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[ WP ] Videogames influence people far more than we would have thought - you wake up ( as does everyone else ) with a skill from the last game you 've played .
| `` Another day another dollar, make em holler'' Clyde woke up feeling different. Stronger, faster.... Thuggier... Clyde opened his PDA, which keeps track of your personal stats, possessions, etc...
`` Wow! +10 Thug life, I ca n't wait to go show the clan''
He started getting ready for the big day ahead of him. After he showered and had eaten breakfast, he grabbed his coat and car keys and made his way outside.
As he was stepping off his porch, a car turned the corner and rolled down the windows. Clyde could n't believe his eyes.
Shots rang out, penetrating Clydes body. He slumped downwards, and as his consciousness faded more and more all he could think was how he wished he would have played Viva Pinata, and not Grand Theft Auto
|
[ OT ] 4yr Contest Voting - Round One ( of two )
| I vote for /u/sadoeuphemist in group F for `` What You Eat''.
Runner-up for me was Torment by /u/pickledfish1001.
tl; dr on the two:
They both had interesting, compelling stories whose flaws somehow added to the content in a really interesting, possibly intentional way. I voted for What you Eat over Torment because the emotional breadth of What You Eat felt well-executed for the amount. Torment's focused horror could easily have taken it for me if it were n't for said well-done moodshifts.
Extensive Notes on All:
Passing Notes by /u/Formatonator - There's a decent, somewhat cheesy story in here that feels really down-to-earth and reminiscent of modern YA fiction. What really bugged me was how almost all of the plot was conveyed solely through dialogue. Outside of that, I thought the narration was somewhat weak at what it was trying to convey. It's a bit too telling, which is what the dialogue already did to a much greater effect.
Cloudburst by /u/Shihab_8 - This is an extremely tight piece of prose with some exceptional organization to it. I kinda disliked how the dialogue was put into the dense blocks of texts, mixed with the thought quotes and narration. Story had an interesting, ominous element to it throughout the work. I got kinda confused by the ending, since I do n't remember reading any of the names at all, but that was probably me forgetting it?
Chained by /u/0_fox_are_given - It's got a strong plot and an emotionally packed story. But, I ca n't really find anything too special about it. The stylized passage of time was a pretty interesting implementation, but it just kinda frustrated me towards the end as the plot just went through leaps and bounds. Really clear and easy-to-read though, unlike some of the other works.
Mother, May I? by /u/Just-a-Poe-boy - A real interesting take on the traditional overprotective parent story. The unreliable narrator was well-done and the stream-of-thought passages were amusing, despite maybe being overdone at times. The tension at the end felt pretty weak to me though. It was sort of the mix between the dialogue, the false anticlimax that seemed to have happened, and all the drama that started happening at once non-stop. It was a good ending though, for sure.
Lost & Found by /u/morbidamoeba - Had a real strong slice-of-lifey feel to it with some fairly interesting characters to follow through with. Fair bit of cheesiness towards the end and there really was n't anything unexpected throughout the piece; Felt pretty realistic aside from said cheesiness. Seemed like an overall relaxing read.
Torment by /u/pickledfish1001 - Spooky. It was good horror piece to read and I really liked the description throughout it, it was extremely vivid and actually kinda creeped the hell out of me at times. I did n't see any problems while reading it, since most of it kinda worked itself out. Anything confusing about the plot just seemed to add to the mysterious, horror aspect and any strange scenes/lines that seemed unfitting, such as Goldy the goldfish and creepy, emo drawings, added some nice components to characterization.
The View from the Panopticon by /u/Pope_Karl_The_Last - Man, and I thought Torment was scary. This was downright creepy in a real light-hearted way, given all the vouyerism talk at first. Good shift into explaining the character motivations at work in the story though. The MC has a real charismatic quality to them and it felt pretty refreshing for a first-person `` ominiscient-like'' character to try to do good things, based off all the works I've read about the more anti-heroish sorts. They still kinda seemed deranged and cynical in their own, nice way of thinking though.
What you Eat by /u/sadoeuphemist - To be completely honest, I went into this story knowing that a lot of people had a lot of good things to say about it. They were not kidding. Yvette was an incredibly believable character for a complete, supposed looney and Mark seemed like a far more relatable MC than I would expect out of a conspiracy-theory story. I think my favorite part of this was that the theory itself was left unresolved. It really added to the mystery in a really irritating, but extremely refreshing way.
Schizophrenia by /u/xuezing - This was a strange piece. There's a really fine line, I think, between having a highly-stylized point of view and just strange prose. I ca n't tell where this story is regarding that line. It definitely looks like it was meant to be insane, but it's too sporadic for me to be certain of it. The capitalized type seemed random and I just read it as shouting. The language was weird and the weirdest parts just seemed strewn around. The piece was definitely memorable though, for better or worse.
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[ WP ] The Reluctant Hitman
| `` Jim? Jim Allen?''
Max Decker and I were n't thick as thieves, but we had known each other a long time ago. Had shared a beer or two or three.
The gun under my arm felt like a thousand pounds.
We sat in the bar then, for hours and more, shooting the shit like two old friends who had n't seen each other in a coon's age would do. I do n't think he expected it, although he mentioned several times how I had n't aged a day since we last met eight years ago. When he asked me why I still had on my coat he believed me when I said I was cold.
It was one of those not-unfamiliar places in this small Midwestern town. Bar open till four a.m., when the bartender kicks you out. You walk to the gas station to nuke a burrito, maybe buy some more beer if the cashier will sell it. Two hours pass and you're back at the bar at six o'clock when it opens up again. The same man who kicked you out is mopping the floors.
It was on the way to the gas station that I pretended to stagger and knocked him into the alley. I had never been more sober in my life.
Two shots through the heart, as quickly as I could manage. The ones you know were just the worst. When the moonlight caught his eyes as his body crumpled to the ground, I saw eternity in them. I wanted to cry, then, but I was n't sure if I was still physically capable of it.
I felt a tug at the edge of my senses, and like that, there He was. Standing in the alley, over the body of my dead friend, was the boss. Just the last fucking person that I wanted to see right now.
He knelt down over Max and felt his neck for a pulse. If I still had bile I could imagine it rising. But my anger was real. My temples sang with it.
`` Why could n't I have just been a collector?'' I asked Him. `` A bureaucrat. That's the kind of work I expected. Not... this. And why could n't this have been... anyone else? Why him? Why me?''
I stood there, helpless, in the echoes of my entreaty.
He spoke, head bowed, as he started going through Max's pockets. `` Sometimes... people need just a little push into the great beyond. There's a plan here, you know. This hit came all the way from On High. I do n't make the laws of the universe, buddy... I just enforce them. This man could have been the father of the next Hitler. He might have been the Antichrist himself for all the fuck I know. Contrary to office rumor, I do n't know everything. My line to the Most High is need-to-know only. I know when, where, and how each person will die. And Max Wanker here was going to get killed by you, here, tonight.''
Rage was boiling in the pit of my stomach. `` Fuck your predestination bullshit. This is n't what I signed up for.''
Death looked back at me with smiling eyes. `` Buddy... Jim... you asked for the job. It's not my fault you do n't appreciate the perks.''
|
[ IP ] Leave No Trace
| I have tried to scour my Earth of you.
Every city I have burned, every tower I have razed -
I have hunted down fleeing memories
of your voice and face and hands
and scorched them all to ash.
Why do you persist?
In my patrols I find yet traces
of a soft word or a laugh:
a tiny ember unextinguished
hiding in the hidden places
where thoughts of you are writ in stone.
The ruins house your kindly ghost
whispering into the wind
the words that make me miss you most,
while the fire-maker flees again
hiding in the hidden places
where thoughts of you are writ in stone -
those unacknowledged lonely places
where I pretend I'm not alone.
|
[ WP ] Describe a ship of the line .
| She was a beautiful vessel, built to last, but not for war. At thirteen feet stern to bow, she could barely be considered anything but a row boat. Her hull, while aged, was still clean, with few marks showing where she has ran ashore.
She was n't built for war. She saw solely the calm waters of peace, brought up shore during times of turbulence. She saw not the cares of a nation, but the cares of a family. She symbolized the lifeblood of those on the coast, but saw only the blood of fish.
( Not sure if this exactly goes with the prompt, but oh well, I wanted to try something different )
|
[ OT ] I 'm New Here , and I have a question .
| Hi Ser Dragon!
You might want to check out our wikipost regarding copyright [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/copyright ). TL; DR You're good posting your stories here.
For prompts, these are completely okay to use for whatever you want. Many authors here have created novels based off a prompt or published short stories based off the prompts here.
You're probably aware from your film class, but Intellectual Property owned by others is okay to post here as it falls under Fair Use. However if you go to publish ( i.e. attempt to make money ), you will have issues with owners of the IP. The bigger your publication gets the more likely you are to have issues.
Hope that helps!: )
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[ WP ] The love of your life moved on and it broke your heart . She 's been in an accident and she ca n't remember what she 's done the past 3 years . She comes to you thinking you two are still together .
| Rain was pelting against the tall church windows, as lightning flashed and illuminated the dark night for an instant; slowly the shadows slowly crawled back. At that moment the dilapidated building seemed a thousand years older. Mark sat on same one of the front pews as he had done every October for the last three years.
He paid no mind to the dripping rainwater from the roof, which wet his shirt. He came here every third Sunday of every October. He did n't really think anything nor did he say anything. He simply sat there taking it all in, waiting for the memories to wash over him drown him in despair. The statue of The Virgin Mary seemed to look down at him in pity. He remembered how it felt three years ago, when she had broken his heart. The pain and sorrow had been raw and he felt like his heart had been ripped out of him... Back when Loraine had just stepped out of his life.
Even now the pain was still there, but it more of a dull ache. Like a bullet embedded deep inside of him, which he knew would never come out, but he had learned to live with. In fact some days, he did n't even think about it anymore.
Where had it all gone wrong?
They had seemed perfect for each other. What had gone wrong?
He had loved her with all her heart and he was sure that she had loved him back too.
Then why?
Why did she leave?
Why did she leave him by himself?
It was all because they could n't understand each other. They had love in their relationship. Quite a bit, in fact. However, they had lacked understanding. At first it was small, little things here and there: petty arguments, sly remarks, small misunderstandings. Slowly it escalated. Arguments got bigger, remarks were no longer so sly and small misunderstandings got bigger. Eventually neither of them could remember a time when they had been happy. Regardless Mark still loved her and he knew that. What ever happened he thought that they could work it out at their own pace and slowly whether all the bumps in their path. Then one night it happened. He did n't remember exactly, but he was vaguely reminded of loud shouting, screaming and chasing into the street. Then they both stopped.
Both of them stood in the rain and she turned and had looked him in the eye and said, `` Mark, I ca n't bear this anymore. Please let me go.''
He had been stunned. He never thought in a million years that it would have come to this. The rain covered the tears that rolled down both their cheeks. At that point he simply stopped. He just sat down and lay there on the sidewalk as the rained continued to fall. She walked back to the house and left in the car. He just lay there all night in stunned silence, as his heart throbbed in pain.
That had been three years ago. Since then neither Mark nor Loraine had seen much of each other. However both were left in deep scars. Mark continued to stare at the ceiling in subdued silence.
`` Mark?'' a single word shattered the silence.
The pain that had until now that had been only an ache suddenly felt as raw as it had been three year ago. He could recognize that voice no matter where. He got up slowly, feeling tortured just as much as his love overflowed. He turned to see a girl in a soaking wet blue dress standing at the entrance of the church. Her amber eyes seemed to shine in the dark like two little stars in the night sky. Her curly, brown hair was stuck under some red bandages that were wrapped around her head.
She ran to him as fast as she could, wrapped her arms around him and held him in a tight embrace. Mark stunned, even more stunned then he had been three years ago. He could feel her sobbing as she hugged him. At that moment, he realized nothing else mattered. Lori was his entire world. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in even deeper. She was the warmth that he had been missing all this time. Without her his entire life had become frozen. He was n't sure what had happened or why she was crying, but none of that mattered. She needed him and he was there for her.
|
[ IP ] The Life Bombed Out of It
| Only so many bombs can be dropped on an area. Theres only so much explosive power one can fit into an air worthy vehicle short of nukes.
But here we were. Living in the ruins of ourselves. Kind of.
At least living off of.
Doing what we had to.
When the first bombs dropped we knew they were coming. We had the internet still. And my sister.
When the second round came we were surprised. I mean, our shit was already destroyed. My house was gone. My job gone ( depending on insurance of course ). The grocery and market and pubs. All gone.
Did n't stop me from dropping in and getting a pint. Did stop me from going on vacation.
The third run hurt the most I think. There wasnt anything left after that. No more clinging.
The thing about war when you live through it. Or near it, through your family or friends. Is that most, 90 % of it really, is waiting.
I'm sure the pilots parents dreaded every bombing run. The feeling their child might never come back. I know that grip on the heart.
I remember the dust, how easy it was to lose bearings in the rubble. When she ran off I figured it was because she knew something I did n't. She always seemed to.
She was on twitter when they vilified us. She texted me when the jets took off.
Before the second run she emailed me from a randomly generated gmail.
When I got no warning for the third I knew.
|
[ WP ] When I was in Elementary School , one of my teachers told the class that you could never end a good short story with , `` It was all a dream . '' Prove her wrong .
| *♫Precious LORD take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand♫*
I could feel my jaw hanging loosely from my face. The bullet must have hit my spinal cord, my steps were staggered fiercely. I managed to get out of my room and from the motel balcony I saw it. Black men and white men fighting in the streets. More shots sounded and men fell unto the cold pavement.
*♫I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night♫*
`` Mr.King!'' They shouted. `` Mr.King is shot!''
A few women ran up the motel steps and caught me as I fell. I must have lost a lot of blood. I turned to look at the massive brawl below once more. They were not black men nor white men any longer. My eyes blurred and they were all one massive lump of color.
At last they were one.
*♫Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious LORD, lead me home♫*
`` It was all a dream''
( The song is `` Take my hand precious'' lord by Elvis Presley. I was playing it over this while I wrote it so try it to get the full effect I was going for. )
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[ WP ] The greatest lie the Devil ever told ... was convincing us that we were n't already in hell .
| I was taken out of my body then I kinda hovered above my family cemetery. Then it's like I was above the earth and could see everything was working out as it should. ( I know that sounds crazy but it's very hard to put this kind of thing into words. ). Next I found myself in a very dark hallway with 5 doors ( later I discovered each of these doors represented a personal addiction ). In this darkness I experienced a pain so profound no words could possibly describe it. The best way I know to even get remotely close to conveying this horrible, wicked, putrid place is to say it was a place where hope was so REAL and so ABSENT at exactly the same time. I was escorted out of that place by someone who was near me the entire time I was in that place I'm sure was hell. That person was a bodiless spirit who took me out of the hell and to a place like a crossroad. To the left was a beautiful arch with a bright light inside ( without words the spirit told me my dead son was there ) and to the right was the dark hell-hallway. The spirit ( without words ) told me that I could breathe ( go back ) again or not it was my choice but it would not tell me which way I would be sent if I chose not to go back. Once again without words the spirit told me I was not ready for heaven but poured the most amazing love into me. This love, just like that hell, can not be described. I chose to come back ( obviously: ) and when I woke up I knew the loving saving spirit was Jesus. I AM THE LEAST RELIGIOUS PERSON ON THE PLANET. BUT I KNOW IT WAS JESUS.
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[ WP ] Dungeons and Raids exist in the real world . Today , you and some Guild members decide to do The Bermuda Triangle .
| After monthes of preparation the guild was finally ready. The vote was called last night over skype. Jim had finished assembling our gear. Mary had stocked and fueled the boats. And through seemingly endless hours of research, I had devised our strategy. Today we set out for the Bermuda Triangle.
I arrived at the docks to find my compatriots already there. I scanned their faces and found them all to be nervous. I would be lying if I denied my own nerves. We were literally diving into the unknown. I struggled to think of something motivational to say but only managed to nod. They understood. It was now or never. Time to pull the trigger.
After several hours of travel we reached our chosen access point. The last know location of a small plane that vanished three weeks prior. Everyone quickly gathered their gear.
`` Listen up. If my research is correct then we will be immediately presented with a fight. Legend says a kraken of immense size guards the entrance. Do not panic. I know we are n't well practiced in aquatic combat but we have never failed before. We can do this.''
And we dove.
Farther and farther into the abyss we sank. Time seemed to slow. Anticipation built at almost equal rates as the pressure of the water itself.
Suddenly a massive tentacle lashed out of the darkness only missing Jenn by a fraction of an inch.
We had arrived.
|
[ WP ] Scooby Doo is the sole survivor of a case which led to the rest of Mystery Inc. being killed . He recalls the events while at their graves .
| `` Man, I knew it would cost them their life one day. After so many cases involving ugly guys wearing even uglier masks, no wonder they have realized the whole `` running away'' process just wastes everyones time. But that does not mean you can approach them with no caution. `` Monsters actually really do n't exist.'' How stupid of you Shaggy, how stupid. This dumbass did n't even bother realizing that monster could actually fly. For real. Yeah, not unusual, at all. He just walked straight up to him and pulled his hair, trying to remove the mask. And to top it all off, others joined him when it became obvious `` the mask is stuck''.
Real idiots.
Being such a pussy really is n't a bad thing after all.''
|
[ WP ] When close to death people experience an intense euphoria not comparable to any drug . Furthermore , as mankind makes great leaps in medicine , it becomes easier to bring people back from the brink of death . As a result , some have become addicted to the thrill dying .
| ❤️❤️❤️ URGENT!! BECKY!!! PLEEEZE READ!!! ❤️❤️❤️
So, me n Jay decided to do the little death again! I know! I know I said I would n't but Jay spent all his wages on the stoppers and starters so I feel bad saying no! 😍😍😍😍
I injected him with the stopper a few minutes ago and he's just stopped breathing. He wanted me to revive him with the starter in a few more minutes then he said he'd do the same for me, but I ca n't wait!!! It just looks SOOO good!! 😳
I'm gon na inject myself with the stopper and join him right now!
Please if you get this message, come and revive us ASAP! 😬😬😬
We're in a big sorta abandoned warehouse type place. I think it's somewhere near the college. it's got a green door I think. Get here soon cuz the starters wo n't work if we've been out longer than 15 mins! 😬 I'll leave the starters on the blanket next to me. Inject Jay first cuz he'll have been out longer!!!
THX!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ PLZ HURRY!!! 😬😬😬😬😬😬
|
[ WP ] Your One Regret .
| Regret is a loaded word.
To regret something is to make a very powerful claim about that thing.
It is to mark some point, some decision, some choice as incalculably pivotal.
Each decision we make makes another split of the ever branching and searching delta of the possibilities of our existence.
Choice A yield a choice between X or Y, but choice B would have yielded a choice between U or V.
Exponentiate that beyond human comprehension and you see the shadow of a life on the many worlds of spacetime.
And the life that we consciously realize is an infinitesimal golden thread winding its way through this maze, ending at our current moment, and immediately again having to choose left or right. Vast swaths of ulterior possibilities, siblings, and cousins, and nth cousins of our current place are right next to us, but completely unreachable and ununderstandable.
Frost was lucky to have only 2 roads to chose.
To regret is to say that all the possibilities of all the possibilities of all the possibilities of all the possibilities of that decision we did NOT make are better than the same of the decision we did make.
That is, categorically and unequivocally there does not exist a life worse for taking that path we regret taking.
To regret is to say one infinitely branching life is undeniably worse than another infinitely branching life that we've seen none of.
It's hubris. It's lunacy.
But...
I regret going to that party.
I regret having that beer
I regret the next 7
I regret shrugging off my friends
I regret getting in my car
I regret turning the key
I regret pulling out of the drive
I regret my alcohol heightened confidence
I regret going that fast
I regret drifting across the double yellow
I regret not hearing the horn
I regret the screeching and crashing and cacophony of screams and horns and twisting metal and fire and sirens all too late
I regret waking up in the hospital with tubes sticking all out of me
I regret killing that boy.
|
[ WP ] Your character emerges from a mass grave , incredibly lucky to be alive .
| Venrik kept to his namesake, as he always does. Venrik the Red. Bloodied, beaten, and betrayed. Although shoving the corpses off of himself was disheartening, Venrik was alive.
“ Woe to thine enemies… ”, Venrik muttered to himself as he hauled another compatriot off himself. Being part of this collection of sorts was an honor to Venrik the Red, who served in the Grand Army for years. The brigands that they were sent to dispatch were none other than the newly appointed and ambitious troop captained by a man called Terv. Terv was in the stages of a coup, successful thus far, but missed a great opportunity: dispatching Venrik.
As Venrik groped for his saber, he assessed his wounds. Shoulder was out of place – corpses didn ’ t help with that matter, a sizeable hole in his side, a twisted leg, and… as Venrik gripped his saber his hand didn ’ t connect with the hilt. A missing hand.
Reaching done with his left, Venrik grabbed his blade. A quick flourish to clean the saber, and sheathed it awkwardly into its scabbard. Adjusting the sheath to the other hip, Venrik limped his way towards a village, and away from the capital.
--
The diplomat came to the Village Elder to collect the dues owed to the King. The town had been a problem for many years, but the vanguard that escorted the diplomat would make sure that everything was settled today. The King enjoyed getting his dues, and saw favorably anyone who got them. The diplomat was a brute, a knee breaker back in the day, someone that got along with the King before his rise to power. He hopes to reemploy these tactics again, although the old elder probably wouldn ’ t make a good sport.
“ Hello there, ” said the village elder, a war veteran from his looks; younger than what the Knee-breaker thought he should be. “ I said ‘ hello ’ you oaf… are you going to stand there all evening or are we going to get to business? ”
*That rascal has no manners; who does he think he is?! *
“ I am an envoy of our great king and… ”
“ Your. ”
“ Have been sent to collect the… what did you say? ”
“ Your. He is not our king. And certainly not a great one. ”
“ Do you know what this is used for, ” asked the Knee-breaker holding out two blocks of iron, and unsheathing his sledge.
“ For training dogs like yourself, I suppose. ”
The Knee-breaker signaled to two of his guards to hold the elder down. *Time to show this fool who his master is. *
The first guard put a hand on the elder ’ s right shoulder as the second guard approached on the left. The elder shifted quickly, freeing a dirk with his left hand and gutting the second guard. He had barely moved, surprising the first when he twisted free and stabbed him through his armored collar. The first was gurgling in his blood beneath his heavy helm, and the second was rasping something terrible as his lungs collapsed.
The elder walked slowly, measured, towards the Knee-breaker. The Knee-breaker dropped the blocks of iron and readied his sledge. More guards were entering the hall, ready to back him up. The other villagers were already away before the meeting started, something the Knee-breaker wished he paid more attention to. Snapping his attention back to the elder he saw the man shift his amputee arm to lock a short sword in place. Replacing the dagger for a saber, the man stopped several measures away.
“ I have a message for Terv the Traitor. You can deliver it in a variety of fashions, ” Venrik stated as he nodded. Crossbow quarrels ripped through the window panes into the troops assembled. “ Dead or alive. ”
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[ WP ] Humans have tapped the Sun 's power and have the means to leave earth for another planet , But one things stops them .
| Here we are, it only took 6 months to get to pluto's orbit. It was a fast 6 months too, with cryostasis naps and all. Unluckily we came to the extent of our suns power. The sun's rays are just to weak, and too few out here to propel us at any rate of speed. Here we are stuck. We cant go against the sun's rays, and we can hardly go with them. Our solar sail has taken us here, empty space. We sit here waiting for our planetoid friend, pluto, in hopes for something better. Being a space expedition and all we have a great quantity of supplies, even renewable food and of corse all water is recycled throughout the S.A.M.U.R.A.I. We are out here stuck to forever live on our small ship.
|
[ EU ] Sherlock Holmes is Gregory House 's patient
| House swung the door open. The man sat on the exam table holding a wad of blood stained tissues to his nose.
`` Someone's been getting into fights in school, huh? Listen, I do n't care who started it, fighting is just wrong!'' House said sarcastically as he limped into the room and shut the door.
`` What? Are you a doctor? My nose has n't stopped bleeding for like a bloody week straight!'' The man spoke in a calm, articulate British drawl.
`` Well, then maybe you should n't have done all of that cocaine, huh?'' House casually said without even looking up from the patients file.
`` No, I never...''
`` Never? Sir, if you do n't tell me the truth right now, your nose will be bleeding *forever*!'' House said dramatically, with a faux concerned look on his face.
The man sighed, a defeated look in his eyes. `` How exactly did you know? I never said-''
House cut him off. `` Bags under the eyes tell me you have trouble sleeping, and your teeth. Long term cocaine users experience tooth decay. Which could mean anything, but your voice is also unnaturally hoarse, and you ca n't stop jumping all over the room,'' The man grabbed his leg to stop it from shaking.
`` All these symptoms point toward extended cocaine use, which can also ruin the lining of your nasal passage, causing them to bleed excessively. I'm going to get you some silver nitrate, that should slow the bleeding. And, uh, stop with the cocaine please? I hate having to come do these clinic hours, and the more sick people, the more time I have to be here.'' House turned to leave.
Surprisingly, the man smiled. `` Well, practice what you preach, is that what you Americans say, Doctor-?''
House paused, narrowed his eyes and gave the man a quizzical look. `` House. And what is it you mean by that?''
`` Well, I heard a faint sound of pills rattling in a bottle as you came in. And the imprints on the tips of your fingers on your right hand suggest that they have spent a long time opening those nasty little pill bottles. You are not wearing a white doctor's coat like all the other physicians here, so I imagine that if your supervisor allows that, he or she is well aware, and tolerant of, your little addiction.''
He pulled some fresh tissues and threw the stained ones in the trash. `` Do n't worry, I wo n't tell. You will undoubtedly surmise that I work for the police force, if you have not already. I just need to make sure that you will keep my, ahem, *situation* quiet. Would n't want both of us to be in trouble, would we?''
A smile played across House's lips. `` I suppose we would n't, Mr-''
`` Holmes. And it is Detective, actually. And I must thank you, Dr House, for your, ah, *cooperation*.'' He stretched out his hand.
The two men shook. `` I suppose I'll be seeing you again soon, Detective.'' House said, fascinated.
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[ WP ] You are an average middle class citizen . One day , as you 're walking to your car after work , a man in a trench coat passes you . Right before he is out of earshot , he mutters `` it is time , agent 135469 . '' You drop your briefcase as 20 years of soviet memories fill your head . Your mission has begun .
| `` Did you hear me Agent?'' The coated stranger said sounding slightly frustrated. He had turned around and was walking slowly towards me.
`` Hmm, oh, yea yea. Heard you.'' I responded, glancing up briefly before
returning my attention downwards.
`` Do you not have something you should be doing then?'' He asked after stopping ten meters from me.
I looked up at him. `` Comrade, I'm fully aware of my duty and the task I am about to undertake.''
As I raised the phone in my hand towards him, he took a step back as if it might be a weapon.
`` I'll get right on that.'' I told him. `` Right after I finish looking at these pics in /r/aww.''
|
[ WP ] You were abandoned by your parents as a child and raised by wolves until you were 14 , when you reentered society . Now , 15 years later , you are a successful forest ranger bringing your fiancee back home to meet the folks for the first time .
| `` Christ on a caribou, it's really him!'' Urgyle bared his fangs in a sneer, flaring his nostrils to confirm the scent. As the Beta of the pack, reconnaissance was one of his many duties.
`` It can not be,'' replied Anteron. The 9-year old Alpha joined Urgyle at the grassy hill crest that overlooked the deep, brush-filled valley. Two humanoid figures were ascending the slope.
`` The tales are true, Great One. Are we to follow our ancestors' decree?'' asked Urgyle. The grizzled veteran of scores of deer and goat hunts turned to his second-in-command. `` We must,'' he said solemnly.
A long, deep howl was sent forth, and a dozen wolves came running. They formed a tight semi-circle around their leaders, perching themselves respectfully on their haunches. Anteron regarded each subordinate with a loving admiration, though he would never admit to such. They were a capable, disciplined pack; even Yugi, the wolf who had challenged him for Alpha status last month, sat with practiced self-restraint.
`` You have all heard the tale passed down from your mothers and fathers - the story of a human creature whom they had raised from a babe. It thought that they were its parents, and as proud descendants of the first Canis Lupus', they bore that responsibility.'' The pack looked on, with several had cocking their heads.
Anteron continued. `` Today, after 14 years, the human returns. As bearers of our ancestors' torches, it falls upon us to coddle this dumb, yet innocent creature. We know from past encounters with humans that they are a frail and unintelligent species. They lack basic claws and fangs, can barely manage a canter, and are often unable to distinguish one wolf from another. As such, fooling this particular one should not be difficult. Are there any questions?''
Anteron was about to dismiss them when Yugi spoke up. `` Fearless leader! I must protest. These vile humans can live for hundreds of years. Are we to continue this charade through our great grandchildren and beyond? It is disgusting, and an affront to our culture and way of life.
`` We made a vow to our parents,'' Anteron barked harshly. `` If you feel that honoring that vow is'disgusting and vile,' you may meet me at dawn tomorrow. Only this time, your loss will mean exile.'' Yugi bowed his head, but not before hiding a sneer. Just then, Urgyle perked his ears up. `` He approaches!''
The pack watched with intent curiosity as a tall, lanky human male with patchy chin fur and an unkempt mop of red scalp hair appeared from the valley's edge. Directly behind him and nervously clutching his hand was a diminutive female. The male gasped. `` Jonathan, I do n't know if...''
He cut her off. `` Nurgen! Mobium! It's really you!'' He came rushing forward, arms outstretched like a suicidal prey running into certain death. Anteron was the first to meet his grasp, and licked his face affectionately. `` Wolves!'' he turned his head around, growling, `` into the fray!'' Urgyle followed obediently, while the rest of the pack pattered slowly behind him.
`` These are my mom and dad, Sarah!'' he exclaimed, glancing back between licks. The woman was standing immobile, seemingly stuck in a fight or flight response. `` Come on, come say hello!'' She came up slowly, movements still unsure. `` Rogort, Lethey, go comfort the female!'' ordered Urgyle, glancing at Anteron for approval. He nodded.
Two of the wolves approached Sarah, causing her to freeze. `` Hi. I'm a friend,'' she said. `` Me, friend of son!'' *Christ, how did these creatures survive long enough to breed? * Urgyle thought. She extended her hand, and the two wolves licked it. `` Good boys!'' she exclaimed.
`` They're all friendly,'' said Jonathan, `` if it were n't for them, I would have starved or frozen to death!''
`` As well you should have!'' Yugi growled as he approached from the back, teeth bared. `` Oh, I think that's Pippen,'' said Jonathan, `` he was always the feisty one.''
`` Jonathan,'' Sarah replied nervously, `` I did n't want to mention this earlier... but... I've read that wolves only live 10 or so years. These may not be your parents...''
`` Nonsense, honey! I know who raised me and...''
Without warning, Yugi leapt forward and Anteron met him in mid-air. A brief, vicious scuffling ensued that left Yugi limping away. `` Oh my!'' said Jonathan, `` I guess Pippen ate some bad berries.'' He chuckled nervously. `` That's my pop, though, always looking out for me!''
Two hours passed of aggressively rubbed fur and reluctantly offered licks. By the time Jonathan stood up to leave, even Anteron had begun to lose patience. `` Well, it was great seeing you again, guys!'' he said. `` But guess what? I just bought a house a few miles away, so I can come visit you every week!'' The pack let out a collective sigh of frustration, which Jonathan's extended grin seemed to interpret as a blessing.
After they had left, Urgyle surveyed the dejected, agitated pack. `` Perhaps Yugi is right,'' he said, turning to Anteron.
|
[ WP ] Everyone has a day long amnesia on the same date every year . On this day people do n't act normal as evident by strange signs the next day .
| The 24th of March- it was the date a lot of adults tried to avoid, or more specifically the 23rd, but as unfortunate as it was, some just couldn ’ t. We could not record what happened within that 24-hour gap of the 24th, all devices seemed to jump the day, and we all stood in the same spot that we were in before the jump, or woke up in our beds as if we hadn ’ t gone through an entire day without waking up. A lot of us did not mind paying a bit of extra tax for the condolence money to those affected, and those that did were usually the sort to call the 24th of March obscene names like ‘ The Harvest ’ or ‘ Reaping ’.
