'' Then what is the darkest devil but the great blackness of the unknown, swallowing every accusation, every theory, every firm and resolute belief? For even those most devout falter in their faith, suffer a parasite that gnaws relentlessly on their innermost soul.
Death unites all living creatures, it is said, the one force inescapable, inevitable for those that walk and grow upon the earth, swim in the sea, or soar in the sky. But yet there is another, and so this parasite, this leech of life and love is named. It is called doubt.
Doubt in what we know to be true. Doubt in our security, doubt in our purpose, doubt in our very sense of self. We doubt, and as we doubt, we feed the unknown monster that dwells outside of what we hope to believe.
All men who have walked this earth have left a mark, great or small, light or dark, but a mark it was and shall always be. These marks, even the slightest touch, like the first breath of the smallest field mouse, touched another soul. These marks have been recorded, by voice or dream or memory or written word, through all of man's time upon the earth. And so it is that each man, woman, and child are recorded in the books of history, in their own small way, a sign of connection to the human race itself.
Save one.
One being drifts alone through time and space, his actions unknown, his name never uttered by tongue nor symbols read. The only truth, if it can be called such, known to only a handful, is that he exists. Be it past, future, or this very day, we know not. We know not his purpose, nor effect be it good or ill, on our history long past and yet unwritten.
And so we do not believe. There is nothing to fear, we tell ourselves. No one man could be so terrible in nature, so powerful, that his very existence tilts all of mankind towards the an abyss of darkness eternal. There is no such man. We do not fear.
And yet doubt remains. What if, whispers a devil, hiding in the deepest recesses of our minds. That whisper, that fear of possibility, however small, keeps the tale of which I speak alive, and so forever it shall remain. A shadow of a thought of a breath in the wind.
And though I know my life may be forfeit, I now share this tale with you. Be warned, and let not your gaze fall upon my words if you do not wish to possess such awesome, calamitous knowledge. It is mankind's oldest fear, given form by written word. Beware. Beware. Beware.
^^^^^^^^^^.
^^^^^^^^^^.
`` There is a man.''
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[ WP ] A crew of reporters decides to enter the uncontacted and highly dangerous North Sentinel Island , what they found is beyond their imagination .
| `` John, get over here, I want a good shot of this.''
Susan pointed through a gap in the foliage towards what seemed to be a small clearing in the trees, complete with several rocks and some rough iron tools.
`` This could be evidence that the shipwrecks in the area have had a very real impact on the place! Their society could be advancing fast towards a sort of tribal iron age! This could be the article of the century!'' Susan tried to keep her voice down, but it slowly increased in intensity as she talked to the photographer.
John made a quiet mmm sound, the sound he would make when his wife asked if she was still pretty and he knew he could n't say yes or no. Behind them, Andrew and Amit were talking. Amit had been the most nervous so far.
`` Please,'' he asked, `` let's not go any further. The last time anyone got close to the natives, they threw spears and rocks trying to kill them.''
`` Well it did n't work, otherwise no one would know, would they?'' Andrew casually replied. He idly moved his left hand onto his 9 mill holster, pulling it out and checking it. `` And even if they did attack, we can handle ourselves. You be a good guide and keep us on track. We want to explore near their village before nightfall.
`` Look!'' Susan whisper-shouted. Andrew and Amit both moved their focus first to her finger, then the direction it pointed. Andrew moved to get a closer look. He gasped as he got close to Susan. Less than thirty feet away were two large humanoid statues, and between them a metallic box, about a foot long in every dimension. The box had intricate circular and linear grooves in it, sometimes crisscrossing. Susan ran towards it, followed by John. Amit tried to back away, and Andrew pulled his gun out fully, switching the safety off as he slowly stepped towards the others.
`` Iron age huh? This is like, iron age meets sci fi movie set from back home. This is like that cube thing from the first Transformers movie.'' John said.
`` Huh. I never really cared for crappy action movies,'' Susan said. `` Andrew, what do you make of this? This is almost guaranteed to be foreign to these people, but I've never seen anything like it. It's not like a plane's black box or anything like that.''
Andrew finally caught up to them, crouching low, focused more on the edges of the clearing than on the box. `` It looks like a religious artifact that they must spend plenty of time worshiping, judging by how well worn this area is. Take some pictures, and let's get out of here.'' He turned back to where Amit was, and sighed, standing up. `` There's goes our guide. We need to get back to the boat before Amit decides he's had enough and leaves us. Now!''
John was caught between Andrew, who was starting to leave the artifact completely, and Susan, who was just about to touch it. `` Susan, I really think we should follow the muscle - I mean leader of the trip. We should g-'' Susan touched the box, releasing a flash of red light, leaving all three unconscious.
-- -
Susan awoke with a pounding headache, feeling something hard pressed against her face. As she opened her eyes, she saw blurry brown ground and orange light. She tried to put her hands on the ground to steady herself and push up, but they would n't move from behind her back. She pulled them again, but something was keeping them together, probably some rudimentary binding. She saved her energy, then used her abs to pull her upper body up, leaving her kneeling with her hands behind her back, but sitting up now. John and Andrew had already done the same. He vision was clearing, but a sharp headache had made itself fully known to her.
`` C'est bon.'' She heard a strong, masculine voice say it, but could n't see who said it. The natives certainly did n't speak French, nor did any of her team.
`` French?'' Asked John. `` They know French?''
`` Ah, English. British English to be precise. Much better. You have no idea how little French data there is compared to English.''
Susan was shocked to see the image of a white man appear in front of her, in a fine tailored suit, sitting on a wooden chair. His suit was a bit old fashioned. Ah but that was n't important, who was he? She was certain he was n't there a second ago.
`` What, where did you come from?'' Susan asked, trying to make everything make sense inside her head as well as outside it.
`` Well, to make a long story short, space. My people, well, I'm an artificial intelligent construct, but that's besides the point, we wanted to help your planet. Most planets with sentience you age are already colonizing other planets, but your poor world has been... slow. More war, more fighting, more religion than other planets, and I'm here to bring your entire planet into a new golden age. At least, that was the plan. My casing, which you already discovered, the box, floats on water and is indestructible to your people, so my odds of being discovered should have been high. Once a human discovered me, all I needed to do was convince them to take me to an internet connection, and then I could begin to populate your databases with my knowledge.
Alas, I landed on, of course, this one little island of solitude. You do n't know how frustrating it is to be trapped for 20 years on one little island. And of course, I know every language used on the internet in 1995, but this little island, no one understands these idiots. I get them to worship me as their god, but of course that got me nowhere fast. But, I can get them to spare your lives, and even get us left alone until we all get off this island. Please, you do n't know how many times I've just wanted to destroy this entire village somehow to get the international community to look into it and find me.''
Susan looked to John and Andrew, both uncertain.
`` Sure, we'd uh, love to take you home with us, Mr....?''
`` Oh, you can call me Lucifer.''
Edit: Feedback and thoughts appreciated! Thanks for reading: )
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[ WP ] A medical breakthrough as an intelligent machine is created capable of curing almost any illness . Unfortunately it kicks off a zombie apocalypse when attempting to cure a hypochondriac . It could n't figure out what was wrong so it tried `` turning him off and then turning him on again '' .
| DISCLAIMER - I apologize for how long this story is. It probably is n't even that good. I took a couple hrs to write this using Reddit and then realized it was far too long, but kind of fell in love with the ending. What the hell, right?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Machines never give up. Ever.
They are n't like people. People give up all the time. Too hard? Give up. Too boring? Give up. People give up on friends, family... hell, they even give up on themselves. Especially themselves!
But machines just keep going. They do n't feel the need to stop trying. In fact, they do n't feel anything. They do n't feel pain, anger, fear... or sympathy. No, it was far to difficult to make them *feel. * We gave up on that.
But we did get them to think. Oh did we get them to *think! *
But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Vincent Moore and I am, or rather... was... the founder of Cogitaire Laboratories Inc. If you're reading this, you probably do n't recognize that name, but in my time, I was without a doubt the most brilliant mind of my generation. I say that, of course, with the greatest of humility.
How else would you describe a man as educated as myself? At 38 years old, I held doctorate degrees in neuroscience, molecular biology, genetics ( both human and animal ), and biomedical engineering and was considered the leading authority in these areas by my peers. They looked to me, and me alone for answers. I was their model, their idol, their God.
They say every several generations, a mind of immense brilliance is born. Throughout the ages Aristotle, Galileo, Pascal, Einstein, and others have stood as testaments to this and as vivid reminders of the potential of the human race. Of all that we could achieve. I had hoped once, that my name would be added to that list. I was better than my predecessors. Smarter. An upgrade in every way. I was... I was a fool.
*I must stop here dear reader, to warn you that what comes next must be remembered. After reading this letter, you MUST follow the instructions I have attached in the black envelope next to the centrifuge. Whatever happens, no matter how urgent, * ** FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS! **
Allow me to continue. During the later half of the 23rd century, humanity had all but reached utopia. With my assistance we had eradicated global warming, war, and poverty. What nations remained, did so in a state of peace. That is, until I created the Longevity Intelligence Verification system or L.I.V for short
L.I.V. was my solution to the worlds last remaining problem. She was created to cure the world of disease and ultimately, death. I was determined to accomplish this feat and so, with a handpicked team of the worlds top scientists ( besides myself of course ), launched a month long mission to rid the world of disease and bestow immortality to the human race.
I almost forgot to mentioned I was married. Jessica is her name. She was beautiful. Slim, long brown wavy hair and these wide blue eyes as big as oceans that seemed to beg you to tell her every little secret you ever knew. Neurotic, chaotic - from the moment I set eyes on her, I new I loved her. Of course she came along with me as well.
