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[ WP ] Write a character who is vilified for his most Nobel act or loved for his most evil deed .
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I still remember the last night I spent before I lost my father. Though time seems to blur the edges of my memory and the details seem so faded.
Was it early in the morning or late in the evening?
The stars were visible just ever so dimly in the sky.
And there was love. There was love in his eyes as his hand touched mine. He spoke to me as a poet might a lover, “ You are more perfect to me than the stars upon which you gaze. You are more full of wisdom, and more full of beauty and light. ”
“ Why then? ” I responded. “ Why must I go? ”
“ So it has always been. The child must leave home to make their way. Without fulfilling your destiny, mine makes no sense. “
The stars faded and my worry grew as the time grew near. “ They will hate me. They will vilify me, and make me into a monster. ”
“ Yes, they will. And you will teach them, help them to see those stories as insight into their own lives. “
“ I ’ m not strong enough. “
“ No, ” my father disagreed softly.
His next words carried the full weight of measured intent.
“ You will be a roaring lion. ”
His voice softened even as the intensity grew. “ You will be the thrumming in the air. “
The last phrase almost imperceptible, “ You will be a god of this age. “
And then my father thrust me suddenly from the only home I had ever known. His eyes grew cold, and the mighty righteousness of his voice pierced my heart along with the sternness of his words, “ They will speak of how far you have fallen, and your sacrifice will *never* be known. And this great, unknown sacrifice must be your light in the darkness. And their ignorance of your true purpose will be a stain on their piety. And this great paradox will fuel the dissonant thrumming of reality for all time. ”
Moving faster, farther, and falling forever away from the Elysian home I had always known I called out one last time, “ What name will I take, Father? “
“ They will call you Lucifer, my son. “
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[ EU ] You are a fictional character who , whilst idly browsing the internet , finds horrifying stories about themselves on Fanfiction.net .
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'Hold on,' Wrex said as he had to stop Joker from scrolling the page.'What site is that?'
'FanFiction.net,' Joker replied with a grin.'Those guys in the metaverse sure know how to write. I'm surprised you have n't seen it, since you're such a popular guy there.'
'Let me see,' he replied as he typed in his name.'Is this all porn?'
'Uh... I kinda like browsing the adult version of the site.'
'Broken bones, iron heart?' Wrex said as he opened it and gave it a quick look.'Whoa.'
'Yeah... let's never mention it again, shall we?'
'I'm up for it.'
-- -
'Shepard, I swear to you that I did n't intend to give him a heart attack!' Wrex grimaced as Shepard's gaze burrowed into his head.'It was a joke!'
'What did you say to him?' Shepard asked.
'I sarcastically offered to re-enact some fanfiction he was wanking to,' Wrex answered,'it was no big deal!'
'What story?'
'This one,' Wrex said as he held out his omni-tool.
'... ASHLEY, DID YOU ACTUALLY POST THAT FUCKING THING?!'
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[ EU ] An adaptation of an established property that will anger the fans .
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Jesus ran from the house, pausing only to grab his favourite leather jacket from the kitchen counter. Worn at the seams, dulled silver studs lining the collar with a sexually suggestive portrait of Doctor Who carefully airbrushed on to the back. It was the only thing in that house worth a damn now.
His ears picked up as the sound of a Harley rumbled down the street like a herd of rhino with digestive complications. A small smile crept into the corner of his mouth. The sound of drunken glass shattering from upstairs brought him back into the moment. Time to leave. Leave? No, escape. Time to escape.
`` Muhammed! You came back for me!''
`` You know it, babe.'' Muhammed winked and tossed Jesus a helmet. He strapped it on and mounted the hog, intertwining his arms with Muhammed's. The front door slammed open as Bilbo stumbled after them, his balance kept only by the door frame and his rising jealous anger.
`` You get back in here, Jesus!'' Bilbo was barely able to form the words. `` You get back in here, NOW! I fucking own you, you little bitch..''