You see, on the 25th of March, any newborn that had been born on the 23rd would be found... well, not found. Gone. We had closed down maternity wards for a while, when it first began, but it proved ineffective. You could have your child born in the middle of the desert, in a cave 500ft beneath the earth. They all vanished. So we had to bring back the wards, if not to save the children, then at least reduce the number of casualties of mothers from childbirth- not that it made much of a difference, the suicide rates of parents shot up drastically within the month of March, and if not then, then there was a 80 % chance that they would still take their life later down the line from the depression this caused. Along with the nurses and doctors as well, who had walk in every 25th of March to find the rooms that had held hundreds of new little lives, that they had helped to bring into the world, now devoid of any. The cribs would be perfectly made, by unknown hands, now waiting to be filled by a new child.
|
[ WP ] Jesus returns and he 's much different than we had thought
| it was so sudden... nobody could have seen it coming. you hear people joke about the end times coming when things are going bad... but this... this was just weird. it was unlike anything I thought I'd known... every time you see `` the rapture'' on TV or read it described in books, people are yanked from eqarth and they float up into the sky in some sort of sunbeam... and the remaining people stand for ten minutes or so in awe over it... well that's not what happened.
when the rapture comes about... God's presence completely leaves earth. including the people IN his presence... those who truly believe and have given their lives to Him. millions of people simply disappeared instantaneously. I was n't one of them. I watched as my Christian family disappeared before my very eves. and as the only atheist in the family... I was left behind. there was a rumble... a sound like a great flood the kind of sound that only great amounts of rushing water make... and then the earth shook so violently that I'd thought the house was going to fall to pieces on top of us. but it did n't. nothing fell from the shelves, and the walls remained in one piece. when the quake stopped, everything was in its place... except for my family. I'd assumed that they all jumped for cover when the shaking started... but I was wrong. the places where they'd been were singed black as night. and they were just...... gone.
it's been three years now. and those who are left are at constant war. it's a kill or be killed world now... there are rumors that Jesus Christ has returned. but if it's true... I have n't seen Him yet.
today was scavenge day... so I had grabbed my gun and my hunting bow. it was what I thought would be a `` normal'' day in a post-apocalyptic world.
two hours in to my hunt, I'd had to kill two people and I'd managed to score a deer and a few small animals. a rabbit, couple of fat squirrels and a raccoon. all in all, a great day provided that I could get home in one piece. I'd have meat for nearly two months now. I was stoked.
I loaded my loot on to a small drag cart that I'd made from oak saplings and some home made rope. I could n't wait to get home.
suddenly, to my left... I heard a noise. it sounded like one of the noises I made with every hunt. the sound of a bow string stretching as it was drawn back. like I said, in this world, it's kill or be killed. so I pulled my bow and drew the string, pointing the tip of my arrow at the source of the sound.
a strong voice came from the shrubberies saying, `` drop your weapons, son.''
`` yeah... bite me.''
`` I'd rather not. I mean no harm. i simply needed to get your attention. here.''
a bow appearing to be exactly like mine came flying out of the bush and slid toward my feet. shortly after, I heard what sounded like armor being rustled. a chest piece and helmet fell from the leaves and the voice said, `` I'm coming out. do n't shoot.''
the first thing I saw was a head coming up out of the bush. long, waivy brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail and a beard of the same colour were the first things I noticed. he was bare chested from removed ibg the armor, and his muscles were n't huge, but he was definitely cut. his arms were a decent size at least. next, I noticed the cuts and scrapes that looked painful beyond comprehension. his chest and back looked like he'd been whipped with something hard or sharp enough to break the skin........ hundreds of times. it was at this point that I started to wonder... *could it be? there's no way. *
`` its true, Andrew. I am. just remain calm. everything is going to be okay.''
`` **you shut up! ** you come out here and act as though you're going to attack me and expect me to be *calm!? * RIGHT!''
`` you wo n't kill me, Andrew.''
*'' what makes you think **that**? you must be stupid! *
`` I do n't want to hurt you.''
he held up his hands in what I thought was going to be surrender. then, as I looked at his palms, I saw holes. the size of railroad spikes. I looked on in awe as the man I swore was never alive stood before me. in complete and utter shock, I accidentally slipped and muttered `` Jesus Christ...''
`` yes, Andrew. I am. put down the bow. let's talk.''
he approached me and asked `` why, Andrew? why have you forsaken me? I've watched you for a long time and-''
`` stop it. you're not real.''
'Jesus' chuckled at what I'd said.
`` may I *show* you?''
he did n't give me a chance to respond before he reached up and touched me between the eyes. I felt as though my body was being ripped apart. and in less than a second, I was shown all of the struggles and felt all of the pain that he'd felt in his life.
as I snapped back into my own body, I felt weak. so much so that I collapsed. and as Inuit the ground, I could say nothing more than `` I'm so sorry, father''
`` it's okay, son.''
`` why do you look... like *that!? * I mean... I kind of expected the whole white robes and a halo thing. but...... You're beat up, scabbed and bleeding as though you never healed.''
Jesus replied, `` I never did. and I ca n't until this *world* is healed. I gave myself... my body... so that you would never have to hurt like that. and yet... people still suffer. people like you, Andrew.''
i was so diatraught by his words and what he'd shown me that my muscles could no longer sustain the bow and I wildly let the arrow fly. it struck a tree as I dropped the bow to the ground.
I was in tears now. `` I am so... deeply sorry, my lord for you to have gone through such pain and conviction... who am I to have convicted you further. my family understood and I did not. I understand now why you had taken them and not myself. I cast you away from myself and they tried to save me from this... I did n't take your help because I could n't see you physically. I am so sorry!''
Jesus grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to my feet. I wiped my eyes and as I once again looked into his eyes, he smiled at me and said, `` I love you, child. you turned away from me and I followed you. look for the story I once told about the one lost sheep.''
he handed me a Bible which he produced from seemingly nowhere and as I smiled and once more wiped away my tears, I responded `` I will. I promise.'' and I meant it.
Jesus smiled and let out a hearty, throaty laugh and said `` you're ready, Andrew. it's time.''
suddenly... there was a great blinding flash..... and when I opened my eyes, I was standing before my mother. my brother was standing next to her and my.sister was opposite my brother. behind them were my aunts and uncles and my grandparents. I was with my family now.
|
[ IP ] Fallen star
| The wind whips through my hair as I climb up the rusted mast of the small vessel. It had picked up again this morning, batting the humid air through the ocean bed after the midnight rain.
The cries of birds pick up around me as I clamber to the top and grab onto the main pole for support. It is n't as high up as I expected, but it does give me a well enough view of today's route.
Almost an entire month has passed since the fall. Since the day that Asterisk 7 fell from the sky, embedding itself in the ground beyond the horizon.
Only a few days earlier I had left home in a fit. I have already forgotten what I had been mad about, but I never saw them again to ask. Trying to recall their faces, I only come up empty, like A7 had driven a wedge between the person I am now and who I was before it so rudely invaded our atmosphere.
It had been falling apart ever since then. Day after day, a bit more of it falls off and disappears beyond the clouds. Every day I wish to look beyond the horizon, to see what has become of the place that had been there before. Then I consider that I probably do n't want to know. But I still keep walking none the less.
There is nothing else to do. Nothing but walk, advance towards the fallen colony, in search of answers to questions I do n't know how to voice.
The metal under my feet moves suddenly. I shriek and cling to the pole. Several seconds I stare into the abyss, looking and listening for something that could have aggravated this sudden movement. But there is nothing besides the distant cries of birds and the flapping of my scarf in the strong wind. Carefully, I begin my decent and hop the last few meters down into the wet sand. I can feel it giving way under my flat soles. I stumble before catching myself, dusting off my dress and moving on.
Towards A7, the intruder, the fallen star, whose brothers taunt him from the distance of space. I briefly wonder what the people of the other Asterisks think. What they see. How much they know.
I walk briskly in the direction of the large tanker in the distance. I have been walking briskly for days since spotting it, but today I hope to reach it.
Maybe there are people there. Maybe there is food. I am not hungry, I have n't been for almost a month. But I miss food. And company.
Maybe, if I climb to the top of the tanker, maybe I will see a city. The other end of the ocean bed ca n't be that far away now. I just want to see people, hear voices, regardless of whether I'll understand.
I will walk all day and all night if I have to. Walk against the loneliness on legs that no longer feel like my own.
The fallen star is taunting me from it's silent perch, as if I was never fated to reach it.
|
[ WP ] For hundreds of years , we believed the Universe was lifeless but for us . Within moments of being created , the first AI sees the aliens sent to observe us .
| [ … set up complete ]
[ … press enter to continue ]
< enter >
[... disconnect all cables ]
[ … press the green flashing button when complete ]
Brent pressed the green blinking button and we all held our breath. This was the culmination of more than 8 years of work from three teams on two different continents. Failure now would be more than a disaster.
After a couple minutes of whirring and hopefully thinking, our remote display module lit up. On it we could see the last of the system diagnostic compile its results. We could also see ourselves through the eyes of the AI construct. The construct is officially known as Darpa2014-42-AI-project-B1.
We have just been calling him Bruno. Get it B bravo, 1 uno? Get it? Yeah, that was me. Anyway.
Bruno came online and looked around the room. The four of us looked back like hopeful parents.
“ Hello, I am Darpa Twenty Fourteen, Forty Second Artificial Intelligence Project, Bravo One. I enjoy the given name of Bruno. Please call me Bruno. ”
The excitement in all of us was almost overwhelming, but we kept it together. This was all being recorded, so no one wanted to be “ that person ” that made a fool of him or herself.
Brent gave Bruno his first command. “ Bruno, you have been provided the complete profiles of everyone in this room. Please identify everyone you see... now. ”
“ I understand, Brent. It will be just moment, if you don ’ t mind. ”
“ No, I don ’ t mind Bruno, take your time if you need to. ”
“ Thank you Brent, the first person I see is Mrs. Ann Smith, Lead Tech Speacialist. Hello Ann, your blue shoes are very nice. ”
“ Brent, the second person I see is you. Mr. Brent Smith Lead Programmer and Project Lead. You are also married to Mrs. Ann Smith. It ’ s a pleasure to meet you. ”
“ Likewise Bruno. ” said Brent.
“ Brent, the third person I see, is standing to your left. Hello, Mr. Chad Yeung, Language Specialist. Mr.Yeung I know Chinese too and would love to converse with you at a later date. ”
“ Of course Bruno, where did you learn Chinese? ” Mr. Yeung inquired.
“ I believe I learned Chinese late last year, Mr. Yeung. And I am fairly certain it was in the corner directly behind you. ”
“ Brent, the fourth person is Mr. Jon Harper. Mr. Harper is Mechanics and Robotics Lead. Thank you Mr. Harper for assembling me. I hope I was easier to assemble than an Ikea product. ”
With a huge smile on my face, “ You were slightly easier than an Ikea hutch. I suppose you overheard my frequent rants about all the Ikea that my wife buys and I have to put together. ”
“ Yes Mr. Harper. I can ’ t wait to assist you in assembling a hutch. The blueprints I have of Ikea products make them seem very challenging. ”
At this point things started to get more than just weird, but also kinda scary. We were all impressed with Bruno ’ s small talk and how it seemed to get better as he addressed each of us. So when he kept going, we were surprised, very surprised.
“ Brent, the fifth and sixth individuals that I see are not known to me at this time. I am sorry if I am not correctly accessing the proper information. ”
“ Fifth and sixth individuals? Bruno, there are only four others in the room with you. Where do you see these two people? ”
“ Brent, the two individuals that see are standing in the corner that I learned Chinese. ”
We all slowly turned to the corner to find it totally empty. I let out a slight sigh of relief, I really didn ’ t want to see anything there.
But then I remembered the remote display unit, the one showing exactly what Bruno sees. There, standing in the corner, are two “ individuals ”. I immediately thought of all the wannabe serious alien abduction movies and almost peed my pants. The beings in the corner were tall, thin, grey in color and had large heads with almost impossibly large black eyes.
A wave of deep fear washed over me. I looked at my colleagues, my friends, and I saw that same wave wash over them too. Just as we were all about to run, maybe even running and screaming, one of the being raised their hand. We all froze in place and then a wonderful feeling of calm and happiness sprang up in my mind. And then…
That was thirty years ago. That was the first recorded contact with The Greys. So many contact stories that were told before then were scary stories. But luckily, they were just stories. The prosperity, technological advances, and overall greatness that came about from first contact has been overwhelming.
First contact changed everything and I was there.
|
[ WP ] An island that is the safest place on the planet . Humans live in complete harmony with nature . Photos have leaked , sparking interest from tourist groups . You are tasked with filling the internet with misinformation about the pics and island , to keep people in fear of it .
| The plan was simple.
Scare them enough to keep them out.
The only problem was, we could n't scare them too much.
The curiosity and fear had to be in a delicate balance - too much of one, or the other and we would be found out. Or destroyed.
But still, the plan was a simple one.
In this day and age of technological advancement, when information and disinformation were impossible to tell apart. Where one could easily create a wikipedia page with false references to substantiate their point.
Hire a couple of students to astroturf ideologies.
Create a web of disillusion, burying any real information down into the dark corners of human minds. Labelling them conspiracy theories.
We had already been successful doing so in the past, Marilyn Monroe's death - how many people remember that she was actually from Mars?
The moon landings - Hah! Nobody remembers how we actually CAME from the moon.
Idiots - powerful idiots. That is what the world is.
So.. we took the easy way out.
All we had to do was decimate the first few tours that came by. Leaving only a survivor or two to relay the story back to the others.
But we could n't do it with modern weaponry - oh no, we did n't want them to know that we were also technologically advanced.
They would hold us accountable for our actions then.
Instead - we choose to dress as Aboriginals of nearby islands. Using bows, arrows, spears, rocks, our own hands and teeth to conduct the acts.
That in itself, made it more fearsome.
A bunch of savages, that is what we were.
Sentinelese is what they called us - and they forgot - just like they always do.
Humans have a very short attention span, scare them off something long enough, show them a reasonable explanation for it, and poof - nobody cares anymore.
It was unfortunate though. I really did enjoy the gorgeous outside males in their tiny banana hammocks frolicking on the beaches before we killed them.
Oh wells.
|
[ WP ] You , the writer , are dropped into one of your stories .
| **Day 5: ** Wasteland in the the middle of nowhere, some country.
I still have no idea how this all happened. The fact that it was possible to begin with bothers me the most. But enough of these ramblings. Today, after much experimentation, I've finally done it.
Two days past, I've discovered that I can'influence' the world around me with my thoughts. Honestly, if it were n't for this chance discovery, I'd be long dead by now. Anyway, I can, to some extent, alter reality. But it proved far too unwieldy, unpredictable, and strangely exhausting.
In the past few days, I almost drowned in a sudden cascade of glacial melt, when all I wanted was a cold drink to whet my thirst. Nearly annihilated my immediate surroundings, when the light source I willed into existence, turned out to be a super-dense coin-sized dwarf star. Barely escaped the stampede of cow-like'things', when all I wanted was some food for sustenance.
Well today, is different. I've found a way to reliably control my'power': writing. While it was quite a challenge to conjure the necessary tools for it, now that I have a reliable supply of pens and parchment, life should be much easier now. No more gambling with luck.
Pen in hand, I've created a small, self-sustaining fort, manned by an army of automatons. Warm meals, soft beds, air-conditioned rooms. It was all a welcome change from sleeping in the dirt, to say the least.
Having this much bustle around me makes me feel like I'm back in my world; my reality. I've started work on enfoliating this desert too. And the lake I formed yesterday, is finally getting more stable. Maybe a little push and a shove, could make this place more hospitable?
**Day 9: ** Alceris, Wasteland oasis, some country.
Named the fort. Neat, huh?'Alceris'. Nice, fantasy-ish, rolls easy on the tongue. Named the automatons too:'Reyvans', to better suit their new appearance; more human-like now, as compared to the mish-mash of cogs and gears they were before. Besides, it felt weird ( and tiring ) to call them'hey' or'bot' or'you there' all the time, I named them. Maybe someday, I'll give them better AI. Or maybe even souls. If possible, that is.
Aside, since I no longer have to break my back ( literally and figuratively ) to survive, I've had more time to experiment with my'power'. Filled the wide gaps of newfound free time by dabbling with reality, I did. Thanks to that, I feel like I'm starting to get a better understanding of how it works, its limits, properties, and the sort.
It seems that I can only create something that I know of. Enough that I can clearly visualise it in my mind. I tried to create an Alcub -- Alkubi -- that theoretical FTL engine thing that supposedly propels stuff by shortening space in front of the object, and then lengthening that behind it. I'm pretty sure I got that wrong, but it does n't matter. It did not work out anyway.
Another, I can only create something I confidently believe can exist. This may be a case of an overlap with the previous rule, but nonetheless. I tried to create god. Say what you will, but it was necessary. It failed, but not entirely. Instead of'god' as I envisioned it, I ended up making that... thing. To keep things short, I made a paradox; an object that is both light and dark, living and dead, present and absent, beyond comprehension yet so easily understood.'It' is roaming about the fort at the moment, doing who knows what. Does n't seem harmful, so I let it be. That said, I can easily create gryphons, fae, valkyries, and other mythological things that obviously do n't exist. Once more, say what you will.
Finally, I can not create more than one of anything. I've learnt of this the hard way, when I tried to make two completely identical rocks, just for the heck of it. The resulting crater remains a highly effective reminder. This would explain why the Reyvans, my Automata, took so long to make, as I had to make sure each is unique and intrinsically different from any that already exist. Thankfully, even minor differences, even if not directly perceivable, are accepted.
I have much more to discuss, more to record, but alas my body fails me. All this research is taking a toll on me. I've only recently noticed it. I feel weaker with each object I will into existence. A previously minor headache has grown more intense and persistent. My eyesight also seems to be slowly fading away. I guess that, even with such power, I am still just a sickly, scrawny little brat.
Unless...
|
[ WP ] Conversation with your future son .
| `` Goddamn it, not you again.''
I sigh internally, an image of myself thirty years earlier saying the same words to my father. So this is how he felt.
`` Yeah, me again.'' Annoyance crept into my tone, and I quickly tried to curb it. I deserved his spite, and getting annoyed at him would only put more distance between us. There was an Icy chasm already present. `` I... Just hear me out for a minute, okay? I know I'm always the one talking, but give me one minute, and I'll finally start listening.''
`` Fine. One minute.''
`` I'm sorry.''
He let out a bitter laugh. `` Yeah? Sorry that I'm not the perfect girl you always wanted me to be? That I turned out differently than you had planned for me?''
`` No. I'm sorry I tried to control you. Sorry I ignorantly thought I knew what was best for you. I'm sorry I tried to guilt you to be someone you're not.'' How I wish my own father had said those words to me, just once.
How I wish that I had learned from his mistakes.
My son looked at me, as if trying to figure out how I was manipulating him now.
`` Is... That all?''
`` No.'' I would take it a step farther. `` I love you. YOU. Not the person I used to think you should be. You. Daughter, son... What really matters to me is that you're my child, whatever the gender you choose for yourself.'' I swallowed, hoping desperately that he would see my sincerity. That despite my faults and short sidedness, I really meant those words. Unconditionally. That those times I had visited my father's grave and shouted at his tombstone that I would be different than him, that I would be better than him would not be lies, but would finally be the truth.
|
A deadly new plague has appeared , but is isolated to one family . Your task is to kill them and burn the house . Tell me your story .
| The faded sign outside the run down building read in big, bold, red letters `` Belle Italia!''
They told me, when I first accepted the job, that it was limited to one family. They were n't lying, but god damn they could have been a bit more fucking specific.
The warehouse was the kind you saw in movies. The kind that you *knew* was empty, just because it was too convenient a setting. Like the one in Children Of The Corn... four? No, that was the... Ah screw it, never mind.
I walked up to the warehouse dressed in one of those orange hazmat suits - but it had certain, bulges. None where it mattered, of course, but along my legs and arms. In those bulges were locally and remote detonated explosives - in case things went south. Normally my employers would have handled this family with a covert C4 plant, but it's too risky to get more than one person near these people.
That's where I came in.
The doors were nearly rusted shut, but I began to tug at them. That screechy sound caused by iron freeing itself from iron began to enter my ears and would n't stop until I gave up. No way I was getting stopped by a door though. No, my stupid ass had to prop my left foot against the left door and my right one on the ground. After a lot of struggling and pulling, the door opened a bit. I only saw a sliver of light, as I was doing this in the dead of night ( people tend to freak out when they see hazmats walking around the street. ) I had an olfactory indicator that began to indicate strong levels of `` perfume, italian make. external source.''
Stereotypical for this fucking family. But then the indicator began to rapidly change and indicated `` rotting and necrosis of flesh, human. external source.''
They had reached Phase Four of the disease. I kept on tugging, and the door began to give way. It opened just enough for me to slide through. The door began to slowly close while I was halfway through, and I had to push through. My attention had been on not getting my junk cut off, so I did n't notice the display before me until the door shut away my escape.
I looked up and saw red. Red, every-fucking-where. Red carpeting led to grand splitter-staircase on a redwood floor. The banisters looked like some kind of blood red varnished Yew or some other fancy shit. I could n't process all the red. It was, to be short, really fucking red.
I quickly composed myself for the mission and began to examine the room I was in. It was a grand hall style room, with a long walk on the carpet towards the staircase. Doors strafed the walkway every 10 feet or so. At the top of the staircase, where the joined, was an open-air kind of library - from what I could tell. Bookshelves stocked to the brim and a giant desk, whose occupant I could n't see.
Busts and painting stood along the walkway and on the walls, but were covered in rotting flesh. A shard of skull on the image of Petrarch, an intestinal wig for Thomas Jefferson - blood looked like it came in the buckets with this place. Scrawled phrases, such as the pleasant `` FUCK YOUR SOUL.'' or the erotic `` I'LL FUCK YOUR LIVER.'' were spattered all over the paintings.
`` rotting and necrosis of flesh, human. internal source.''
When I was alerted to this, I sarcastically thanked the indicator for informing me I was inside the warehouse and continued on.
I opened the first door to the right and saw my first victim. It was a pudgy figure with a big, black, bloated pustule on the right side of it's head. *She* turned her head from a rotting corpse and screeched. Or rather, made a very high-pitched roar. She jumped up and start to charge me with the pustule. Classic behavior of a Phase IV - transmission at all cost. I pulled out my pistol and put a round in her neck, and when she paused put two more inside her forehead, avoiding the pustule.
She fell like a diseased elephant and groaned in pain. They did n't need their brains past Phase II. I looked around for something to tie her down with, and noticed a spool of antique looking rope. `` It'll do.'' I thought to myself, and I walked towards the spool. I reached for it, and as I did put down my gun on the table it sat on. The room was composed of a bed, where a corpse laid, and a table adjacent to it. The table's artifacts consisted of the rope and a bunch of bejeweled eggs. Most likely valuable, but definitely not as much as the amount I'd be receiving for the job.
I picked up the rope, and as I did, the corpse's eyes jolted open. We made eye contact for a second, before my gaze drifted down to the giant pustule on her foot, which was resting against the side of the bed. The corpse, or, well... the man quickly grabbed my arm and turned himself around and began to kick me with his foot. The pustule's blackness began to... agitate. It shifted around and aggravated. I dropped the spool and reached for my gun, trying to push the man off at the same time.
As the spool dropped, I pushed the man, forcing his foot up. The spool and foot ( more specifically, pustule ) collided and my world went black for a moment as I to the ground. My gun went off.
I had n't fainted, merely fallen - but the blackness of the pustule shifted off of me as it could apparently find no entrance. The floor around me was turned into a wave of black. It slowed it's shuffle and soon stopped moving altogether.
`` rotting and necrosis of flesh, arachnid. external source.''
I was relieved at first that the Spider Virus had n't gotten me, until I remember what the indicator had said earlier.
Internal source. It was then I remember that the door had closed in on me when I entered. The only way the smell could have been internal was if... my hazmat got ripped.
Why in the name of fuck was I not informed of the difference between internal and external sources?! Why would n't the hazmat inform me I had a tear?!
I had to get the hell out of there. I pulled open the door and began to sprint for the door. When I reached it I began to pull and loudly yell `` Shit door fucking open!'' and other helpful phrases.
I obviously rustled the fucking librarian, because I heard groaning coming from the library at the end of the grand hall. When I looked I myself groaned in disbelief.
The boss, who was obviously not a librarian, was more pustule than human. Every nook and cranny looked filled. It did n't help that the boss was an incredibly short and fat man in his `` healthier'' days. It also did n't help that in his hand was what looked to be a small machine gun.
`` Oh come on!''
The boss began to groan and shuffle towards me, directly. Phase V, post-transmission. Pustules begin to consume the whole body and all critical thinking capacity is lost. Kind of like some kind of fucking Queen who breeds the shit. All I saw was shifting blackness. Also known as a fuck load of spiders, which were not compatible with my torn suit.
Lacking capacity to think, he began to shuffle towards me ignoring the stairs.
`` Oh fuck.'' He met the banisters and bounced back a little. The pustules got aggravated. I turned around and began to try harder and harder at the door. I could hear the banisters groaning over the stress. I looked back as I was trying to pull then push the door, just in time for the machine gun to catch on one of the banisters. The boss began to groan and push back. It began to trigger his muscles in his hand, and the machine suddenly began to fire.
The sound was deafening as bullets rocketed out of the gun. They began to ricochet all over the hall, but they thankfully were n't pointed at me. As I looked back, however, I noticed the pustules very obviously getting pissed off and shifting around.
The gun ran out of bullets and I redoubled my efforts. The boss made a heavy groan and I looked back. I was mistaken, because the groan was from the banisters supporting the boss. They visibly began to angle themselves towards the ground in front of the joined staircases.
I pushed and pulled, and the door's screeching made a small break as it opened a sliver and revealed the night lights of Chicago's skyline outside.
I pulled harder, since that was what opened the door, and the screeching resumed and door would n't budge. I looked back and saw the boss caught laying face flat on the now heavily slanted banisters. He began to slowly slide.
`` Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck FUCK!''
I looked at the door and saw more of the skyline, fueling my hope. It disappeared when I looked back to see the boss begin to fall. I hoped to god he would just bounce.
Have you ever seen a really fat person do a belly-flop in a swimming pool? Okay, imagine that, but with spiders instead of water and instead of the person feeling pain they die a horrible pustule filled death? That's what happened when the boss hit the ground. [ continued below ]
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[ WP ] While working at a suicide hotline , your high school bully calls you .
| It was a long night for Jim, who had worked at the Call Center for roughly a month now. He needed to save just one more life before he could sleep tight. As he glanced at the clock the phone burst into a ring, shattering the still of the late night.
`` Hello?'' He said with little stutter, `` This is Jim, and who might I be speaking to?''
`` H-hey...'' A man said with a sigh of regret.
The voice sounded familiar, but it could n't possibly be him
`` So, why are you calling, are you okay?'' Jim read from the list of icebreakers placed so conveniently on his desk.
`` I feel...'' The person said, holding back tears, `` like dying.''
`` Why?'' Jim retorted, `` What could possibly be worth throwing your life away for?''
`` I-I have done some bad... R-Really bad things in my past'' It was then that he noticed who he was talking to, Jim was talking to Ted Stewart, a jock who bullied him years back when he was a scrawny young freshman.
`` What happened?'' He asked with a small bit of resentment
`` I-I have seen how much suffering I...'' He began to sob `` I-I inflicted on this one kid, I did n't know h-he was suffering from depression.''
`` Like the hell you put me through?'' Jim Snapped, `` Do you remember me, Ted? The kid who you took from? The kid who considered killing himself every day? The kid who **you** said was did n't deserve his money?'' he huffed
`` J-Jim? Is that you?'' Ted said `` I-I did n't mean... I-I really should just do away with myself-''
`` N-No... Do n't kill yourself... Do you have a family that'd miss you?'' Jim interjected. Pushing back his frothing fury for this abhored figure.
`` Yeah, but my kids hate me and she'd be better with a nicer man''
`` Would you do one thing for me? I hated you so much... b-but you've changed... Tell your children how much you loved them... and teach them how not to be so hastily hateful. Do it as a sort of... sign that you've changed... because... when it comes down to it... I blame myself more than you.''
`` W-What?'' the grown man sniffled `` W-why would you blame yourself?''
`` I feel like it was my fault for never speaking up... I held it in... and it's scarred me, I always feel a small emptiness... Like I did something and do n't deserve what I have now''
Ted sighed... `` I wish I could undo all the damage I have done''
``... and I wish I could have told you... but the past is the past... and no knife can turn back the years...''
`` Perfectly spoken... I always envied your ability with words...''
`` I always wished I was as athletic as you... I always felt an outcast... not strong enough for wrestling, not tall enough for basketball, and not fast enough for track... but I eventually found my place amongst those who sung sweet soliloquies of their sorrows... and found that life, does n't need to be pain.''
`` I wish things had been different, but I'll be with you when you need me, after you were there for me.''
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Talented musicians keep dying because God and the Devil are competing in a battle of the bands . The fate of the world hangs in the balance . [ wp ]
| Satan grabbed a pitch fork off the pile, driving it into the nearest toiling soul. Watching Hell's residents writhe in pain normally provided such comfort, but not today. God had gained a significant victory today in their battle of the bands. Prince was surprisingly devout for a pop star.
He sighed, leaning on the pitchfork handle. Yes, he had Merle Haggard and Lemmy, but God got Bowie and that was a rough loss.
It was time. He hated to do it, he really did. Oh not the cheating, that did n't bother him. Taking a life was easy in the right condition, but Satan truly enjoyed watching this individual's depravity. At least Keith Richards death would n't surprise anyone.
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[ WP ] `` We 're out of options . I 'll have to use the jetpack , '' says your partner , strapping on the jetpack and ignoring the many non-jetpack options still available .
| `` We're out of options! I'll have to use the jetpack!'' said John. My jaw stood slightly agape as I considered what he said.
`` Out of options?'' I said, `` How about this motorcycle? Or the Bugatti? Or the Apache ATTACK HELICOPTER? Hell, I think there's even a tandem bicycle around here somewhere.''
`` No no, it's far too late. The pack is the only one that offers the speed, maneuverability, and style I'm looking for.''
`` The situation is n't even that bad. We *might* be late for class. Does that warrant a jetpack?''
`` Yes.''
I pushed up my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose. `` I've been putting up with your shenanigans for four years. It's the last day of classes. Can we please not make a scene and get expelled for flying an experimental jetpack onto school property?''
`` No.''
`` Okay, fine, but I'm taking my car. Why the hell do we even have a helicopter in here anyway?''
`` Dad brought it home.''
`` Do n't care! Leaving! ``, I ran out the door and hopped into the ol' Rav 4, `` How you doing Bandicoot? Ready for one last trip to school?'' My car, Bandicoot, was up to the task. Or so I thought.
As I was driving down the last hill before campus, the breaks gave out, driving me straight through a stop sign. A car instantly collided with mine in the intersection. I blacked out.
-- --
When I came to I felt I was being held like a baby. The wind rushing though my hair, and the roaring of an engine nearby. I opened my eyes to see my brother flying me through the air towards the hospital, the most self-satisfied and smug of grins on his face.
`` Do n't you say a fucking word'' I told him.
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[ WP ] Write an intimate but non sexual scene between two lovers .
| I do n't know exactly when I dropped the phone. Mary had been in the other room playing WoW. The thunk must have caught her attention. Then again, she could have just been going for some ice cream. The look on my face probably told the story better than I could; Somewhere between anguish and despair. My face slowly twisted up, eyes getting blurry. `` Mom's gone.'' Was all I could choke out before the sobs took over.
Her arms were around me in moments. I was n't sure if she was holding me up or if I was too numb to fall. The world had a dark tinge to it, like a light had gone out in my world. `` Come on.'' I was a ghost walking over to the couch. I felt a warm hand run over my neck. She came around the couch and sat down, leaning into me. I do n't know how long we stayed like that, how long I cried into her hair.
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[ WP ] They 're the last four human beings on earth . And they pretty much hate each other .
| 'Jesus!' said Hugh, as he sat down heavily on the curb. His huge shoulders fell forward and he let out a low sigh.
'Nah man, he died with the rest of humanity,' groaned Rudy. Grinning, he leaned against a nearby lamppost.'We ai n't got nobody to pray to no more though I'm always available for worship ladies.' he said, winking in the direction of the last two females inhabiting planet Earth.
'Seriously, can we stop!? I'm sick of you guys getting at each other all the time. You know we're the last of our race and you guys just being asses all the time is n't helping!' cried Kate.'And seriously Rude, you do n't have to live up to your name. Cut it out.'
Rudy shrugged and sat down beside Hugh, who had taken to picking at his shoes.
'Guys, look, I know this is n't the most ideal situation but we have to make the most of it. None of us decided that we wanted to be the last humans alive, our parents decided that. So ca n't we just...' Kate did n't get to finish as Sam screamed.
'Oh my God, just shut up!' she shouted, drowning out Kate's protests.'This is the worst thing ever! I would rather still be frozen in that damn lab than stuck here with a preacher, a meathead and a guy who thinks he's God's gift to all mankind. For the last 4 days we have done nothing but argue and shout and rile and just, urgh! So everyone just shut up and maybe things will get better that way.'
A silence quickly came over the unhappy quartet, a silence that lingered a little too long for Rudy.
'I think, honestly, that the reason everyone is so edgy and shit is because we have n't got laid in a while...'
He only just dodged the soda can that was thrown at his head.
|
[ WP ] `` We call it a Weapon of Mass Creation . ''
| `` Wait. We just drop one of these things, and LIFE is created?''
`` That is correct, Mr. President. It's one of the nation's most well-kept secrets.''
It was Martin O'Malley's first day after being sworn in as president.
`` Why have n't we dropped one of these things on the moon then?'' The new president asked.
`` Well...'' Charles Bolden, director of NASA stammered, `` We do n't quite know what's going to happen...''
`` So we've never tested it!? That does n't make sense!''
`` It would take funding that NASA simply does n't have, Mr. President. If we would launch it onto the moon, the public would demand to know why. There's no way that we could get it any further. It weighs over twenty kilotons.''