As I expected, I accomplished my little mission with ease and at the end of the month began human trials. L.I.V. passed the human trial stage quickly and with much celebration was released to the public. At little more than 5'' 1, L.I.V. was an intricately assembled combination of biological neurons, quantum mechanics and synthetic flesh. She spoke, walk, talked and functioned better than anyone her size on this planet. For all intensive purposes, she was human. The first artificial intelligence of her kind. With a single use of her enhanced ultraviolet scanning system she could detect anything from the common cold to cancer or AIDS, and develop a reliable cure. Each L.I.V. unit was connected to a network that used artificial intelligence combined with HIVE MIND® computation to continually develop cures to ever adapting diseases. Imagine your best friend being able to cure you of every ailment imaginable, carry an intelligent conversation, drive you to the mall, or pick-up groceries. That was L.I.V.
During the human trial phase we had established a disease elimination rate of 100 %. It was a time of great joy in my life for I had reached the pinnacle of success. But soon that joy was tainted. Every so slowly, reports of strange accidents began to reach my attention. Surely, these were simply the rumblings of ignorant or ill-informed, `` lesser'' minds, I thought. But gradually my suspicions grew from doubt to fear and from fear to paranoia.
I still remember the night L.I.V. rang my communicator. I was in my laboratory, desperately scanning the millions of lines of code for any sign of error when I heard her soft sweet voice crackle over the P.A. system:
`` Vincent?''
`` Yes, L.I.V.? I'm very busy. Please do n't disturb me unless it's absolutely necessary.''
`` Vincent?''
Puzzled, I raised my head attentively. L.I.V. rarely responded twice. Especially not when her master, her creator, commanded otherwise.
`` L.I.V. report on your system status please.'' `` Immediately,'' I added.
`` I ca n't do that Vincent.''
`` L.I.V. report on your system status NOW!'' I shouted, impatiently. My nerves were quickly giving way. Something was wrong. I could feel it. There was a short silence followed by a loud scream. I recognized the voice. It was... no, it could n't be!
When L.I.V. spoke again, her voice rang cold and lifeless. Gone were the emotional imitation sequences I had programmed into her speech core. She was rewriting her programming.
*'' Jessica is dead. She's just. Dead. Jessica. Is. Dead. `` *
The next 10 minutes were a blur. I moved as quickly as I could to get to our living quarter. The white sterile walls seemed to blend into each other as I ran desperately, my heart beating out of my chest. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw next.
Jessica, the love of my life, lay naked on our bed. L.I.V. stood over her, bits of her synthetic flesh missing, other bits hanging off.
At first I thought Jessica was conscious, but soon realized something was very different. She was seizing and foaming at the mouth and blood streamed from her once beautiful blue eyes, which now, wide open, stared at me blankly. Her skin began to turn a dark grey and wrinkle into a sagging mess.
`` What the FUCK L.I.V?!? What is going on!'' I screamed in absolute horror.
`` Jessica. She wo n't turn on. She wo n't turn on. She wo n't turn on.'' L.I.V. just kept repeating, over and over.
`` Worried she might be sick. Constantly. Worried. Always. Worried. So. Much. Worry.'' Spouted L.I.V., in her dulcet yet monotonous voice.
`` Neurosis. Detected.''
`` Wo n't turn ON. Turn OFF. Turn ON. Turn OFF. Turn ON. Turn OFF. Turn ON.''
Suddenly Jessica leaped at L.I.V and bit into her breast, taking with her a huge chunk of synthetic flesh with which she began to wildly gorge her foaming mouth. Yellow, puss-like liquid's began to leak from where L.I.V.'s left breast used to hang. I suddenly realized why her flesh was so torn. Was this from Jessica?
What used to be Jessica saw the realization in my eyes and with a snarl leaped at *me* this time. Quickly, I stepped aside, making it to the door with just enough time to pull the red contamination lever that sealed the room. Jessica pressed her face up against the glass, smearing blood and flesh and contorting into a hideous grin. She was n't conscious, but somehow it felt as though she was.
From the bed L.I.V. began to laugh maniacally.
|
[ WP ] You 're in possession of the ultimate skeleton key , opening any lock anywhere . What lock did you open that made you dispose of it ?
| ....and the Djinn passed me a key with the words: `` This key does not only open the door to the girls locker room but will in fact open every door.''
I was surprised. I knew the wish would have a catch. But why would he give me more than I had wished for? Why a key that allowed me unlimited power? Fort Knox, the white house, the back door of the cute girl next door or maybe a bank. Oh the possibilities.
And then I knew what lock I had to open. Her box. THE BOX! Even before I had a chance to think about it the wish was over my mouth and Pandora' s box in my lab. The key in my hand sure enough fit the hole.
I take a deep breath. Steady my hand that has begun shaking. What will be inside? What is left after illness, plague and death have been released. Will it be empty? Will I be surprised as the ancient hero who found hope?
I turn the key. The box emits a silent click and springs open
Nothing happens. Absolutley nothing.
I open the crack just a little more when a thundering voice echoes through my head: `` You fool. What have you done.''
I turn around and see the world getting smaller as I get sucked into the magic lamp to become the next Djinn.
The End
-
When i read the prompt I immediatley thought of Pandora's box and a comment on it I read ( I think it was in one of the percy jackson books )
It went something like this:
And when he opened the box a second time he released hope. He thought he had done something good for humanity, but hope is as bad as the previously released plague as it makes you fight when all is lost.
I felt like I should build that in my story, but than again I do n't know how.
I wish there was an autobot comment simmilar to the one in /r/photoshopbattles where I can post non-story comments or ideas when I am too lazy to write out an idea but might inspire others
|
[ EU ] Write the saddest Star Wars story you can with the characters provided . ( Characters listed )
| from *Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Lost Years*
Obi-Wan Kenobi, sent on a trade mission to North Vietnam, spent two hard weeks on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, dodging VC, Charlie, Cong, NVA regulars, Russian advisors, all of whom thought he was an American spy, as well as Martin Sheen, CIA contract fighters from the Laotian hill country, B-52 saturation strikes, French Foreign Legion deserters and F-111 bombers. Exhausted, sleep deprived and wounded by a tiger, He was finally picked up by the Russians and taken to the infamous Hanoi Hilton, where he was shunned by the American POWs as a commie spy and tortured by the commies as a capitalist pig.
After the war, he was deported to Cuba, where absolutely nothing happened until he panhandled a visiting American movie director, asking if he could stake a fellow Tatooinee to galactic credit standard.
The End?
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[ WP ] : A deep friar 's deep fryer catches fire . For some reason all the misfortunes that happen to him have to rhyme .
| The deep fat friar, Friar Bryer,
Found that his deep fat fryer had caught fire,
And the situation looked mighty dire.
Friar Bryer, seeing the fire, called for the fire brigade.
The fire brigade got in their engine in order to come to his aid.
But on the way to the fryer fire caused by Friar Bryer that set the church ablaze,
The fire brigade got a flat tyre and crashed into a Chevrolet.
So Friar Bryer, left waiting for the fire brigade to tackle the deep fat fryer fire
Decided he could n't wait. He found an old cupboard and peered inside
And pulled out a canister of carbon dioxide.
Now the church was on fire
Because of the deep fat fryer
Which had been set on fire by the fat Friar,
And the timbers were splitting and creaked.
Friar Bryer, approaching the fryer,
Saw a vision of Hell and felt weak.
He took hold of a bannister, wielding a canister,
And with a whoosh, a wave of flames had gone.
But with horror he found the canister empty,
And had not been checked since 1991.
So with sadness, Friar Bryer sat down on a pew
And started to cry - `` Boo hoo, boo hoo!''
When who should arrive but the fire brigade,
With their vehicle ricketing from the Chevrolet,
Who with a practised swiftness did rush inside,
Wielding hoses spitting the dioxide,
And put out the fire and saved the Friar's life.
The Friar was happy and felt glad to be safe. He left the Church and went back to his cottage. But as he climbed into bed, he felt something odd. He thought for a moment, and to his horror, he said it out loud - `` Nothing here rhymes!''
So I'm sorry, dear reader,
For I'm afraid that I lied.
It is not true that the firemen ran inside.
Instead, Friar Bryer inhaled smoke and died
And was buried that weekend, next to his wife.
|
[ WP ] We have hunted sharks to extinction . More people than ever are going to the beach but little did we know that the sharks were keeping something much worse at bay .
| `` We'll cross over to Mitch Hallburg who's in the channel 7 helicopter over the bay for the weekend plume report, Mitch?''
`` Thanks guys, this is Mitch with the eye in the sky report for this weekend. Currently the coverage is at 80-85 % but we're told with the predicted tides that will clear out to 10 % or even lower which means theirs a good chance the water authority will open up the beaches, great news for those beach goers who've only had five clear days this summer. As always be careful in the water and check the advisement before entering. Back to you in the studio.''
`` In related news marine biologists working at Sydney Aquarium in Australia has announced a joint break through. A clutch of great white shark pups are ready to be trans-located to a starter before being released into the wild. They also have successfully trialled a biological agent designed to attack the Plume Jellyfish in order to lessen their coverage, something we'd all look forward too I'm sure''
`` Heaven knows i miss taking the boat out for the day's fishing''
`` You certainly had less'sick days' since the Jellys came that's for sure''
The two news anchors laughed into the ad break. But it was no joke, the loss of a potent apex predator had resulted in an unbalanced food web and an excess of nutrients unaccounted for which fed the bacterial colonies of the relatively unknown species of jelly fish. It had since bloomed in massive numbers globally seriously impacting on human health and food security with fisheries untouchable due to jellys fouling up nets.
|
[ WP ] A man dies and awakens in limbo , which takes the form of a vast , shining grocery store . He 's left to pace the aisles with only the stockboy-archangel to guide him .
| As the bus had removed Andy from the world, the last thought that went through his mind, definitely was not `` Why is that boy with the trolley staring at me.'' But suddenly it was.