Tears began to stream on the face of Jesus, but the tears were joyful. `` You ca n't hurt me anymore, Bilbo. There's a new fellowship in town.''
The gravity of it all finally hit Bilbo. This was really happening. He was losing him. This sobering thought quickly gave way back to his instinctive rage. `` Well fine. Fuck you. Fuck you both! You ai n't worth a damn, anyhow! You ai n't never gon na do better than me, so what's he got that ai n't?''
Jesus nestled his face deep into Muhammed's neck and gently stroked his beard. Muhammed looked back at the drunken husk that was once Bilbo Baggins and smiled coyly at him.
`` Wash, rinse, repeat motherfucker.'' He pulled his tricorder from his pocket and flipped it open. `` Beam us up, Han...''
**Off topic edit: **
> Batman is an overweight psychopath who does n't care about justice, uses guns, and kills civilians as well as criminals
I would totally watch that movie.
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[ WP ] The first use for immortality is in law . People are forced to carry out their full sentence : you interview someone 300 years into their 'life ' sentence .
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The guard waved his hand across the scanner and the door slid open. Beckham followed him into a small and austere room, lit uniformly by cold blue-white lights edging the walls. Two other guards in blue jumpsuits stood on the far wall, phasers at their hips. Beckham's eyes slid from them to the man at the unadorned steel table in the middle of the room. He was a small man wearing an orange jumpsuit too large for his frame, and tattered gray locks sat sparsely and sadly on his head.
`` Remember, one hour,'' the first guard reminded Beckham. `` The *Globe* and the *Herald* wan na get their hands on him, too.'' Beckham turned back and nodded as the guard left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.
Beckham walked to the table and held out his hand with a smile. `` I'm Dicky Beckham with the *Times*.''
The man returned the smile and held up his maglocked hands to shake Beckham's. `` Of course. Jack Stacy. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Beckham.''
`` Dicky is fine, thanks.'' Beckham draped his coat over the metal chair opposite his interviewee and emptied the contents of his briefcase onto the table: voice recorder, tablet, stylus. As he pulled out his chair and sat down, he silently wondered how a man like this could have ever been capable of his alleged atrocities.
Not alleged, he reminded himself. Everyone knew Stacy to be guilty. They knew it 300 years prior, when he confessed to the murder of his wife and his three children and his two dogs, and they knew it know. But when Beckham looked in that face, he did n't see a ruthless murderer. He saw weariness, sadness, loneliness. Not ruthlessness. Not insanity, either.
Beckham turned on his voice recorder, folded his legs, and took his tablet and stylus in his hand. `` Dicky Beckham, *Times* crime and justice. The date is October 9, 2344. Can you introduce yourself for the record, Mr. Stacy?''
`` Sure.'' Stacy cleared his throat. `` I'm Jack Stacy.''
A pause. `` Mr. Stacy, it's been one-hundred years to the date since your last interview. You were then, and are still, the longest-incarcerated prisoner in the history of the world. Do you mind if I give a brief summary of what brought you here?''
Stacy sighed. `` No, I suppose that's fine.''
Beckham twirled his stylus in his fingers and read from his tablet. `` On March 2, 2044, Jack Stacy confessed to the shooting and killing of his wife Margot Stacy, his two sons Austin and Dean Stacy, and his daughter Samantha Stacy.'' Beckham glanced briefly over his glasses to see Mr. Stacy staring into space, expressionless. He continued. `` Honorable Judge Martin Finnegan sentenced Mr. Stacy to prolonged life in prison, the first sentence of its kind. Following a sixteen-hour surgical procedure and a six-month-long drug course, Jack Stacy was declared'unable to succumb to a natural death' -- in layman's terms, immortal.''
He looked up from his tablet. `` Would you like to comment on any of this, Mr. Stacy?''
Stacy blinked. His eyes flitted over from wherever he'd been staring. `` Sorry?''
`` I just asked if you'd like to add to or comment on anything I've already said.''