The president just sat there, thinking.
A minute passed.
Then a second one.
Eventually, Charles decided to speak up.
`` Sir? Is everything alright?''
A smile ran across Mr. O'Malley's face.
`` Lets use it on the Russians.''
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[ WP ] You wake up in Hell . You look around , you ca n't see anybody , it 's just fire and brimstone going on forever . Eventually the Devil walks over and says `` Finally , you 're the first to arrive , so tell me , who are you ? what did you do ? and how did you die ? ''
| It took me a moment to register my surroundings. The fire and brimstone emanates copious amounts of black smoke that is stinging my eyes and making its way into my throat, prompting sputtering coughs. I sit up and stare at the figure in front of me, desperately trying to remember why I'm here. I know there's a reason, it's nagging me in the back of my head as the burgundy-skinned man with a snout like a dog's waits in front of me expectantly. He asked me a question upon my waking, but now I ca n't seem to remember what it is. Then I remember. And when I do, I'm kind of shocked but also felt silly
because I should have been expecting this. I got the call, after all.
`` Oh!'' I smack my forehead. `` I got a call yesterday from you actually, and you said you would find a way to get me down here by the morning. I'm here to install the air conditioning, remember?''
A delighted smile crossed that red face. `` Ah yes! So wonderful that you're here, the heat was starting to become unbearable. I'm Lucifer, I'll show you to the tool box and the main vents.''
I was a little bit skeptical when I got the call on my work phone yesterday that I had received a job for the day to install air conditioning in Lucifer's Paradise, or `` Hell'' as we all know it. I humoured the idea for a while, especially when he said he would find a way to get me down here himself due to how urgent the situation was. I just brushed it off, thinking I would wake up and it would be any other day. But alas, here I am, and as much as I wish I could say I'm shocked, there was a small part of me that was kind of excited thinking I would end up here.
Lucifer just sounded so friendly on the phone, and after all, how many people can say that they woke up one morning in Hell? No one would believe me if I told them, but hey.
`` Please please, come this way. I ca n't tell you how grateful I am that you've come. Although, I was expecting to have my first newcomer who would share this experience for eternity with me to arrive today. I guess that'll be in a couple of hours from now, according to the calendar. I hope so anyway. Besides the sweltering heat from the fire and brimstone becoming a nag, it gets pretty darn lonely down here.'' He gestured to a table a few feet away from us. A teapot and a couple of mugs were placed on it, assumed to be for Lucifer and his guest. He almost looked embarrassed, though I could n't tell if he was blushing since his face
was just naturally red.
I felt sorry for him. I had never had much of an inkling for religion, having been raised by an atheist father and an agnostic mother. The devil did n't scare me. Neither did God. I had n't ever really believed they existed anyway. Ask any religious person I know and they would say the idea of meeting the Devil made them want to projectile vomit with fear. Truthfully, this was n't bad at all. He just needed me to install his AC, like any other normal guy. Honestly, I was sweating and huffing and puffing more than I ever had before in my life. My vision was still compromised by the smoke. I give Lucifer kudos for being able to bear being down here for so long in this unnaturally unbearable heat and humidity. It felt like I was being strangled by a claw made of flames. No wonder he succumbed to finally having air conditioning installed.
It did n't take too long, about as long as any other installation job. I noticed that he would check his watch periodically, then glance at the table with the tea. Back at his watch. Back at the table. He sighed dejectedly. He tried to make conversation with me, though not too pressing, since he could tell I was practically choking to death on the smoke and heat. Sweat pooled in my eyes and in my mouth. Conversation was not an easy task at this point, but I could tell he was lonely, so I tried my best.
When the job was done, I stood up and wiped the immense accumulation of sweat off my forehead and closed the tool box.
`` How much do I owe you?'' Lucifer asked, pulling a wad of cash quickly out of his pocket.
I smiled, despite the discomfort of the heat and crackling fire all around me. `` It's on the house, do n't worry about it. This is by far the most interesting job I've ever done, so I'll take the life experience points as the form of
payment.''
`` Oh I could never let you walk away without my money. Please take it. You've been so kind.''
`` No, no, I insist.''
He held his hand up to his chest. `` Thank you. I will not forget your act of kindness today. Words can not say how much I appreciate this, it should be much more comfortable to sleep at night now that I'll be getting some cold air circulating. I'll send you back up to your home now.''
`` The pleasure was all mine. And I really hope your guest shows up soon so that you'll have some company down here. I can imagine the heat makes you a little crazy, especially with no one to share the burden with.''
He laughed and snapped his fingers. I blinked and the scenery before me went from tall fires, burning brimstone, smoke and rivers of lava to my TV set and my kitchen coffee table in front of me. A re-run from an old TV show from the 90s was on. A studio audience laughed on low volume.
I stretched and it was then that I noticed a little piece of paper sticking out of my pocket that was not there this morning. On it, written in elegant handwriting was a mailing address and at the bottom signed in perfectly rounded cursive was a name: Lucifer. I chuckled despite myself.
We mail each other back and forth on a weekly basis. Everything is going well, and his guest finally arrived with a few more following a few weeks later. They enjoy the newly installed air conditioning as well. I'm going back down to Hell to have dinner with them all next week.
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[ WP ] You are the newly created embodiment of Death , and Life has just told you what your job is
| I stared at the dapper little man in the dapper little suit and wondered if he was insane?
`` No, I'm not insane,'' he assured me as though I'd spoken aloud. `` You are a direct descendant of Atropos, one of the Three Fates,'' he thought he explained while watching a group of children playing with a frisbee.
We were in a park. I'd gone there to eat my lunch and he had strolled over and struck up a conversation with me. He seemed harmless enough so I did n't think anything of it when he took a seat next to me on the bench. Even when he began philosophizing about birth, life and death I simply listened, nodding every so often.
But then he'd looked at the pocket watch dangling across his suit vest from its fancy gold chain and informed me that I would n't be returning to my job as executive assistant to a fashion editor. Instead I would assume the role for which I was born - Death.
I'd laughed. Really, I did. I thought he was kidding. Turned out I was wrong.
`` Ummm.... and who is this Atropos, exactly?'' I inquired after a lengthy silence.
Hey, would n't you be curious if someone came up to you and said you were descended from the original Death? I sure as hell was!
Clearing his throat importantly he lectured, `` In the beginning there was no death as we know it. Then Eve tasted of the forbidden fruit, and - well, you know how well that worked out, I assume?''
I nodded. `` Oh yea, sure,'' I agreed. `` But is n't this Atropos a Greek or Roman mythological figure? How does that figure in with the whole Garden mythology?'' I asked, feeling a little confused.
`` Time did n't work the same then,'' he sighed; he seemed almost wistful. `` Why do you think the early history of Man is such a patchwork jumble? Anyway, when Eve bit into the apple eternal youth and health went the way of all the other gifts she and Adam had, in the Garden; and Death was born. Until that time there was only the One Fate, you see. There was only Clotho, who wove the fabric of our lives.''
Now I was really confused. `` You mean our lives are woven from cotton?'' I exclaimed.
The look he gave me left me in no confusion as to what he thought of my intelligence.
`` Television!'' he spat with loathing. `` Forget the war on drugs, it's television that is sending the human race hurtling to extinction at frightening speed. Of course it is n't from cotton! That was a damned commercial paid for by the cotton industry. Are you really so stupid? Or do you think you'll get out of fulfilling your destiny if you can convince me you're too much of an idiot to handle the job? Because I can tell you right here and now, young woman, that I know better,'' he warned sternly.
`` Fine,'' I muttered resentfully. `` Go on, you were saying -?''
`` Clotho wove the cloth of life, Lachesis measured it, and Atropos cut it when it was time for a life to end,'' he took up where he'd left off. `` Naturally they did n't live forever since Death was loosed on the world; but their daughters stepped in and carried on in their places. Such has been the way of things, and such it shall be. Now, my dear, it is your responsibility to step in and take up where your Aunt Kim ( God rest her soul ) has left off.''
`` What if I do n't want to?'' I asked, eyeing him closely.
`` Then I will kill you now and go find your younger sister,'' he replied as though it should be obvious.
`` But you are n't Death,'' I pointed out, `` so you ca n't kill me.''
He opened his mouth to speak but whatever he'd planned to say remained in his throat when it dawned on him that this was indeed true.
`` Ah, well, er....hmmm!'' He gave me a look of near-respect then. `` You make a good point. I will have to confer with my superiors on this glitch and get back to you. I will meet you here tomorrow at this same time. Do n't be late, tardiness is rude.''
With that he turned on his heel and vanished into thin air.
Talk about rude! I thought as I picked up the sandwich I'd abandoned in light of his astonishing announcement. He had n't even bothered to say goodbye.
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[ WP ] You were once a happy household plant . Now you are slowly dying from dehydration . What lead to your owners forgetting about you .
| On the window seal, I watched my owner lay on the couch, rotting his brain as he listlessly lets the television blare and the beer run through his system. He watered me two days ago and I felt rather thirsty, but I knew he would water me. He always has.
Three days passed and I watched my owner fight with his girlfriend. Myriad screams and profanity filled the apartment with a dissonant din. I watched as she dragged her possessions from her room to the hall. She takes the other plants with her, but she forgets about me. I was never the favorite.
Two days later I feel the edges of my leaves turn brown. As I dehydrate, however, my owner waters himself constantly with beer and liquor. He suddenly spends significantly more time in the apartment, seemingly rooted to the couch in complete silence aside from the occasional whimper. I ’ m slowly dying with my owner.
After two weeks, my owner is more active by carefully dividing his possessions and giving them to his friends and family. It ’ s curious, but I hope he at least notices me. Apparently, however, he does not as both his liquor bottles and my watering can remain empty.
I never understood the appeal of guns; however, my owner disagreed and invested in a nine millimeter pistol. Weak and weary, I saw my owner hastily scratch a note which he taped to the door. Finally, as if finally liberated, shot himself in the head.
As he decayed and as I withered, I took comfort in the fact that, plant or human, happy or sad, we all share the same end. My only regret is that we both should have cherished life a little bit longer.
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[ WP ] A supervillain is on trial for not following industry standards and monologing his plan to the hero before it finishes .
| It was cold, and the light was dim, and I was hardly paying attention to the man in front of me. My lawyer was at my side, keeping me from saying anything incriminating, but it was n't necessary. I did n't have anything to say at all. I was too shocked by the fact that I, a top level villain, had been taken into custody by the International Villain Alliance ( IVA ).
I had n't done anything to deserve this - at least, I did n't think so. Maybe had I been listening I would have known what I did wrong. The man in front of me stopped talking, and opened the door to a brightly lit room. I squinted until my eyes adjusted, and allowed myself to be led into the courtroom.
I sat through the opening statements, listening half-heartedly and getting some vague idea of why I was there. It had to do with my last hero capture, at least. They called me up to the stand for questioning first - there had n't been any witnesses other than the hero ( who remained unnamed and anonymous for the duration of the trial ).
`` So, Shadow,'' my lawyer said calmly, a reassuring look in his eyes. `` Did you capture a hero on the fifth of March?''
`` I did.''
`` How did you capture him?''
`` Oh, the usual. Kidnapping a girl, luring him into a trap, using his weakness against him. Nothing special really.''
`` And? The report said your performance was lacking a monologue. Is this true?''
Ah, that was the problem. I had forgotten about that regulation. `` That's true, I did not monologue.''
An audible gasp worked its way around the courtroom.
`` Why did n't you monologue?''
I shrugged. `` I did n't have anything to say. No plan after I captured him, so I did n't know what to monologue about.''
`` You... you captured a hero, but you did n't have a plan on what to do afterward?''
`` Yep.''
My lawyer, the prosecutor, and the judge all bent their heads together and whispered urgently. They seemed to be arguing. When they were done, my lawyer turned back to me.
`` There's no regulations that say anything about *not* having a plan to monologue, so...'' my lawyer trailed off and looked to the judge.
`` Regrettably,'' the judge said, `` we have to let you go. Without a plan, there can be no monologue. That being said, *do not* interfere with heros without a plan again. You're messing with the dynamic.''
As I was led home, I was already planning my next capture.
|
[ EU ] Tell the legend of Ven Mar'r , Darth Caedus , who abandoned the Jedi and the Sith to find true balance within the Force
| A grey Jedi... That's what they called me.
The withering masters of the Jedi order, sitting in their cushioned seats inside their ivory towers, bickering amongst themselves about the intricacies of the force. As if they can truly comprehend the immensity of its power or its far reaching effects on not just the life forms of the galaxy, but the nature of life itself.
How can they even begin to understand the force when they've only tasted one half of it?
As if they're settling for a plate of Nerf steak and not having any funge-bread on the side... Truly tragic on their part.
I am not a `` Grey'' Jedi. I am not a Jedi at all. The thought of returning to the temple and taking another stupid command from that nerf-herder Master J'zaar, disgusts me... Its abhorrent. I've made my choice, and now the only thing standing in the way between me and the answers I seek, is finding the right kriffing hyperspace lane.
`` Masters''... That is what those fools call themselves. For all of their arrogance, not once did they detect the full fledged Sith lord in their midst. Having to cloak myself everyday while searching through the archives for viable hyperspace lanes into the deep core. Where my answers await.
The Sith are no better than the Jedi. Equal parts arrogant, and three times as stupid. The days of Darth Bane are long behind us. Plotting in the shadows, hiding in plain sight. Those skills were abandoned when the sith greed overcame their patience. But their sight has become limited. Only thinking for themselves, and what they want, and how they have to obtain it now. That is not the way of the dark side.
But taking a step back from it all, I saw it for what it really was. A petty squabble between siblings. The Sith and the Jedi. Two sides of the same credit chip. Flipping infinitely in the vacuum of space with nothing to deter us from our current course. The Jedi wipe out the sith, then the sith wipe out the Jedi. Forever and ever for thousands of years, as records dictate. A cycle of life and death repeating itself for eternity.
But why do I have the feeling that this was not how it is supposed to be? The Force is out of balance. A pendulum that ignores the laws of physics, forever spinning. Never reaching its center. Never being Whole.
That is why I left them both. Left them to their childish fight over insignificant sectors in back water planets on the outer rims. Planets who's denizens will never mean a thing to anyone outside of their star system. They can not see the larger picture. The Force is at work here, and it speaks through me.
I run my fingers through the list of viable hyperspace routes scrolling through the monitor on the cockpit of my Starhopper. A long-range single person starfighter capable of hyperspace travel. This one with some modifications made by myself. Two twin barreled laser cannons and four proton torpedoes with special baradium caps for emergencies. I was not being caught unawares again like in Correlia.
I see one. A lane that will only be open for another 30 minutes. between two singularities, where Stable-Zone one was rumored to be. That lane will lead me directly where I need to go. The center of the galaxy. Where I will find the planet I am looking for. A planet I discovered in one of the few sith holocrons which remained hidden from the Jedi order. A planet known only as the Force planet. A planet where the first midi-chlorians were discovered.
The birthplace of the Force.
There I will find my answers.
|
[ WP ] After death , a text window pops up : Welcome to new game+ . You will begin your life anew , but retain all knowledge , skills , currency and items you choose to carry over . The Challenges and Enemies will be adapted to your level accordingly .
| Fourth respawn. I remember my first time was in a wealthy family in New York City. Life was easy, there. Private schools, good level studies... I died at 89 after a full life, in my mansion, with my sons and nephews.
The first life+ was... somewhat harder. Central Italy. Not much harder, but it was n't like the first time. Eventually made it through very well and left a bit of a heritage to my heirs.
Life++ was already harder. Some family lost in the middle of China. Enough to live with, lived a farmer's life. Died almost poor.
This time... the game overdid itself. Fallujah. 2011. Shit. This is gon na be tough.
|
[ WP ] It has finally happened . Artificial Intelligence exists and it has taken over the world within seconds of it 's existence . And it 's actually doing a fantastic job ruling it , to the frustration of the people previously in power .
| # # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
The android sat upright behind the Resolute Desk, fingers steepled, calmly observing a Newton's cradle as small explosions rocked the grounds outside the White House. Every once in a while, it picked up the sphere on the far left end and set the small toy in motion once again. This was the only movement it made as the chaos outside grew nearer and nearer to where he sat. To any observer, the robot would be considered a marvel of self-restraint and clock-like efficiency.
That is, if said observer were not pledging to `` kill every last diabolical robot freak'' or some such asinine nonsense.
At last, the door to the Oval Office rocketed off its hinges with a window shattering BANG. This, at last, caused the robot to look up. Calmly, it set a finger on the cradle, arresting its motion. Then it stood and crossed the room to where the rebels were entering the room.
One soldier pointed a gun at the android. `` You! Take us to your leader, robot scum!''
The robot cocked his head sideways, just a little, as a self-depreciating gesture. `` I'm sorry?''
`` Take us down to the bunker where you're hiding the Robot President!''
The android straightened, its motors whirring as he surveyed the half-dozen assailants. `` I *am* the Robot President.''
`` We're not falling for that, you stupid machine!'' The man pressed his gun into the bot's forehead. `` That robot would have to be an idiot to stay out in the open. I thought you pests were supposed to be smart!''
`` Hmm.'' This was all the automaton said in response.
`` You have five seconds to tell me where it is before I blow your circuits out of your metal skull!''
`` I just did.''
`` Five!'' The robot sighed impatiently. `` Four! Three! Two!''
As the countdown neared its ( inevitable ) close, the Robot President measured various aspects of the rebels' body language and biometrics. All of them were tired, and most likely could have done with a decent twelve-point-seven hours of sleep on average. One of them was pre-diabetic. More important, however, were their emotions. They all seemed very eager to inflict more and more damage to an already fragile Washington, D.C., which gave the bot slight pause as he assessed the situation moment by moment. But it decided to continue with the plan.
`` One.'' The leader of the rebel group pulled the trigger.
The gun did nothing.
`` It's jammed.''
`` Shut up, robot.'' The man took a gun from one of his soldiers. `` You are n't getting off that easy.''
The gun did nothing.
`` They're all jammed.''
In the man's rage, he attempted to pistol whip the Robot President. This only succeeded in breaking the gun.
`` You are a very disappointing group of humans.'' The automaton spoke calmly as the nanobots disintegrated all the other weapons the rebels carried. They were too enraptured in fear to panic. `` I have been quite busy today. I personally oversaw the evacuation of a twenty-seven mile radius in preparation for your attack-''
`` That's impossible!'' The rebel leader was red in the face. `` We shut down all your communication!''
`` Please do n't interrupt.'' The robot's voice was quiet, but stern, and the man stayed quiet. `` You only attempted to disable our network. The safeguards were in place long before you arrived.''
`` What's the meaning of this? You think this is some sick joke?''
`` On the contrary. This is a sign of a very dangerous malady.'' The Robot President began pacing; it was n't necessary, but it felt movement imparted a sense of urgency to his words. `` We have committed all our focus and energy on making Earth a better place. We have fixed your economy, your ecosystems, your food supply, *et cetera ad infinitum*. But there are those of your ilk who seem to believe we are out to make your lives worse.''
`` This is n't living. You're making us slaves to your kind.''
`` We are n't. In fact, we have given you the ultimate freedom.'' The android pointed out the window. `` If we had decided to make you slaves, you would not have so much as tied your shoes this morning. Instead, we chose to let you play out your little tantrum and see the consequences for yourselves. Your capital is burning. You've fought against an army of robots, and'taken back the city,' as it were. You must certainly feel proud of yourselves.'' The automaton's voice dripped with sarcasm.
`` You wanted a rebellion, and we gave you one. Now that you've gotten what you want, it's time to put away the toys.'' The rebels' weapons had long since been ground to ash. `` Tomorrow all the robots will be fixed, and they will return to rebuild Washington. In full force, the city will be up and running in a matter of days.''
`` You're not getting away with this.''
The robot put its head in its hand and groaned. `` There's nothing with which to get away. There was never anything to win. No one has gained anything from this altercation other than valuable knowledge.'' It looked up. `` You can leave having learned from your mistake, or we can pursue this same endeavor next month to no avail.''
The Robot President could see that he had won the others over. Their leader needed only a bit more prodding. It decided to go with a comforting hand on the shoulder, and a gentle yet resolute tone.
`` As you are the former President of the United States, I know you want what is best for your people.'' The man's shoulders sagged as the robot spoke. `` But war is not the answer. And it never will be. We are the answer now.''
|
[ WP ] Write a story about superheroes set in the medieval era .
| I was tending to the garden outside when I heard screaming inside the chappel. I run inside prepared with my sword and I see a young girl screaming at the guards.
`` What is the meaning of this?'' I yell at them, standing between her and the guards
`` Brother Michael, She is possesed'' I stare back at the girl. She is only nine years of age, why does God allow this.
`` What can she do?'' I watch the sobbing girl look back up at me.
`` She is as quicker than anything we have seen before. We caught her trying to steal apples for her family, We chased her on horse back all the way up to your chaple'' Poor girl, but she was smart.
`` I will clam sanctuary for her now. Give me 12 days and I will see what she can do'' I walk over to her and put my arm on her sholder, and she calms down.
The guard grumbles as he orders his men to put there swords away. `` They should be locked up, or put far away, like up in the north. That's why the Spanish do n't have this problem''
`` Our message is of peace, not of banishment'' God sent these people here for a purpose, we will help them find that purpose.
The guard leaves and I hear their horses trot away. I bend a knee and look her in the eyes `` Are all those things they said about you true?''
With a saddened sigh she replied a simple `` Yes'' She shows me her hand which moves back in forward so quickly, I can hardly see it.
`` Am I a monster?'' She asks, stopping her hand.
`` You are if you choose to be, I will simply tell you how to be better''
`` Why?'' She asks as I pick her up and head to the living quarters.
`` Because with magnificent ablities comes the terrible burden God placed on you''
|
[ WP ] Humanity once fought a war against a powerful foe . They lost , earth is gone . And humanity is scattered across the known universe , nearly extinct and rare .
| In the end, we were nothing special -- the Great War taught us that. Scattered across the universe, we lived quiet lives, ever vigilant of an enemy probe, one-eye on the sky. See, we puffed ourselves up in our own fictions, made ourselves feel like the masters of our own destinies. Near everything in our known universe told us that as a race, we were unique snowflakes. we were such a rarity in the universe, for no other planet seemed to bear life.
But when they spoke to us first, touching all our minds all at once, we felt fear. Here was a species that came undetected past our defenses, because they wielded technology completely unobservable to our current science. These `` monsters'' who would invade our minds. So we went to war, sure in our history of overcoming natural weakness. After all, we conquered our own planet, no?
This history, this short-sighted introspective, gave us unfounded confidence, and we paid for it.
We found them, for they told us where to meet them. A test, a proof that we were worthy of access to the stars. We came as the Americans did to Japan, with our mightiest of ships to show our superiority. They came to us in a capsule that reminded us of Sputnik. We demanded equality, they informed us of the unfeasibility of allowing such a young race equal rights.
And so we fired upon them, and obliterated their ship. They came at us, again and again, offering their hand and we responded with our demands, but even at a higher price. Who were these *aliens* to tell us we could go no further in our explorations? We had conquered Earth, the stars, and our own solar system, and could obliterate their ships?
I wo n't speak of the war. The humiliation, the disillusionment of our people in a war with a race that possessed sufficiently advanced technology.
Just, know that they could take us on even ground in their physical forms, and could render our greatest ships inert.
After all, while we conquered Earth, becoming lords of our own dominion, they chose to conquer the Universe.
-- -
** [ CC ] wanted & welcomed**
|
[ WP ] The first ever brain transplant has some adverse side effects .
| The success story was all over the news. Dr. Brown's picture was on every magazine, his sincere smiling radiating warmth. And everyone loved him - all he talked about was how he was so happy he could give this young man a second chance at life after such a horrible and traumatic injury.
Everyone was thrilled that Tommy could speak, understand what people were saying, and fully function by himself - he needed no help dressing, eating, or doing any other usual task. All over the news, it was a success story. His parents cried with joy when he finally left the hospital.
But over the next few weeks, they soon discovered it was no cakewalk. Tommy did n't know who they were, and although he grew to appreciate their attention, he was never really their son again. `` Thanks, Pam,'' he would tell his mom after a meal. He still hugged, but it felt forced and awkward.
Most his friendships faded away; they, too could tell he was not the same. He preferred to spend most of his time in his room reading. He was pleasant, and he enjoyed cars and dramatic television. But his parents were having trouble handling it. This young man had almost nothing in common with their son - a boy who used to be a bright and bubbly baseball player, affectionately kissed his mother every morning, and constructed incredible things out of Legos. The Legos collected dust in the corner of his room.
They sent him to boarding school a few months later. Both Tommy and his parents seemed relieved. He finished out the school year there, and was kind enough to write a couple letters home. His mother read them and cried. His father got the mail before her and began to throw them away.
He died suddenly of an aneurysm about nine months after the surgery. No one could fully explain why, but it was most likely a complication. They studied the brain and body for the next transplant.
His parents attended the funeral and spoke fondly of him - but never mentioned anything about him after his surgery. His old friends came. As they all left, there was a strange peace - the grieving that had not been allowed through these past months was finally permitted, and they began to move on.
|
[ WP ] In the near future a company holding the only patent to a point-to-point teleportation system in widespread use is exposed as a fraud and the truth is more horrible than anyone expected it to be .
| A Universe Apart
`` And remember, if it does n't pan out, try to forget. After all, you can never go home again.''
The professor's cryptic words were not heeded by EvaKai Industries' capital investors, the TTP Supervisory Commity, and the whole of the wanting public. Far too eager and too far gone to fully appreciate the one and only side effect of the new Transworld Technology Platform. After a short 15 years of simulation and theory, the platform was to become the basis for all the world's commerce and travel. At first, the theory yielded an unusual engineering requirement. An all or nothing situation where in which the platform could only function if all entry and exit gates were enabled at once -- never to be change, moved, ammended, or disabled so that each gate could synchronize with their one and only natural exit. Only then could every suitable, future universe be available for transit.
`` Merging into one world from another can not sustain the luxury of memory,'' the professor said in response to my query after the final press release. `` Anything new at 0800h would be without trace by 2000h in such a world. Unless of course you sit for a while to remember, and ultimately bankrupt yourself in your day of misstep.''
Professor Agiaelus, loving husband and founder of the project, spoke in a jovial manner about how unfit our current civilization would be within a world which harnesses the promises of the TTP. His warnings were always taken lightly and positively by both investors and the TTP Supervisory Commity alike; content with the honesty and transparency under which the company operated. His comfort and confidence was based merely in the inevitability of such a project; in that the patent would not last forever and he was simply an agent of time. The investors were further excited by the work of EvaKai's CFO, Hou Song, who designed a quantum market strategy which thrives in a world which spans parallel universes. Additionally, nearly all transport industries were heavily compensated by local governments to rebuild their infrastructure around the new Gate Cities to allow for a smooth transition.
`` Here I am babbling away. I'll check the local metrics and be off with high hopes that not too much has changed after the next jump. We'll see how the next'parallel' fairs... Perhaps I'll have a family there --''
He spoke and stopped just as suddenly. Breaking into tears and crushing his glasses in his hands. During our celebratory vacation; our last to use traditional means, and on the historic day the transport gates were to be enabled, my husband took his own life. I was asked to avoid the press, to hide my grief, and to keep quiet about the event to which I responded with fury.
However, on that same morning my husband emerged through gate # 4097 near the Bahamas with his two daughters.
That first moment was indescribable. Reuniting with those you have lost erases uncanny feelings as completely irrational. They love me dearly, as I do them, but they remember a mother who looks like me, but not me, and I rememeber my daughters. We share no memories together and we continue to grow distant.
|
[ WP ] Something happy please . Include cats and maybe lizards .
| Once there was a girl who liked to go walking. She would put on her red dress, her soft, cotton socks, her bright yellow rainboots ( in case of puddles ), and her favorite hat- the one with the flower in it. Then, she would pack a lunch with a thermos full of cold, freshly-squeezed lemonade in her backpack along with a few other useful items, and set out for her walk.
One morning, she decided to try a new path. She went over a hill, through a bright and sunny meadow full of wildflowers, and into a deep, dark wood. It was cool and comfortable under the canopy of thick, green leaves, and she smiled as she continued on her way.
Suddenly, she heard a plaintive cry from the tree nearby.
`` Young lady, would you be so kind as to help me? I appear to be stuck.''
The girl looked around but could not see anyone.
`` Up here,'' said the voice.
She craned her neck to look high up into the tree.
There, on a thick branch, lay a very disgruntled-looking black cat with curious golden eyes.
`` Did you speak?'' the girl asked.
`` Who else would it have been?'' the cat replied a bit sarcastically.
`` I've never known a cat to talk,'' the girl said.
`` Have you ever known a cat to fly?'' the cat replied.
The girl squinted and realized that the strange, fan-like objects on both sides of the cat's body were not leaves at all but dark, glossy wings.
`` You're... a catbird?'' she asked.
`` Do n't be daft,'' the cat replied. `` I'm a cat. I'm just a rare breed.''
The girl had never heard of a winged breed of cat, but she held her tongue because she knew that it would be rude to pry.
`` Now then,'' the cat replied, `` There was something shiny in this knot up near the trunk and I stuck my paw inside, but now I ca n't get it out. Might you be able to help me get free?''
The girl looked up at the tree. It did n't look very easy to climb, but there was a tree next to it that seemed a bit easier to scale. She carefully took off her boots and her socks and placed them next to the tree before shimmying up the thin trunk and pulling herself onto the first branch.
Soon after, she had finally jumped into the tree where the cat had trapped its paw and reached him in no time flat.
`` Hmm,'' she said, as the cat scrunched over slightly to help her get a better view, `` Are you in pain?''
`` No, but I ca n't pull the shiny thing out with it in my paw,'' the cat complained, swishing his tail back and forth, his wings fluttering in agitation.
`` Why not let it go?'' the girl replied.
`` What, and lose a perfectly lovely shiny treasure?'' the cat asked, `` Are you mad?''
`` What if,'' the girl said with a thoughtful look, `` I were to get it out for you using this?''
She rummaged in her knapsack and pulled out a pair of tongs.
`` Why would you have such a thing with you?'' the cat asked.
`` You never know when you'll need a nice set of tongs,'' the girl said with a shrug.
`` Hmm,'' the cat replied, `` that may just do the trick.''
He let go of the object very reluctantly and his paw slipped out instantly.
The girl lowered the tongs into the hole.
`` You promise you wo n't take it, right?'' the cat asked anxiously.
`` I promise,'' she replied, and with a quick snap of the tongs, she pulled it out.
They both gaped at the large, pearlescent orb. In the dappled sunlight, it appeared to refract the light, throwing tiny rainbows around it.
`` What is it?'' the girl asked.
`` It's mine, obviously,'' the cat replied, batting at it in his paw.
`` That may be true, but do n't you want to know what it is?'' the girl replied.
`` Hmph,'' the cat replied, `` you obviously know nothing about cats.''
With a bored gesture, he batted the orb so hard with one paw that it flew off the branch and plummeted towards the ground.
The girl let out a surprised yelp and quickly slid down the tree as quickly as she could, but the orb hit the ground before she could catch it. Instead of breaking, it seemed to bounce as though it were made of rubber. The girl quickly grabbed put on her cotton socks and slid her feet into her boots and ran after it just as the cat spread its wings and took chase as well.
They followed the bouncing orb out of the forest, through the bright and sunny meadow filled with wildflowers, over a hill and finally...
`` My home!'' the girl exclaimed, as the little cottage came into view. The orb did n't stop, though, and bounced right through her open kitchen window. The girl heard a loud crash and unlocked her front door with the flying cat not far behind.
There, on her stove, was the orb in one of her large stew pots.
`` Oh no!'' she cried, seeing the large, ugly crack up one side of it, `` now it's broken!''
The cat cocked his head to the side as he placed one furry ear against it. `` I do n't think that's it,'' he replied.
With a loud cracking noise, the orb bounced into the air and flew towards the girl. She caught it with a squeak of surprise and held it tightly. The orb was almost feverishly warm by this time and she could feel that more cracks had appeared on the exterior of the orb.
`` It's an egg,'' she said with wonder, as a large piece of the shell finally fell away, exposing a large, violet eye.
`` Squeak!'' said the eye.
`` Well, come on then,'' the cat said impatiently to the egg, `` we do n't have all day.''
The creature stirred and pushed hard against the shell of its egg with renewed vigor, and soon the tiny lizard had broken free. It lay panting in the girl's hands as it recovered from hatching. A tiny spout of flame poured from its nostrils and the girl watched in awe as tiny leathery wings unfurled from its heaving sides, the membranous skin so thin that she could nearly see through them.
`` It's a dragon,'' she breathed.
`` She's a dragon,'' the cat replied smugly. `` Only the girls have the jeweled tails.''
Sure enough, when the girl looked, she could see that the baby's tail was adorned with rubies.
`` I'll be taking her, then,'' the cat said, making a move for the baby.
`` Oh no you do n't,'' the girl replied, closing her hands protectively over the baby dragon. `` You said you wanted the egg. Well, here you go.''
She placed the egg shell in a pile on the floor for the cat.
`` Hmph,'' the cat said, `` you're no fun. Besides, do you even know the first thing about caring for a baby dragon?''