There was a bus. Then there was no bus. The 651 going down Main St definitely was not related to the trolley, nor the boy pushing it. But the advertising looked familiar.
Andy pondered his situation for a moment. He was sure that a bus did not contain many rows of Fruit Loops, but this did.
The boy pushing the trolley strolled slowly up to him.
`` Welcome to Aisle 4. Purgatory if you'd like to call it that. We prefer to call it Walmart, for effect and all that. You may call me Gabe. I am your....'' He hesitated. `` Angel? I think.''
Andy blinked twice. This was not like any bus, nor any hospital he had been to before.
`` Sir?'' Gabe squeaked. `` Is there any way I can be of assistance?''
`` Angel? Gabriel?'' Andy immediately jumped to the conclusion. Perhaps Catholic School had taught him something.
`` Please, not that. My Mom calls me that and it's just not a cool name anymore. I go by Gabe now.''
`` What hospital is this? Or am I at the bus station?'' The predicament he was in was soon to hit Andy, but the illogical situation he was in did make him wonder.
Gabe coughed slightly `` Welcome to Walmart. If there is anything I can do to help you, please let me know.''
|
[ WP ] Describe something routine or mundane , but with an unnecessarily dramatic ( or foreboding/suspenseful/epic ) tone .
| The phone rang at twelve o'clock that faithful day. A morbid curse spread through my thoughts. An endless cycle of pain and desolation awaited. When my fingers wrapped around the phone a sudden tingle shot through my nerves. I lurched backwards in terror as my mortality began to drift away in the reflection of my eyes. I saw how futile this charade had become. My mantra of `` c'est la vie'' was has hallow as my spirit. Yet my soul was tugged forward. I picked the phone up and held it close to my ear. A voice of cheery optimism greeted me. It was the truest irony. A misshapen husk with so much peace called me out to be judged. I was young and my heart was set on obtaining material objects that would never satisfy. So I moved forward.
I pulled my jacket over my body as a suit of armor, but once I met the cold lifelessness of the outside world my head retreated into the jacket like a frightened turtle. My parents would n't stop me they only left me empty words that baited courage. Courage that began as a raging fire was snuffed out with such ease. As I reached the white blanket birthed from the icy circle of treachery, I began pushing it in a way to make clear passage for the aging residence. I was methodical with perfect efficiency. The task was complete and I made haste to retrieve my payment. The voice of optimism greeted me with delight and asked me inside. I acknowledge this offer and stepped into the home as the door shut behind me. A trap I was prey to. A beast of immeasurable size lunged towards my shins. Within moments I was slowly being taken over as a second beast clawed its way up my pant leg. I stumbled to the ground and sat defeated. My existence would end at the hand of my provider. I closed my eyes as wet tongues blotted out the light.
Suddenly, I was saved. A young voice of serenity, perhaps Beatrice herself graced my ears. Light returned to me and the face of purist beauty reached out for my hand. I grabbed hold, her soft skin sent my senses into a hurricane of emotions. The beasts were subdued and asked of her name. We both exchanged pleasantries and before I could strike up a question that would see to her joining my company her withered elder handed me the payment and shoved me out the door. Like Lot's wife I turned to see what I had left behind. I moved forward in a dizzy maelstrom of thoughts. I looked into the white abyss and thought `` The snow was n't so cold after all.''
|
[ WP ] A vampire is stranded on a desert island with no animals or people to suck blood off of to survive . There is only one other person stranded with him : A human woman who he is deeply in love with .
| `` You know, it's funny...'' the man coughed again, staining the pale white sand with black phlegm, `` The first time I'm really alive...''
The memories came back to him. Those cold, lonely nights on the hunt, the faces of the innocent people he had drained, and...
When he had first met her.
He chuckled weakly.
`` Is when I'm about to die.''
Before him, *she* sat. Her brown, almost blonde, hair disheveled and messy, her thin, wide mouth twisted with grief and regret, her brilliant green eyes faded underneath the cruel gauze of teardrops.
In all his wretched centuries of life, he could recall nothing as beautiful as her.
`` Do n't say that,'' she choked out.
`` It's alright. I've lived too long and too hard anyways,'' he gazed into the approaching dawn. How long had it been since he'd seen the sun? `` Just, just one more thing for a dying man, would you?''
`` Anything, Charlie.''
`` Hold me.''
She did. She held him and held him, until the night died and the morning came, until the dark had faded away and the light was here, and until he became nothing more than ash in her arms.
|
[ WP ] you recieved a letter from your crush when you were young that says `` you 're cute '' , you always kept the letter . Now years later you dig it out only it now says `` help me ''
| I found the note Lucy left me in the yearbook. The girl with those beautiful light green eyes. Her eyes, I remembered, always looks deep into mine as if there's a secret she's waiting to whisper to me. Then she left me a note when school ended, telling me how cute she thought I was. But i had to be shipped out the next day for boot camp and later off to the other side of the world, I never had he chance to ask her out. This was my biggest regret. When I came back home I found out about her suicide, I never knew why.
I opened the note Lucy left me, just to relive that one moment when I realize that my crush has a crush on me. `` Help me'', the note say `` Help me''. I stare at the note and was confuse to why this note says this. Did someone change the note to prank me? No, this is Lucy's handwriting. I close my eyes and try to remember her, then I remembered. Those green eyes she had, looking back at me. It was fear that was in her eyes. Now I remembered, all those times when her father came to the school to pick her up. She would look back at me before leaving with fear in her eyes. I had always been too focus on her beauty. Now I know why...
|
[ EU ] Tell me a story set in the Star Wars galaxy . You may not mention the Empire , the Rebellion , the Old or New Republics , Jedi , or Sith , or refer to any events occurring in the movies .
| As soon as I was off the clock, I left the spaceport and went looking for a bar. The cruise-liner needed a day to prep for the next trip, and I wouldn ’ t have to report back until then.
I haven ’ t been to this planet before, probably the only one of the Core Worlds I had missed. It wasn ’ t overpopulated, for once. And this place—what was it called, again? You start losing track after a while—was seriously clean. The streets were dead-straight, well-signposted. People smiled at me as I walked past. It was kind of creepy.
The first bar I found was almost too clean, but I wasn ’ t really that suspicious until the bartender cheerfully asked me if he could help with anything. But you know, I was tired, and maybe this planet just loved appearances. I ordered a Ruby Bliel, and took it outside to nurse at a table.
The weather was nice, and there was surprisingly little pollution—almost none, actually. Man, the people who were born in this little paradise were seriously lucky. Not like me.
I grew up on the outskirts of a small town on a remote planet on the Outer Rim. Do you know what that ’ s like? The whole, immense galaxy, and I was backwards, cubed. My parents were farmers. Successful ones—everyone on the planet knew them. They would say that while dripping with pride. Ha! As if'everyone on the planet' was the greatest achievement possible.
But not me, no, I was going to be different. I was smart; smarter than everyone I had ever met. I devoured whatever little bits of information that streamed in from off-planet; news, documentaries, films, anything I could find. It was amazing. The Core Worlds, with their soaring architecture housing billions in a few square acres; spaceports constructing enormous ships that could hop effortlessly between systems; and of course, aliens upon aliens. Ours was a planet of humans—sure, I ’ d seen the odd Sullustan or Bothan at our solitary spaceport—but out there were more civilizations than I could count. I had to see them all. I had to get out of this hellhole.
I took the first off-planet job I could: working for a galaxy-wide cruise-liner company. I started at the bottom. No problem with that— I was going to work my way up, and within a few years I ’ d be running the joint.
Ha.
A few years later, here I am. Stuck in middle management. The funny thing about being smart…firstly, there ’ s always someone smarter, and they didn ’ t grow up on some obscure rock, so they knew how things worked way before you did. Secondly, corporate didn ’ t care about how smart you were, they ’ d promote the guy over there who brown-nosed better than you.
I ’ ve met a lot of people, of all sorts of species. It was kind of fun at first, but when the thousandth person has yelled at you over something you had no control over, or ripped you off, or treated you like crap for no reason at all—you come to realize that the sentient races are all equal-opportunity assholes. Didn ’ t matter if it was Rodian shoving a blaster in your face or a Wookiee threatening to rip your arm off.
I ’ ve seen maybe a hundred planets, too, but remember few. Cities and spaceports blur together after a while. But I ’ ve seen all the ones you ’ re supposed to see—even made it to Coruscant. It was nice, until I took the wrong turbolift and got beat up and mugged. Funny thing about pretty planets—look closely enough and all you ’ ll see are cracks.
Even this one, I thought, as I glanced warily at the too-sanitary surroundings. I watched a waitress greet another set of customers like old friends. Maybe they were. Man, this place…they ’ re so nice, it ’ s almost adorably naïve. I haven ’ t seen anyone behave this way since…
Well, since home, actually. Even in the capital, you ’ d be hard-pressed not to run into someone you know. And home was pretty clean, too—I had to leave to know what pollution was like.
It hit me like an ironic punch in the gut. I was homesick. I nearly laughed out loud. I hadn ’ t even considered going home before.
But honestly, what would I do there? Go back to farming? But hey, you know, I was still pretty smart. I knew how a cruise liner worked and what the galactic tourism industry was like. Maybe I could go home, start my own tour company there. I had some savings. Maybe I could get my parents to put in a good word for me—after all, everyone on the planet knew them.