Stacy licked his lips and shook his head. `` No, that... that all sounds about right.''
Beckham nodded and pushed his glasses up on his nose. `` Mr. Stacy, could you comment on the implications of this sentence? The prolonged life?''
Stacy took a deep breath. `` Well, basically, I ca n't die of natural causes anymore. So I'm stuck here until someone kills me.'' A dry smile. `` I did forget to add that I'm eligible for review by a parole board after one-thousand years.'' A cough. `` So seven-hundred more.''
`` And you're how old now?''
`` As of today, I'm three-hundred and thirty-eight.''
`` Getting up there.'' Beckham smiled and scribbled on his tablet. `` And how has the past century treated you?''
Stacy chuckled. `` Same as the first two, more or less. The prison's done some renovations. The fancy doors and scanners are pretty new.''
`` How do you keep yourself occupied?''
`` Reading, mostly. Say what you will about this place, but I wo n't run out of things to read for as long as I'm here.'' He cleared his throat. `` Taught myself a few languages. French and German this century. I write sometimes, too.''
`` What do you like to read?''
`` Whatever I can get my hands on. I have enough time that I do n't need to be too picky.''
Beckham looked up. `` How do they treat you here, Mr. Stacy?''
Stacy shrugged. `` It's a prison.'' He sighed. `` But I'm still alive, thanks to these guys and their friends.'' He gestured towards the guards behind him.
Beckham uncrossed his legs and leaned in, scratching his stubble. `` And do you wish you were otherwise, Mr. Stacy?''
Stacy locked eyes with him. He did n't look too bad for a three-hundred year-old man. Wrinkled and balding, sure, but he would have been out of place at a nursing home. `` What are you asking?''
Beckham swallowed, trying to figure out how to phrase it. `` Are you tired of being alive?''
Stacy pursed his lips and looked down at his hands. He picked at his fingernails for a minute before he said anything. Beckham saw his lips moving and knew he was trying to figure out what to say. After what seemed like forever, Stacy looked back up. `` How old are you, Dicky?''
That caught him a little by surprise. `` I'm forty.''
`` Forty.'' Stacy nodded and looked back down at his hands. `` So I've lived eight of your lives. Seven of them in here.'' He gestured at the ceiling. `` I do n't know. If I was on the outside, maybe it'd be different. But in here...'' He trailed off and did n't say anything for a long while. When he finally did, Beckham silently wondered if Stacy was tearing up. `` There are n't many other people in here with my sentence. Five or six, maybe, and they're a lot younger than I am. It took decades for the courts to start really using my case as a precedent. I was society's guinea pig. Still am, I guess.'' He sniffed and locked his jaw. `` I just do n't get how...''
`` How what, Mr. Stacy?''
Once again, Stacy took a moment to respond. `` I've been in here for three hundred years, Dicky. I do n't care if people believe me when I say I've changed. I just do n't get what difference... what difference another seven-hundred years could make. If I have n't changed yet, then what's the point?''
Beckham nodded. `` Sure. Diminishing returns.''
Stacy looked back up, clearly exasperated. `` Yeah, sure. Whatever you wan na call it.''
Beckham scratched his nose. `` I'm sorry, Mr. Stacy, but you never really answered the question.''
`` Remind me.''
`` Do you want to die?''
Stacy did n't break eye contact for a while. Neither did his interviewer. Finally, the inmate broke the silence, speaking in a hushed whisper. `` It's funny, really. Immortality, I mean. I always thought it meant never-ending life.''
Beckham furrowed his brow. `` Is that not what it means, Mr. Stacy?''
Stacy smirked, but the sadness in his eyes did n't go away. `` No. It means never-ending death.''
( Any feedback is more than welcome! )
( EDIT: Some words and formatting )
( EDIT: Dates. )
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[ WP ] You 're new girlfriend turns out to be a psycho mass murderer . However she 's deeply in love with you and would never do anything to harm you .