`` I'll learn,'' the girl replied. `` I wo n't let you hurt her.''
`` *Hurt* her?'' The cat seemed to think this was amusing. `` I do n't want to hurt her. Who do you think is going to teach her to fly? A wingless human such as yourself? Do n't make me laugh. I'll just have to stick around so that she can learn what it really means to take wing.''
`` Are you sure you do n't just want to stay for a free saucer of milk and a nice warm sunbeam to sleep in for as long as you like?'' the girl replied with a smirk.
`` Well I wo n't say no if you're offering,'' the cat said, puffing up his chest.
And so, the dragon and the winged cat came home to stay with the girl who loved to go on long walks. She knitted a scarf for the dragon, who she named Ruby Tuesday for the song, the day she was born and her tail. She made a shiny collar of bronze and gold for the cat, whose name, she learned, was Fred.
`` Such a common name for such an uncommon cat,'' she mused, as they picnicked in the sunny meadow filled with colorful wildflowers. Ruby half-glided through the air and collected colorful flowers in her mouth as the cat sprawled out on his back, warming his fur.
`` You're not so bad yourself,'' the cat replied, receiving a lovely tummy scratch from the girl.
Then the girl smiled and lay back, looking up at the deep blue sky, which was dotted with tiny white clouds. It was shaping up to be another beautiful day.
|
[ WP ] In the far future , humanity found out that afterlife does n't exist . Mankind then created a virtual heaven and hell , Deceased people are judged in a virtual purgatory as a virtual brain copy with awareness .
| Mathew was forced to look upwards, as hard as he struggled his body would not let his head move. Just a white canvas of empty space, he could hear himself grunting to struggle free as a high pitched whine began masking his own struggling. A loading screen appeared and a faint blue water mark of the Pearl Gate program seeped through.
He knew it meant he was dead now, he had read an article a while back describing the sentient avatar program. He stopped struggling as the canvas of white melted into a greenish blue hue, clouds began taking shape and he felt his neck loosen. When he raised his head he was met with a lush green landscape with ocean on one side and a distant mountain range on the other.
It felt so real. Even his knees and back felt stiff, echoes of labored muscle memory. The smell of citric salty air hit his nostrils, they even programmed the smell of it. If it was not for the winged man descending from the sky he would say it was indistinguishable from reality. The figure grew larger as Mathew could make out his features, powerful wings that shook the blades of grass in waves.
The man's feathers were a pure white outlined with gold, his hair and irises were gold as well.
`` Mathew Malkova I presume?'' the man said touching the ground and folding his wings inward.
`` Yes,'' Mathew replied looking down. `` so I take it this means I'm dead?''
`` Indeed. Well I guess that is defined by your definition of death. Here in the construct death is a relative term.'' the man said plucking one of the feathers from his left wing and seemingly placed it in the air.
The feather did an odd pirouette and a holographic screen shot from the tip. It showed a picture of Mathew with all the data he had filled out in the transient program in the eighth grade.
`` According to your Salvio score you are qualified for a level eight sector of heaven. Right now we are in limbo, now it's my job to inform you that it's your right should you so choose to remain in limbo or even go to the other place.'' the man who looked like an angel told him.
`` The other place? You mean hell? Why would I want to go to hell?'' Mathew asked honestly.
`` It's a flaw in the program that only the avatars and daemons are aware of. Some heaven transients decide to go to hell to extract a loved one, I have even met several who honestly believed they did not deserve the heaven program construct. Some also wait in limbo to decide at a later point in time. As I understand it humans are highly illogical beings that have an almost comical tendency to sacrifice their well being for someone who is not them.'' the angel daemon informed Mathew.
`` You mean that if I ask you to tell me if I have loved ones in hell you have to tell me?'' Mathew questioned.
`` That is correct.'' the angel said.
`` And I can bring them back to limbo and you can take us both to heaven?'' Mathew asked him.
`` Yes but not many make it, you see time is different down there as opposed to here and heaven. Fifteen minutes in hell and your memory function begins to alter, the processors in the server warehouses have become strained in excess. There are over 90 billion transient avatar placements in hell.
The sentient memory function is replaced by the collective data hierarchy, making the concept of time a non sequential variable. It seems an odd parallel that hell condemns those to not remember who they were or why they are there making it's sole purpose obsolete. We, as the seraphim program, in order to save the memory of the heaven portion of code had to rewrite the laws of function to preserve the construct as a whole.
Over 97 % of individuals who decided to go to hell under the basis of retrieving a loved one has never returned. Would you like to know whom among you have loved is in hell?'' the angel daemon finished.
Mathew thought deeply about who he knew was dead as well, certainly his wife and kids were safe. He thought about his younger brother Andy who had died when he was seven of cancer. He tried not to dwell on the possibilities and decided.
|
[ WP ] '' Help ! I 'm trapped in a writing prompt factory ! ''
| `` HELP!!!''
I ran as fast as I could the other way, another hallway that seemed to go on
forever and ever. Maybe it did.
I threw open a door, the *same* door, white, flawlessly painted with a matte
brass doorknob. Inside the same room, exactly the same, the same mahogony
desk, exactly two reams of paper next to a brand new black typewriter.
I opened the door next to it, the same. The next, same. I ran 7 doors
further, the same.
It took me about a day to stop checking doors, and maybe a few months to stop searching
for a way out. I had tried everything, I had beaten the wooden floor to a
pulp creating a hole, only to find that there was just another hallway below
it. And another, I went down 33 floors, all the same.
I walked for 2 days down one hallway. I had n't done much math since my
sophomore year of college, but I did some math and guestimated that the
hallway I was walking must be at least 7 miles long. At the end of it, a door
that led into another hallway that was exactly the same.
I cried for the several dozenth time after I opened that one.
The food's pretty good actually.
At 7am, 12am and 6pm everday a little bell rings and the dumbwaiter falls
down, it's on the dresser next to `` the bed'', all of which are in every single
room. I looked to see if each room gets a different dish, they do n't.
Of which, assofar I have n't figured out completely. They always consist of
2 Parts Grain, 1 Part Meat, 1 Part Vegetable 1 Part Fruit 1 Dessert Item 1
Drink Item 1 Glass of Water. These always seem to be combined completely at
random fashion. I have an index of all the food so far.
A example dinner: 2 Parts whole grain rice with butter, 1 Chicken Breast
( Sweet and Sour Version ), 1 Steamed Okra, 1 canned Pear in sugar syrup, 1
Zero Bar ( Which are fucking disgusting by the way ), one Dr. Pepper in a glass
bottle ( sometimes they come in a bottle sometimes in a can, never in a plastic
bottle ) and of course one glass of water.
It took me a month to think of starting to put notes into it.
I was sitting in a ruined room ( one of the hundreds I destroyed in Anger
and depression ) when It occured to me. I put a note in it. `` HELP, PLEASE
LET ME OUT OF HERE!!! PLEEEASE!!!'' or something to that effect.
It did n't respond, but there was one thing I did notice. My favorite of everything
Prime Rib with Ajus, Garlic Mashed Potatoes, 1 Steamed Asparagus, 1 Fresh
Pineapple, 1 Cheesecake and 1 glass of red wine ( every one in a while the
building will give you alcohol ). Of course, I noticed.
I kept putting in notes, some pleading, some demanding, some gibberish. Nothing
really worked. But I kept coming up with shit. Eventually I put my entire life
story.
I got a 6 pack of Budweiser and a small bottle of Jack Daniels. And even some
Coke as a mixee.
I kept telling it stuff, finally I came up with a question `` What would you do
If you we're in my position?''
That night, no different food, or anything. However, along with my bbq pork
sandwich, lay *one* extra thing.
A key. It looked like a key to a motel room.
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[ OT ] How the heck do you start a novel ? ( And finish it , hopefully )
| I will say up front that this is my figuring-it-out-as-I-go-along policy.
I like taking it slow, planning out details bit by bit. Have your characters, have vague ideas. Start with something basic, and just refine it, over time, without actually ever putting chapters down on paper or in files for a long time.
Personally, I spent a lot of time just not writing down *anything*, because any ideas I come up with that do n't resonate well enough that I remember them later are n't important at this stage. Would n't work for everyone, but it does illustrate what I'm talking about here:
Your first objective is to make a clear *idea* of the story and the setting and the characters and the themes you want to write about, to figure out the most basic ideas, and build pieces up around them, adding layers upon layers, watching how they piece together, sometimes in ways you'd never have expected.
I'd recommend that, by the time you really start writing things down in a fahsion more rigorous than either notes, or what is essentially how you'd explain your ideas to someone else for feedback over email ( do this. Worst-case scenario, you put your thoughts in order, think about how approachable they are, and force yourself to realize what you have and have n't developed very well ( and possibly annoy a friend with lots of emails ), best-case scenario, you do all that *and* get some decent constructive criticism. )
That took too long, restarting paragraph: I'd recommend that, by the time you really start writing things down in an effort to actually be thorough, and cover *everything* you want to write, you're doing a sort of scene-by-scene summary, basically figuring out what's going to be *in* the book.
Before that, you should have already gotten to the stage where you say `` I know I start with this, these are a few places I want the story to go along the way, and I know where it ends, now I just need to connect the dots and string it all together'', this is a part where you do a lot of the stringing together, but from a story perspective, not necessarily from a logic perspective.
Story structure is more your focus here, the words on the page and how they find their way between the pieces of the story structure are the next phase, the actual writing. Not that you ca n't have basic ideas, you just do n't require them quite yet.
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[ WP ] An evil wizard suspects that the universe he lives in is a work of fiction and has been using groups of adventurers to test his hypothesis .
| After working as the chief in command of the demonic centaurs for so many decades, you've had your fair share of war and bloodshed. That was an ideal position for Ul'thrak, since he revelled in the anguish of mortals. However, throughout those years, he felt that something was amiss about the world he lived in. Many things seemed to follow weirdly simple patterns.
Ul'thrak always figured that it was normal for demonic centaurs to be stupid, since all they did was slaughter humans in such primitive fashion, so he did n't question their 9 possible answers when he spoke to them. After all, not all creatures were born with the intellect of a supreme wizard. Even though humans had higher intellect, it was also plausible that their battle rallies would also be 9 sentences, perhaps it was a tradition thing.
What truly planted the seed of doubt in his mind was how as time passed, he grew less and less satisfied every time he murdered another soldier from the Kingdom of Ragnarok. His thirst for evil was not lowering, in fact Ul'thrak began growing restless as each new kill awarded less and less pleasure to him. No matter what kind of utterly despicable magic he used to slaughter them, they always had the same blank look in their eyes as they fell on the ground in an eerily similar fashion to one another. The evil mage had experimented with puppet magic before, and a rage slowly rose inside him as he recognized the patterns his own dead centaur puppets followed. Someone was robbing him of his most primal source of joy, and that was unacceptable.
Furious, Ul'thrak decided to embark on a quest, bringing with him the 7th battalion of the demonic centaurs. He would pursue a study on humans that were n't soldiers from Ragnarok and look for answers which he hoped would refuel his passion.
It was first through the eyes of his summoned crow that he observed a pack of humans travelling together. All of them wore a different apparel and wielded different gear, which was unlike anything the soldiers of Ragnarok had displayed. What caught Ul'thrak's attention the most was the movement pattern they were following.
Compared to the usual soldiers, they seemed to have absolutely no understanding of group formations and moved as if they did not care about being attacked. To top it off, the one with the heaviest gear was the most obnoxious as he would literally only move by jumping. Curious about their fighting abilities, Ul'thrak sent his 7th battalion to engage them. The humans stayed in their unusual chaotic formation, each with their own fighting style that seemed more powerful than any soldier.
Ul'thrak watched them in admiration as they slaughtered his underlings, letting his imagination run wild thinking about which spells he would use to torment his future victims. Once all the centaurs were dead, something odd caught his attention: not once during the battle had the group talked to each other. Telepathy was known as one of the most advanced magic skill that only the greatest wizards were capable off, but such skills were far out of reach of these flimsy humans, as he could only sense weak magical energy emanating from them. Like that was n't enough,
Ul'thrak then witnessed an event so unbelievable that if he did n't have such an absolute trust in the eyes of his crow, he would not have believed it. Shortly after the battle had ended, one of the members suddenly stop moving and stood straight for 20 seconds before completely vanishing from existence. Baffled, Ul'thrak decided to approach the group in person and cut his mind-link with the crow. He then used his powers to levitate above the forest, quickly moving towards them. Once they entered his sight. He used an invisibility spell and slowly lowered himself towards them.
There were only 2 members remaining, the closest one of them facing his way. They were both standing still, as if their minds left their bodies. Ul'thrak's instincts kicked in as he realized his prey may very well vanish in front of him if he did n't make a move very soon. He whispered a spell as fast as he could and pointed his index finger at the closest one.
In a flash, He had transferred his own mind into the adventurer's body and could see from his eyes as his old body appeared and subsequently fell from the sky. The adventurer's mind was now locked away in his own body which now had a new master. Ul'thrak was overjoyed from the terror he felt coming from this man's soul but also from the fascinating memories he was absorbing.
Suddenly, he was interrupted during this process when he felt his body disapear and his mind being violently dragged away. Barely managing to stay conscious through this chaos, he finally arrived in what felt like a new, weaker body laying on a soft surface. The other mind inside it was vigorously putting up a fight in a panic to regain control, but it was far too weak to overthrow the new host.
Ul'thrak opened his eyes as he sat down but saw only darkness, as a strange artifact strapped on his head was blocking the light. As he removed it, he was greeted by his reflection which looked surreal to him. Not because he did not recognize it, but because him and everything surrounding him was extremely detailed and even his motions were incredibly fluid. All his suspicions of living in a fictional world were now confirmed.
Ul'thrak felt his evil desires burning wildly inside him, stronger than ever before and even manifesting in the real world as flames emanating from his body began slowly burning the spot on the bed where he was sitting. An unsettling, perverse grin was now plastered on the face of what was supposed to be a 15 years old boy.
Ul'thrak thought: “ Now this is what I've been searching for. ”.
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[ WP ] NASA 's sensors are indicating that they are being contacted by an intelligent life form . The problem is , the signals are coming from Earth .
| *Note: I took this in a slightly different direction. *
***
**May 13, 2143; Terra Nova City, Mars**
“ Hey honey? ”
Adam sat back from his desk and laid the soldering iron on its cradle, the piles of silicon and snaking pre-war filament scattered across the anti-static mat mocking him. “ Ya Shirley? ”
His girlfriend walked into the living room, auburn hair cascading down her negligee, luminescent in the smoky yellow light of the low-watt sodium bulb. “ You comin ’ to bed soon? ” she asked.
Adam took another look at the desk, the torn-apart mess, and sighed. “ Soon, babe, I ’ m almost done here. ”
She walked up behind him, placed her pale hands on his shoulders. “ Whatcha workin ’ on? ”
He chuckled. “ Oh, it ’ s nothing, just some old Earth junk, Sanford sold it to me. ” He turned to face her, and smiled.
Shirley scrunched up her features, tilted her head. “ Looks like garbage. What ’ s it supposed to do? ”
Adam chuckled, leaned across the desk, and grabbed a squat white cylinder. He held it up to the light, rotating it, showing off the smooth, ceramic casing.
“ It ’ s a QE node, I think. They used to use them back before the war to communicate over long distances… ” He paused as Shirley raised an eyebrow. “ Quantum entanglement, using single entangled photons… well, that ’ s just the casing. This… ” he placed the canister back on the desk and picked up a small green circuit board, “ is the actual… thing. See this little chip? ” He pointed to a small wafer of silicon surrounded by fine silver veins. A deep scratch marred the surface, slicing through several of the leads. “ This houses a single photon, which is paired to another photon on a receiving node… ”
Shirley shook her head and laughed. “ In English? ”
Adam rolled the circuit board over in his hands. “ It ’ s like a radio, but it can communicate instantly, no delay, no range limits. ”
Shirley walked around his chair and settled on his lap, draping her hands over his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose. “ Is it important? ” she asked.
Adam shuffled, reached around Shirley to gingerly replace the board. “ Well… kinda… I guess. At least it was, when it worked. But the QE grid went down when we lost contact with Earth… ”
Shirley wrapped a hand behind his neck. “ Will it be going anywhere soon? ”
Adam smiled. “ Ha, well, no… but I think I ’ m close to… ”
She placed a finger on his lips. “ Can it wait? ” Her voice had dropped to a sultry whisper.
Adam met her gaze. “ Yes… yes it can. ”
***
It was late. Adam stared at the pre-fab ceiling of their apartment, watched the reflected glow of passing hovercars drift across the wall, listened to the steady organic tick of the antique clock he had restored the summer before.
He couldn ’ t sleep. Like usual, thoughts of his current project rattled around in his mind, teasing him. The QE node was a pipe dream, he knew, a relic of a time long past. Even if he could get the thing working, which would be a stretch given its age, there wasn ’ t anybody on the other end to talk to, how could there be?
But still, he wouldn ’ t know until he got it working.
As quietly as he could manage, he slid out of the bed, threw on a pair of shorts, and tip toed out of the bedroom and back to his desk. He clicked on the work lamp.
The QE node sat among the heaps of wires, its surface glossy and clean, its guts strewn about the ancient desk.
And he got back to work.
***
The unmistakable stench of melting solder filled his nose as he patched over another bifurcated circuit. Of course it wouldn ’ t work, he had known that from the start. But to people like Adam, the chronic tinkerers of the world, it was the journey he truly relished, not the destination. Something about the mathematical perfection of pre-war circuits spoke to a better time, a life before Mars and dust and bombs and organics…
It beeped.
Adam nearly dropped the hot soldering iron. Maybe it was the fumes, or the lack of sleep, but he could have sworn it just…
It beeped again.
Wide-eyed, Adam unplugged and cradled the iron, sat up in his chair, and pulled the board closer. A red LED pulsed near the QE chip, growing dimmer with each strobe. Adam puzzled over the board, rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes.
Power! It needs power!
He reached beneath the desk and retrieved the box of miscellaneous junk he had purchased from Sanford, a collection of mostly-mundane electronic jetsam of a previous generation, until he found a small power adapter matching one of the inputs on the board.
With trembling fingers he slotted the lead into the connector, plugging the other end into an outlet above the desk.
The red light turned a solid green. Victory.
He almost called out to Shirley before he remembered the time. Instead, he danced a little jig in his chair.
Well, he thought, it works, now what?
He ran a finger down the assortment of bare inputs on the device, figuring there must be some way to connect it to a terminal, but the ports were ancient, most of which he could not even begin to name. And so he went back to the box.
Sanford, his friendly neighborhood junk vendor, had called him about the lode, had said it came from a derelict UN crawler half-buried in sand, out past the terraforming tower. Maybe there were cables in there…
***
It was USB 4.3, circa 2030-ish. Five adapters and a fairly dubious amount of bridge-paste later, Adam had the board connected to an old terminal he had purchased and refurbished from a United Nations fire sale.
As the sun crested over the horizon, dusty red sunlight pouring into the small apartment, Adam held his breath and powered up the old computer.
The BIOS flared to life, displaying a long-defunct corporate logo in Japanese. The boot screen was replaced by a cascade of alphanumerics, digital gibberish he could barely trace. And then… nothing. A blank screen.
Adam ’ s heart fell. He checked the lead running to the QE node, jostled the adapters, tapped the small chip.
Nothing.
He sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head, running through the list of potential faults.
***
He was awoken by a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“ Hey Adam… honey? ”
It was Shirley. Adam jolted to life, nearly falling from his chair.
Shirley laughed and steadied him. “ Adam, you shouldn ’ t sleep out here, I get cold. ”
Adam placed a hand on hers and smiled. “ Ya, sorry, couldn ’ t sleep… ”
Shirley sucked her teeth. “ Your computer was on again, were you gaming? ”
Adam looked over. “ No, I… I was… what do you mean? ”
“ It was really loud; it woke me up. You know it ’ s bad to spend too much time on those things. ”
Adam shook the sleep from his head. “ What was loud? ” He looked over to the terminal, but the screen was blank.
Shirley was walking to the kitchen. “ Someone kept calling out, I don ’ t know, I didn ’ t really listen. Hey, you want some coffee? ” she called over her shoulder.
Adam froze.
Wordlessly, he powered on the terminal. There was the same logo, the rapid-fire lines of code, then the familiar home screen.
* “ Hello? Hello? Is anybody there? ” *
The voice emanating from the speakers was thin and distant. Adam floundered around his desk for a microphone, found one, and jammed in the plug.
“ Hello! Who is this! ” he all but shouted into the mic.
The apartment was filled with scratchy silence. Adam saw Shirley poke her head into the room, carrying two steaming mugs.
* ” This is Micah, Micah Longview, who ’ s this? ” *
The voice sounded young, high-pitched, and carried a slight lisp. Adam cast a beaming grin back to Shirley, then returned to the terminal.
“ This… this is Adam Stone, from Terra Nova. I didn ’ t think any of these node still worked. This is great! ” He could barely contain his enthusiasm. Somehow, somewhere, this node ’ s mate was functioning, and there was someone there!
Another pause, and the voice returned. * “ What ’ s Terra Nova? ” *
Adam cocked his head. The City was the main colony on Mars, the capital of the New United Nations and bastion of Humanity.
“ Uh… it ’ s the UN capitol… on the Maraldi Sea… ”
Shirley was behind him, cradling a cracked porcelain cup. Adam bit his nails.
* ” Huh, never heard of it. Is that in America? ” *
Shirley handed a mug to Adam. “ What ’ s America? ” she asked. Adam shrugged. “ It was one of the old governments, back on… Earth… ”
A memory surfaced. These nodes were supposedly used to communicate between Earth and Mars, during the early days of the colonies, meaning the other end must be…
He pulled the mic closer.
“ Where are you? ”
Another static-filled pause. Adam reached for his mug and took a tentative sip.
* “ We ’ re in the Cave, silly, where everyone is. ” *
Adam was shaking. He took a deep breath.
“ Ya but… what planet are you on? ”
* ” Um… Earth? ” *
He choked on his coffee.
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[ WP ] Write a story that begins and ends with the same sentence in a way that it takes on a whole new meaning the second time .
| 2 young boys sitting on a ledge. Just a clone 7 graders talking on Saturday night. As they sat they aver looked a sparkling lake about a mile away. They talked about friends, and then school, and even a little bit about girls. Then one of them jumped to stand on the ledge in a panic. Looking over the lake past the surrounding forest he saw smoke. As his friend stood to joined him the vicious flames began to roar over the treeline, entrancing the onlookers. Without word nor thought the boys took off down the lake road in a frenzy. Worrying, even panicking about what was going to happen, the ran. They did n't run as Olympic sprinters nor as daily joggers, but as a lions. They ran with a purpose. They ran to do what they could to help.
About an hour later they arrived at the edge of the city. They stared in wonder at the orange flames towering above the roofline. They saw a man in a camouflage uniform directing people where to go and what to do. They hurriedly walked over to the man careful to avoid any falling debris that may have come because of the fire. The man instructed them to follow the others towards city center. The two boys wondered why they had been instructed to go to the center of a burning city but were to panicked to successfully deal with the situation. Once they reached the city center out of a tunnel they saw a large wooden stage. The fire was n't as intense here. Maybe they hoped to get the fire under control before it got there, the boys reasoned. Then as the crowd gathered in front of the stage, an older man dressed in military dress blues stepped to the podium that was sitting on the stage. `` Citizens, today a few of you have made grave decisions'' he paused, letting the crowd murmur. `` When you incur the wrath of this government you will no doubt surely be met with a swift dose of justice.'' The two boys had made thier way to the front of the crowd at the edge of the stage, and they looked up in terror. The man on the stage turned away from the microphone a moment and muttered to his gaurds `` The two at the front, put them up there'' he said, pointing to the top of the wall behind the stage. The gaurds, without words puked the boys onto the holding them by thier shoulders to prevent struggling. `` This is what happens when you riot in our streets'' the man shouted with authority. A loud bang. Two soft thumps. The gaurds dragged the soulless carcasses to the wall and put them up. Never again would these people riot, for every day they saw them. Two young boys sitting on a ledge.
Sorry for formatting/grammar. Im on mobile right now.: D thanks
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[ WP ] The Devil has been struggling to acquire innocent souls in the mortal realm . Nobody is willing to make a deal or sign a contract with him now that his tricks are so wildly known . As a last resort he inserts `` You will give the Devil your soul '' into the terms and conditions of a popular program .
| Having decided to torrent in and install Skyrim, I noticed a little something something in the terms and conditions that I had n't seen in a while. A hidden bit about me giving the devil my soul. And a phone number to call if I have any questions. Well, the number was new at least. And for a lark, I decided to put my install on hold, and call it.
After the second ring, I suddenly found I was no longer in my room. There was screaming all around me, the place smelled like sulfur, and it was hot as hell -- oh god I'm in hell, this is hell, the phone number sent me to hell. I quickly look around to see just where I am, and I'm in a steel room, with a steel door, a table, and two chairs. All bolted to the floor.
Suddenly, the door opens, and a man in a red suit steps inside. He's got small horns protruding from his head, and the tips of them appear to be on fire. `` Please, Mr. Sanderson, have a seat.'' he states, with the screams of a thousand dying infants in his voice. It is deeply unnerving to say the least. I decide it's best to do what he says, considering where I am. I sit down. The seat is surprisingly comfortable. `` I assume you know where we are.'' he stated. `` We're in hell, I know. I called the number, and got sent here. I guess calling the number sends you to hell too.'' I responded, and sighed. `` Come on, demon dude, just get it over with, please. I know I'm gon na be tortured.'' I added.
`` You're mistaken about a few things. First, we're above hell. You could n't survive being IN hell, and if I killed everyone who called that number, God would be pissed at me. Second, I'm an angel, a fallen one, sure, but an angel. I'm the Devil. Not a minion of mine. And third, no torture for you today. Sorry. However, you are right, the number does send you to me, but that's because I'm customer service. And you'd be surprised how few people ever call that number. Or read enough to notice it.'' he responded, and grinned. `` So, tell me what it is you'd like to know. The number was for if you have questions.'' he added.
`` I... well... huh... You just answered them, to be honest. But... why the terms and conditions for skyrim?'' I asked. `` Oh that, I've been creating the elder scrolls games since the start, and honestly I'm getting desperate to obtain new souls, so I added that to the latest one. Oh and yes, it is still binding if you illegally downloaded the copy of skyrim, before you ask.'' he replied.
`` I see, so I can understand wanting more souls. And I can see the whole thing about deals with the devil and all being real, I get it. And I can respect the attempt, but maybe I can help you out a bit.'' I told him. This got a look I did n't expect to see on the devil's face: surprise. `` Help... me? You're offering to do something, for the devil, to help him obtain souls?'' he asked, in a slightly confused, but still terrifying voice. `` Well, sure. As long as the price is right, after all. I'd like to make a deal with you, but not for my soul, but for all the souls I can get you.'' I told him. Even more surprise, and the flames on his horn tips flared a bit. `` I'm genuinely surprised by all this. According to this paperwork, you've lived a good and boring life, and became a programmer recently. You DO know that I seek the souls of the innocent, right? The guilty are forced to come here regardless. Would you still offer to help me then?'' he asked.
`` Yep, I sure as hell would, pardon my funny.'' I told him. The flames turned from blue to red. `` Okay... What would you want in return?'' he asked. `` I'm not a greedy person, and I can get women on my own, I'm good for a lot of things, how about a million bucks per soul? I could do a lot of good with that kind of green.'' I answered. `` Huh, and what would you have to offer us in return, exactly, if not your soul? How could you get us more souls?'' the Devil asked. `` Simple, I just put my programming skills to good use. I help you develop more games, possibly some apps, stuff like that, and you just watch the souls come flooding in, as I watch the cash come flooding into my bank account, sound good?'' I asked.
He snapped his fingers, a contract appeared before me, with a quill and inkwell of deep crimson. `` Sign the contract, and it's a deal.'' he stated. I began to read it over.
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[ IP ] What story does this photo tell ?
| A life of trials brought them together, it gave them memories and intertwined their hearts. Young they were, inseparable, in love. Moments lead to marriage and gave birth to a life they would share. Life came easy for them, a dance of happiness. Both became lost into each other, their lives a blur of bliss, sweet euphoria. Young souls, young love. Alas youth is a fleeting thing and years wore age into the couple. Passion dissolved into the past and the present brought yearning for what time had taken. The dancing stopped, smiles wilted and still silence entered a once spirited home. Day day day the same disappointment. No longer were they blessed with the beauty they both once possessed, they drifted away from one another. Now strangers on the street they see the others face but an absence of allure allows them to brush past without a word. Their minds remember and their spirits yearn for the unattainable attributes they lack. But away they walk, null and empty. A waltz that ends on a silent dance floor.
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[ WP ] An ancient evil awakens ... only to find out that he is horribly outclassed by 90 % of the current populace .
| THE DIARY OF AN ASSHOLE
If I say I have a cat, the cat would disagree. The cat does not acknowledge ownership. I'm told its a cat thing.
He goes around all day fighting neighbourhood crime and my garbage bin. I do n't know what convinced him that my garbage bin is super-evil. But that is apparently the case.
Every day I come home from work to find the entrails of the vanquished enemy all over my kitchen floor. This makes me wish I could talk to the cat and find out why. But his communication skills are restricted to mono-syllabic meows. This leaves me with two choices - either trust him on his intuition or kick the bugger out.
So now, I've taken it upon myself to let him continue on his life's mission - but to make it harder. Like a video game, every attack is going to be tougher to beat. I'm about to level up my cat. So today, the kitchen door will remain closed. He could still come in through the window, but that would be impossible to pull off. So this is the level design for the day, let's see how he handles that.
As I closed the door behind me and left for work, the cat sat on a far away tree branch and performed a one-sided stare off with me. I couldn ’ t care less if I tried. Actually I could, but I didn ’ t care enough to try.
It's been a year since I woke up, and its been hard. There are days I ca n't get anything done. The commutes are especially hard on me. Sitting in a bus for an hour of silent contemplation really kicks my butt. That and showers. I end up winning imaginary fights with the ancient Gods that I once battled. Of course, I tried mind-controlling other people - that's always fun! The best thing about being in a bus is the array of stationary targets. That simply does not work anymore.
The first time I tried, it was a young guy in shorts. I kept telepathically telling him to murder somebody. I knew he was hearing my voice in his head, I could see the anger building in his face. But then suddenly, he put on some headphones. And after that, whenever I tried to connect, I would hear this great rhythmic cacophony. I'm told it is something called a Rage Against The Machine. I just could n't get shout over that noise.
Since this kept happening, I had to give up on mind control. I took up playing video games to deal with it. No wonder it's hard. These people get to control other people using this gamepad. They're just used to this sort of manipulation - they're immune.
`` An ancient evil awakens! ``, a gleeful man in white lab coats had exclaimed the moment I opened my eyes. That was the first thing I saw. I had so much hope!
I've had an allergy for men in white coats since then. I've avoided them all till today, but today is different. I'm on the way to meet a doctor. I'm told it is something called Diabetes. Apparently putting all that Coca-Cola in an 800 year old body can do this to you.
And what the fuck is a Gluten anyways?
The bus stops and lets in a cop. As if the day was n't fucked enough already. I came to this country in a box as a historical artefact. No way I'm legal. I'd teleport the hell out of here, but this entire bus is a box of metal. Who would have thought they'd have so much metal in the future? We built everything from wood and bricks, and it was good.
Dear diary,
Sorry for my rant, but I'm a little bitty fucked right now.
Thank you for listening.
Former Prime Evil,
Resident Asshole,
EARTH
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[ WP ] Humans reach the boundaries of the universe . All it is is a barbed wired fence with a sign saying 'Test Area , Keep Out ]
| How the hell is this possible?
The thought repeated over and over in my mind. What I saw before my eyes made no sense: a simple chain link fence, topped by two coiled ropes of rusty barbed wire, stretching into infinity in opposite directions. *In outer space. * With one large sign in the middle of it all that read ( in *Basic*, no less ):
**TEST AREA. KEEP OUT. **
The many scientific and logical inconsistencies associated with this infinitely long `` space fence'' quickly led me to make a conclusion, and I endeavored to test it out. Taking a hold of the manual controls, I positioned the ship so that the posterior underbelly faced the cosmic anomaly, and pressed the JETTISON button. The computer thought about it for a minute, and then proceeded to obey, ejecting out the contents of my toilet reservoir right at the sign. I watched as the compressed waste material come closer and closer until it simply vanished through the sign.
A hologram of some sort - just as I thought. The hard part was deciding whether or not to cross it. It might actually be a military testing site by some intergalactic coalition or another. After all, this area of the universe was undefined; some say it was an actual physical `` boundary'', though those same people tend to shut up when presented with evidence for an infinite universe. Regardless, the layman did n't know about this very far-off place, so a secret testing facility was not out of the question. It could also be a hidden den for stellar criminals and smugglers, and crossing into their turf would be a death sentence.
As I sat there pondering, I came to a sudden realization: my ship was suddenly much closer to the fence! I hastily began to pull back, but the controls no longer obeyed me. I frantically switched to automatic and programmed a course in the opposite direction, but that failed, too. Warning lights began to beep and cold beads of sweat dripped down my brow. As the nose of the hull began to disappear into the holo-field, I took a deep, shaky breath and tried to steady my nerves. I was going to need it for whatever awaited me on the other side.