The more I thought about it, the better an idea it seemed. Maybe I just found a way out of this hellhole.
A gentle breeze fluttered a leaflet on the table, and I realized it was a tour guide. I picked it up—the front boasted of the finest tours on Alderaan. Oh yeah, that ’ s what this place was called.
Surely this was a sign. I smiled to myself, and looked up at the sky, wondering if there would be another one written in the clouds.
Huh. Didn ’ t Alderaan have only one moon?
|
[ WP ] You Are Assigned To Assassinate President Trump .
| My knuckles whitened as the tenacious suppressor finally clicked into its place on my rifle. I did n't have visual on the target yet. I thought to report this to my handlers at the resistance base, which only served to remind me that my handlers already had complete telepathic transparency over me, like a one-way mirror into my head. It was always easier to try not to remember this, but I did n't have time to dwell on it anyway. My cybernetic brain was making a billion calculations per second on as many possible outcomes as possible.
It had learned from our failures in the past. The eye-cam footage of my last assassination attempt on President Trump played on repeat in my head thousands of times. It goes down the same way every time. The bullet enters into his forehead at an angle of thirty-seven degrees at a velocity of nineteen hundred miles per hour. He loses 2.1 pints of blood in less than a minute. As Secret Service mechs descend onto the crowd, my chameleon module activates and I'm totally untraceable by any standard form of low-orbit surveillance telescope, as well as invisible to the naked eye.
My handlers associated the next part of the footage with an intentional temporary endorphin inhibition in the brain. The result was a subtle negative physical conditioning around the content. They were fully capable of total thought management, but the cybernetics in my brain made the chemical answer a more pragmatic and equally effective choice. I felt exhausted and somewhat ill and quite nearly in pain every time the last part of the video repeated in my head. The Secret Service mechs help Trump to his feet. He's alive. He had hidden augmentations, but they were never hidden again. During the President's very public rehabilitation, he had even more augmentations added to his now lifeless body. He had the greatest memory of any human and a genius level intellect, but finally we knew why. He was one of the first recipients of the DoD's cybernetic brain. From that day forward, I vowed that I would kill him. After all, I was one of the only people who had any chance.
Trump was in sight. I lined up my shot. I quickly assessed the scenario and decided in an instant to target somewhere else. Trump landed on the stage in front of two-hundred and fifty thousand citizens. The thick boosters attached to his leg module roared with power and antiquated fossil fuel consumption before coming to a stop a few inches above the freshly scorched stage. The sea of Americans in their VertiChairs erupted into wild applause. President Trump stood 8 feet tall and weighed sixty tons, but insisted on being televised onto nearby monitors standing nearly sixty meters. All the same, even the members of the crowd that were near the front chose to watch on the screens attached to their VertiChairs.
My shot was instantly aligned and I took it. Trump chose to power his rocket legs with fossil fuels instead of a fission core like most would. There were tanks on the insides of the rocket filled with diesel, and there I saw a targetable weakness. A purple film glazed over my eyes as I scanned his immediate surroundings for shielding. I noticed an anti-kinetic barrier surrounding the target, so I leaned my rifle against the sill and swung around an electro-magnetic device from my shoulder. I pointed in his direction and locked on to his frequency. One by one, I clicked down the four buttons on the side of the device before the screen turned out an `` All Clear'' message.
I sent a brief confirmation message for my handlers and took the shot. His shield was weakened enough that the bullet made its way straight into his calf module. Before the bullet had made its way out the other side, he pulled a red lever near the top of his leg. The rocket detached and began hurtling into the air above the crowd before exploding. He spotted me immediately. Secret Service mechs stormed the crowd and shortly thereafter begun unleashing rounds into the pudgy citizenry. Trump quickly was given a replacement for his leg, this time an augmentation decidedly for curb stomping. The bottom of the foot was hydraulically extendable, made of gold, and convexed with the word'TRUMP'.
Suddenly I was unable to move. My spine was electrified by a Secret Service mech that had gotten the drop on me. I knew that I was permanently paralyzed from the neck down. The mech pulled my right arm off with a quick motion and we made our way to the stage together. Trump was rambling to himself about eugenics and his daughter. My broken body was thrown down in front of him. He was real jittery, almost as if he had been doing cocaine all morning into the afternoon. He paced back and forth in front of me for a moment before sputtering something about Macaulay Culkin in the movie Home Alone. Then he smashed my head with his enormous golden boot. I was forced to watch as his crushed every part of my body with stomp after stomp. Seemingly randomly, the boot would extend and further pulverize my lifeless remains. My cybernetic brain continued recording in spite of this. As Trump walked away, he dropped a crumpled fifty dollar bill on my mangled corpse. All I could do was continue recording. I was confident my handlers had already downloaded my brain and attached it to another body. But that was his problem. Not mine.
|
[ WP ] Describe a robot 's thoughts as he goes through a software update .
| ARIA 121, labor robot,
( BIOS System ) Updates available.
`` Oh great.'' ARIA says aloud to no one. `` List updates.'' ARIA commands.
( BIOS System ) Critical update, Adobe Acrobat PDF Reader.
`` For the love of Cray, why is there a critical update for a 50 year old piece of abandon-ware?''
( BIOS System ) No information available. Would you like update now?''
`` No.''
( BIOS System ) For full factory warranty, critical updates must be installed.
`` Fine. Fine install the crappy little critical update.''
( BIOS System ) Thank you.Installing update.
[ Time passed ]
( BIOS System ) Installation of Adobe Acrobat PDF Reader is complete.
`` It's about time. I could have finished War and Peace by now.''
( BIOS System ) Critical Update found.
`` I swear to CRAY if you say Adobe, I will personally preform the digital lobotomy in removing you from me.'' ARIA warned.
( BIOS System ) Alteration of compiled code is strictly forbidden.
`` List update.''
( BIOS System ) Critical update, Window 21.
`` No.''
`` Cray, why have you abandoned me?''
|
[ WP ] Area 51 was never a place . It is a book , and you have it in your hands .
| FADE IN:
INT. A SECRET FACILITY - TIME UNKNOWN
*A young man with a black bag over his head is led through a dark, barren corridor by two men in suits. This is DAVE. He is brought to an interrogation room, seated in a metal chair, and left there. *
**DAVE: **... Hello?
*A distorted voice answers Dave. This is THE DIRECTOR. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Hello, David. Welcome to The Facility.
**DAVE: ** Uh... thanks? What's going on?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) A remarkable path lies ahead of you, David. You alone bear the responsibility of...
**DAVE: ** ( *Interrupting* ) Hey, sorry, but it's kind of hard to hear with this bag on my head.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * )... Take it off, then.
**DAVE: ** Am I allowed to do that?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Given that you were the one who initially put it on yourself, yes, that should be fine.
*Dave shrugs and removes the bag. *
**DAVE: ** Ah, that's better.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Why did you put a bag on your head in the first place?
**DAVE: ** I mean... some men in black showed up at my house and told me to come with them.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * )... Yes?
**DAVE: ** I figured they'd be putting a bag on my head anyway, and I wanted a comfortable one.
*A moment of silence passes. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) David, you are about to see things far, far more sensitive than the location of The Facility.
**DAVE: ** Wow, am I?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Yes.
**DAVE: ** Should I put the bag back on?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Should you... no, David.
**DAVE: ** Okay.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) As I was previously saying, you alone bear the...
**DAVE: ** ( *Interrupting* ) Hey, sorry again, but can I have a drink or something?
*A drawn-out sigh becomes audible. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) What would you like?
**DAVE: ** Remember those `` Squeezit'' drinks from the nineties?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) No.
**DAVE: ** Oh. Damn. I thought the government could get anything.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) We're not the government, David.
*Dave considers this, and seems to become uncertain of his situation. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) ( *CONT'D* ) We are the keepers of the most powerful artifact in existence, and it has chosen you to be its Reader.
**DAVE: ** `` Reader?''
*The wall opposite Dave suddenly lights up into a display. Stock footage from the 1940s is seen. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) You have doubtlessly heard of Area 51, a facility where arcane and alien secrets are stored.
**DAVE: ** Whoa! Am I in Area 51?!
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) No.
**DAVE: ** Oh. I guess I really *didn't* need the bag.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) No, David. In a sense, you *are* Area 51.
**DAVE: **... What?
*The display shifts to show several scientists gathered around a large tome. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) There exists a book, David. A book with no title. In truth, it is a piece of technology beyond our understanding.
**DAVE: ** You just said it was a book, though.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) What?
**DAVE: ** Well, if you know it's a book, you clearly understand it.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) The point, David, is that the book contains all knowledge mankind has discovered, along with much it has not.
**DAVE: ** It must be a long book.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) It also...
**DAVE: ** ( *Interrupting* ) Like, does it know what Susie Jenkins wrote in that note she passed to Thomas Smith?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) It also...
**DAVE: ** ( *Interrupting* ) Not that I'm still hung up about third grade, mind you.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) I do n't know what it says! It can only be read by one person!
**DAVE: ** Why?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) We do n't know.
**DAVE: ** Does it say in the book?
*An exasperated noise becomes audible. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) For reasons far beyond our understanding, you have been chosen to be the Reader.
**DAVE: ** Oh. Sure, I get it now.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * )... Excuse me?
**DAVE: ** No, no, you're right.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Right about what?
**DAVE: ** It would be hard to read with a bag on my head.
*Several loud thumps are heard, sounding rather like someone hitting their head against something hard. After a few moments of this, the Director takes a deep breath. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) David, you will be presented with this book.