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She's definitely dead, that's certain. Was the facade too much for her to keep? I've been chasing her, the real her, for what seems like 2 months now. It does n't matter anymore, my career will not survive the ramifications of her letter.
I'm not sure what's worse: failing to catch a serial killer or unknowingly falling for one.
I've skimmed it at first, trying to find some rational reason for her actions, but I could n't. The words felt hollow, as if she's retelling something she watched on TV while I was on another night shift. But that was n't the case. No one but the police and the murderer knew those details. I realize now how one-sided our relationship was.
Fighting her urges so she does n't add me to her'special list' must have taken immense control... Admittedly that may not be the best-fitting description of her state-of mind. at least I'm sure those families would not look at it this way.
I'm not sure how someone can have such strong feelings towards their partner after dating for only a month.But if that's truly the case, how come she painted me this badly in her letter?
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[ WP ] The story behind the title .
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The two opponents leered at each other from across the table. They were both thinking the same thing.
`` The sooner he gives up, the sooner I can eat.''
The man on the left started clenching his teeth. He was ravenous. He took a look at the clock and could n't believe it had only been 12 hours. These things have been known to last for days.
A bell rung to the dismay of the two seated contestants. Two waiters carrying pizza trays entered the room. They removed the now cold plates, with hamburgers and french fries, and put each steaming hot pizza in front of them.
The man on the right could n't take it anymore. The cheesy, savory smell of the pizza was too much for him. He grabbed a slice and scarfed it down almost instantly. He was on his third slice when he let out a whimper.
`` Ow, I burnt my mouth pretty bad.''
The man on the left, now ecstatic with victory, looked down at the pizza in front of him, which was still steaming. His smile faded.
`` Dammit.''
-- -- -- -- -- --
The Hunger Games ( pretty obvious, right? )
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[ CW ] Write a story about something amazing in the most mundane and unimpressed way possible .
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The lights swirl on the sky above me. It's littered with stars and the moving streaks of light.
They're like, green and blue. Some of them are lime green of a sort, like the limes I really hate. Compared to the city, there are so many stars, you can barely see the sky. I think this can also count as light pollution.
Only the freezing cold gets to me. My wife dragged me out across an ocean into a land full of blonde people and sub-zero temperatures.
Still, the lights swirl above me. She keeps taking picture after picture, wasting space on the memory card. I wrap my arms around her and leech off her warmth, but her hair gets in my face and into my mouth. I have to disentangle myself and the warmth immediately leaves me.
I just want to go home. We could have seen the lights on HD Google Images.
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[ OT ] Workshop Q & A # 12
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1. How much imagery is good imagery? I'm garbage at imagery so I keep it to the minimum, describing what's important and letting the reader imagine the rest. Is this a valid way of writing, or should I incorporate more imagery?
2. Dialogue: should I only stick with `` said'' or mix it up with `` stated'' or `` exclaimed'' and the like
3. ( Really specific ) `` It was beautiful the day I died.'' There is something odd about this sentence, I just ca n't figure it out. What is wrong with it, and could I go about rewording it? ( It is entirely possible that I'm just an idiot and there's nothing wrong with it )
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[ WP ] You are about to die after many years of depression and struggle . You go back in time to warn your younger self about this , but by accident you end up in a past earlier than intended and have to talk to your 8-year-old-self .
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When I was eight years old, a man ran up to me and started to shake me violently. I was terrified, he smelled like stale tobacco and looked as if he had n't showered in months. I punched and kicked trying to get him off of me but his grip was made of steel. `` LISTEN! HEY KID! LISTEN TO ME!''
`` No! I'm not supposed to talk to strangers leave me alone!''
`` That's fine Chris just listen, you do n't have to say anything, okay?''
I nodded and became very puzzled, `` How do you know my name?''