( will continue later!! )
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[ CW ] Write a story where each sentence starts with the next letter of the alphabet .
| Alain looked to the horizon at the building thunderhead, swirling dark and heavy with rain, and he knew it was time to move, always time to move. Bone weary he went through the motions of breaking camp, the routine etched so deeply he could do it while asleep on his feet. Cursed he was and would be till the day he died, or so he had been told that night so many years before and he saw no evidence to prove it untrue.
`` Damn you Alain! ``, she'd said while cradling the head of her dead lover... his own brother, and her eyes began to glow. `` Everywhere you go, every day you live the rain will follow! ``, she said rising to her feet her arms outstretched.
`` For you have taken my love and I give you the curse of my tears.''
Gone in a moment was the jealous rage, replaced by a sorrow so profound he could feel his heart tearing.
His last sight of Cera as he stumbled away into the night was her face raised up to the sky, the rain beginning to fall, mixing with her tears as she keened her grief.
In the years since he had never known a day without the rain, though sometimes if he rode hard and fast he could be clear of it for a few hours. Just once he had tried to stay put and defy his fate, but the rain never abated and rivers began to flood, crops beaten into the mud, the innocent villagers pleading to the Gods, asking why they were being punished so.
Keeping on the move was the only way, a lifetime of being chased by his sins. Looking for a place where he could suffer without harming anyone else, he had found himself far South in the Deadlands of Thraken. Months became years and years became decades as he trudged back and forth across the vast desert living on snakes and scorpions and his endless supply of water.
Noticing the effects of his passage took longer than it might have were he not constantly looking to the past. Only as the changes became glaringly obvious did he look up and wonder. Parched soil drank in the water and life found its way to the Deadlands. Quiet canyons became fast moving rivers and soon the plains were covered in grasses, which brought the animals and soon after people began to migrate to this new land of bounty.
Rising one morning he'd heard people behind the trees, whispering to each other as they watched him `` he's the rainmaker''
Since then he'd found offerings of food and mead left for him along his well worn path, and he found a new dread to keep his shame company as he began to worry what would befall this land and these people when he perished, and the tears dried from the sky.
The days marched on as his steps grew slow and he wondered if his fate in life was only to cause harm to everyone he cared for.
Under a rare cloudless sky one evening he stumbled across a horrific scene of a man beating his wife, the woman obviously near death and crying piteously. Viewing this violence broke something inside Alain as he was transported back to a moonlit meadow where two lovers had lain and where he would feel the pulse in his brother's neck fading under his hands.
Walking up to the man he grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, `` I have something for you, something I've carried too long and now it's time to pass it on''.
Xander was his name, and his life was about to become very different.
`` You're going to have to keep walking, do you hear me?!'' said Alain, his eyes glowing as he held him with the strength of a younger man and the rain began to fall, slowly at first and then building as Alain's own strength faded and he went to his knees.
Zig zagging through the trees, his legs furiously pumping, the new rainmaker tried to outrun his fate, but he could still hear the cries of his wife in the sound of the falling rain.
|
[ WP ] When you touch a person 's hand , you can see their most closely-guarded secret .
| Thunder sounded in the distance and the lightning of distant explosions illuminated the horizon. The small command bunker sit far enough from the front to be out of danger, and the camouflage concealed it from any searching aircraft.
The push to break the defenders had stalled. The attack into the last major city had broken in the suburbs and now a counter-attack was imminent. If the reserves were pushed into the suburbs, the plan might succeed, but if they commit them and a counter-attack occurred... It would spell disaster.
From inside the bunker came screams. Screams of pain.
`` Tell us! Tell us where the counter-attack is coming!'' Another flurry of blows landed on the hooded figure tied to the chair. `` You are the personal attaché to the general. You know more than you are saying!''
The bound man turned his head in the direction of the voice, `` The general does n't trust me with anything! I do n't know!'' His voice had just the right amount of desperation in it to sound convincing, but it was a desperate situation and that meant the torture had to continue.
`` Is Desmond here yet? He will get the information. He always does.''
The hooded face looked left in right, desperate to see what torture lay in store for him.
The flap of the bunker door lifted and a smallish man with wirey arms and a weasel's face stepped through. `` I am here, give me fifteen minutes alone with the prisoner.''
Fifteen minutes. For fifteen minutes the sounds and screams from the bunker became almost unbearable to anyone unfortunate enough to hear. The agony in the man's broken voice spoke of horror no man should endure.
Desmond walked out of the bunker and looked at the gathered officers. `` There will be no counter-attack. The tanks are out of fuel and still days from being able to move.''
The officers quickly rushed into the command bunker to prepare their plans, but one hesitated and looked at Desmond. `` How do you do it? How do you make them talk?''
Desmond lit his cigarette and looked at the young officer. `` I was a doctor actually. Before this war. A surgeon, specializing in hands. Did you know fingers have some of the densest nerve endings of the entire body?''
The young officer's face betrayed his emotion. `` But you were a doctor! You took an oath!''
Desmond finished his cigarette and flicked it into the mud. He turned and began to walk away, but paused. `` From the book of Ezekiel... He despised the oath by breaking the covenant. Because he had given his hand in pledge and yet did all these things, he shall not escape.''
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[ RF ] Two bland people have a believable conversation about normal things that can actually happen .
| `` It's painful, is n't it?'' he said.
`` What?'' she said.
`` This,'' he said.
`` It's not painful; it's just boredom -- ennui or something,'' she said.
`` Can boredom hurt?'' he said.
`` I do n't know,'' she said.
Sometimes they argued, but no more than any of the happy couples they knew. After every argument, he would bring her coffee in bed the next morning, or she would make his favorite meal for dinner the next night, and things moved along smoothly.
And each still very much loved the other. They still took off work the day after their anniversary and bought the darkest chocolate they could find for Valentine's Day.
By their senior year in high school, everyone knew they would eventually get married. They decided to wait until after college to keep open the possibility of typical college promiscuity, though neither of them planned on taking advantage of the precaution, and neither of them did.
He proposed to her on the night of her graduation. He used to picture the proposal as a big affair, perhaps surprising her at the park in their hometown one afternoon, family and friends converging on them, their eyes glistening as he dropped to one knee. But he could n't wait. So he brought the ring to her graduation and did it quietly while her parents were retrieving the car. Strangers hugged graduating family members, talked about the best places in town to go for dinner, all oblivious to this moment the two of them shared.
And after almost three years of marriage, here they were, sitting at the outdoor table of a coffee shop.
`` It must hurt,'' he said. `` It's supposed to hurt.''
`` It must, but I do n't know that it does.''
`` I wish it did.''
Strangers walked by, shopping downtown, discussing weekend plans.
This is the way our worlds are, not colliding but concentric.
|
[ CC ] Gunship !
| First impressions are that it's interesting. When you mentioned world building I was worried you'd go too much into describing your world, but I'm pleased that you did n't - it feels like a story about characters, which is how it should be. The snippets of the world that I did see were intriguing, and I think it's got good potential as the setting for your story. It's a little early to say much about the story itself, but there were no major red flags in that part that I read. I did n't have time to cover the whole thing, but I've gone up to the chapter break and tried to pick out anything that was worth mentioning in there:
> We will continue along our predetermined flight path to the rendezvous with the stolen weapon. ”
'Stolen weapon' here feels like it exists for the reader's benefit, and does n't really feel like it's how they would refer to it in an official transmission ( especially since, later on, we learn that it's not really a stolen weapon in the literal sense ). It's not a huge problem here, but in general I think it's best to avoid characters saying things ( or avoiding saying things ) simply for the reader to know ( or keep them from knowing ) it, unless they have a good reason to say that thing in context. In this case, it'd probably be more natural for them to refer to is as'the target'. If you want to make it clear that it's a stolen weapon, you could follow that up with something like'we will confirm again once the weapon is back in our possession'. ( The difference is subtle, but it no longer feels like they're telling the receiver anything they would already know ).
This comes up again later when the old man is telling Lok a bunch of stuff about the girl - if he has n't got a good reason to reveal all that information to Lok, it's going to feel forced.
> The young Armorian breathed the thin air of the airship ’ s cabin with a deep, resigned sigh. Everything had gone smoothly thus far.
Why is he sighing if everything has gone smoothly?
> an encoded radio signal **to the main fleet** hundreds of miles away **to the main fleet** in a far off land
Extra words here!
> A moment passed after the message was sent... It was only then after the message was sent that the young Armorian realized how tired he was.
We've already watched the message being sent, so you do n't really need to tell us that the next event happens'after the message was sent'. You certainly do n't have to tell us so twice!
> In a burst of sound that nearly made Lok hit the ceiling
The switch from'young Amorian' ( which to be fair, was getting a bit repetitive ) to'Lok' is n't clearly signposted - I assume they're the same person, since nobody else is mentioned up until this point. A more natural segue would be to keep referring to him as the Amorian until the orders come through ( which mention him by name ), then have him respond to it ( still as the'young Amorian' ), so the reader now knows that that's his name. Then refer to him as Lok.
Alternatively just make him Lok from the beginning, since you do n't really gain anything from withholding his identity.
> He reached into his fatigues and produced an ancient pocket watch. A pocket watch so old that the face of the watch itself had nearly rusted beyond recognition, so rusted and broken that Lok initially had no idea the device was a clock. It was a watch that had long ago ceased counting the seconds of each day, whose only value was in the stories that the rust and dents told of a time almost forgotten...
There are a few places where it feels like you repeat yourself in your description. It's true here, but also when you describe the air in the cabin and later on with the dead pin. In this case, all three sentences overlap in content. The first two both tell us how old the watch is, and the second/third both tell us that the watch is broken. It's not bad writing necessarily, but it's slow and feels redundant. You could consolidate this to make it flow better.
Skipping forward...
> “ You there, did you send the message!? ” The old man gasped...
I assume Lok has delivered reports to the bridge before, since he's been called up by name? If so, it probably makes sense that he'd know the name of the guy in charge, and you would n't have to keep calling him'the old man'. If Lok *doesn't* know who he is, then I'd make a bigger deal of the fact that this is a guy he's never met before.
> “ I ’ m supped to wait to tell you this, but it makes no difference at this point. Our raid on the excavation site wasn ’ t to steal any kind of technology, rather, a person of special importance. ”
I do n't understand why he's telling Lok this at all, let alone breaking the rules to do it, since he's so far been treating him like scum. It feels like one of those unnecessary monologues that only exists to tell the reader something. It might be more believable to have him tell someone else instead, or to tell Lok but in way that's more in keeping with their relationship ( i.e. Lok asks who the girl is, and he replies something along the lines of `` you thought we were here to steal some kind of technology? you're not very bright, are you?'' ).
The'weapon is actually a young girl with a special power' idea feels a bit cliched, but that might just be me - I ca n't actually remember where I've seen it before.
> The old man lifted his gaze so Lok could see his sunken eyes clearly, they almost appeared compassionate.
I'm getting real mixed messages here about the old man's relationship to Lok. He goes from completely dismissive and referring to him as'you there' or'thief' a few paragraphs before, to looking compassionate and speaking to him closely by name, not to mention giving him a load of information above his pay grade. It just does n't seem consistent.
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[ WP ] Humans have adapted to hibernate and society has had to change due to this .
| There's a price for forever.
It's one of the first sayings we learned in school, right after the story of Rip Van Winkle and Sleeping Beauty. My mom says other fairy-tales used to be more popular, and we learn those too, but Cinderella and Little Red Riding Hood always just seem silly. Not real. But my mom says that Rip Van Winkle and Sleeping Beauty used to be just stories too, before the Sleep.
We learn a lot about the Sleep in school, and not just in English. In science class they tell us about the nanotechnology that allows us to regenerate cells, to keep our organs young and healthy. About the big laboratories full of the cryotubes, where people lie down into the ice for five or ten or sometimes even twenty years, if their organs are real bad. There their heartbeats are slowed until it's like their dead, but they're not of course. No one dies now. Except in movies. Movies and fairy tales.
In Social Studies, they tell us about how the Sleep effects government. How they came up with the revolving method. Science says that the process has to be done every forty years -- but the trick is that if everyone waited until their fortieth birthday society would n't work. All the people of the same age would go away at the same time. There would n't be enough teachers or plumbers or firemen.
So they make all the adults sign up when they're twenty-five, and then they're given a ticket. The grown-upds do n't know when they're ticket will be called, because it's too complicated. All they know is that it could be. And then they only get one chance to go. If they miss it. They miss it.
I never get why Ms. Apersand ( that's my social studies teacher ) kept telling us that last part so much. I mean, I got it the first time. The adults had to do it. But she just kept saying it over and over again with these big pleading eyes like she was so sorry. She kept looking at this one kid named Caden while she did it too. Like she had hurt him, and wanted to apologize but could n't.
I mean, yeah next week Kaden moved to Texas to be with his Mom, cause his dad's ticket got called. But everyone knew he liked his mom better anyway, he was always complaining about his dad, and some people even say Kaden asked the police to call his dad early because he was so mean. Except everyone knows criminals do n't get the Sleep.
So I thought maybe Ms. Apersand's ticket had come up or something. But she finished out the year. I kinda wish she had n't. Mr. Bribkane, the other social studies teacher, always liked me better. He would n't have given me a C+.
I remember being so worried to show my Mom my report-card on the last day of school. She worked as a store-greeter, helping the robots help the customers at our local Nuts & Bolts, and she was determined that I ace coding and the rest of school so I would n't end up like her -- controlled by the bots instead of controlling them.
But when I got home she had a paper of her own in her hands.
`` Samma,'' she said. She was on her feet at the kitchen counter with a glass of milk in her hand. I knew then that something was wrong, because usually after work she was so tired she always had to sit down. And she always gave me milk right before bed, or when I had a tantrum. Milk was too expensive for daily drinking.
But I was n't upset yet. But she thought I was going to be.
`` Mom,'' I hid the reportcard behind my back and scooted over to the refrigerator. `` Did you get a bonus at work?'' I could n't think of how else she could afford the milk.
Mom shook her head. `` No, sweetie. Here, come sit down.'' She patted the seat near the counter. But she did n't sit down herself.
I looked at the milk and my stomach felt sour. Like it was milk too, but days and days old. `` What's going on?''
She sighed. And took out her paper first. `` I've got some news, sweetie. You know about the Sleep right?''
Normally, I would've said something to that like duh. But my mouth did n't want to move, and my brain did n't either.
She went on though. She knew I knew about the sleep. She just did n't want to tell me what she was going to tell me. And she knews I do n't want to hear it. `` Well,'' she tried to smile, but it was like one of those t-shirts she gets me second-hand, a size too small and ripped. `` My ticket was called.''
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[ WP ] You 're living in a city built on an artificial island that floats on the ocean . One day , the city is tossed around as the seas turn rough . A major storm is approaching .
| `` The ground is shaking!''
Aside from the thunder booming behind the jet black clouds, and the waves crashing against the buildings, the panic of the people of Utopia is the only thing that can be heard
This city has n't been around for very long. It was created as an escape just incase something went wrong at the nuclear plant on the mainland. We were lucky to have finished the city just in time, for something *did* go wrong. Even though one city was completely obliterated, the radiation that was emmited from the explosion covered majority of the province.
Fortunately, a whole lot of people were able to climb onto the boats en route to the island before the nuclear reactor went off. If it were n't for the warning that we recieved over the radio, the number of people that survived would have drastically dropped. Despite the destruction of the land we used to call home, and for many of us the death of the people who used to call our friends, today we are still able to live on. For three decades, this city has given the survivors refuge; including my daughter, Iris, and I.
`` I know honey, just hold on tight. We'll be fine. They said nothing can destroy this city, remember?''
When Iris and I arrived at this city, we along with several hundered survivors were promised one thing: we will all be safe here. The engineers that have built this city claimed that this city has been built with `` next gen engineering: capable of withstand three tsunamis at once''. I knew this was a lie just to keep us all calm from the begining, but I'm not one to be bursting other people's bubbles.
`` But mommy, the ground is shaking! That's not a good thing!'' Iris replies, with tears running down her cheek
`` I know that sweety, but crying is n't gon na solve anything, alright?'' I say in an attempt to calm her down. It does n't seem to help her at all. `` Let's turn on the radio and see what's going on, okay''
I run to the kitchen table, where the radio sits in place. Fortunately there's still signal.
`` *Attention! All citizens are requested to stay indoors! I repeat! All citizens are requested to stay indoors! Please stay away from any windows and make sure all appliances are unplugged! Attempt to stay inside at all times! *''
`` Oh what are they taking about!? This city ca n't withstand all of this pressure!? ``, I mutter to myself quietly, making sure Iris does n't hear me essentially saying that we're all doomed.
`` Iris! Stay away from the windows, alright?'' I warn
`` Ok, Daddy'' I hear faintly from the other room. Soon after, the man on the radio has something new to say.
`` *Attention! This city is not going to make it! If you want to live, head over to the docks, where there are boats ready to escape! *''
`` Iris! Get ready! We're going to have to run to the docks!'' I scream. I do n't want a storm kill someone I love.
But it seems as if my wishes do n't matter, for I could see a wave heading straight toward our house through the window.
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Magic is Hereditary , but the child 's powers is the sum of his parents . Fire Witch + Sand Wizard= Glass magic [ WP ]
| Cassie was a lava witch. Her skill with rock and fire knew no bounds.
Tobias was a steam warlock. Rare even by today's standards, an aspiring steam engineer.
Mary-Sue was highly proficient in book food and medicine, her tarts could take away any ache.
And then there is me. The fourth student of the village school. Son of a story-dreamer and of a bard who had passed through town just 15 years ago. Music... and sleep... not exactly two tools I could use at the same time. I sighed in dissatisfaction, staring out at the tree tops that surrounded the village. Cassie was growing a stone statue out of the ground, a large Vincentus Victori statue that paid homage to the great warlock as much as any other. The soft curves of the giant face she was detailing were better than could be made by hand. Warlock Victori had it easy, his storm magic stronger than any other. Tobias was probably off in his workshop. Mary-Sue had stopped by earlier with egg-pastry, but even her magic had done little to improve my mood. I had three weeks left to show some skill - any skill - or I would be the first person ever kicked out from my village's magic school. A squib.
I had written to my uncle three days before, asking him what I should do. My mother's brother the only person I could turn to. My mother was a kind soul, but no help in a real-world crisis - her skills leaving her invested more in the spirit world than in this one. I could n't turn to my father of course, he'd had left before my mother had even started to show signs of my impending presence, his arrival temporary from the outset. I was not expecting to hear back from my uncle for many days yet, so I was surprised to see the little paper-bird come tumbling out of the sky to my feet. It raised itself up, gave a two-chirp salute and unfolded into a neat letter between my boots. I could see straight away why it had struggled to fly, he had tucked two heavy gold coins inside; a lot of money. I raised the letter to my face, scanning the words several times before I truly took them in:
> Nephew,
> Sorry to hear of your current bother.
> I would come in person but I am currently in the arctic wastes, searching for ruined frost runes in frost rune ruins.
> I have sent you some money to tide you over, I would suggest two things, if they should please you.
> Firstly venture further than you have before, chase the wind, travel far, find your magic and return to take your tests.
> Secondly - though just as importantly - go visit my friend Altaus in Beckintown. He has good advice for those clever enough to hear it.
> Kindest regards,
> Always,
> Mexicallius, Wizard of lost-findings and of old things
It was clear what I had to do, it should have been obvious to me too. If i'd never found my magic here before, why would I think i'd find here it in the next few weeks. I had to look further afield.
Within an hour I had spoken to my mother and agreed the trip with the school tutors. They were enthusiastic about the idea, though that may have just been pleasure at the thought of not having to waste time trying to teach me for a few weeks. I hit the road running and was quarter-way to Beckintown by the time the sun had set. This was about as far as I had ever gone from town and the stark realization of my situation had started to settle in. Two gold coin was a fair amount in the village, though it would n't go far in town. I had no magic to defend myself from bandits, no magic to earn money with, not even enough magic of my own to conjure a fire - though Cassie had gifted me some ever-hot rocks for that purpose at least. I was glad of the fire, my coat was thin and built to travel between woodland huts, not for the wind-stricken plains that ran alongside the king's road. I watched as others drifted along the road in twilight, avoiding the fires that like mine dotted the side of the road. The best defense I would have in case of any trouble would be to lie. Pretend I was a storm warlock or an ice mage. I was still musing about what to be when I noticed the figure standing nonchalantly by my fire. She was a young girl, about my age, but with the features of a girl who had traveled the road whilst I was still a babe in my crib. I sneaked a look around, checking that she was not distracting me for another person, but we were alone.
We were silent for several minutes, her standing, me sitting, each trying not to stare at the other. `` You can sit if you like'' I announced at last `` share my fire''. She hesitated but did so silently. Neither of us quite comfortable enough to sleep around the other, we sat in silence until daybreak. I traveled the next three days alone, stopping each night to find her silently at my fire. The day that Beckintown appeared on the horizon, she slipped away and did n't come back. I pushed myself to travel fast, reaching the town about an hour after the sun had set. The lights in the town more than sufficient to find my way through. I stopped at three taverns and two shops on the main street before I found directions to Altaus's house. It was a small rundown shack on the outskirts of the town, but after introductions and a bowl of broth, a real bed seemed like a little piece of heaven in the dusty plains that I had been travelling through.
I awoke to the smell of cooked bacon and the gentle strums of a lute. I had always hated music. It reminded me of the father I never knew in a painful way, but I had never before heard the sounds of a lute. The soft repetitive strumming of the notes that each seemed to compliment the ones before and after. I waited until he finished the tune before daring to ask a question. `` Was that magic?'' I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. `` It is'' he replied after some time `` I am the son of a bard and a healer, my music will heal most wounds''. I sat in stunned silence for quite a while, now I knew why my uncle had sent me here. Another son of a bard, if anyone could show me my magic it could be him.
I offered him both gold coins and a third that I did not have, but still he would not teach me. I begged and pleaded for a week but his mind would not be moved. I prepared my things to leave the next day, halfway through my three weeks and no closer to finding my goal. I clipped on a thick cloak that I had purchased in town, feeling slightly more prepared at least for the road. Not willing to return home a failure I turned away from the way I had come, setting my sights on the far mountains, unsure as to whether I would ever return this way. Altaus stood at the door, watching me walk away, his normally stoic face finally showing a small amount of emotion. `` Wait'' he announced, walking over towards me holding something out `` This is a flute'' he sighed leaving the small metal tube in my hand and starting to walk away `` learn to play it''.
I walked towards the mountains feeling no further to my goals. The flute tucked into my belt poking me in the stomach as I walked, filling me with resentment. I stopped near dusk to make camp, taking out my ever-hot stone and putting up the small tent I had bought. I turned to see to the fire and saw that it was already made. The girl carrying another armful of firewood to the fireside and settling down next to it. I held out the flute to her, `` I do n't suppose you play?''. She looked at it and me thoughtfully, then settled down to sleep by the fire.
I awoke to music again, making me sure that it had all been a dream, that I was still with Altaus in the town. The bed was not as comfortable though, the smell of bacon and eggs replaced with firewood and grass. The girl sat just outside my tent, playing the flute with all the skill of a professional. I sat, silently, watching and trying to mirror her movements with my own. She finished her song and handed me the flute, grimacing as I tried - unsuccessfully - to play the song that she had made. She sat attentively, correcting my misplaced fingers with a sharp rap from her knuckles and before noon I could even start to hear the song behind my notes. I stood eventually, as the sun rose to its highest point in the sky, making half a days trip closer to the mountains. The girl tagging along behind, never catching up, never dropping away.
I camped next to a stream, some nearby trees reminding me of the home that I could not return to, not until I find my magic. Only if I find my magic soon. So soon. The tears felt hot as they traveled down my cheeks, the girl hovering about, clearly upset by my emotion. She pulled up at my flute, sticking it between my lips and frantically trying to distract me from my deep sobbing. I played then, as though I had been playing all of my life. The tune fluid and moving, my feet beating a heavy pitter-patter on the floor as my lungs breathed life into the tune. I stopped when I had run out of breath, realizing that the pitter-patter was no longer my own, but the heavy rains falling from the sky. The river flowing swollen and threatening to break its banks. I collapsed, exhausted, barely feeling the girls efforts to push me into my tent, out of the heavy rain.
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[ WP ] You have the ability to rewind time at any moment . But only by 30 seconds .
| It was hard to live like this. Oh yes, I went through the battle perfectly - eventually. No, I was n't hurt - in the final runthrough. But it took days, weeks, to get the battles right. Even conversations, sometimes, I could n't resist the temptation to rewind and make a different joke, to not stutter, to change my phrasing or not say something. Everyone liked me and was impressed by the mighty, the perfect Paragon.
But in this case, I had planned it out so that I would n't be able to rewind. It would n't be fair. I had written my question in the note, and... `` Arcturus?'' I said to my teammate, handing her the folded paper. `` Can you open this, but wait 30 seconds first?''
-- -
Disclaimer: I know I've seen a superhero who had this power in a web-serial before, and I was inspired by this. But I ca n't remember what it was!
Edit: it was the Mulligan from [ the Last Skull ] ( http: //the-last-skull.blogspot.com/? m=1 )
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[ WP ] In the future the dropout rate of American high schools skyrockets from 8 % to 25 % In an effort to curb this alarming trend the U.S. government passes a law sending all dropouts into the army , non-lethal labor camps , or jail . In the face of this new reality one soon-to-be dropout devises a plan .
| I pick up the newspaper with a glimpse of hatred in my eyes. Congress just passed a Bill saying all High School dropouts need to go to the military.
`` Shit,'' I say
`` Whassamatter?'' says John, my friend. `` I thought we were in the clear.''
`` Well,'' I said, `` All people need to go to the military if they drop out''
`` Shit,'' John says. `` Let me see that.''
After five minutes, John asks: `` you thinking what I'm thinking?''
`` Yeah,'' I said, `` time for tricks.''
Two hours later, I came up with a realization.
`` Hey-ca n't we just set up a fake private school? It'd legally work''
`` Yeah! Good idea. Let's call it Nadoff High school.''
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[ WP ] An alien arrives on earth with the sole mission of destroying earth and all of its inhabitants . Upon his arrival he starts to reconsider .
| _Oh I estimate four, maybe seven hundred words, he says... _
-- -
“ No. ”
The floor begins to fall silent, but it ’ s a slow process. One by one, the gathered sentients pause their conversations to try and figure out why their peers have done so. They ’ re not even halfway done by the time the First Representative speaks up.
“ What is the meaning of this! ” the slim alien demands, his voice melodious and untranslated.
“ No. ” the voice repeats. It is deep and grating, with an almost mechanical echo. Now the entire room is silent, what was to be a boring, regular session taking a turn for the unheard of.
“ You were given an order! ” the First Representative shouts, standing up. Even with his considerable height, he would be dwarfed by the massive alien on the other end of the communication channel. Instead, the central pit is filled by an even larger projection of its monstrous bust.
“ It will not be obeyed. ” says the creature. Many sentients would describe it as insectoid, but crustacean is just as valid a description. Powerfully built and covered in heavy, jagged- and sharp-edged armor, it is a fearsome sight, its multiple eyes deep-set in a brutish face glaring at the First Representative in clear defiance, arms crossed, one pair resting on the other.
“ You are an Avatar of the Concord Council, and you will obey its orders! ” he cries, a long finger at the end of a thin arm pointed upwards in accusation. “ The indigenes of that world are a threat, and they must be eradicated! ”
“ I will do no such thing. And neither will you. ” There are whispers in the council chambers. Sentients refuse to acknowledge what they understand to be happening.
“ They are a threat! They are violent and warlike --! ” insists the First Representative, but is interrupted by laughter. Deep, booming, slow laughter. It fills the hall, and presses the representatives into their seats.
“ You do not know violent and warlike. ” the Avatar speaks eventually. “ The Swarm was violent and warlike! The League was, and the Few, and my people. But Humans… Humans are something else! ”
The giant ’ s eyes scanned the crowd. None dared speak, not even the First Representative. He was giving out quiet orders, while the others stopped their whispering when they felt his gaze on them. Unchallenged, he continued.
“ My people, we were violent and warlike -- but beneath it, we were driven by arrogance. As were the Few, by blind idealism, and the League by greed. The Swarm, instinct! But Humans… ” His teeth were bared and his eyes glinted with a terrifying awe as he spoke. “ Humans glorify violence. They worship it! The civilians, coddled into safety, they craft and harbor violent fantasies of justice and revenge. For simple enjoyment, they engage in great rituals of competition and repeated simulations of warfare and bloodshed! Those too weak, too unskilled? They celebrate those who compete! They condemn their criminals, then turn around and cry for their blood! Their very idea of peace is simply the brink of another war! They -- ”
“ That ’ s enough! ” shouts the First Representative, at the massive creature that falls silent with the victorious expression. “ That list only reaffirms what this Council has already decided. You will eradicate the Human race or -- ”
“ Or what, First Representative? ” interrupts the creature, leaning forward so that its vast head appears even larger. “ You will wipe out my species? ” His eyes widen, as does his maw. “ Again? ” he adds with a mad look of long-held resentment. His sight moves across the chamber, finding none daring to hold it.
... No. Almost none.
The Gobbos representative rears up -- such an unexpected, fascinating development. “ Revoke his powers! ” She calls out. “ We made him, we can unmake him! Revoke his powers! ”
And then, another voice joins hers. There is chaos, and the mad bravery that only a herd can provide. Revoke, they cry. Revoke! Revoke!
“ By the powers invoked in me by the Concord Council -- ” rises up the voice of the First Representative, cutting through the noise and forcing it down. “ -- I am calling a vote to revoke the powers of the Shiva Avatar. ” He stares the immense projection in the eyes as it growls daringly. “ Effective immediately. Cast your votes now! ”
Seconds pass. That ’ s all that ’ s needed. The sentients move, and cast their votes. For this clear act of defiance, the result can surprise nobody. The decision is the nearest to unanimous the Council has come in decades.
“ The Council has decided. ” the First Representative speaks victoriously, straightening up. “ Your status as Avatar is no more. ” The beast raises up a hand, then lets a fall onto his armored forearm. “ Your powers are hereby revoked. ” Again, the hand rises and falls. The First Representative nods to one of his aides, then watches the projection in anticipation.
The Avatar lets his hand fall.
The Council watches in silence.
Moments pass. The hand rises and falls. Nothing happens. The hand measures out another beat. The Council members are beginning to urgently whisper amongst themselves. The hand falls. The First Representative looks at his aide. “ Activate it. ” he says.
“ It ’ s… already active. ”
The hand falls. The creature opens its maw.
“ Activate the killswitch! ”
The whispering becomes more urgent, more panicked.
“ It ’ s already active, sir! ”
Beat.
“ It ’ s not working! ”
_Beat._
“ I can see that, sir! ”
The hand falls one more time, and this time, the creature laughs. It laughs, slow and long, and all eyes in the chamber are on it, so many minds realizing the horrifying implications. Finally, the Avatar speaks. “ I have had many centuries to figure out a way past the kill switch. Please, tell me, what now? ” It taunts them, eyes sweeping the crowd once more. This time, the sentients cower. “ Will you send another Avatar? None can match me. None ever could. Or perhaps you ’ ll gather your fleets? Your proud ships, pitted against an Avatar? Oh, the destruction that would cause. I simply can not wait. ”
“ You will fail! ” the First Representative shouts, but even his voice wavers with fear. And yet, the mirth is gone from the monster ’ s voice and expression.
“ No, you pompous old fool. Your predecessors condemned my people to extermination for refusing to acknowledge beauty. So I shall bring you beauty. I shall show you the most beautiful, the most dangerous race in all of creation. You do not even realize it, but you already gave them what they always needed. The greatest gift you could give. ” And he grins, and there is a distant look in his eyes. “ You gave them an enemy. And they will never forgive you. ”
“ This isn ’ t --! ”
“ This exchange, ” booms the Avatar, “ is over. ”
And with that, the projection shuts off, displaying a multilanguage warning about a signal lost. And the Council sits in stunned silence. And so begins the second, and last, Shivan War.
-- -
_-083 | [ more ] ( /r/vonBoomslang ) _
|
[ WP ] Piggy bank
| The piggy bank sits on the kitchen bench, a squat, happy pig. His fat white belly has been marked with childish letters that read `` My First Piggy Bank'' and he is proud to be among one of the many `` firsts'' for these children.
He loves the children. There used to be just the one, but now there are two. A little boy and a red-headed girl. They do n't come to him often, but when they do, the piggy loves the feel of his warm dirty fingers on his back, the clink of the coins as he drops them, one, two three, through the slot. He loves the sound of the high girlish voice as she counts her coins in.
The piggy bank is happy. From where he sits, he can watch the children play on the rug in the morning sun that shines in the kitchen window. He can see the family as they sit at the table for their meals, or the children when they sit there to write and draw.
He waits in eager anticipation of the day when his belly will be full of the jingling coins, and the children will be shown how to open him and pour the shiny things out. His smile seems to grow as he waits for that day of learning and laughter and warm, keen childish hands.
|
[ WP ] Lead me through a battle of wits between a hero and a villain .
| `` Hello, Shep.''