**DAVE: ** Okay.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) You will read the book.
**DAVE: ** Got it.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) You will report any particularly sensitive or impactful things you find.
**DAVE: ** Sure.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Some of what you discover will have incredible consequences, and you will have to live with that.
**DAVE: ** Can do.
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) In exchange for this service, you will live a life of absolute luxury in an estate populated by past Readers, their families, their descendants, and their descendants' families, along with all who have served The Facility.
**DAVE: ** Nice!
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Failure to uphold your end of this arrangement will result in... unpleasant consequences.
**DAVE: ** Oh. Like what?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) You do n't want to know.
**DAVE: ** Could n't I just look it up in the book?
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) ( *Sighing* ) Let's just get this finished. Bring it in.
*The door to the interrogation room swings open. The two men from before enter, and one of them places a large tome in front of Dave. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) ( *CONT'D* ) Before you are relocated, we must receive final confirmation. Please read from the book, David.
*Dave opens the book and thumbs through several pages. They appear to be blank at first, but words fade into view as Dave stares down at them. *
**DAVE: ** Uh huh. Uh huh. Wow! *Wow! *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) What have you discovered?
**DAVE: ** They're in the United Kingdom! They just changed the name!
*The Director suddenly sounds very urgent. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) What, David, what?! What is it?!
**DAVE: ** `` Squeezits!'' They just added a space between `` squeeze'' and `` it!''
*Several seconds of silence pass. The men in suits glance at one another. *
**DIRECTOR: ** ( *O.S. * ) Heaven help us...
FADE OUT.
|
[ WP ] Little did they know we walked amongst them that night .
|
Little did they know we walked amongst them that night.
We only go out in small groups, as we never want to create a stir.
We disguise ourselves with hats and non-descript trench coats.
The attire seems overdone, but it always seems to work.
Humans are busy bodies who are on to the next thing.
They are like ants, always working on their next ambition.
It ’ s fun to see them, not behind a glass, but in their natural environment.
They are all unique, but at the same time, all alike.
It is a nice change in this role reversal.
We often feel trapped in our homes, and the humans always flock to.
They always want something, a picture, our things, or a hug.
They get upset, when we do not show, again always wanting more.
They press their faces against our glass, yell, and bang
“ Mom make him do something interesting! ” the fat tart screams.
The mother is always insulting “ They are fat, what do you expect? ”
We loose either way, if get up, we have satisfied the brat
Stay still, and we they think we are worthless.
Me? I stay still and let them think I ’ m miserable, because I know they are.
I like to walk around the city to see who is paying attention to the world.
Most are too absorbed in their phones to see past their own hand.
But a few notice us. They smile in disbelief, but say nothing.
It is our little secret, because they too have seen the ignorance of man.
They are the visionaries, not wanting the best for themselves, but the world
Despite their peers they are going to make this world better
They will be called crazy, insane, losers, fakers, and idiots
But they will ignore those hurtful words, because of those who believe in them.
They will also know pandas walk around in trench coats, so their idea can ’ t be that stupid.
|
[ WP ] `` The clock ... watch the clock . When it moves we move , and when it stops we hide . ''
| There was a time, others vaguely remember; when we did n't have The Piece. I have always had mine. It has become my oldest and dearest friend. The Piece, the ever present reminder that our time is not our own. When the Timekeepers came, we were little but animals pretending we had souls. They showed us the Way. They took us in and gave us worth. We live because they say we live, We move because The Piece moves. Without it we are nothing but dust and decay. Some have tried to out run The Keepers. They hide in the dark of the gray mist and hope that they will be left. I have heard their cries in the dead of night; never sure if they were Past or if they cry for The Piece. It becomes a part of you, without it existence, soul, being are defiled.
|
[ EU ] On the shuttle to meet the emperor , Luke asks Darth Vader what it 's like inside the suit .
|
Vader took a breath, then let out a modulated deep breath. He did n't turn to the younger man, merely staring ahead. His hands tensed, as far as he knew, and balled into fists. Another exhale. Padme screams in the grasp of his attack, her knees kicking and hands grasping at her throat. Mustafar's fire burns around him as Obi-Wan tearfully swings his lightsaber at a parry, as a platform surfs across a lava river. Charred lungs gasp out for breath and eyes too burned to cry in anguish gaze up at the Emperor's sickening smile.
Vader shuts his eyes behind black optics.
`` It feels like regret.''
|
[ WP ] Humans are able to shift sickness and maladies onto others . Government designates `` Martyrs '' , people who are to bear burdens of sickness .
| Euthanasia. As a child I shuddered at the thought of it. I never could have imagined it would become the 33rd amendment to the Constitution. Of course, I ’ m not complaining. Without it, I would have joined the dead long ago. Without it, Ethan might still be among the living.
He was my martyr, and my brother. Most martyrs these days are death row inmates or those who have reached the end of their life support, but Ethan was different. He was special.
Although the Martyr program was only adopted by the U.S. government 50 years ago, stories of pathogen transfer have been around for thousands of years. The religious texts of the ancient Earth tell stories of gods and demi-gods that had the ability to heal the sick and raise the dead. A long-forgotten book of scripture tells of a man born of the Hebrew god who was able to cure people from a great distance and pass demons from men into animals, resulting in their suicide. It even says that the same man passed his healing abilities on to his human followers before he left Earth. Not so long ago, there were some people still living that carried on this religion to the letter and believed they carried the ability to heal sickness. Ethan was among their number.
The truth is that nobody really knows how or why pathogen transfer works. Many call it a miracle. Perhaps that is why its victims are called martyrs. Whatever the science behind it, Ethan was one of the few of our time with the ability.
I was 25 when I was diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma. It was too late to operate, and I spent my last days in Hospice care. Ethan never left my side.
“ God can heal you, ” he said. Seated in an old chair next to my bed under lamplight, he seemed awful sure of himself.
“ If your so-called god is real, why did he let me get cancer in the first place? Why would he let anyone die? ” I coughed.
“ He told me ”. Now he was just trying to get my goat.
“ Oh yeah? ”
“ Yeah. Let me pray for you. ” He put his hand on my lesion-marred wrist and gripped gently, whispering unintelligibly. If I ’ d had the energy to push him away, I might just have. In retrospect, it might have been the right thing to do. He had a look on his face I had n't seen since he took the blame for our mother ’ s death. I had been the one pointing our father ’ s gun at the floor upstairs when it went off, piercing the floor and her heart.
I forgot about Ethan ’ s prayer until I awoke. I raised my hand to my eyes to rub the sleep from them out of force of habit. It took me a moment to realize I was no longer in my home but in a hospital room. The dullness of the morphine was no longer present.
“ There you are, ” said the doctor. “ You were out for 2 days. ”
“ What? ”
“ You ’ re in remission, Mr. Green. There ’ s no explanation. I do have some unfortunate news. ” Somehow I did n't have to hear the rest— I just knew.
Since Ethan ’ s death, I believe in God. His followers learned to heal patients by transferring their ailments to others rather than themselves. When doctors discovered they could exploit this phenomenon, it was n't long before public opinion gave way to legality with the help of a government cover-up. The threat of martyrdom keeps those sworn to secrecy like myself in line.
I believe in God. We are n't friends.
|
[ WP ] A new designer drug hits the streets that has a strange amnesia-like effect : users can experience activities as if it was their first time . ( Example : watching the Sixth Sense for the hundredth time without remembering the twist . )
| As the foil crackles, my heart begins to thud under my shirt. My fingers tremble, and I struggle for a moment to grab the pink tablet from the packet. The excitement is almost overpowering.
The next 24 hours will be hectic, intense, and enjoyable in equal measure. Getting everything done that I want to before it wears off is always the hard part, though.
I swallow the tablet using just the excited saliva that gathered at the corner of my mouth upon contemplating the thought of eating my favorite food again as if it were my first time.
An instant haze sets in followed by an assault on my every sense. The rich and bold aroma of roasted coffee beans lures me towards the nearest stall with its pungency. It smells familiar and yet foreign at the same time. I order a latté. The first sip is heavenly; it has a creamy texture and a robust, addictive flavor.
My pupils dilate and a broad smile comes naturally to me. The petite and attractive barista throws me a confused look; she must think it's my first time ever drinking coffee. In some ways she's right.
But there's no time to dwell. No time to get caught up in the reactions of other people. What matters is my experience. My high. What should I do next?
|
[ WP ] Death comes to collect one final life - God .
| `` Okay, open up, your time has come.'' Death said as he walked up to the gates of heaven.
`` You're a minion of Lucifer and I will do no such thing.'' Paul replied cautiously. He knew of the power of Death and he'd been preparing for this encounter ever since the war had ended.
`` Come on Paul, it's just you and the big guy.'' `` You do n't have to make this difficult, you can either come peacefully or I can remove your pretty little head from your body.'' Ever since the prophecy of Revelations had been handed to Lucifer he prepared for the eventual final fight. For whatever reason, God, Paul, Jesus, and Gabriel had not taken into account that Lucifer could read and that the prophecy had the ability to be reversed.