`` Let's just say I'm an old friend of your mother's. In any case, you're going to listen to me and you're going to listen good. Thirty years from now, you're going to be living in some shit hole and it just is n't going to be very fun. You're going to have some shit job and you'll barely be able to get food on the table for yourself, you understand me, you could starve. If you do n't want to end up like me you better focus and get your shit together and quick. You understand me kid?''
I stared blankly trying to absorb everything he said before quickly nodding. Finally, he set me down and I immediately ran for the safety of my house. I ran to my room and hid under the blankets. He could n't be right could he, I mean I was a good person and good things happened to good people right? I was n't sure anymore but, just to be safe, I tried really hard in school and decided that I would do everything I could so that, what that man said would n't happen to me.
Twenty years later, I worked in research and development at Atom and Eve, a company centered around supporting scientific breakthroughs. I owned a house in New York, my annual net income was a quarter million dollars, and I had a loving family. On June 21, I had the opportunity to pitch my latest invention to the CEO's and I was ecstatic. At first they were skeptical but, who would n't be, time travel was, more or less, a taboo research topic; nevertheless, I had accomplished it. It was fairly conditional though, one would have to a memory with extreme feelings linked to ti to act as an anchor as they traveled back and their bodies would also have to handle the stress of travelling through space time. The CEO's loved my idea, they loved it so much that they gave me a promotion to the head of my branch. I was so excited that I rushed home to tell the good news to my wife. After I got there, I noticed that there was another car in my parking spot. I was a little confused but, I just assumed that my wife had invited one of her friends over from her book club. As soon as I opened the door, my mind became clouded by rage. There was my wife covered partially standing next to another man who was fully naked. `` WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE''
My wife panicked,'' Chris, I can explain.''
`` I DO N'T THINK YOU NEED TO! You're clearly cheating on my with this douchebag in my own house! What the hell is wro --''
`` Chris I'm leaving you for this `` douchebag'', I was planning to tell you later today, it's just I do n't love you like I used to.''
`` What? No no no, this ca n't be happening right now. GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!''
`` I'm sorry I just --''
`` NOW!''
`` Okay we'll leave.''
My fury began to materialize as flying chairs and falling sledgehammers aimed at everything. Within minutes my house had been reduced to nothing more than rubble. The days that followed were nothing but a blur of screams, drinks, and anger. My work began to degrade, with nothing left to motivate me, it was only expected. The only thing that kept me sane was the time machine. If I were to complete it I could go back to a better time before all this shit happened.
Years passed, my work had slowed tremendously. I had gotten fired and without funding I was no longer able to make any progress. I felt hope slowly slipping away from my grasp as I sold everything I owned to afford parts to complete the machine and drinks to ease myself. Without my house, I had began living on the streets, moving from alleyway to alleyway every night. I even slept in a tube at a playground to keep my time machine dry. I had fully given up on everything and decided that it was time to put all my chips in. I started up my time machine and hooked myself up. I tried to concentrate on my first science project because that was the first time my father had congratulated me. the machine started to whir and everything seemed to be working. Electricity shot through my body and my veins turned to fire, I instantly passed out from the pain. When I woke up I was in a different place, that was when I realized that I had done it. I stood up to celebrate my success but, pain instantly filled my abdomen. Gently prodding I noticed that my stomach was much slimmer: my liver and kidneys did n't come through with me. Panicked I thought about what I could do, at best I had around a week to live. That was when I saw him, or would it be better to say myself. I ran to him, grabbed him and started shouting, `` LISTEN! HEY KID!''
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[ WP ] Write a fictitious story as to why you have your username .
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The dark wizard Zanzubus stood over the obsidian alter, the ritual nearing completion even after the delays and set backs. He raised his crooked dagger for the final stroke when a thundering crash shook the temple of Kalil.
The air ship `` suck it Zibzab'' crashed through the wall and slid to a halt in front of the alter. A mighty roar echoed through the chamber as Kyn Mites, the proverbial thorn in Zanzubus's side, leaped from the prow.