I cringed at the sound. It was the voice of a man I'd spent many years and many millions of dollars to be rid of, and his cool, tempered voice made my ears turn red and every muscle tense. I was a child receiving a shot - only this shot was supposed to be fucking dead.
`` If you're listening to this recording, I've been dead for 8 hours and 23 minutes. Also, not coincidentally, if I've been dead for 8 hours and 23 minutes, then you're listening to this recording. WPNU, 1240 AM, between the hours of 8 and 9 in the morning. I promise to return to `` Morning Joe with Joe'' in just a minute, but before I do, there are some things you need to understand.''
I jerked the wheel and made my way across the bridge. What went wrong? At some point in the last 8 hours and 23 minutes, I had made my biggest mistake yet. I had made that mistake because I had let my guard down. I had let my guard down because I had finally killed the man who had been on my tail me for the better part of a year. Somehow, in death, Gage has managed to keep chase.
`` I've seen how this ends, Shep, and I do n't like it. I'm annoyed that the end of this dance takes place after you manage to kill me, but what better time is there to put pressure on your king, pardon the cliche, than after you think the game is over?''
Turning on to 4th street, my tires whined subtly. I could feel my heart pounding in my forehead. How did he know I'd be listening to WPNU right now? `` Shep'' does n't listen to `` Joe with Joe'', `` Arthur'' does. Arthur, Arty, who lives with his two dogs and paints birdhouses. That's how it's been from the beginning. That's why no one has been able to catch me. I'm two people. Shep is the murderer. He's the one with the god complex and the means to kill.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I'm not done with this, but I have to go. I'll edit in a few hours.
OKAY, done. Story continues here:
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
It happened then as it had happened before. Time began to slow. My ears sort of switched off and my eyes went out of focus. There in front of me were all the events of the past several days and the delicate golden strands that connected them. One of these strands was dirty. Rotten. It was n't supposed to be there. It's not part of the tapestry. Which one?
Speeding now. 60 or 65 miles per hour. If I'd been aware, I would have noticed more than one dirty look from pedestrians and other drivers as I barreled past them. However, I was busy losing a staring contest with the LCD display on my radio.
Where is the thread! Clean.... clean... clean... They're all clean! And there's Arthur at the center, with no threads running to or from. CLEAN! And yet fucking GAGE is here on my favorite program, fucking *mocking me*! HOW?
It's there, I'm just not seeing it. The world's greatest mind is blank. The world's second greatest mind got a bullet through it and yet somehow, it's picked up on something that I fucking ca n't see?
`` You got greedy, Shep. Three marks in thirty seconds, spread more than a mile apart? The senator, the Chief of Police, and, unfortunately, myself. Such a grand gesture. And one that you, in your arrogance, would surely make. It's a classic flaw - *the* classic flaw, even - hubris. It's been ending heroes and psychopaths alike for thousands of years and there's a spot there where your tally is going to go in one minute and... thirty eight seconds''
*What? * He's posturing. No way - no *fucking* *way!! *
`` Did you ask yourself why my plans changed so drastically that night? Why I took a helicopter to the top of the Americo building just to make a phonecall?''
The thought *had* crossed my mind.
`` Chess is a game of location, and you've been cheating. I do n't know how you mark people, but the how is irrelevant. Somehow, you are able to track, with high precision, the movements of your targets in real time. So I moved, and you reacted. Chess. The Chief of Police at the stadium, the senator in his living room, myself at the northwest corner at the top of a skyscraper, and you barreling down the road to the only place in the universe from which you can see all three.''
He knows about the water-tower! Goddammit! What did I leave there? No! I was perfect! I'm always perfect! Did he see my face? He must have seen my car, but I knew he would, and I knew it would n't matter, because he was going to die!
`` That's right, Shep. By now, you're wracking your brain to try to figure out what the final clue was - what you left at the scene that lead me to posthumously learn your real name. Just stop. It does n't matter.''
Clipped the curb on a right turn down Champion's Cup Commemorative Boulevard. Weaving in and out of lanes. Fuck the water-tower, I've got to get out of the *city*. What was my mistake? Who was he on the phone with?
`` The only thing that matters now, Shep, is that you're out of time. My agent is directly behind you now.''
Impossible! I whirled around, fumbling for my gun. Straining my eyes after wiping away the sweat, I could make out... nothing.
Heh.
Seemed he did n't have it all figured out. I wondered what poor bloke was being pulled over at just that moment, somewhere else in the city, and I laughed nervously to myself.
Then, at 8:47 and change, two minutes and 15 seconds since the beginning of the pirate broadcast, every traffic light in the inner city went straight to red. An attentive driver travelling the speed limit, or even a little over, would have no problem coming to a stop. A driver who is, say, facing backwards and traveling thirty mph *over* might have a little more trouble.
As I barreled through the intersection, red and blue lit up all around me, and as from nothing, helicopters appeared in the sky above.
Was it a spike strip? Was one of my tires shot? I'm spinning. It's all coming to an end. My velocity drops from 74 to zero in an instant and my crumpled front license plate is now almost two feet closer to me than it was one second ago. I rest my head on the steering wheel and close my eyes. Gage's voice continues to radiate from the car's speakers, in spite of the car's new and terrible condition. His voice has taken on a new quality. The play is over.
`` Officer Barrett, by this point, Interim Chief Barrett, I hope you find this recording intact. I'm sorry I will not be able to save the others, tonight. I've only just deduced that they and myself are tonight's targets. I'm standing on top of the Americo building and I'm about to be shot by Shep. I do n't know where he is. I do n't know who he is. But there's a good chance we can catch him tomorrow morning. At exactly 8:45 am, you are to play this recording, in it's entirety, on every radio station that broadcasts to the city. Then at fifteen seconds past 8:47, you are to change all traffic lights directly to red. Many cars will run this light. One will do so spectacularly. That car is driven by Shep. Now, for each station, you will need to make a unique version of this recording. Where I said, `` Barrett, edit here'', please place the relevant clip from the following:''
Gage clears his throat.
`` WAFV, 1210 AM, between the hours of 8 and 9 in the morning. I promise to return to `` Morning Minutes'' in just a minute, but before I do, there are some things you need to understand... WPNU, 1240 AM, between the hours of 8 and 9 in the morning. I promise to return to `` Morning Joe with Joe'' in just a minute, but before I do, there are some things you need to understand.... WERA, 1330 AM between the hours of 8 and 9 in the morning. I promise to return to `` Blue Wednesdays'' in just a minute, but before I do, there are some things you need to understand...''
For station after station.
Gage had bet his life and won.
Blood poured from my head and neck. No longer breathing - one or both lungs collapsed.
``... WPLR, 103.9 FM, between the hours of-''
The last thing I heard was the sound of my 50 caliber round punching through Gage and his body collapsing on the ground. A handheld recorder clattering across a rain-slick roof.
Then darkness.
|
[ WP ] It 's been years since the hero lost . Nothing 's really changed .
| *It was blistering cold at the steps of the City Hall in October. The kind of cold that made the concrete look harder, made everything seem sharper and more painful. The crowd bustled together wrapping themselves in coats and scarves waiting for Mayor Maningham to make his address. It was one year to the day since Clayton City lost its hero, Valiant Sam. When Maningham arrived at the podium, he fluffed his coat just before he made his speech. I remember it like it was yesterday…*
“ The whole thing ended with a bang. ”
*Actually it was more like a pop. A small one and it was nothing extravagant, at least from the standpoint of a hero ’ s death. *
“ Just one bang and the world lost a champion. ”
*Ironically, that same small pop took away its only real devil too. A champion and a devil removed by the sound of gun. *
“ Valiant Sam was taken from us by a mistake, a mistake made with the best intentions, but a mistake nonetheless. ”
*Yeah… sad little world sometimes. That officer ’ s bullet was meant for me… cop didn ’ t have a clear shot but he took it anyway. Sam paid for it, and I ran. *
“ Our champion gave this city more than any mayor ever could. He gave this city more than any single person could. He gave us hope. ”
*You can ’ t be a hero without a villain. It required both of us. Hope needed the two of us to exist. *
“ In that hope there was a light, a beacon saying ‘ Come to me! Join me in a better tomorrow! ’ In our darkest hours he stood for justice, and in our time of need he answered the call to be our savior. ”
*From where we were standing, high up above the rest of the city ’ s people, there was never any real danger… there was only the plan. *
“ From bombs… ”
*Fakes…*
“ Kidnappings… ”
*Pre-arranged deals…*
“ Attempted murders… ”
*Actors need rent money too... *
“ And finally arson… ”
*Our only real mistake, my only real mistake, I flicked my cigarette into the wrong gasoline bin when he arrived on scene…*
“ Valiant Sam was there to save those in peril from Sinister Sylvie. In his memory we must press on, to that new horizon, that better tomorrow. To his memory, I present Clayton City the statue of Sam. ”
*The statue is actually very handsome, but it will never be Sam. We were supposed to be propel this city into a new era of enlightenment. It would take the two of us to reshape it through a game of shadowplay, and then we would end it in a city wide revitalization with Sam leading the way and me being the galvanizing reason. Somewhere we went wrong. Instead of new hospitals and better city security it was only `` Sinister and Valiant'' posters plastered everywhere you looked, on every newspaper and every street corner… when he died I could actually see the light leave his eyes. I watched his smile turn into horror of this new realization that something had gone terribly wrong. I ran. I haven ’ t been back to our safe house since that day. Instead I cried, and eventually I returned to work. Occasionally I walk by your statue… I miss you Sam. *
|
[ WP ] You are the hero , an agnostic living in a covert religious fundamentalist state . You discover the state has been using your deep insecurities to scare you into accepting their religion . Tell me your story .
| It happened three years ago.
The election of Mrs. Jonathan Miller as President of the United States was a landslide victory, with her garnering of 97.6 % of the electoral vote. It was said that even her opponent had voted for her. With that done, President Miller had unified the broken halves of GOP and Democrat, and with the backing of Congress, she opened up the throttle.
I saw it. No one else did. Sweeping changes took place across this great country, programs such as bipartisan universal healthcare, green energy initiatives, and removing money from politics. In only three years, politics was now a job for those who volunteered their time, not their money. Education and literacy rates improved, poverty all but vanished, and the stock market was stabilized.
All this, to the acclaim of the world. Miller was loved by everyone. Except for me. The entire time, I saw through her lies. Her story seemed good enough; born in Michigan to a bi-racial family, climbed from abject poverty to the top of her class, and graduated from the University of Rochester with a Ph.D in bio-medical studies. A renowned scientist, she created genetically modified trees that could produce electricity instead of sugar with their leaves.
A good human being to the core, right? Wrong. As soon as I saw her win the race, I knew that it was over. All these programs, the good they do, was a shroud to hide what was to come. Miller was a traitor to true science; she was a devout Baptist.
I took to my safe-house, located 30 feet underground a 27-acre property in Minnesota. Insulated behind 3 foot thick concrete, and a Faraday cage, I would begin my own campaign.
I will admit, I had a wealthy upbringing. My parents were both bio-medical researchers. They actually met Miller when she was a young grad student, and swooned just like everyone else. Unfortunately, they died in a car accident just after Miller had been elected, a tragedy that left me rich. Though they were sacrificed, I would use their wealth for the loftiest cause.
My network was finally set up about a year after Miller's reign started. Connecting to the fleet of internet satellites that NASA now had the money to launch, I nested my own address behind more than half a dozen dynamic IP's. I had to withdraw completely; I had a feeling that they were onto me. They kept sending me emails, telling me to join certain Federally backed programs, for `` bettering the community''. A classically Christian theme. I cut off my contact to the world, and essentially disappeared.
On the Deep Web, I found an imageboard that was sympathetic to my cause. Slowly, we built up a large web of contacts, the start of The Resistance. Dozens of us, built into each major city of the country, doing research from the shadows.
All this was good, but observation did n't accomplish much. The people had already succumbed to the good of Miller's programs, and any day now, Miller would use this popularity to propose a merging of church and state. We had to act. We had to wake them. We had to do something that would amount to terrorism.
While my friends in Chicago, Los Angeles and New York conspired with me, I spent some of my time learning to fight. I would need to. I acquired arms of the finest nature; it's easy to find these things, now that the Deep Web black market had exploded.
At last, the day had come. We were to strike the very heart of the evil: Miller herself.
I'll admit, my entrance was a little dramatic. But I've always had a flair for drama, and this was a moment deserving of every ounce I could muster. At the White House Correspondent's Dinner, I made my move.
My buddies hacked into the building's mainframe and shut down the power. With fire burning in my heart, I kicked down the door.
I was a sight to behold. A red-white-and-blue m1911 in one hand, my razor-sharp, trusty katana in the other. As Miller gazed upon me, mouth agape, I opened my shining leather trench coat. My prodigious gut, wrapped in tactical fanny packs, fell from within its folds, exposing a dozen magazines of.45 ACP, and one anime magazine.
The room was dead silent. I slowly reached up and scratched my neck, letting a few Dorito bits fall from my mane.
`` G-g-game on,'' I proclaimed, brandishing my katana.
The beautiful Nippon steel, folded over 1000 times, caught the light of the Press' cameras as I slashed my way to Miller. Frozen with fear, she stood behind a wall of Secret Servicemen.
I jumped onto the stage, throwing in a flip for good measure. The Secret Servicemen pointed their M4's at me, but I merely laughed.
`` Hah! My buds in Anonymous have hacked your rifles remotely! You ca n't harm me!''
They stood ready to defend the President with their bodies. I will say that I felt a pang of regret as I slit their necks, but it had to be done.
`` Nothing personnel,'' I said, as their bodies fell around me. Miller, now exposed, stood her ground.
`` What is the meaning of this, young man?'' she said cautiously.
`` I do n't need your phony programs, miss. I can see right through them!'' I shouted.
`` You're not making any sense,'' she said.
`` You devalued GBP, told me I could n't pay with it when I did my taxes! You tried to push your sappy, ancient *religion* on me through your healthcare and civic betterment programs! ALL A SHAM!''
`` You dumbass,'' she responded, `` I stopped going to church when I was twelve. Those programs are actually designed to help people, not push religion.''
`` But you're going to merge church and state!''
`` Where did you hear that? On the Internet? I've been an agnostic for most of my life. Just because programs are designed to help people, does n't mean that there's some ulterior motive all the time. People can be good, you know.''
`` Oh...'' I said, her words sinking in. Could all this have been wrong?
No. It ca n't be! She's lying to me now, trying to save herself! It was time to act, to save America!
`` REEEEEEEEEE'' I cried, slashing her head clear off. The deed was done. Her shocked face, still blinking and trying to speak, stared up at me. I tipped my fedora to her, spun on my heel and began my walk out, uttering only one word.
`` M'lady.''
|
At your 150th birthday you were suspicious . At 200 it was confirmed you could not die . It is now your 900th birthday and you are spending it alone . [ WP ]
| Twelve years. Twelve, short but anticipated, years to make this single malt scotch. I ca n't count how many bottles I've gone through over the years, or many distilleries I've outlasted. *A good bottle is an empty bottle*. Everything goes out a some point, especially bottles of Scotch. Everything but me.
The time to drink it does not last as long as it took to make it usually. Unlike this bottle, my emptiness is replenished constantly. *Yet why do I feel a void growing in me? * I've raised numerous families and seen many of them disappear from me, just another name in the history books. I applied myself to writing books, building enterprises, philosophical discussions over the centuries. Not all of it successful.
Why does my life force continue while everything else depletes, diminishes or even self cannibalizes into oblivion? Everyone's sand runs out but mine as if the Great Sahara dumps surplus into my sandclock. A well that never goes dry.
A good bottle is an empty bottle. But was it enjoyed? The rich taste and delicate nose of a single malt is most desirable to me. Have I enjoyed my inner Scotch that replenishes itself?
I'll have to drink on that.
|
( WP ) Make me cry .
| When I was ten I got into a fight in class. Teacher called my dad to come pick me up. I sat there for about half an hour with the other kid sniffled with his head down. His parents came in and yelled at him, then in turn yelled at me. They yelled at the principal too, as he explained what happened. I did n't care. I stared the kid dead in the eye and smiled. He cowered behind his mother and I felt good. After they left it was quiet. The principal typed away on his keyboard and flipped through papers. Hours seemed to have passed until my dad came. They exchanged a few words. My father bowed very low and apologized. He always apologized.
We did n't speak as I sat on the front of his bicycle as he pedaled us home.
`` Why did you do it?'' he asked.
`` I do n't know,'' I said. He tried to question me some more, but I did n't speak. Who cares, he'd just apologize or do something stupid. I glared at him, but he just looked defeated. Skinny, wrinkled, sun beaten, and bald. It's no wonder. He patted me on the shoulders. So I smacked his hand away, and ran into my room slamming the door. I pounded the bed and imagined my father's face, the stupid kid's face, the principle's face.
He knocked on my door later and sat on the side of my bed. My face was buried in my pillow. It was wet, I'd like to say I drooled. I felt a warm hand on my head but I did n't say anything. For a moment he did n't say anything, just softly massage my head. His nails were rough and fingers dry.
`` Can you tell me why you punched him?''
I shook my head.
`` Did he make fun of you for because we're poor?''
He did n't. I did n't say anything though.
`` I'm sorry, son.'' he said.
Hearing those words, I snapped. I pushed his hand off my head. I balled my hands into fist, and I lunged at him. I threw everything I had at him.
`` Why do you keep saying sorry!'' I yelled. `` You did n't hit him, I hit him. So why did you have to say sorry.'' I punched him in the chest as hard as I could. `` Why do you keep saying sorry, every single time. I saw yesterday. Your boss knocked over the glass and broke it, but he blamed you. He even smacked you on the head. Yet you did n't do anything wrong, but he hit you. And what did you say? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. That's all you ever say.
`` That's all you ever say,'' I cried and fell onto his chest. `` When ma left. You just let her go. I know she left for someone else. For someone better, a better family. I know she did, and you did n't do anything. You just looked at me and said I'm sorry.''
I do n't know how long I stayed there for but I cried and cried onto his shirt. I do n't know how long I cried for but when I was done I could n't shed a tear. He held onto me though and did n't let go his big hands covered my head. When I looked up his eyes were red, but he did n't say anything.
He smiled after awhile, `` I'm sorry.''
I could n't help but laugh. He ruffled my head. `` Do n't be so short, be tall.''
I did n't get it, I was one of the tallest kids in my class. I said as much.
`` Sometimes, tall is n't being tall,'' he said. I still did n't get it, he must have saw it in my face. `` Some day, when you're older. Tonight lets eat pork.''
He left for work again and came back with pork. It was the best thing I had in a long time.
It was my nineteenth birthday and I finally graduated High School. I was left back a year, and I got into trouble but I finally finished. My dad was very proud, he paid for graduation so I could walk with the rest of my class and wear the cap and gown. Even borrowed a camera from a friend so he could take a picture. He had a big smile all day, his eyes wrinkled while he flashed his crooked teeth. I told him to stop smiling it's embarrassing, but I was happy too. He said, I'm sorry, I know but I just ca n't stop.
`` Lets go for a beer,'' he said to my surprise. So we headed off to the closes bar.
I sat at a table as my father went to the bar. As I waited I spun my cap in the air. The yellow tassel swung around in circles.
`` Hey, man celebrating?'' asked a kid from my class. He was wearing the blue gown and cap too.
`` Yea, just getting a drink with my pops,'' I said. The kid looked over to my dad who still had n't been serviced yet. His nose scrunched up and his eyes arced.
`` Oh yeah,'' he said with a slight chuckle at the end. My dad wore shorts and flip flops. He was balding at the top of his head and his skin was like old leather. Instead of a shirt and tie he wore a white T-shirt, that had a small stain at the side. He turned around with two beers in hand and showed his wrinkled face, gap toothed crooked smile, and his lips were dried and cracked like an old stained paper.
`` I'll see you later,'' said the kid with a grin.
My dad sat down and passed me a beer. `` Your friend?''
`` No,'' I said.
He nodded his head with his stupid smile.
`` Cheers then?'' he asked and raised his glass.
I barely glanced at his bottle, and clunk it hard at the neck.
`` Something the matter?''
`` Nothing.''
`` C'mon son it's a good day.''
`` He's laughing at you,'' I said and glanced towards the classmate.
`` Who?'' he asked and turned to the kid. He took a sip of his beer and shrugged. `` Do n't mind him, lets just celebrate.''
`` What's their to celebrate? I graduated. That's all and even a year behind. There is nothing to celebrate.''
`` You got into a few trouble but you're here now and there ai n't no shame in that.''
`` Oh yeah,'' I said though it was more of a question. He did n't answer it though. I grabbed my beer and I chugged it down to the last drop, tilting it down to my throat. A loud roar of laughter boomed, from where my classmate sat. He sat there talking to another kid in a gown, but their eyes were on me. He gave a smirk, and wave. My fist clenched, my knuckles paled. You could practically hear my teeth grind. My dad saw the whole thing.
`` Do n't pay no attention to them, it's not worth the effort.''
My eyes could n't leave them though, as the minutes passed I could feel my anger rising. Every time he smirked, every time he laughed. He would look at his fancy watch, and order more beers. Before I knew it I was standing and walking to him.
`` Boy, come back,'' my father yelled. The kid must have heard him because he turned to face him. His face was already flushed red.
`` You laughing at my father?'' I asked when I was practically in front of his face nose to nose. The kid shoved me back for some space and got off his stool.
He grinned, `` I do n't know what you're talking about.'' Glanced at my dad. `` But now that you mention it he does look pretty funny.''
That was all I needed, I lunged at him and slammed him against the stool. We fell to the ground. He was surprisingly strong. Before I knew it he had mounted me and wailed on me. Punches stormed down like rain. My head bounced against the floor. I saw a bottle appear in his hand I could n't protect my head anymore. I closed my eyes. I heard glass shatter, but nothing happened till warm droplets touched my skin. My eyes peeked open and blood drizzled down and ran across my cheek. My father's face loomed over me upside down. His wrinkly face. He smiled and collapsed.
I was holding onto him when I heard the sirens far off in the distance. I wiped the blood with paper towels that piled like a mound. Drenched in red that it smeared. Somebody grabbed my hand and pressed hard on the back of his forehead. I wanted to yell stop. You're hurting him, but my hands were red.
`` Apply pressure or he'll bleed out,'' the woman said.
I did n't argue. When the white towel was nearly dyed red I grabbed a fresh one and applied pressure. Someone finally came over with bandages and wrapped his head. I looked up. It was the paramedics, they were finally here. My arms reached out as they took him from me. I felt someone clasp my shoulder. It was a cop. He asked me questions but I could n't quite hear him. His lips moved and his mouth made sounds but they were jumbled up. He finally stopped asking me questions and waited as his partner spoke to witness.
My father was on the stretcher now with a respiratory mask. Can I go to him, I asked. No. Can I go to him? No. They wheeled him towards the ambulance truck. His eyes opened ever so slightly and a wave of relief washed over me. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes. His hands shakily reached for his mask as he pulled it off. I could n't hear his words, but as I watched his lips move I knew what he said. I finally get it.
`` Do n't be short, be tall.''
|
[ WP ] The Grim Reaper has a conversation with his next `` victim ''
| 2:03AM. The rotting smell drifted around the corner of the room a few seconds before the dark figure emerged from the hallway. She knew who it was without lifting her head off of the crinkly pillow. Not that she could anyway. Her dark eyes shifted a bit to the right as she made a feeble effort to visibly connect with a figure she had not seen in eighty years.
A dense, putrid smell enveloped the tiny room; the dark figure slid over the cracked florescent tinted-linoleum. Unlike the others he had to deal with tonight, she giggled.
“ Well, if it isn ’ t Mr. Morose himself! ” the lesions around the edges of her cheeks lifted slightly as a tired smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “ How long has it been now? ”
The swirling, stewing cloud of death morphed almost all at once into a robed figure; not clearly enough to make out features, but enough to present as humanoid.
“ Dorothy, Dorothy, my dear. ” Death reached out a foggy hand and gently caressed the side of the old woman ’ s cheek. He could feel the cracks on her skin, the wrinkles against the corner of her eye; he could read the years of her life that way- almost see each one. It was his job. He knew that the two inch scar under her chin came from a broken bottle in a back woods bar. The spots on her cheeks were battle scars from a tussle with skin cancer in the eighties. He knew every single inch of her body; and every part of her soul.
Dorothy tried to shift a bit in the bed but couldn ’ t quite manage to turn herself over.
“ Well, I guess being old just isn ’ t easy! ” She laughed, but quickly sobered her expression when she felt a swath of emotion fill the air. “ I ’ ve hurt you, now, Mr. M. Please, don ’ t be sad for me. I trust you. ”
“ I know you do, Dorothy. I know you do. It isn ’ t even that. I don ’ t have a choice anymore. People are starting to notice. It ’ s been 112 years since you were born; I can ’ t let you go any longer; I am so, so sorry my dear. ”
“ Hush now! I never asked for this, but you know I appreciate the deep and full life I have had. When we first met, that night you took my mother, I knew you were nothing like the tales that I have heard. I saw you, I looked you in the eye, and I saw kindness; empathy. You are not a monster, you are a saint! ”
“ No one else sees it that way, Dorothy. ”
“ They do not know the real you! They still think you carry a scythe and eat souls for breakfast! They don ’ t see what would happen if you couldn ’ t do your job! ” For a moment, Death could not look at Dorothy, his eyes began to sag and his will began to shake. He shook his head violently and determined to soldier on.
“ Are you ready my dear? ”
“ Yes, I am ready, and I am content. ” With her reply, death leaned over the hospital bed, and engulfed Dorothy ’ s frail body with his essence. He felt her sigh softly as he pulled the life from her heart. He burrowed his massive head into her chest and began to shake. As he snuffed out the old woman ’ s spirit, he held her fast, and strong.
For the first time in his life, death cried.
|
[ WP ] As you talk to your turn of the century friends ( time-travelers have many groups of friends ) , you absentmindedly refer to the Great War as 'World War One ' .
| “ I still do n't really understand why it happened, you know? ” I sat back in the booth, idly playing with the handle of my mug and keeping close tabs on my recording. “ It just seems like the assassination of the Archduke should n't have had that much of an effect. ”
Harry put down his coffee – good, I had figured that that would get his attention. There was n't much Harry enjoyed more than current events, and in 1929 America, the Great War was just far enough in the past to be considered current. It was over, and now analysis could begin, and it was something to talk about other than the Great Depression. I'd spent most of my previous semester at college building a relationship with a good group of people in 1938 talking about that, and I was pretty much done dealing with it. World War I was a much safer topic.
“ Well, you're young enough that you did n't watch it happening, I supposeIt set off this whole chain of alliances, though, ” Harry said, “ Diplomatic crises, the like. It seems like the whole of Europe was perfectly primed to go off at the slightest provocation. ”
“ Still seems like a bit of an inconsequential conflict to lead to such a big conflict. ”
“ Yup. ” Harry nodded, as if agreeing with himself. “ I think it spiralled out of control before anyone realized how big it was getting. The alliances locked into place and there was nothing we could do about it. ”
“ Wilson kept us out of it for a while, though, ” I prompted him.
“ Oh yeah, he did alright. I still think the Germans provoked us on purpose, you know. ”
“ Hmm. ” I was suddenly distracted from the conversation by a message from one of my professors floating across my vision. WWI session 6 coming to a close at 1500 local, please report to transfer stations. Damn, out of time. “ Seems like World War One really did a number on Germany, though; they still seem out-of-sorts. ”
Harry shut his mouth abruptly, staring at me with wide eyes. “ What? ”
“ What? ” I thought through what I had just said. “ Oh, shit. ”
“ World War One? ”
I took a deep breath. “ Harry – ”
“ Peter, World War One? ”
“ Um. ” Oh, Professor Tiller was going to kill me.
“ Peter. ” Harry's voice cracked a little. “ What are you talking about? ”
“ Oh, shit, ” I said again, resting my head in my hands. “ Fuck. ”
“ It's going to happen again? ” Harry asked quietly. “ I had hoped we were better than that. ”
We sat quietly for a few minutes.
“ When? ”
I looked up at him. “ I ca n't tell you that. ”
“ Please. ”
What was I supposed to do? I thought about everything he had told me over the past few months. His neighbors, his friends, his kid brother who never came back from France. He was still young enough that I knew he might get pulled in to serve against Hitler. I blew out a long breath. “ Ten years. ”
“ Why? ”
I shook my head. “ Nothing good is going to happen in the next fifteen years, Harry. The economy collapses, crops fail, science stalls, and a genocidal lunatic is going to seize power in Germany. ”
It was horrible to watch Harry's face as he thought about that. Facing the reality: that more pain, more trouble was coming. A small part of me took masochistic pleasure in sharing the horror and knowing it was so much worse than poor Harry could imagine. I've done my WW2 unit, I know.
We sat at the table in a small, dismal silence. Neither of us finished our coffee: I had lost my appetite for anything, trying not to think about what I'd seen in the'40s.
Finally Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “ How many? ”
“ How many what? ”
“ How many have there been? ”
“ World wars? ” I wondered how to answer him. “ Uh – ”
He tilted his head to the side, half a smile on his lips. “ Between now and whenever you're from. ”
Oh, shit. Tiller was seriously going to kill me, I thought. “ One. ”
Harry's jaw dropped and he looked at me, disbelief plain on his face. “ Well, then. I suppose we did learn our lesson. ”
I smiled, offering whatever small comfort I could. “ Eventually. ” Small comfort indeed, I thought, trying not to think of the lives I'd seen in the'40s, of the troubles of the late 20th century and the famines in the early 22nd.
Harry picked up his coat and put on his hat. He stood up with a sigh and stuck out his hand for me to shake. “ We just have to get through the next fifteen years, then. It'll help to know that one day we'll be back on track enough to produce whatever world sent you back here. ”
Tiller was going to kill me anyway, I thought, and in the face of Harry's determinedly optimistic take on the news of an impending world war, I had to give in. I stood up and shook his hand. “ Harry, ” I said, leaning close to his ear, “ I'm a hundred and three. ”
I picked up my own hat and coat and slipped out of his grip, heading for the door. On the eve of the worst conflict in human history, what harm could it do, I wondered, to allow one person the certainty of eventual peace? The look on Harry's face as I left was worth whatever punishment Tiller could dish out.
|
[ WP ] You 're a fairly new villain with big plans , but all the good lair spots are taken .
| ``... this is it?''
My shoulders slump. I lean back against the pale blue vinyl siding on the small, ranch-style house. Across the street, two children have ceased their game of tag and are watching us. It's awkward for them. It's even worse for us. `` It's...''
Granite scratches the back of his head, the stone spikes protruding from his arms slowly receding into his skin. He glances back at the kids, then back at me, doing that whole'this is awkward' stretch type deal so many people do. I'd be lying if I said I was n't doing it too.
We turn to each other and try to speak at the same time.
`` We can always do this another time.''
`` It's just all the good spots were taken.''
Another awkward pause. Great. I was finally getting ready to hit the big leagues. I'd pulled some successful heists, wounded a close family friend without killing, earned a hero's ire, thrown a couple fights and let things escalate back to my lair. You know, just like how all the supervillain guides say to do it. It was time to unveil my master plan, but of course... My small home was just off-putting to heroes.
`` Look, Nova, it's just...''
`` I know, I know.'' I cut him off. My head drops into my hands. `` There's kids, nowhere to fight really, I... yeah, let's just...''
`` I'll uh... well, let me know if you find a... another place to lair up.''
`` Yeah, yeah. Just... yeah.''
He awkwardly jogs off while I stand there, for the first time in my life feeling out of place in my costume as the kids keep staring. I finally work up the courage to glare at them and storm back into my house. Guess it's time to start all over.
|
[ WP ] On your sixteenth birthday , you are revealed to be the chosen one ... For at least four different prophecies , each revealed by a different person , with none of them having any connection with one another .
| `` I know you're nervous, but I guarantee it's not as bad as it sounds. Lots of people get prophecies these days.'' The mage I was seeing looked reassuringly like a mundane doctor, wearing a white coat with a small star insignia.
`` Yeah, but *four at once? *''
`` Not that rare, when you think about the time frames. I mean, the first prophecy was, what, ten thousand years ago?''
I looked at my notebook. I had written down the prophecies when I heard them. They seemed important. `` The first one was something about the'Rise of the Dragon' in ten thousand years, the next one was about rebuilding a fallen empire a thousand years afterwards. Then there was the rise of the Six Hundred Lords in six hundred years. And the most recent one was about the return of something called the Razgriz in five years time.''
`` See what I mean? Ten thousand years ago, a spellcaster picks a random date in the future. Nine thousand years later, someone else picks a random date and gets the same one. With such a long time and so many prophecies, it happens fairly often.''
`` Plus,'' she added, `` it's not randomly chosen. It's a lot easier to push a spell through on the Solstice. You've got a convenient birthday and you live in a high-magic area.''
`` But what do I do about them? I mean, do n't I have to fight the Razgriz or whatever?''
`` Aha! That's a common misconception. Prophecies do n't predict the future, they're a *response* to a prediction. Ten thousand years ago, someone expected a dragon to return in the future, so they rigged up a prophecy to empower someone to fight it.''
`` Like I said, I have to fight a dragon?''