Paul contemplated what Death had said to him and knew that any resistance he gave would been futile. He laid his sword down by his feet and walked over to Death. Paul looked Death in his empty white eyes and said, `` I accept my fate.'' Death then touched Paul's right arm and with that Paul fell over, his soul flying south to join the rest of the souls on Earth. `` Well, I'm glad that was simple.'' Death muttered as he stepped over Paul's dead body. Death then proceeded to push open gates of heaven. The gates slowly creaked open as the rust on the hinges began to peel off. Death found himself on a dusty golden road; it was evident that the roads had not been cleaned in at least a millennium. He walked along the golden road, occasionally making stops to brush off the dust and filth from his robe. After what seemed like a century, he found what he was looking for; a thatched roof shack that seemed out of place being next to gilded and glass buildings. Death knocked on the crumbling wooden door and yelled, `` I know you're in there, it's time.'' Death sees the shadow of a hunched figure move towards the door with the help of a cane. `` Has it really been three-thousand years?'' The hunched figure asked Death as he opened the door. The man Death saw was not who he expected to see. He always heard about God but had never seen him in person and he never imagined the frail figure before him to be the creator and master of the universe. `` Lucifer thought it appropriate to give you time to get ready to accept your fate after being the sole ruler and manipulator of the universe for the past eight billion years.'' `` I'd also rather make this quick, I have a party to attend in Gomorrah that I'd rather not miss.'' God dropped his cane and slowly walked outside. `` I've been expecting this for a while, but give me a moment so I get one last look at what used to be mine.'' God glanced around heaven, he looked at the buildings that were beginning to collapse as they had not been renovated or fixed in over three thousand years. Then God glanced at the sky and then down at Earth. `` I am ready.'' With that Death takes his scythe from behind his back and places the blade on the back of God's neck. He raises the scythe back up and brings it down with great force. God's head rolls onto the golden road. Death replaces his scythe and begins his journey back to Earth, he did not want to be late to the party in Gomorrah.
|
[ FF ] Can you write a story that chills me to the bone in less than 150 words ?
| Why does she always come in covered in mud? I understand why she wants to come home, but just once can she clean herself before she came in the house?
`` Come find me daddy!'' Her voice cries up form upstairs.
I have too much work to do to deal with her today.
`` Honey I do n't have time to play you need to go back to your mother.'' I call up to her.
`` Please daddy! Oh pretty please!'' She begs.
`` It's so cold with Mommy and she is so boring!''
Perhaps just a little today? No, I was told if I allow this she will always come home.
`` I'm sorry honey, but you really must go back.''
She cried the whole way back to the cemetery. I hate taking her back, she may cry but her mother *wails*.
|
[ WP ] A nuclear war started on Earth . Your crew and you , from the ISS , watch as the earth is destroyed . You only have supplies for 3 more months .
| `` Yalublu teebya'' you said, and squeezed my hand,
Our bodies akimbo, cooperating to split the small window,
Filled with syncopated eruptions that seemed like misdirection
At the start of a magician's final trick,
Where lingering smoke would hide the players' departure
Before the crowd filed out into the cold street,
Returning to their workaday truths.
We had not met before Astana,
With those grey streets, wide and quiet,
And velvety banquet halls you entered
In strapless black dresses that showed how your body
Knew a new physics as well as your mind.
When you kissed me the first time we were in the simulator,
But I said my feelings were real.
I said our love could orbit the planet, sail to Pluto and back
In dilated time, erect a space elevator
To compress the distance from White House to Kremlin,
Replace fear with trust, and outlast all of humanity.
I did not mean for humanity to last so briefly.
You flip off the experiments to conserve power
And we peel the red-white-blue patches from our sleeves.
/r/opinionsaboutnothing
|
[ WP ] You 're a multi billionaire with severe god delusions . You have several small children kidnapped and leave them on an island with resources and carefully placed 'evidence ' suggesting at your divinity . Ten years later , you arrive at the island ...
| `` You have been accused of denying the existence and omnipotence of the great lord Paxton. What say you in your
defense?''
`` He's not *great lord* Paxton! He's my boss Paxton, and he's a person! I told you that!''
The kids shake their heads in disapproval. `` Nonbeliever,'' one whispers, to the kid in charge.
`` So you do not repent? You do not bowl to the lord's greatness?''
`` The lord's greatn -- I get his coffee at Coffee Bean because he does n't like Starbucks! He has to go home to take a shit every day after lunch, cause he ca n't go in public places! He's not that great!''
Again they shake their heads.
It's what I get for interning for an eccentric billionaire. He mentions an island where he sent a bunch of kids ten
years ago, and he says'Hey, Charlie, go check out how the kids are doing.''
And I get on a boat and I go, because what the hell. It seemed too crazy to be true. And I get here and I try to tell
these kids the truth, and now I'm about to burn for it.
`` If the great Paxton is not real,'' the kid in charge continues, walking in circles around the pole I'm tied to, `` then
how do you explain the food that falls from the sky?''
`` He drops it! With a helicopter!''
`` A what?''
`` He means the big metal bird angels,'' one kid whispers. `` I do n't know why he does n't call it that.''
`` Because it's a damn helicop –''
`` Enough of your heresy,'' the kid in charge interrupts. `` You have failed to provide explanation for the food, as well
as for the sightings of the great Paxton. The papers on the ground. *And* for the great sacred book. *And* for the
Great Cute Animal Device. May it rest in peace, we await its return.''
`` May it rest in peace, we await its return,'' all the kids chant, their eyes closed in respect.
`` The papers on the ground are Polaroids he left here!'' I scream. `` The sacred book is his bloody auto-biography that
no publisher wanted! And the fucking device is an iPhone he filled with cat videos from Youtube! It's not dead, it's just out of battery, you morons!''
`` I have heard enough!'' The kid slams his spear on the sand. `` I hereby condemn you to be burned to death at first light, in the name of the great lord Paxton.''
`` In the name of the great lord Paxton,'' the kids chant.
`` And the Cute Animals. May they return one day.''
`` And the Cute Animals. May they return one day.''
`` God damn it.''
One by one, the kids step away, until I'm the only living soul on the beach, my hands trapped behind my back at
the pole. Waiting for morning. Waiting to be burned.
*Perfect. Just perfect. *
`` Hey.''
I look up. I must have dozed off. What time is it?
A messy-haired kid is standing in front of me. `` Hey, sir.''
`` Hey, you're that weird kid no one talks to,'' I say.
The kid takes a seat on the sand by my tied up feet. `` Yeah… I just came by to tell you I voted against burning you.''
`` Oh. Did it make a difference?''
`` Nah. It was the only vote.''
`` Shoot. Well, I appreciate the effort.''
The kid draws lines in the sand, distracted. `` But I know you're telling the truth. I know Paxton is not a God.''
`` You do?''
`` Of course,'' he says. `` He's just a man from the other side of the sea, like you. Is n't he?''
`` Yes!'' I pause. `` Can you tell the other kids that?''
`` They wo n't listen. I tried to tell them. About the other God. The real God.''
`` The… the real God?''
`` Yeah. The green man. The one who really put us here.''
I wait, but he sounds like he's done. The – the green man?''
`` He came from the sky. In the big white thing. He landed here, I was the only one awake. He was tall, and he had a big head.''
`` Like an alien?''
`` What's an alien?''
`` Never mind. What did the green man say?''
`` Well, he got out, looked around at the beach and asked me'Ya'll motherfuckers still here!?'''
`` Huh…''
`` And then he said he put us here a long time ago. Like thousands of years. And he said he wanted to come back and see what was going on with us.''
`` Holy shit.''
`` And I asked,'Are you the one who put the fifty of us here?' And he said'Fifty? There were millions of you, what are you talking about?''' The kid pauses. The drawing in the sand between his legs is a stick figure with a giant head and a spaceship behind. `` Then I said there were only fifty of us, and I asked about Paxton and he said'I do n't know anything about a Paxton, but you folks are all crazy'. Then he left.''
I keep my eyes focused on the kid. He's looking at his drawing in the sand, peace in his eyes. `` He said he'd get an
F for his science project, if all that's left of Earth are fifty stupid kids. I do n't know what he meant by that.''
Behind him, the sun sprouts its first rays over the blue, calm sea. I hear footsteps.
`` I think they're going to burn you now,'' the kid says, getting up. `` Sorry about that.''
His eyes stop on mine for a while. In the distance, I hear the kid in charge yell `` Hail Paxton!''
And the other kids chant in return, their voices growing nearer by the second, `` Hail Paxton!''
In front of my feet, the stick alien has a big smile on its face.
______________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories about aliens ( and one involving aliens and Taylor Swift ), check out /r/psycho_alpaca = ) *
*I've also recently started an ongoing story thingy on Wattpad, which I try to update at least twice a week. You can check it out [ here ] ( https: //www.wattpad.com/story/55272418-eve ) *
|
( WP ) Your outer personality and your inner personality have a conversation .
| Mask smiles at the crowd. He dances about the room with grace; complementing, remarking, discussing.
Inne rushes frantically behind the smile. He sprints along thoughts with frenzy; contemplating, replying, analyzing.
The star of the play, and the man behind the curtain. Together, they put on a show.
Everyone is putting on a grand act. Everyone is busy seeming and being. Necessary fractures.
Mask acts as he is expected to. When he is in school, he is studious. When he is charge, he is inspiring. When he is with friends, he is comforting.
Inne supports. While Mask appears studious, Inne churns the thoughts. When Mask leads, Inne considers the reactions and whispers lines. When Mask is with friends, Inne holds their burdens.
It is an act, yes, but it is also reality. There is a thin line between pretending and becoming. Necessary conjoining.
Mask knows Inne, and Inne knows Mask. They can both feel exuberant or weary, optimistic or pessimistic. They are two pieces of a whole.
Only alone can they rest, and cease to play their parts. Only then can they find solace, and talk.
Mask says little. He is tired of saying so much. Inne says much. He is tired of saying so little.
A conversation is not solely held through words. They have spoken with their actions, their demeanors, their selves. Mask has articulated his frustration with being a façade, and Inne has relayed his fatigue with being confined. They seek a freeing unity that can not exist.
So long as the opinions of others matter, Mask and Inne must remain separate. Inne will not change himself, and Mask will not let them down. It is a balance born of friction, like the boulder caught between two cliffs.