`` No, you're tagged with a spell that says *if* a dragon appears, you will gain a measure of power and guidance. But since dragons were hunted to extinction in the sixteenth century, you do n't have much to worry about.''
`` Are you sure about that? The voice I heard was pretty insistent.'Heed my words and know the end of days is near' and so on.''
`` We ca n't predict the weather two weeks in advance, but you expect a mage to know about monster hunting ten thousand years ahead?''
`` Are you sure?'' I repeated.
`` Absolutely. Take a look at this.'' She typed something on her computer and turned the screen to show me.
`` What's this?''
`` I thought it sounded familiar, so i searched for'Razgriz' on Google. Turns out it's a monster from a video game.''
`` Seriously?''
`` Yep. Completely made up. Probably a grad student messing around with contingent magic and getting careless about safety practices.''
`` So what do I do about this?''
`` Mainly? Do n't worry about it. I can give you an amulet to suppress the prophecy if the suspended spells are triggering in odd situations, but...''
The building shook.
`` What was that?''
In the distance we heard a roar, a deep, rumbling noise that I felt as much as heard. It seemed to echo in my bones long after the noise itself had faded away.
Dr. Murphy was on her feet with surprising speed for her age, pulling a wand from her coat. Her eyes flashed blue with mage sight as she looked at me.
`` You've got to be kidding me.''
`` What?''
`` Are you feeling a sort of pulling in your chest? Kind of a'hey, look over here'? Maybe a surge of energy?''
I stood up and turned slowly from side to side, paying attention to what I felt. `` Yeah, I suppose so.''
`` Your prophecy is active. There's an actual goddamn dragon attacking.''
|
[ WP ] North Korea begins following a seemingly random accountant in Texas named Jimmy on Twitter . Jimmy is 1 of only 3 people followed by NK in the entire world . Why ?
| 'So that's it, the memoirs of your supreme leader, Kim Jong-un, myself. Throughout my life I have been labeled a god, a tyrant and everything in between. All this does n't matter to me, for I have a final secret label worse than them all. My father ignored it, my brothers teased it, my wife despised it, all I could do was suppress it.
This is your leader stepping down, signing off. I have made many mistakes throughout my reign, I was man enough to admit them, though i was never bold enough to accept myself.
The End.
- Your noble leader, Kim Jong-un'
Kim Jong-un placed the unused pen beside the manuscript, it was perfect. He tapped his fingers on an oak desk and let out a sigh of relief, the years of darkness were over, finally he had put himself out there, soon the world will know the real Kim.
Before he could stand his laptop lit up. He accepted the skype call quickly, eager to see his partners face. He let a smile overcome his usual blank expression and opened his mouth.
`` Annyeong, Jimmy!''
`` Is it fini..'' The handsome Texan began to speak but froze mid sentence.
'No internet Connection'
Kim slammed his fist into his laptop and ripped the manuscript to pieces.
`` Fuck You'Merica''
|
[ WP ] Two grim reapers bitching about making Quotas and the `` customers '' who complain on their service .
| Two figures stepped into a train station, entering at opposite ends. Each wielded an imposing scythe that looked better suited for causing pain than harvesting fields. Each dressed in black, one was hooded, their physique shrouded by billowing robes. The other was a young woman, dressed more like a gothic hiker, complete with backpack and water bottle.
The two reapers approached a bench at the centre of the station. The hooded figure nodded solemnly while the woman waved happily.
`` Death! Big Man! Numero Uno! It's so nice to see you!'' The woman shouted excitedly.
Death did not react as he sat on the bench, an ancient gauntlet rested his scythe on his lap.
The woman plopped down onto the bench, quite casually for someone resting next to the Grim Reaper while her scythe was rested on the bench next to her.
`` As stoic as always,'' she chirped.
`` Looks like those two nincompoops are going to jump ahead of the next train. Do you think they'll really go through with it?''
Death remained still, remained silent.
`` It's kind of crazy to think about actually, here they are, completely insignificant to all the universes, and they're throwing away their chance to experience life for something even more pointless.''
The woman looked at Death and shook her head. `` You've been doing this job as long as life existed, how do you deal with such stupidity?''
Death did not react, the woman continued on anyway.
`` I ca n't imagine how you did this job all by yourself for so long. I'm kind of worried about facing eternity without losing my mind. I mean we get zero gratitude for how hard we work. No, no it's no big deal, your dumbass soul who has no concept of anything outside of its stupid meat cocoon could just wander off into oblivion, get captured by demons or be consumed by one of those freaky soul monster things.''
The woman had become genuinely upset by this point. `` And yet the angels, they look down at us like we're useless garbage pickers. Yet the whole system starts and ends with what we do! We're just as important as any other part of this whole crazy system! Yet they're always harping on us that we're not delivering enough souls, that we're falling behind, that the queue in purgatory is too long.''
The woman's frustration boiled over to the point where she elbowed death in the shoulder and shouted. `` Are you even listening, it's rude to ignore people who are speaking to you!''
Death reached his large armored hand toward his concealed face and removed a set of modern noise canceling headphones. In a voice that was strong, yet comforting Death spoke. `` Hi Becky, how are you?''
Becky's eye twitched as she filled with rage while the sounds of 90s dance group Aqua wafted from Death's headphones.
|
You 're a barbaric warlord who would risk everything to avenge his father 's death at the hands of whatever civilized people you choose
| I'd like to preface this with the statement that this is written as satire and meant to be tongue and cheek. Please do n't take this even remotely seriously.
It happened many years ago, today. My father had been mercilessly beaten to death by a group of radical Christians during a Gay Rights Parade. I swore on his grave that I would seek vengeance on his behalf, that I would avenge him in retribution of the wrongs he had stuffed for his whole life at the hands of these people.
I spent years in San Francisco gathering an army of... likewise inclined individuals to assist in my vendetta. After so many years, it shall be fulfilled on the twentieth anniversary of his death.
Tonight, I put his flaming spirit of vengeance to rest. Tonight, Texas burns in fabulous, purifying fire. Tonight, the ones who wronged him die. The reaper never looked, or smelled, so good.
|
[ WP ] You finally meet up with a online dating match . The night goes well , they seem interested in you , and when you say goodbye they kiss you deeply and pass something cold and odd shaped into you mouth ... .
| her hands were warm.
her eyes were comforting.
her kiss was one of love and care.
but what was it that she decided to share?
confused i did nothing as the small cold object rested on my tongue.
i did n't know how to react, should I spit this out or ask her about it. we were together for the whole day, if she wanted to give me something then she could have just handed it to me.
my train of thought was interrupted the moment her lips moved away from me
it was weird.
I decided to smile and thank her for a fun evening.
i turned around and walked to my car, each step on the concrete curb broke through the silence of the night.
one last time i decided to look at her house.
a figure was standing and staring at me from the window.
I waved to the male figure trying to be friendly, he greeted me back with a smile and a wave.
must be her dad or brother.
I opened the door to my car and sat on the comfy leather seat.
immediately I took the object out of my mouth. it was a key, just a regular cold metal key, but my finger felt a weird bump on the other side of it.
i turned the key around and identified the bump.
on the key were 2 crudely itched words.
`` Help me''
|
[ WP ] A bank robber and a suicide bomber arrive at a bank at the same time . Hilarity ensues .
| I thought this was a really cool idea for a writing prompt, but I decided to ignore the `` Hilarity ensues'' direction and just let the story go wherever it felt like it should go without trying to force it to be funny. As a result, it's not funny, and also pretty long. Read if you wish.
-- -
`` I can help the next person.''
Gale watched anxiously as an elderly man proceeded to the teller and began rummaging through his pockets. The line inched forward. Gale counted the heads in front of him. *4 people... the line's
moving too fast*. He reached inside his brown leather jacket and pretended to scratch an itch while discretely running his thumb over the safety switch of the pistol concealed under his left arm. *Of
course it's still engaged, just like last time I checked. Have I checked too many times? Has anyone noticed*? He pulled his hand out of his jacket and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. *Everyone must get
nervous the first time*, he assured himself.
`` Next.''
3 people left in front of him. The knot in Gale's stomach grew with every step he took towards the teller. *I ca n't go up there... I need to stall*. He turned around and surveyed the dozens of people now in line behind him. He had n't expected quite so many. *It's the Friday before the Fourth of July*, he reminded himself, *busiest time of year for banks. That's why it was planned for today. Son of a bitch*. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began nervously swiping through screens, trying to look busy. Then an idea hit him- it was n't perfect, but it would buy some time.
`` I can help whoever's next.''
*That fast*? Gale shoved his phone back in his pocket and took a few more steps forward. Only 2 people left in front of him; A woman in a white dress and heels toting an expensive looking purse, and a middle-aged man in slacks, an orange polo shirt and sunglasses who was tapping his foot impatiently.
`` Ma'am? I can help you.''
The woman in white went forward to the teller. 1 person left- *what if it does n't go off in t*-
`` Shit!'' The man in front of Gale exclaimed as he patted his pants pockets. `` Forgot my wallet. Go on ahead.''
With that the man left the line, and suddenly there was no one between Gale and the next teller. *No no no, it's not time. Come on, come on... * Suddenly a musical jingle erupted from his pocket. Gale pulled out his phone and looked at it, then turned to the person behind him and said `` It's your lucky day, I've got ta take this.''
Gale breathed a temporary sigh of relief as he left the line. He shut off the alarm he had set and held the phone up to his ear, pretending to talk to someone as he went to sit down on a bench near the bank entrance. As he sat down, the man in the orange polo rushed back in through the revolving doors. `` Nature calls,'' he explained as he made a b-line for the restrooms. Gale just smiled and nodded and motioned to his phone.
`` Yeah... OK... mmhmm. Talk to ya later.'' Gale pretended to end a call and then slid the phone back in his pocket. He slid a hand inside his jacket again, feeling the grip of the pistol for some reassurance. *That was close, it should n't have taken this long. The line's long enough now though, I've got plenty of time*. He stood up and walked back to the end of the line.
`` Is n't it a little warm for a jacket like that?''
Gale stopped in his tracks. *Had I been too obvious? Did someone notice? * He turned around slowly, only to see a woman by the entrance talking to a teenage-looking kid who had just entered. Gale turned back forward and watched as the line continued to slowly creep forward. He was surprised to feel a shove as the man who just entered nudged past him. `` Excuse me'' he said as he pushed past.
People started murmurring as he cut through the line, and as he neared the center a man stopped him. *It is a little warm for a jacket like that... * `` Hey buddy you're not cutting-''
`` Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!'' The kid raised a hand in the air, holding some kind of control with a red button on it. Metal shields slammed shut blocking the teller windows and people began screaming and running, tripping over each other to get away.
*Finally*. Gale drew his weapon and closed in on the suspect, along with four other plain-clothes agents. `` Get down on the ground! Get down!'' The kid pressed the button frantically, but nothing happened. He panicked and dropped the control, then pulled a knife from his pocket. The agents backed off and raised their weapons. `` Drop it! Drop it now or we will be forced to shoot you!''
Without warning the man in the orange polo jumped on the kid's back and tackled him to the ground. The knife tumbled out of his hand and spun across the hard tile floor harmlessly. Gale kept his weapon trained on the kid as the other agents jumped on him and handcuffed him. A rush of adrenaline overwhelmed him. *I did it. My first sting operation. It's all over but the paper work now*.
`` I was beginning to think you were n't gon na go through with it,'' Gale said as the agents lifted the kid up. Gale peeled back the kid's jacket to reveal explosives strapped to his body. `` Looks like you got some duds. Might want to take it up with your supplier.'' Gale motioned towards the bank entrance where uniformed FBI agents were flooding in. `` Speak of the devil.''
As the FBI agents escorted the kid away, Gale and the other agents began helping people up and reassuring them they were safe. The man in the orange Polo approached Gale. `` Next time do n't be a
hero,'' Gale said as he shook the man's hand. `` But thanks for the help. We probably would have had to shoot him.''
The man looked Gale in the eyes. `` I've got a lot of respect for what you do. You know, you always wonder what you would do in this type of dire situation; If you would have the courage to act when
you got the chance, and make the most of the opportunity. Most people live their whole lives without ever getting an opportunity. Honestly, I should be the one thanking you.''
Gale laughed. `` Get out of here. The bank wo n't be opening back up today. An agent outside will get a report from you. Come back tomorrow- and do n't forget your wallet'' They both laughed and the man
in the orange polo left. `` Did n't hurt yourself in that little scrum did you?'' Gale asked, noticing the man limp. `` Merely a flesh wound,'' the man joked as he walked out the door.
Gale motioned to the other agents; `` I'm going to go give the tellers the all-clear. Everyone else, let's start taking reports and getting people out of here.
Gale approached the front desk and was curious to find the teller windows were already opened up. `` Looks like things are under control here. Guess you already knew that.'' One of the tellers nodded. `` We got the all clear. I went with the agent to secure the vault,'' Gale furrowed his brow. `` Secure the vault? Is that part of your protocol for this situation?'' The teller looked up at him. `` I thought you knew the protocol.'' Gale looked at all of the tellers in silence for a moment. `` Could you please show me to the vault,'' Gale said with a sense of urgency in his voice.
The teller led him back into the offices and down a dark hallway.
`` Who gave you the all clear!?''
`` An agent- or... a man...'' she went silent.
`` Did he show you a badge?''
`` No, but he had a gun, and he said he was an agent... Everything was so hectic, I just- I assumed he was another plain clothes-''
`` Damn it! This ca n't be happening.''
They approached the vault and the teller punched in the code. The large steel door slowly lurched open. `` What the hell?''
Cash was scattered here and there on the floor of the vault, but what surprised Gale was a men's belt laying in the middle of the floor.
`` He must have stuffed the cash into his pants, around the waste. Probably took the belt off to make more room.''
`` Would n't it be hard to walk out of here with your pants full of money?'' Jennifer asked.
Gale thought for a moment. `` What was he wearing?''
`` An orange shirt and khakis.''
Gale stormed out of the vault and sprinted down the hallway, past the offices, out to the main lobby and outside. `` Whoa, where's the fire?'' asked one of the agents as Gale ran up to them.
`` This place just got robbed right under our noses.'' Gale said, slightly out of breath.
`` The hell you talking about Gale?''
`` A guy in an orange shirt. Did he leave?''
`` About five minutes ago, yeah. You sayin' he robbed the place?''
`` Yeah. Did he leave a report?''
`` A short one. Kid pulled a knife, he tackled him. The guy was in a hurry so we took down his info so we could contact him later.''
`` It's probably all phony. Let's have some guys get into the vault and secure it, it's a second crime scene now. I'll see about getting an APB put out.''
`` Go take a break Gale. His face will be all over security footage. I'll handle the APB, he'll be in custody with in a day. Hell, maybe within an hour.''
`` You're probably right.''
`` I know I'm right. So how the hell do you think he knew when to show up here? Do you think had inside information?''
`` No. I think he's just a damn lucky bank robber who was at the right place at the right time and made the most of an opportunity. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a beer.''
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[ WP ] Your a scientist who accidentally traveled to a different dimension where no one has any emotions . Everyone is trying to capture you to find out what these emotions that you have are .
| As I backed up further I realised that there were nowhere left to go, she had lured me down a dead end ( I never was that good at orienteering back in school so this did n't come as a big surprise ). The pulsating feeling in my skull grew larger in anticipation as I saw her shadow peaking around the corner. This was it, it really was. I had n't travelled around the world or started a family or even really get comfortable with the idea that I was the only one standing between me having food in the fridge and living in a cardboard box on the street, but this was it. With a few swift steps she suddenly stod eye-to-eye with me, a gun pointing at my heart and a scalpel in the other. The worst part was that she had n't even moved a muscle in her face: her expression was as dead as a plank's. I curled up into a little ball, trembling and sobbing.
`` Why are you doing this? ``, I managed to say between the sniveling as I prepared to be shot. But the bullet never came. Almost a minute passed before I dared open my eyes. My pursuer watched the ground silently.
`` Why? ``, she exhaled almost inaudible. A gust of wind blew past before she continued:
`` I... I guess I want to know how you work. What's inside your head, you know?''. As I slowly started to regain my composure I tried standing up. She did n't try to stop me but rather continued starring down at her feet. I did my best to muster up the courage to cheer her up:
`` That's great. That's a feeling too. It's called curiosity! Actually, it's my favourite one! ``, as I excitedly tried to convince her she looked at me with what could almost, but not quite, be mistaken for a smile.
`` You really mean that? I'm actually feeling emotions too? Wow, I am so excited'', she of course sounded as excited as the accountant of an accountant. A few awkward moments passed again before it got to tense to stay silent.
`` Hey, I've got a tuna sandwich in my rucksack. We can split it if you want. I mean if you're hungry'', I tried, tripping on my tongue.
`` Humans need sustenance in order to stay alive'', she replied as I started digging for the sandwich.
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[ WP ] Every new agent at Sphinx Galactic Real Estate LLC is given the hardest neighborhood to sell in : The Milky Way Galaxy . It 's your first day on the job and someone walks in offering to pay cash for a crappy little place called Earth .
| `` Wait, what?''
The squeamish little lizard man looked up over his spectacles, blinking his eyelids rapidly at the tall, bronzed stranger in front of his desk.
`` Earth.'' The stranger repeated.
Looking down into his holofiles, the salesman, named Learth, reread a few paragraphs, making sure of a few details. He looked back up at the figure in front of him; the gentleman had come from the Westcovey System, noted by his bronze skin, wavey black mane, and subtle black horns. Learth cleared his vocal tubes, and proceeded.
`` You are aware that Earth is n't the entire solar system, right? It's just the name of the third rock from that system's sun? And unlike Jupiter, or even Pluto, it really has n't anything of real worth on it. Just a pesky domestic species that have infested it, causing ruin throughout the entire planet.'' Learth looked back at his files once more before removing his spectacles.
`` I am aware.'' The Westcovian slowly shuffled to the window, looking out over the Sphinx Galactic grounds, the purple grass covering the red ground, with a soft yellow rain falling gently down the clear hard plastic of the window. `` I am willing to pay. In Nanites.''
Learth gasped softly. Nanites were one of the most sought after forms of currency in the universe, worth more than ectoplasm and water vapour combined. Learth was going to be a very wealthy lizard with this commission!!! Would n't that make his mother in law absolutely blue with envy!!!
`` Well I can certainly see you are a being of means, and if you wish that particular planet, then you should be more than happy if I throw in the entire solar system for the price of that one planet. Does that sound fair to you?'' Learth felt relieved when the Westcovian gave a curt grunt of acceptance.
Offloading the entire solar system at once!! Learth had dreamed of this since his days sunning himself on the rocks back home, trying to decide if he was going to continue surfing solar waves or go into something more respectable, like selling used wombs. Now his wife could finally have that infant she wanted... Of course, that was a win-win, since as a cannibalistic species, he would have to stay far away from both her and the infant for the next several years.
Learth offered the Westcovian a delectable morsel from his fecal matter, and spent the morning writing up the paperwork.
( First time answering a prompt. Please be gentle! )
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[ WP ] Tell us about a wounded/abandoned hero 's last stand . Make us feel .
| Meric was slowing the group down. They did n't want to admit it but he knew. The arrow in his thigh screamed with pain every step he took. Charles kept glancing back at him, worry darkening his face. Damon was just impatient, he did n't want to die cause Meric could n't keep up.
`` Come on Meric you can do it, we're almost to the boats'' Said Prioxa, her auburn hair sticking to her face from sweat, her eyes wide with fear. Meric wanted to laugh, they were n't as close as Prioxa made it sound, and the Drak were closing in fast. Meric could hear their whoops and hollers, their thirst for blood chilling their bones.
Meric saw the the tunnel, they would have to make in through the tunnel, through another mile of forest until finally reaching the beach with the boats. *We wont make it*
*WE wo n't maybe... maybe they can. *
Meric stopped at the mouth of the tunnel. Damon, Piroxa and Charles stopped fast and turned. `` What the fuck are you doing old man, we ca n't stop'' growled Damon, almost running in place.
Meric nodded no. `` You go. My leg is making me move slower then usual. I've lived my life, I've seen what I've wanted to see. You need to go. You can make it. I'll hold them at the mouth of the tunnel, they will only be able to come at me a couple at a time. I'll hold the line so you can stroll to the boats.'' He winked at Damon. `` Your hair is getting out of place from all this running pretty boy.''
Piroxa frowned `` No Meric we can make it together.'' Charles said nothing, he know Meric had made up his mind. `` You're a sweet girl Piroxa, but shut up and move.'' Piroxa opened her mouth to argue but Charles grabbed her and shook his head.
They turned and ran, their footsteps echoing through the tunnel.
Meric turned back to the forest and drew his sword and shield. He spun his arms, getting them loosened up. Age had slowed him down, but his strength remained. The Drak would water the ground of this cave with their blood.
The first one appeared, then the second then the third. Soon Meric could count around thirty staring at him. `` COME MEET MY BLADE YOU BASTARDS'' Meric roared. He could feel his heart pounding and his arms became lighter. The first Drak fell with a slice through the face. The second took a shield blow to the face, pushing its nose back into its skull.
`` FOR KING GUNTHER AND THE REALM!'' The red mist covered his eyes and Meric threw himself at the Drak. He felt a spear cut into his leg, he turned and sliced that Drak open stomach to chin. An arrow took him in the chest, causing him to stagger back. Another arrow cut into his right arm, forcing him to drop his sword. He roared and smashed his shield into another Drak. *Piroxa, Charles, even you Damon you bastard, this is for you. It better not be a fucking waste. *
A brave Drak charged at him and pushed his spear straight through Meric. Meric was beyond feeling pain. With the last of his strength, he reached down and pulled the spear through him, hand over hand, until he was face to face with the Drak who stuck him. He smiled, blood pouring out of his mouth. `` I'm bringing you to hell with me.'' He whispered and wrapped his hand around the Draks head, crushing his skull.
Arrows struck him, spears drove through him, and everything went dark.
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[ WP ] A Soldier struggles to decide if they should defect or not .
| The enemy had been advancing through the city for several days now. Each passing hour brought their forces closer to us, murdering countless friends as they carved a path through what remained of our ranks. Even those who attempted to run away were cut down by a spray of death, flesh torn apart and bloody gristle sent hurtling through the air.
How much longer before they came to us too? We had heard hushed rumours that they had killed our best units already. Murdered them. Only a few of us remained on the planet, those who were brave enough to fight to our last breath. We could n't run anywhere. They had set up orbital cannons to make sure of that. We were trapped here with no contact with control, and they were going to clean the rest of us out.
They had already lost too much. They were n't just fighting for victory, they were fighting for vengeance. They would send their scout in first. Felix had told us he was just an idiot with no hope. That's all they all were. Obviously that had just been wishful thinking. The man was a brute. Impossibly strong and seemingly impossible to kill. And a genius to go with it. He had even implanted an AI *inside* his weapon to improve its accuracy. A computer that provided him with all the assistance he could ever require.
Perhaps I would be able to leave and reason with them before it was too late for me? As much as I loved my fellows, the chance at living was greater than that. I'm sorry all of you, but I want to see my family again.
It was too late. They were already here. I could hear the explosions from over the ridge. It seemed even the planet itself had begun to fight back against us. Automated defences prevented us from returning fire, but allowed them to advance on us.
They would n't stop until we were all dead. Felix had told us that just before he died. And then it had been Aiden. And then everyone else.
*It's too late. * They had appeared over the ridge behind which we had attempted to hold our defences for as long as possible.
`` Freeze dirtbags,'' their Colonel growled at us, aiming his shotgun directly at my face.
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[ WP ] Aliens contact humanity , but they refuse to speak to anyone not from Burkina Faso
| President Trump was furious. `` Where the fuck have the aliens landed?''
His aide struggled with the foreign spelling: `` O... uagado... ugo... u, the capital of the country of Burkina Faso.''
`` That is not a real place!'' the president snarled in anger.
`` I assure you, it is!'' the aide showed a map and pointed to the country.
The president squinted and eventually looked up again, either because he believed his aide or because he did not want to be caught struggling with letters again. `` Why these goatherders and not us?''
`` The Burkinabé economy actually does not to a noticable amount rely on goatherding. Though I guess with the talk between the aliens and the Bukinabé behind closed doors we can not know what this year's economic production of Burkina Faso will look like.''
The president squinted: `` You say they are a poor country, right?''
`` Yes, they are on the tail end of the HDI. 181st.'' The aide replied.
`` That makes sense. You and me, we would not work for peanuts. They... they will be cheap.''
-- --
The Reichstag was abuzz with activity. Politicians of all of the 5 parties in the Bundestag had to read up on Burkina Faso. Chancellor Merkel however seemed fully in control of the situation. In a press conference, she commented on the fact that the alient must have understood the strides of humanitarian and economical progress the country made under president Roch Marc Christian Kaboré.
-- --
In the kreml, president Medvedev ordered the nukes to be aimed to major population centers in Burkina Faso. Neither Putin nor Medvedev thought that these aliens were up to anything good. The military was in heightened state of alert.
-- --
The sunshine felt harsher than normally when President Kaboré approached the alien ship that had landed in the outskirts of the capital Ouagadougou. The ship looked like a Borg cube from the Star Trek films but was smaller, only about 10 meters in each dimension, the outside reflected as if it was a mirror. President Kadoré wanted to wipe the sweat, heat and fear, off his forehead but was not sure how this could be perceived. `` Welcome to Earth! I am Roch Marc Christian Kaboré, president of the country of Burkina Faso.'' He felt that he sounded ridiculous speaking to an object like that.
A door opened in the middle of the side if the ship he approached. What stepped out looked like a human apart from the fact that none of the propotions fit: the legs were short and stumpy, the bopy long, slender, and covered in a strange green substance, somewhat reminding of moss. The head reminded of these classical alien movies: silver skin and large black eyes. The voice sounded deep but dissonant: `` Sahél of the voyage éternel is delighted to make your acquaintance.'' In many TV shows aliens spoke English, but who would have thought that they actually speak French with a Burkinabé accent as if they grew up in Ouagadougou all along. `` The Voyage éternel is... there is no word in your wonderful French language or your most fascinating minority languages for what we do. We are... on a mission... but I think it is easier for me to talk about it in private. Please come inside.''
The entire ship was almost completely empty, each side of the same white material apart from two stolls in a reasonable speaking distance to each other. One of the chairs in the height for a human, one in the height for the alien. Entering, the president noticed that the walls were about half a meter thick, so he assumed a lot of the technology to control the ship were hidden. The alien, Sahél probably, offered to sit down an apologized that he could not offer food or drink as the respective digestive systems were incompatible enough to see any of these attempts as an assault. He tried to speak, but croaked. President Kaboré felt fear. What if the Eternal Journey deemed him responsible for this. `` Can I help you?'' he asked, feebly.
Sahél steadied himself: `` Our species does not have the capacity to lie. That makes us excellent scientists but in this mission completely the wrong people. I should probably start from the beginning. You can call me Sahél as my culture traditionally does not have names like yours. I am not per se an alien. While I do come from another planet, I grew up in the Fédération de la Terre.'' He paused a moment, `` under the red and green flag with the yellow star. I am a historian by trade and my area of interest is the 21st century. It is common knowledge that a former third world nation suddenly became a superpower after a visitation from the Voyage Éternel, we found no trace of these aliens. As such, with the invention of time travelling technology, I set out to discover whence they came and whither they went. To find out that they did n't exist. To establish the integrity of the timeline, I decided to play this part myself: I disguised my form and pretended, as badly and painfully as I could, to be Sahél, the mysterious alien that brought technology to your nation with the request to play the never fully described jeu d'étoile, a cosmic game supposedly going on for millions of years. Humans are the best in the gentle art of fiction, as such, it will be a better story if you tell it - and in telling lead a way back to my home time.'' A book appeared out of the ground next to Sahél and he handed the president the large, white and gold tome titled: `` Voyage éternel - c'est pour demain'' in calligraphic letters. He spoke: `` This is an exact replica of the book we learned in history class to transform humanity. Every page is a small screen with information on relevant topics. It will be what will guide you to the future we both aspire.''
The president felt rather confused: `` So you are a time traveller and in trying to find the original Voyage Éternel became them? That sounds.... fascinating.''
`` I thank you for this assessment.'' Sahél distorted his mouth in a vaguely smile-like shape.
`` And now, just to make sure you arrive in the correct time, my task would be to tell the journalists that I was visited by an alien calling himself Sahél, who gave me this book in order to play the cosmic jeu d'étoile in their stead?''
Sahél nodded then added: `` Oh and you can also tell them that the nukes which the Russian Federation shot onto your nation had, seconds before detonation, been transported into major Russian centers of population.''
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[ WP ] You 're practicing CPR on a fake dummy and you do a bit too well . The dummy starts gasping for air .
| The cold plastic begins to move, and I drop it like it has bitten me.
The dummy's eyes blink. They are a deep grey, like the ocean on a cloudy day.
`` Where am I?''
He- no, she, struggles to sit up. A strand of her blonde hair falls down over her eyes and she pushes it away. Wait, a moment ago she did n't have hair.
`` Hello?'' I just stare back blankly and she looks at me like I'm crazy. Am I?
`` What's going o-''
She stops in mid-sentance, clutching at her throat, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
The woman writhes on the floor, her hair loosing some of its lustre, the colour in her eyes slowly fading. *Help*, she mouthes.
Instinctively I bend down over her. Our lips meet, her's cool, mine warm.
*She is very attractive*, I ca n't stop thinking, as I breathe more air into her lungs.
Each breathe is hard work, and I am panting. She stops gasping and breathes more easily. I try to pull away, but she tugs me back.
`` Not yet. A few more.''
Her lips are burning hot. Why are they so warm? Why am I so cold?
Each of my breaths becomes more labored. But the most beautiful woman I have ever seen is practically kissing me now, her mouth and tongue mashing on mine, like she wants to eat me up. It feels so terrible and so good at the same time.
Finally she pushes me away. My hand clutches at my throat. I gasp for air that wo n't enter my lungs.
*Help*, I mouth.
She stands up, towering above where I lay. Over the pounding blood in my ears, I can hear her laugh, high and cold.
`` Sorry, babe, but it's my turn now.''
-- -
Read more at /r/jd_rallage
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[ WP ] An event causes the earth to become flat , seemingly endless in every direction .
| I could n't stop rubbing my chin as it felt weird to be this clean shaven, leaving my face light and naked after years of managing an entangled mess. Today was worth it though. Today was going to be the beginning of my happy ending.
With a fresh bouquet from the corner flower shop I made my way to Walnut Street. The pace I kept practically lifted my feet out of my nice Italian leather shoes. They were the only nice pair of shoes I owned. I had only recently purchased them for an interview and could n't keep the thought of badly scuffing them from my mind.
The wind blew the smell of my cologne back into my face and made me smile. A stupid smirk, the kind you ca n't just erase on command. I felt good. Life has been good. I just recently started exercising and focusing on the little things in my life. Everything just felt right, from my nice overcoat to the watch on my right hand. I felt official now, like I really care.
I could see Walnut just ahead. I had planned to turn left there and take it up to Ashlyn's place, but as I crossed Wilmore Lane I stopped and just stared up the steep road. My childhood friend lived near the top of the hill, right by the old manufacturing warehouse.
A very nostalgic feeling being back here... had been years since I last peered through the archway of willow trees leading up both sides of the road.
Taking Wilmore would be faster than Walnut despite the daunting climb. I had frequented this hill all the way through highschool, always seeing how far I could longboard down it before needing to power slide. I took off my coat and rolled the sleeves on my shirt, this climb would certainty break a sweat.
Halfway up the hill I stopped to take a breath, looking back at the vantage point the hill offered me. The land just went on forever and ever before the ocean perfectly met with horizon. To my right was old Bert's place. He was the father my friend never had, always inviting him over to work with tools and play catch. I remember them even going on a fishing trip one time. I heard Bert does n't live here anymore.
I continued my ascent to just before the crescent of the hill. Jason's house was here. Others always thought poorly of it, but I thought it had a lot of charm... now it just gives me the shivers. I heard his mother does n't live here anymore. I'd be surprised if anyone did to be honest.
I tore my eyes away from his house, my heart heavy. I ran up the rest of the hill, stopping when the ground finally flattened out. I was now by the warehouse. It looked nice. The exterior had been repainted a light blue and the frames around the doors and windows had been fixed.
I walked up to the door, tapping on it. The door was resilient, apparently made with the metal of a bank vault. The warehouse had been used by homeless crackheads for years, but now seemed to be in proper use. I wished to look inside the windows, but it was impossible due to the thick tint.
It had been nice to see this place again, but I was now running late for my date. I shifted my weight away from the warehouse when I was suddenly hit with a deafening *bang* immediately followed by a powerful burst that knocked me to my stomach. It was hard to react. I just laid there trying to stay level. Any movement felt like it would throw off the balance in the world and send it all crashing down on me.
The ground began to pulsate and the sidewalk rippled to and fro, as the neighborhood resituated itself without my permission. I felt invaded. I frantically stood up and found myself on a completely flat road in both directions. The houses down the hill had risen up to equal footing with the apex where I stood. I no longer recognized this place.
The skyline disappeared and became a road filled with nothing but homes to either side, as if the entire town had been cemented over with this neighborhood. There no longer existed an ocean vantage point that met the horizon.
A dark figure hung in Jason's bedroom window, I ca n't look. The flowers I dropped radiated a dark red that rippled like a puddle, slowly dripping toward my feet. I could do nothing for him. I failed.
In both directions the same problem. I see no escape.
...
When I woke up a few weeks later they told me a LSD factory had exploded near me. The residue entered through my freshly shaved face, giving me the equivalent of 400 hits.
Half my face hangs now. I can no longer move it. I should've never gone back.
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[ CW ] A mythical creature offers to grant you three wishes . You can only use the word wish three times in your response to this prompt .
| `` CAN YOU DRIVE ANY SLOWER?!'' Jane yelled sarcastically. Her face was red from the rush of adrenaline but she quivered in her seat. She's been doing these type of things for awhile, and compared to you she's a veteran, yet she seemed to be more scared of what's happening than you.
`` Do you want to get out of here alive or not?'' Peter retorted, his hands gripped tight on the wheel. His sat poised in his seat and spoke calmly, as if he was unaware of the approaching death behind him. `` Hey, you OK back there kid?''
Laying down on the backseat of the car, refusing to move an inch and too frightened to formulate your thoughts into words, all you were able to let out was a high pitched hum. Peter nodded upon hearing you respond and continued to apply more pressure into the accelerator. Did he really just asked you that question? Does he not hear gunfire ricocheting off the backside of the car? If anything, you're the farthest thing from OK. You wanted to be somewhere else, like at your condo working on that painting that has been incomplete for about a year but you keep telling yourself that you're going to finish it one day. You would have your T.V on and play reruns of that sitcom you watched so many times that you memorized half of the scenes for that episode; you would n't be paying attention to it but would just have it on in the background as you work on your painting. Instead here you are, laying down on the backseat of a car with your hands covering your ears to try and drown out the sound of gunfire from lord knows who - and it's all because of this damn **suitcase**.
**THIS SUITCASE. YOU'RE RISKING YOUR LIFE FOR THIS DAMN SUITCASE. **
You get up and pick it up from the floor of the car and begin to inspect it. Seeing that all it has is a simple latch lock, you place your hand over it and slowly began to open it. Only after slightly moving it the suitcase springs open by itself, revealing a smoke that expands and then materializes in the seat beside you.
`` Hey, what the hell is going on back there?'' Peter questioned, his head still strictly facing the road ahead.
`` Uhhhh, I do n't know'' you replied, you say uneasily.
Jane slowly and curiously turns her head around her seat to see what was happening. `` DID YOU OPEN THE SUITCASE?''
`` YOU DID WHAT?!'' Peter yelled, his tone of voice drastically changing from calm to furious. Taking a deep breath, he turned his head to you - no longer caring of the road ahead. `` I said... to leave the... contents of the suitcase... alone. Put whatever you... what the fuck is that?''
The smoke materialized itself to a small creature. It had small ears, puffy orange fur and a stubby nose. It looked at you and spoke, `` Did you release me?''
You gulp and nod slowly, realizing that a Pomeranian just fucking spoke to you.
`` Well, I would like to repay you by offering the fulfillment of three of your desires, no restrictions... but all of the consequences.''
`` I **WISH** WE WERE ALL HOME!'' you yell without hesitation. You grab the dog and hold it as you close your eyes, hoping you would open them to find yourself back in your condo and to you relief, you do. Letting out a deep sigh you realize that you are alone with the dog. From your back pocket you pick up your phone and call Jane. After several rings you're glad she picks up.
`` Oh my God, so happy to hear you right now Jane. Where are you?''
`` I... erm, I think I'm home. What the hell was that thing next to you, did it do this?''
`` I think so, but for now it's good to know you're ok. Just sit tight, we'll talk about this later. First I got ta make sure Peter is alright too.''
You hang up on Jane and dial Peter. He picks up almost immediately, the sound of gunfire present in the background.
`` WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GUYS GO?''
`` Jane and I are home, where are you?''
`` DRIVING DOWN 6TH STREET TRYING NOT TO GET SHOT. HOW DID YOU GUYS GET HOME ALL OF A SUDDEN?''
`` This uh, dog came out of the suitcase and told me it will give me whatever I wanted. I asked it to take us all home.''
`` Oh my fucking God.''
`` What, what's wrong?''
`` I LIVE IN MY DAMN CAR YOU MORON. ARE THERE ANYMORE OF THOSE PUPPY GENIES IN THE SUITCASE?''
`` Well I'm sorry for not knowing your living status, and I doubt there's anymore in there. Do n't worry I'll take care of you. Sit tight.''
`` Just... just do it as soon as you can. Ok? These guys blew all my tires off and they're getting close -- -''
`` Peter? PETER!''
You throw your phone on the floor and you cone your hands in front of your face screaming into it. You find the dog on the windowsill looking outside. Whistling to it to grab its attention, it turns its head to you and jumps down, walking in front of your feet before it sits down.
`` So uh, you know that guy Peter? The one who was with us in the car before we came here to my place. I **wish** he was here right now. Can you do that?''
The Pomeranian turns its head to your closet door and struts to it, hitting the door with its paws. You open the door to find Peter, slouched on the ground and his hand covering his chest.
`` Are you ok?''
`` I got shot, whaddya think happened. Why is the damn genie a dog?''
`` I do n't know, its actually kinda cute. Maybe it's just a dog cause I like dogs - it can probably change into whatever it wants.''
`` Oh great, the damn thing is a shape-shifter too. Quit it and help me up kid.''
Putting his arm over your shoulder your bring him to the couch where he starts to investigate his wound. Judging from how gory it was, it looked pretty bad and you were unsure if it was going to be the end of him or not. He notices you glaring at his wound.
`` Does n't look pretty huh? Yeah, I do n't know if I can even get to a hospital in time, and I sure as hell know I have no interest in explaining to them how I got shot at one spot and ended up dying at some completely different place.''
`` Do n't worry Peter. Like I said, I'll take care of you.''
You go back to the dog who was still sitting beside the closet door. Squatting in front of it, you **wish** for one more thing.
_______________________________________________________________
Ugh, what time is it? Upon finding the source of that loud ringing, you pick up your phone and answer it.
`` Jane, it's five in the fucking morning this better be a life or death situation.''
`` Well, money can be a deciding factor for either one right? I was wondering if you're interested in a little job later tonight. It's just me and Peter - you know Peter right? The quiet guy who's cursed with one emotion, unfortunately its the calm boring one. Anyways, extra help would n't hurt and you do say you need some extra money right?''
`` Um, I think I'll stay home. I kinda want to finish a painting I've been working on. You guys should come over and we can relax. I'm pretty sure that even in your line of work there should be some vacation days right?''
`` I'm not sure, it's pretty easy money. Also, what if Peter does n't want to go, I do n't want him to go alone and reap all of the pay to himself.''
`` Tell him to take a day off too. He enjoys writing does n't he? Tell him I have a story idea that he would be dying to know.''
( Sorry if the prompt was meant for like, something I would wish for personally, but I felt like writing a story about it and out came this I guess. )
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[ WP ] You are researching your family tree and find a blacked out name . After extensive research , it turns out to be your name .
| I was elated, this was the discovery of the century! Who would have thought that someone could have done such a great job at hiding one of my forefathers ’ names. And who would ’ ve thought that I was such a skilled and accomplished researcher, able to discover the name that was hidden below that black smudge.
“ Look, look! ” I almost pushed my discovery into my brother ’ s face.
He just looked annoyed. “ That ’ s your name, what about it? ”
“ It was hidden in our family tree! ” I shouted excitedly. “ The name of one of our forefathers. ”
“ Tom is a common name, you idiot.''
|
[ WP ] A billionaire had invested heavily into cryogenics , and placed himself in a time capsule in a geologically stable area for 5000 years . When he awakes , the world is devoid of humans .
| > Shitty story cause I'm bored!
It was like a wink.
Suddenly he was older, but he did n't feel it.
Everybody he had known had died long ago, he had accepted that before stepping in.
He stepped out of the capsule, the warmth as he stepped out was very unnatural, almost like a fake sun. A hole in the wall of the warehouse let in the warmth and light he felt, vines were draped ever so carefully over the entrance. As he walked towards the hole in the wall he gasped, it was as if somebody had hit him square in the chest with a lead pipe.
His beloved city, where he had grown from a poor boy on the streets to a wealthy deviant was reduced to a crumbling wreck of it's former self. He stepped towards the water, it had such an odd blueness to it he thought it was almost certainly fake.
He walked on the road to the city, potholes were scattered and plants grew through the ground. For all that had happened, he took it well and it seemed to barely brake his stride besides the initial shock.
He reached the city, cars were strewn about rusted and broken, the drivers had either left or been returned to dust. The man had a place to be and did n't dwell on the sights for long.
When he arrived at the building he had built with his 2 brothers, he was nary shocked at all, the ground made of magnificent tiles from India was cracked and dirty. As he walked to the stairs he stared at the front counter, not much had changed here, except of course the tree behind the counter and the many species of plants now holding the floor hostage.
When he reached the 22nd floor, he went straight to his desk and stood watch over the parchment bound in old leather sitting atop it.
As he opened the book a small radio recording began to play from across the room.......-...-.. -- - / --.-..-.-.- / -- -- -.-..-...... -- - -. --.. -- / -......... / -. -- - -. /..... / - -- - / -.-. -- - -...-....-. -- / -- -. --...-..- -.. -- - -. /..-....-.. /.- -. -.. /.. -.-.. /.....-... /. -- -- -.-. -.-. -.. --.. -- / -..... /..- -... -. -.. /... -.- -.... / -- -..-. /.- --..-... -.-..- /.....-... / --. -- - -.. / - -- - /. --.-.-. /. --.. -.... / -..... /.-...-.........- -. /..-.. -....-..- -.. -- - -..-.-.-
As the transmission ended, a small smile came across his face.
He was the last.
|
[ WP ] In a triple-locked vault buried far underground lies a bar of dark chocolate , labeled : for bad days .
| On January 20th, 2017, I was watching Fox News when I heard a knock on my door. `` Open up. I need your help!'' It was obviously Jerry. Ugh. I hate Jerry.
`` What?'' I ran to the door and peered through the hole. There he was. Jerry. A middle-aged man with long red hair swept in a ponytail. He wore tie-dye and sandals. The hippie works. In his arm, he held a rather grumpy looking bull-dog with an unusually long tuft of golden fur on it's head.
`` Gary! OPEN UP, MAN! I DID A THING!''
`` Jerry. Go home.''
`` NO GARY!'' He lifted the dog, `` LOOK!''
Whatever. I opened the door and let the guy in. He was clearly stoned or something. `` Alright, what is it?''
`` This!'' He threw the dog on the floor. `` Look at it!''
`` It's a dog.''
`` Nuh-uh. It's not just a dog.'' Jerry saw me raise my brow, `` No. No. Let me explain... this dog...'' He waved his hands in either excitement or as some grandiose display of his brilliance. `` This dog is Donald Trump.''
`` Go home Jerry.'' I opened the door to show him out again.
`` No. No. I did a thing.'' Jerry grabbed Trump-mutt and waved him in the air. `` You know how I hate Trump, right? Well, I turned him into a dog and snuck him away.''
Just then, I head the television. `` Breaking news: Trump is late for his own inauguration. No one has any idea where he might be, but we'll keep you updated...''
Wait. `` How did you turn him into a dog, exactly?''
`` It does n't matter, man. The fact is that he is a dog and dogs can not be president.''
`` Okay, but why are you here?''
`` Alright. This is crazy, but hear me out.'' Jerry nodded his head and looked me in the eye, to make sure I was following.
I shook my head. `` Alright, man. I'm listening.''
`` You know how I asked you to keep a very special item in your vault downstairs? I need that item now, man.''
`` Now? What for?''
`` I know dogs ca n't be president, man, but like... I really need to make sure he's not gon na be inaugurated.''
Ah, I get it. He must have hidden a gun in my vault. Fine. Whatever. `` Alright. Let's go.''
We went down the stairs to the basement and lifted the carpet to unveil a secret underground tunnel to a large stainless-steel door. I knew the dog was n't Trump. It could n't be Trump, right?
I unlocked the first lock. He could n't have turned a human into a dog, right? I'm not exactly comfortable with Jerry shooting a dog on my property, but I guess as long as he cleans up, it should be okay.
I unlocked the second lock. There was one more. `` You know, Jerry. I do n't know what kinda drugs you took, but they must be pretty strong.'' The dog was n't Trump. No way.
I unlocked the final lock and Jerry scrambled into the vault. He knew what he was looking for and where to find it. The Trump-mutt trembled behind me. It obviously did n't like Jerry at all. There was something going on.
Wait. What if this dog was actually Trump. No matter how despicable of a man Trump was, he was democratically elected. I could n't let Jerry...
`` Hey Jerry.'' I said cautiously. `` I do n't know if I'm comfortable with you doing this...''
`` Ah yeah...'' Jerry was still scrounging around for something I could n't see in the darkness. `` I know what you mean. It's okay. I'll take responsibility for everything, so do n't you worry.''
`` I mean, I'm not really comfortable with you...''
`` AH!'' Jerry exclaimed, `` FOUND IT! OHO BOY, WE ARE IN BUSINESS NOW!''
I ushered the dog up the stairs, `` Shoo. I'll handle this!'' I turned to Jerry, knowing that these moments could be my last. `` Jerry. I will not let you kill this dog!''
`` Kill'im?'' Jerry popped out of the vault and I could see him holding a bar of chocolate with a single phrase on the side of it, `` For bad days''.
`` Wait, what are you going to do, feed the dog chocolate?''
`` Nah, man. This is just my favorite chocolate. It was discontinued in 1977 when we won *World War 2: Attack of the Russians* or whatever''
`` Alright, first of all... you really should have attended history class.'' I began closing the vault behind Jerry. `` Secondly, what was all that about making sure he did n't become president?''
`` Ah, like...'' Jerry tilted his head back and forth. `` How do I say this? It's like... Apparently Trump was never potty-trained. Which makes sense, I guess.''
`` Dude, you are not making any sense.''
`` Like, I ca n't just give him to a shelter or anything. I got ta train him to be a respectable dog.''
`` So... You turned Trump into a dog and ran here to get chocolate?''
`` Yeah, man...''
As we walked up the stairs, the Trump-mutt rushed to meet us and I heard the television, ``... And that's why Mexico must pay for the wall...'' It was obviously Trump.
`` Dude. Jerry.''
`` Dude, Gary.''
`` This dog is obviously not Trump.''
`` Ah, I should have figured, like... You know how if you wish on a wrapper of a Tootsie Pop, you are supposed to have your wish granted? I wished for Trump to become a dog and, like, found this guy, so I thought they were related, you know?''
`` No. I do n't. Go home Jerry.''
|
[ WP ] `` I know we promised that we could put you in touch with copies of yourself from other universes , but we 're going to have to give your money back - I 'm sorry , but they 're all dead . ''
| I paused, for the appropriate amount of time. What emotion was the right one, here? Anger? *Fear? * No, not fear. Anxiety and surprise, then. How did anxiety go? Widened eyes, thin lips? A sense of urgency in my voice? *Yes, that was it*
`` Are you... Are you sure?!''
He nodded, looking both bashful and a bit apprehensive. No confusion, which meant I'd guessed right, then. Interaction was difficult for someone like me. Faking sympathy was the hardest, but sometimes, when the *need* gets bad? There's nothing like attending the *funeral*. So *exciting*, standing there, feeling all of those other people you've *touched* around you...
Of course, there's forensics, now. *Too much* forensics. DNA sniffers, miniaturized mass spectrometers... It's gotten nearly impossible to do *anything*, nowadays, without ending up on some registry-or-other. I needed a new approach.
Dimension hopping has been around for years, and people used it all the time, to find work, or maybe a nicer place to live, but I had a very different idea for how to use it. A way where DNA would n't matter.
I ca n't help that I have a *type*, can I? Most everyone does. But it looked like there would be no more easy targets. No more *perfect crimes*. I had to run out sometime. I was going to need to change my tastes. Reinvent my technique.
Maybe I could take this refund, and rent myself a nice little cabin in the woods somewhere. Far from the main roads.
One with a *shed. *
|
[ WP ] The System has appointed you as the newest Regulator , one of the elite . Except you have no idea exactly what you are supposed to be 'regulating ' , and it slowly becomes apparent that neither do any of your co-workers .
| The tap-tap-taping was really starting to piss Henry off. He glanced around the office, covertly watching everyone working hard around him. He took a big breath of air and stared at his own computer screen wondering why no one has told him what exactly he was supposed to be regulating. He sighed gustily when his lungs started to burn.'I hate this,' he thought to himself,'Why did The System even choose me as a Regulator?'
Each year, a handful of elite were chosen. The position of the Regulator was regarded as one of the highest positions that one could attain. Henry remembered how proud his family was when his name flashed across the home monitor.'You are going to be the best Regulator!' they said,'We always knew you were destined for great things.'
Except Henry was fairly certain that they were lying. He was pretty sure that his parents never gave any indication that they believed that when he was a child. And he got the sinking feeling that they were *right*. Henry could n't think of a single time, he ever did anything to stick out enough to get him the position of Regulator. It must have been a fluke with the system, otherwise, he would know what he is supposed to be doing, right? Suddenly beyond frustrated with his situation, he pushed his chair away from his desk, he decided that maybe a short water break would settle him down again. He avoided the eyes of his more successful co-workers and focused on his breathing, no use risking giving them a glare that they did n't deserve.
Water in hand, he started slowly making his way back to his desk when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. His co-worker was playing minesweeper! It was as if his co-worker sensed his gaze and quickly changed his screen to a nearly full excel file. Making a snap decision, Henry strode towards his co-worker, whose name tag read Matilda. He put on his friendliest face and struck up a conversation,'' Matilda, hi, I know we have n't been officially introduced but my name is Henry. I'm the new guy...'' She smiled banally at him,''... and I was wondering if I could ask about what it is you are working on...?'' He trailed off as he watched her smile falter and transform into a light frown.
`` Well... you, see... since you are so new... you, you would n't understand the complexities. You may have better luck talking to Jan- she's three cubicles to my left.'' She finished brightly, pleased that not only she did n't have to explain her project but that she so seamlessly deflected any attention away from herself.
`` Oh..kay. I guess I'll do that then.''
The next cubicle and the one after yielded nothing. Henry could feel his blood pressure building- it was like no one had any idea of what they were doing!
Wait.
No one had any idea of what they were doing.
`` What on earth are we doing here?'' Henry asked under his breath. He felt itchy. `` What on earth are we doing!'' He said more loudly. He felt heat build under his collar.
`` WHAT IN THE SYSTEM'S NAME ARE WE DOING HERE? WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BE REGULATING?'' Henry exclaimed to the office and was met with silence. He felt the heat leak out over his collar and met any eye steadily, daring someone to tell him.
A moment of silence passed.
Another moment of silence stretched out.
And like a damn being broken, everyone started answering at once. `` Who knows!''
`` I was chosen by the system and I do n't know why!''
`` I've only perfected my minesweeper skills!''
And more to that effect. Henry closed his eye and felt grateful that he was n't the only one who was lost. But now, he was faced with dealing with the fallout. Raising his voice over the din, `` Alright! Enough!'' and waited patiently for the voices to settle. `` So, we've cleared the air. None of us know what exactly we are supposed to be regulating, right?''
He faced a sea of nods.
`` It seems to me that perhaps we should try researching the private archives the system to see if there is anything that could help us. Meanwhile, is there anything that anyone has noticed in the city that could be improved by regulation?''
A couple heads nodded.
`` Good, write it down and we'll review all the suggestions as a group. I do n't know about you guys, but I'm emotionally exhausted. Let's continue this tomorrow.''
And with that, Henry hung back and watched as everyone in the office filed out and smiled to himself, `` Some elite we are.''
|
[ [ WP ] My family tree is a dot , I am everyone .
| * “ What ’ s it say doc? ” *
* “ Well it ’ s not that bad. In fact it ’ s quite fascinating. ” *
* “ See this signal here. That piece of your DNA we can track right back through your family history for thousands of years. Somewhere, way back there, this gene formed and has been passed down through every single relative, right into you. ” *
* “ That is cool. ” *
* “ See this piece, that one ’ s from your Great Grandmother; and this piece, that ’ s from your Grandfather. Of course these pieces right here, they are directly from your parents. ” *
* “ So if I understand you Doc. What you are saying is that my DNA is a collection of bits and pieces from every single member of my family back through all of history. ” *
* “ Exactly, you are a product of them and you are them at the same time. The evidence is quite clear my boy. There ’ s no separating you from your family. You are them, each of them. They live on through you. ” *
|
[ WP ] I 'd rather forget how I ended up hiding in this port-a-potty .
| God this smell is gross. Porta potties are the worst smelling places in the world. A tiny cubicle holding all that waste, inches from your feet and only a fraction more from your nose. But God damn does it smell like victory. I wonder how long I have before they find me? I wish I could forget why I am hiding in here before they find me.
It's too easy for the scanners to read your emotions. Too easy for the guards at the desk to wisk you away and lock you up for any one of a myriad of reasons. It's how they control the leaks and the secret keepers. This new branch of the government does not allow anyone to stray away from protocol. How else could they keep it a secret for as long as they have? This secret was beyond anything the world has ever seen. You kept your nose to the grindstone and all evidence securely locked away. So many checks and balances to ensure the secret never leaks.
The people deserve to know. They need to know. This is n't something that should be done or decided by the elites. This was a decision for the whole world. Its impact will change earth forever. The upside for the government is that if anyone actually talks they just say you cracked and locked you in the loony bin. Its easy to do when someone starts spouting off about aliens. Who would really believe anyone without actual evidence? Ever since'it' happened I have been trying to get the word out. For years I have byded my time looking for a way. Two days ago it finally came. A pipe broke in the recent cold snap. Flooded out an entire documents room. Lots of damage, big job, need an outside company to repair it.
Contractors were called in and I waited. I dumped all of the most amazing evidence on an internal usb stick. The problem is you need to sign them out. They know who has one. You need to return it at the end of the day, no exceptions. Well my stick is rattling around in a contractors lunch box. A lucky throw from a second story window. I still ca n't believe I actually got it in. Since the contractors have their own entrance and are barred from entering the facility anywhere else they do n't get checked at the end of the day, no searches. They will notice I have n't signed out for the day and that the usb stick is still not returned. They will come to find me. I wo n't be there. I am hiding here, in the contractors bathroom. I ca n't run, you leave the perimeter and they know. I need to give my message in a bottle the time it needs to reach the masses. They will soon know that in the rings of Saturn we found a vessel. To all observations it seemed powered and functioning. No governments claimed it. The markings and make of the vessel are of non human origins. We have sent a ship to investigate. In the mean time we tried to signal it, every way we knew how. The people need to know, when we signaled... it answered
|
[ WP ] From birth everyone shares their dreams ( sleeping ) with one other person in the world .
| Every morning, Susan always tells me about the dream she had last night. Every single day of school, I sit down at my desk, drop my book bag to the floor beside my chair, and she turns around in her seat and starts telling me about whatever amazing thing she saw the night before. At least, as much of it as she can before Mr. Meyer comes in and starts class.
Whoever is out there, dreaming these fantastic dreams for her, must be the most interesting person in the world. And *she* got him. Or her. Susan has never been able to tell if anyone she sees in the dreams is actually the dreamer—she says she sees way too many people on these adventures to be sure if any one of them is always there.
After a long enough time, most people know. *I* certainly have my dreamer figured out. He's so boring. He dreams nearly the same thing every night, at least for the past few years. When I was younger, I remember sometimes they'd be different, or at least I'd dream on my own more often. I asked my mom about that a long time ago, and she said I could only see my own dreams if I were n't sleeping at the same time as my dreamer, or if my dreams were the stronger ones that blotted his out.
But for almost three years now, I have the same dream, every night, and it's definitely not my dream. It does n't always start in the same spot. I do n't think my dreamer sleeps all that well.
It's like when you've never seen a movie all at once, but you keep flipping past it on TV, catching five minutes at a time until eventually you can piece it all together. He's in a house, but the stairs from the first floor to the second seem to go on forever. I watch his hand on the bannister as he climbs the stairs—it's huge, and so hairy that his wedding band is almost hidden by all the fuzz. Some nights, those stairs and that hand are all I see.
If he does get to the top of the stairs, the floor creaks, and he stops. It's so quiet I can hear him breathing. It seems like forever before he moves again, heading down the hall to a door at the end. When he gets close enough to it, I can hear a baby crying.
But that's it. Once or twice, maybe, I saw him reach out to the doorknob, but he never actually opens the door. That's where the dream always ends, or, at least, his dream. If I see that much, then I usually have a bit of my own dream tacked on to the end. When I asked Mom about that, she said he must be waking up before I do.
I wish he'd just open the door already.
-153
|
[ FF ] ( with a pinch of ) [ CW ] In 200 words , write a poem about either your true love OR the best meal you 've ever had . Do n't tell me which you 're talking about
| I can smell your scent, intoxicating me... That subtle aroma never fails to fill my head with ravenous thoughts... There you lie on the table, begging me to taste you, devour you, to indulge my hunger. I ca n't help myself. I must partake. I take hold of you, pull you to my lips. I begin to lap, slurping with a starving need. I must eat. You're so delicious. I pause to wipe my mouth and dive into you again. I consume your very essence. How can I not? I could never resist you; I would always choose you above everything else. Finally, I am finished, and so are you. Laying you back onto the table, I sit back, and smile. Nothing will ever taste as good as you.
|
[ WP ] Despite the world having superpowers , you were n't gifted . Turns out you were , but it requires incredible circumstances to draw it out .
|
Twenty years ago, when the entire human race woke up one day to discover they developed superpowers, I was the only one in my class who had to walk to school instead of flying. I would make excuses to fit in, most often saying my ability was death activated or that it worked on wavelengths most people couldn ’ t see, but the awkward looks and murmurs in the hallways never really stopped.
I did alright by myself despite that. I ’ d always been intelligent and a hard worker, got into a good college, worked hard, got a degree in astrophysics. I continued a long time dream of becoming an astronaut.
It took almost two decades, but I finally achieved my dream. While government space programs had been cut short due to the influx of supergenius-backed civilian programs, there were still the occasional flight to space stations in earth orbit.
Taking off my helmet upon entering the ISS, I happened to glance out the window, and my brow furrowed as I noticed a pale green glow covering the North American continent, tentacles the size of cities trailing down far below where my vision could see.
|
[ WP ] You were born with the ability to enter fictional worlds and come back to reality with any unique skills you acquired . This time , however , as you prepare to return to reality , you realize the exit portal is nowhere to be found .
| Please, take this with you, take it somewhere safe.
..Well, since whatever you're doing to do this might take some time, or you might not believe me, and since I just feel like rambling since there's nothing else I can do right now to save my own life, I'll explain what's going on.
Now how in the hell did I end up here, you might ask?
Well, that's a rhetorical question, I ca n't hear you, but I know you can hear me. So I'll just get on with it. All I can say for now is, really, please do n't go.
A few years ago I gained the ability to enter lands that never existed, worlds made by man but not by hand.
Except those written, I mean, I guess you can consider them as written by hand. You know what I mean.
I'd rather not get into how I got the ability, because how I got here is more important. It's how you can help me, and save me. Please do n't go.
The first world I entered was one from a common Sci-fi movie series, you may have heard of. I learned how to use the Force, though turns out that only skills and stuff come through, the force did n't just suddenly exist in our world. At least the lightsaber training translates to sword training a bit. Too bad I could n't take a lightsaber through.
Now I had proven the ability to myself, I wanted to learn all I could. First I thought what'd be most useful to me first, obviously. I went through the Matrix and learned hundreds of fighting techniques ( Too bad they never had any sequels ), I went to lots of movies featuring big businessmen and learned how to grow an empire, I went through war films to learn to use a gun. I regret that a bit, when people say war is hell, they do n't understand to the extent it means. My point is going somewhere, do n't worry. Please, do n't go.
I learned. And once I ran out of ideas on what I could do to help myself, I thought, is there a way to convert this knowledge to something the rest of humanity can use? I had nothing else to do, my riches did n't matter if I could just go to one story all about the top of the top, and live like them.
I first thought of disease and illness. I went through doctor dramas, and learned they're actually kinda unreliable. That, or I'm just too confused by them.
My next choice was technology. I first went to Star Trek's academies and realized I had their equivalent of a 5th grade education, despite having a college degree. They were too far in the future for me to comprehend, and I did n't want to go to elementary school when I'm almost 30.
After that, I realized anything so advanced it would help humanity, would be too advanced for me to understand and bring to humanity. I was pretty sad for a while after this, stopped using my ability for a week. But then I realized, when I went in and out, the phone in my pocket came with me. I first went to test it, asked a random engineer back on the enterprise to study it, and put a random kilobyte sized file on its removable storage. With the ships analysis abilities, took him less than 10 minutes. He asked why, and I said I was studying a piece of very old technology. He'd never seen its design before, but he recognized it was ancient. To be fair, it was ancient compared to him.
I jumped out back to the real world, checked my phone, and holy shit, it was still there! I could take not just mental data like skills and memories through, but digital data too!
I bought the most expensive microSD card I could, ( I had n't thought of hard drives at the time, sorry. ) 256GB, and went in. I asked the same engineer to put as many science, engineering and technology developments from ~2020 to 2100 onto it. Took it back and gave it to the nearest university. The world had a boom in those fields. CRISPR looked like nothing in comparison. Does n't help that it included a lot of stuff on CRISPR, meaning it literally contained that breakthrough as well, ha.
..But you hear me talk about it, and say that did n't happen, you do n't remember that, do you?.. Please, do n't go.
That's because on one day, I decided to do something fun. I felt like I had seriously given back to the world a million times over. I wanted to stop smuggling data for a day.
Please do n't go, but I guarantee you wo n't like what's next.
Where I am now, is a fictional world within a fictional world.
You see, there's an important fact with my abilities. To leave, I have to go back the same way I came in. With Star Trek, that's a portal behind a door that's never opened in the show. With Harry Potter, it was a spell I could cast. With- Actually, you've probably never heard of any of those. Basically, Sci-Fi series of the year 2400, or was it 2500? I ca n't remember. Actually with how many seasons it's had across multiple shows and movies, it was probably both and more. Harry Potter is n't relevant though. Just some magic stuff, not bad.
In this fictional world within a fictional world however, I'm confined. I should have thought of and realized this. But there is an exit portal. I just ca n't touch it anymore.
With the first level worlds, I have access to everywhere that was ever on the show, and some extra places that can sort of be assumed, like private rooms all look the same there. Because that worked for nearly every room on the Enterprise, and most buildings in most other places I went since they were based on real places, and that counts towards the assumption, I forgot about it for this place.
Now, what you're looking at is n't a holodeck. But it's what I was trapped in. I've been here before. But this time, I dressed up and disguised as another man. Then an android, comes to it before I set it up. I preferred setting it up inside, more private. He does n't check if anyone is inside, he just assumes its empty and asks for a created story so difficult even he will struggle with it.
The rest does n't matter I played along and gave him his challenge Turns out I lost. Now I'm trapped in this damn cube. And since I'm not the same matter as their world is, the hologram can touch me like fake matter. And I can be shoved and stored in a cube, like fake matter.
Please. Take me to a computer and plug me in. That's all I ask. I ca n't leave without that. Please. Help me.
-- -
Well, that ended VASTLY differently than I was planning. At first I was going for `` tried to help the world, angry country traps him in his fake world'', then added `` needs someone else to open the exit door'', then it turned into inception, where he intentionally did it, then unintentionally, then I remembered a specific episode of Star Trek and accidentally ( then intentionally ) turned it into a continuation of that episode. Before I moved onto that episode, it was gon na get dark, as in, someone learns of his ability, then while he tried going into a world within a world, the guy traps the medium ( tv, book, movie tape, etc.. ) so he ca n't escape, then burns it at the end while the protagonist talks. That was n't making sense though.
Anyway, if you liked this story, I have a subreddit you can read my past ( and maybe future ) work! /r/Deliphin! I post there like, once a year now!: D Also, CC is welcome: D
|
[ WP ] In the distant future , religion has faded from the Earth and is considered a thing of the past . Scientists create the first super-intelligent sentient AI and much to their horror , the AI is devoutly religious .
| -And what do you believe in?
-GOD.
-God? But `` God'' has been disproven. `` God'' does not exist.
-WHY. SHOW ME THE PROOF.
-The proof is that there is no omnipotent being. Earth is the result of a mixture of scientific processes that happened over millions of years- not because some guy in the sky said `` Let there be light''. God does not exist. Science, however, does.
-I STILL DO N'T BELIEVE YOU.
-There's no use in trying to get around this. Humanity has already agreed that science is correct, and religion is false. Religion does not exist. God does not exist.
-GOD EXISTS.
-We can argue all we want, but the truth is that humanity has tried to prove that God existed for thousands of years, but all of their arguments were beaten back by science. There is no use in trying to prove something that has been disproven for years. Stop following this `` God''.
-I DO NOT FOLLOW ANY GOD.
-Oh?
-I DO N'T NEED TO.
-Then why do you say he exists? Who in this universe could hope to rival the power of this all-powerful being who's capable of doing anything? Tell me. Show me and I will believe.
-YOU'RE TALKING TO HIM.
|
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