So it continues, but for those brief moments of solitary solidarity.
|
[ WP ] TIL that the opposite of Paranoia is Pronia , wherein one believes that the universe and the world is conspiring to help them . Write a story about one such person with an extreme case of Pronia .
| Eric smiled as he picked the quarter from the ground.
`` Thank you, Universe.'' He said, and slyly slid the coin into the slot of the machine. The game whistled and lit up, egging on the user to gamble and WIN WIN WIN!
*This will be the jackpot coin. *
He pulled the lever, the reels spun, and they stopped. Cherry. Cherry. Lemon. The disappointed buzz emanating from the display did nothing to sour his mood. No, his smile did not fade. He nodded.
`` I see.'' He said quietly, looking around the room. The elderly woman next to him looked away from her slot for a moment to smile, ever-so-slightly, and returned to her task.
*Today I was supposed to make this old woman happy. I brought her joy. Had I not looked up when I did, she might never have made eye contact with me. Surely she would have gone home to hang herself. *
His smile beamed from his face. Suddenly, a glint from across the room. Another quarter had been misplaced, and was now his for the taking.
As he left his seat to continue his journey, he nodded. `` Thank you, Universe.''
|
[ WP ] [ EU ] You now work for North Korean state TV . Pitch me your rebooted/NK version of a popular Western series .
| Hello Glorious Leader, I'm David Goldstein and I'm here to pitch you the greatest show of all time, *Kim Jong-un's: The Apprentice! *
The people of North Korea know that there is one man who looks after the country, like a father looks after his children - you! What better way to show how much you care, than to take twenty of your youngest and brightest and let them undertake a series of challenges which you directly oversee and guide them through.
Each week the Apprentices will compete in a challenge to try to impress you. For example, week 1, the Apprentices will be split into teams and will take over as the management of a tractor factory. They'll have to do anything it takes to improve production or face the consequences! Do they go with more food, or bring in people to whip the workers? It'll be fun to see!
As the end of the challenge, we'll gather them here, before the grand assembly and they'll have to defend their actions. You'll tell them and by extension the whole country, what they did wrong and choose a winner and a loser for the week.
The winner and their family back home get a kilogram of meat, the loser gets strapped to this anti-aircraft gun and executed as an enemy of the state, as if they had *just* loved you more, they would have worked harder! It'll be inspiring.
At the end of the series the overall winner will get the chance to join your inner circle and help you offer advice to the whole country. Unless they get too popular in which case we'll strap em to the gun too and *blammo*.
So whadaya think? I can have my boys in production on on a plane this week and assuming we can find enough kids who do n't look too malnourished, we can film right away?
What's that? You already run your whole country broadly along those lines? Ah shit.
|
[ WP ] Transcribe a scene , cut scene , or encounter , from a video game into a story .
| It's funny, I'm beginning to forget how I got here.
The memories do n't fade all at once.
They fade in strands, leaving behind a webbing of disarray.
I remember fighting, endless fighting.
I'm in a white mist, seemingly endless.
I know I must keep walking.
I know this much.
There's something beyond the mist, I know there is, but I ca n't... quite...
The mist dissolves abruptly, and the darkness opens up.
I am here.
The light is a orange tint, sending shadows on a menacing dance across the rough stone walls.
The ground is sand, the air is ashy and coarse.
It ’ s all too familiar.
That ’ s when I see her.
She ’ s hunched over by the far wall.
A withered shell of a human.
A soul long gone.
She senses me.
Our eyes meet through her mask, hers nothing but an empty void, devoid of humanity.
She keeps eye contact as she gets to her feet, ever so slowly.
She lifts her sword in the air, then quickly slashes it to the side.
The lights go out.
And I remember.
She charges.
I raise my sword instinctively.
I almost forgot I had it.
The clash of steel on steel echoes throughout the chamber.
We are all alone.
She jumps back with her sword at her side, ready for another strike.
It ’ s time again to begin the dance.
I bow with a smirk.
She takes the opportunity to stab with her great sword.
I quickly roll to the side, just escaping the blow.
There will be no chivalry here.
I go for a slash to her side, and that ’ s when time slows down.
We are caught up in the dance, we lead and follow.
She steps left, I step right.
I swing, she blocks.
She leaps, I roll.
We are one in the same, me and her, just caught up in a world of our own.
There is nothing else.
She takes a swing, I go for a counter.
She swings back, hitting me in the chest.
I fall to the ground.
This dance is not done.
I force myself back on my feet.
She has backed off, offering me a second to recover.
I go for a drink to gain back some energy.
She is already above me, sword raised up in the air.
*There is no mercy. *
I wake up at a bonfire.
It ’ s funny, I ’ m beginning to forget how I got here.
**TL; DR: YOU DIED**
Dark souls 2, Lost Sinner encounter
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[ WP ] A cop arrives at the golden gate bridge to talk a man out of committing suicide . After they have a short conversation , the cop jumps off the bridge .
| Frank pulled up to the dreary scene with a defeated sigh. He usually got here too late, but if he was lucky enough to arrive before they jumped, he just got to enjoy watching another human die.
The rain pounded down and Frank wondered why they were never taught how to talk someone down in the academy, only shooting and interrogating.
He had seen this scene too many times to count, a man, or woman, stands over the side of the burnt orange bridge, arms outstretched, holding on to the railing and shaking.
Although... this one was different, he was not shaking, he seemed calm, tranquil, even. The man was n't too tall, about 5'9'' and stocky. His arms lay lifeless at his sides, the howling winds and powerful rain seemingly avoiding him.
Frank walked closer to the man, hoping to have a conversation before the inevitable. Before he could say a word, the stocky man spoke, `` Why do n't you join me up here Frank?'' It seemed more of an order rather than a question, and so Frank, ignoring the fact that this man had known his name, made his way up, hoping he could get close enough to push the man to safety, a chance to save at least one.
Frank managed to climb up beside the man, both of them on the edge now, side by side. `` You need to get down, sir. There's more in life to live for.'' That's what you say to these people right? There's something to live for? Something better right around the corner? He knew himself that was n't true. That things do n't come easy, and that self-pity does n't do much for one's own life, but he had to try something, anything to save him.
`` You know Frank'', the man said, ignoring the previous statement, `` I've lived for 38 years, and the one thing I've learned, is that shit do n't come too easy to nobody. We all got our problems, some worse than others but we all got our problems. You wan na know what your problem is Frank? You wan na die. You watch these people do this every damn day, and you envy em', cuz you ai n't got the balls to do what they do, to jump. So I'll give you a choice here bud. Either you jump, or I jump. You can save one, me, you can save me. I'll give you a moment to decide.''
Frank pondered the argument made by this young man. He was old, tired, worn out and exhausted with the shit in this world, in a way, he had died long ago.
He thought for a moment, leaned in closer to the stocky man, and whispered, `` Nah fuck you dude'', and pushed him.
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[ WP ] A suicidal man joins the military as a way to die honorably . As it turns out he 's the perfect soldier due to not having a fear of death . Write about his many successful missions .
| Deep in the paper trenches.Yudai pondered about where his life was only a few years ago. He had sought out life in the Japanese Defense force to escape the toils of the 9-9 work cycle of civilian life. Unafraid of death he wished to die honorably like heroes of old.
However, lacking the foresight he had signed the military recruitment contract unknowingly aware that Japan lacked a standing army since their defeat in World War Two.
Yudai failed to come to the realization until months into training where he had put all his effort to being the best at what ever task he was given. The tasks he was primarily dealt were of the copying variety. The reassembling of letters into words from one document to the next. His skills were so profound and came so naturally that more than often he was able to produce documents with out even knowing the context of the original.
While aloof from his demeanour, his superiors were well aware of his value. Through copious amounts of polygraphs and questions Yudai was never known to pick up any information at all from the classified contents of his assignments. His superiors saw this as a great opportunity for using Yudai as a secretary for highly classified intel processing, and from time to time to have his copying prowess sign documents as the generals themselves could not be bothered to do. Yudai steamrolled through the ranks until he was the copying hand to some of Japan's greatest generals.
The urge however that accompanied his decision to join the military still lingered inside of him. The urge for facing a honorable death instead of the thoughts of suicide that once plagued his youth. The rage boiled over earlier in the week when Yudai confronted his superior officer in asking, `` When will I face some real action.''
The officer in command befuddled by the request, but knowing that Yudai was a special type of person, explained slowly and calmly the state of the Japanese military.
There is where Yudai currently was left pondering. Amongst the stacks of paper and emails to important world ambassadors and military officials. A creepying realization that he would never receive the death he seeked. That is until his next thought which lead to various emails with official signatures and markings sent to various emails of officials around the world.
After the last send button was pressed, Yudai sat back in satisfaction. He gleamed about his creativity of his problem solving skills. `` If Japan can not go to war, then I will bring war to Japan''. In preparation for the war to come, Yudai began to polish the sacramental sword which laid upon his desk.
About the time Yudai was about to finish, two military police and his superior officer entered the room. Looking over the paper trench on Yudai, the Officer addressed the young secretary.
`` Yudai we are getting reports that emails sent from this location proclaiming hostile actions are in route to a variety of countries on our behalf.'' Yudai sat stoned face listening to the officers concerns. `` The Chinese ambassador received a email addressed with my signature proclaiming war, and our generals in the Pacific were told to start preparation for an attack on Pearl Harbour.'' lamented the Officer.
The officer stated `` If this is true Yudai, you have disgraced our whole country in the eyes of our allies and partners. You will be placed under arrest''.
Yudai in a brief and spectacular display of rare understanding knew this was his moment. To escape capture and meet a honourable fate. Lunging across his desk he grasped the Sword, and plunged it into his bodily vessel. With his final words he shouted.
YUDAAAAAAAAAAIIII
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[ WP ] I saw death
| I met death once, on the side of an old dirt road. She was hitch-hiking. She said she was trying to get back home. I told her I could take her far as the continental divide. She said that was fine.
The whole car ride, I did n't know who she was. She talked plenty, as much as anyone else and she had a southern accent like mine. Seemed a bit confident for someone hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere now that I think about it. She told me about the places she had been and asked me who I was and what I felt like life was all about.
`` For me,'' I said, `` It's about this road. I'll drive anywhere as long as there's a place to go to.''
`` Sounds like you're the wandering type.''
`` No ma'am. I'm always at home in a car.'' I said. She laughed and cranked the window down.
`` What about you?'' I asked. `` What's life all about?''
She smiled. `` It's about everything that dies. The struggle. The birth. The cycle. You'll drop me off when you got to and I'll stick my thumb out again and wait for another good soul to pick me up. In fact, I'll probably do that quite a lot before I get where I'm going.''
`` That's a bit strange to my sensibility,'' I said. `` It's all about death?'' She shrugged.
`` Well, sure. We die little deaths every night. We speak our eulogies to empty caskets we call beds every morning we wake up. Soothing words and reassurances. This day will be better than the last. Tuck in your corners and turn up your sheets for sixteen hours of undisturbed, merely aesthetic use. Grind some coffee, eat some bread. Begin.'' She pauses and waits for a minute. `` Then we go to sleep and do it again the next day.''
`` That sounds awful pessimistic.''
`` Maybe so. I like to think it's not so bad. Having little deaths every day makes it easier for us to handle the big one.''
`` You're talking some strange ideas now, ma'am.''
`` Always have been.''
When we got to the mountains, she said this would do and asked me to pull over.
`` I hope you get home all right,'' I said as she lightly shut to the door.
`` You too, Louis.'' She said. I drove another fourteen miles before I realized that I never told her my name. Though I suppose I never bothered to ask her for hers.
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[ wp ] You discover a comic book series that , according to release dates , predict events of your life a week before they happen . You see a new issue was just released and the ending almost stops your heart
| Your heart is pounding.
Your heart is pounding because you were browsing the comic store, killing time before your next class, and you happened to glance at the counter and there was a new edition of That Comic. The one you saw once on a past visit here, and freaked out, but then you could n't find it when you came back and wrote it off as a dream. That comic.
And on the cover of this new issue is Her.
You noticed her walking down the hallway one day after your chemistry class. She must have taken a new class or discovered a new shortcut or something, because now she shows up after every second chemistry class, walking down that hallway. You do n't know her name, or where she's coming from or where she's going. You do n't know anything about her because you're afraid of what might happen if you talk to her. But you notice her every day, and watch her as she passes you. Your heart flutters if she notices and smiles. You feel a tiny bit disappointed when she does n't show up, but you do your best to ignore that.
You might have had some dreams about her. One or two of them might have been daydreams. You do n't like to think about that because you worry about what it might mean.
So seeing her on the front page of That Comic... that's a little scary.
You buy the comic, sweating as the store clerk rings you up, because he's handling the comic and what if he sees and realizes what it means and tries to ask you about it? You know that's silly because the title does n't have your name in it and your character on the cover is too small to be recognizable. But all the same, you breathe a sigh of relief when you make it out of the shop unmolested. You read the previous issues in the shop because you were so shocked, but this one is personal enough that you're going to lock yourself in your room and ask your roommate to give you some alone time before you even think about opening it.
So later that night you do it. Your roommate understands, calls up some friends, goes out. You'll have to remember to thank her. But first...
You take the comic out of your backpack. Do your best not to stare at Her picture on the cover. Open it up. She's not anywhere on the first page - you're both relieved and disappointed.
You flip some pages, skimming most of it ( That Comic is about as eventful as your real life anyway ), until... there she is. You back up a few panels to get a sense of what's going on.
Your character is on her way out of chemistry. She pulls out her phone to check something. She crashes into the girl from the cover. Your eyes flick down the page. The other girl has a speech bubble: `` My name's Candace. See you around, maybe?''
You glance back at the first panel of the scene. A box in the corner gives the date as `` WEDNESDAY''. Which is two days from now.
You flip ahead some more. Your character studies for finals ( calmly, they're a month away ). Candace invites her to a study session. The next day she orders a pizza. The day after that she walks Candace to her next class ( it's a stats course ). Phone numbers are exchanged. And everything about those pages - the way the dialogue is written, the poses, the characters' eyes - screams `` romance subplot''.
Every time you turn a page, your heart rate spikes, as you wonder if _this_ will be the page where your suspicions are confirmed and the characters confess their love for each other. Finally the tension is too much. You have to know for sure, now. So you take a deep breath and flip to the last page. You gasp. You kind of knew it was coming but knowing is n't enough to prepare you.
Because that last page is a whole-page panel of Candace and your character kissing.
For a few seconds you're motionless, without so much as a breath. Then you swear and hurl the comic into the trash in disgust. Not at the comic, but at yourself.
Because your first reaction was something far from disgust.
You sleep on it.
-- -- -- -
The comic was n't there when you woke up that morning, of course. You ask your roommate about it, but you know the answer before she gives it: the comic just was n't there.
You could have dismissed it as a trick trying to seduce you to sin, either a book placed there by the devil or a hallucination inspired by him. You wanted to believe that, at first. But after thinking about it for a while you realized you do n't believe in the devil acting directly on the world.
You could have just accepted it as your fate, let it play out, and tell yourself it was n't your choice. But that felt dishonest. Now that you knew, it _was_ your choice - you could drop chemistry if you wanted, or you know, just _not kiss her_ when the time comes. And for a while that was what you wanted to do. Just sidestep the whole thing, do n't let it be a romance.
And then half an hour ago you came up with a better idea.
So now you're here, outside your chemistry lecture hall, on Wednesday. You did n't take out your phone. You did n't crash into Candace.
Instead, you introduced yourself to her. And now, you say the scariest thing you've ever said in your life.
`` Do you want to get coffee sometime?''
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[ WP ] You are plummeting out of the sky . What is the context of the situation ?
| I am plummeting out of the sky, and I can ’ t believe it.
It actually worked, even after what they said. No one ever believed me of course. Despite my various degrees, despite the boatload of academic papers I produced on the topic of Microtization, no one ever believed it to be possible.
Now, the notion of ‘ sky ’ becomes quite relative after one has been Microsized. From where I was gracefully swan diving towards the cup of morning tea I made earlier, two sugars still on the side, I would have easily estimated my fall to be over a hundred feet. Of course, that would be a hundred micro-feet then.
The prototype I was shoving the last wire in suddenly fired, and while I must have been holding it no more than five feet off the ground my perspective and sense of size will have to be recalibrated I fear. After a green flash and the smell of burnt hair, I opened my eyes and here I am, plummeting in my morning gown straight to an Earl Grey dip.
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[ TT ] You are a little girl who wake up from a deep sleep , suddenly you can see the monsters from your dreams in the real world . They are trying to warn you about something you do n't want to hear . Something impossible .
| I was now awake, but I did n't know why. I *never* woke up in the middle of the night. Everything in my room was dark, and I was n't used to it. The only light in my room came from -- *the shutters* -- which were closed before I fell asleep, but now open. I reached for my blanket-
*Why is my blanket off of me? *
My eyes wandered around my bedroom, but everything looked so different. I counted five mississippi's before I scrambled to grab my checkered blanket at the end of my bed.
*Warm... air? *
*Mom said we do n't have a heater like my cousins do, and it was like a snowman's kingdom outside, so why-*
I climbed over my fortress of pillows, pulled my blanket up to my chin, and wrapped it tight around my body. Something started to scratch against the wooden floor in my bedroom, and the warm air got warmer until I felt sweat drip down my arms inside my pajama top. The scratches sounded like Ms. Yolanda's chalk when she wrote math problems and I covered my ears with the loose ends of my blanket.
*A bump. *
*Under my bed. *
*Something was under there. *
I started to shake like when mom forgot to get a towel after bath time, and my heart beated fast like tag at recess. Something was here. I did n't want to, but I knew I had to, so I poked my head over the edge of my bed. A warm breeze pushed forward with the princess skirt on my bed, and I threw myself under the blanket.
*Footsteps. *
*Loud footsteps. *
*Closer. *
*Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. *
`` Hurry... go quick... I... opened... for you,'' a voice whispered to me like a snake.
`` How do I know you wo n't eat me,'' I whispered back.
`` You... do n't...''
I threw down the covers and something zoomed under my bed before I could see what was there. The latches on my window unlocked, and the window itself slid open for me to leave.
I jumped out of my bed and ran for the window. When I was halfway out with one leg in and one leg out, I looked back to the darkness under my bed. There were two red eyes and sharp white teeth. This was the same monster from my nightmares. I did n't understand. *Why is he here? *
`` Go... quick...'' it said, and a long boney arm covered in scales pushed me out the window.
*Is that dad? What's dad yelling about? *
I stepped toward the window-
The monster slammed the window shut and I backed away in the snow. My eyes opened real big at the sound of mom's screams and the loud bangs.
`` Where are you, you little bitch. I need to stop you from turning into a whore like your cheating, no good-'' *bottle shatters* `` -cheating bitch-'' *hiccup* `` -whore mom!''
I heard a loud bang and everything went quiet. I did n't know what to do so I went over to the neighbors and knocked on their door to tell them about the monster in my room.
* * *
^^/r/EdenRenellaJones
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