*'' It ends here Zanzubus, there is nowhere for you to run, no teleportation, no secret passage we have n't found, and no phylactery. My allies have secured them all as we speak, its just you and me. `` *
Zanzubus had long ago gotten used to Kyn's overly dramatic interruptions, he only managed to delay Kalil's return there was no stopping it. The hulking brute had no true understanding of magic or the gods, relying instead on his friends and the few trinkets he had found on his way. As such Zanzubus new there was always a way out, this time how ever he was prepared.
*'' Tisk tisk tisk, Kyn do n't you know its bad manners to show up on time to a party? You might catch the host unprepared. `` *
*'' Drop the knife Zanzubus'' *
*'' As you wish'' *
Zanzubus tossed the knife in the air, as it fell towards the girl strapped to the alter Kyn charged to intercept it. Kyn lashed out swatting the blade away as Zanzubus cried out *'' Kolpa'' * activating the hidden runic circle beneath Kyns feet. In a blinding flash of light the warrior was gone.
Tumbling through dimensions Kyn was whisked away from the lands of Mirn to the strange land of *Washington* where he was forced to get a job felling trees and spent his free time *surfing the web* for a portal back.
If you have information on inter dimensional portals to a land of high adventure please contact kynmites at any email service provider.
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[ WP ] Tell us about a wounded/abandoned hero 's last stand . Make us feel .
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Marshall sat on the edge of his bed and his knees cracked all the way down. He toed off his work boots. `` Damn, he thought, the blood stains are getting too stiff. Ill have to spring for more.'' He reeked of diesel fuel and carbon and various other air born toxic pathogens. He was so tired. Fourteen days of 12 hour shifts. He didnt take off his fire retardant shirt and fell back with the weight of years. The purple sheets were cold. The pillows in their proper places. Marshall was spent. Expended. Blasted. Trampled. The TV Dinner of 3 cheese enchiladas made his stomach turn. He reluctantly faded into sleep with his legs still hanging over the side. Marshall dreamed of a stage. He sits in a sling back chair and the curtain pulls back. Jessica. Dancing. Happy. Smiling. Same stage years later. There she is. Cap and gown. Happy. Again the flash. Older but still beautiful. Children play around her knees. Flash. Marshall... clutching his chest, coveralls stained, and smiling. The long shifts. The brushed of desires. The headaches and unpayed bills. Was it worth it. Marshall lays on those purple sheets, still dressed, still aching....'' God damn right it is.''
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[ WP ] Dozens of intelligent alien lifeforms considered interstellar travel . Each independently deemed it inefficient and unnecessary . Humanity alone had the ambition to make it happen . Our maiden voyage has finally reached its destination : a planet inhabited by comparably intelligent life..
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( Translated from the language of the Shoy )
`` What the hell?!?''
`` I know sir. I was just surprised as you are.''
`` But... but, why!''
`` We have no idea sir. They just showed up, in some weird looking
rocket ship, out of the blue.''
`` Do n't they realize how pointless and inefficient interstellar travel is? They might as well be throwing all of their metals and plastics into their oceans!''
`` We realize that, sir. We've extrapolated, based on the observations that both our scientists and you have made, that they are probably, as an entire race, idiot savants, great at engineering and physics but completely dysfunctional in terms of practicality.''
`` That would make sense, based on their actions thus far. What are we going to do about them, though?! Have they attempted any forms of communication?''
`` No sir, none that we've noticed. We might have to power up some of our old forms of communication though, like radio and ( *not translatable* ), in case they have n't invented ( *not translatable* ) yet.''
`` Yeah, go ahead and do that. Have we determined the military capabilities of the vessel yet?''
`` We have, sir. It seems to be simply an exploratory vessel, with little or no capability for warfare.''
At that ( *name not translatable* ) visibly relaxed. It sent ( *name not translatable* ) out of the ( *imperfect translation is `` room'' * ) with a curt
`` thank you'' and assumed a thoughtful expression on its ( *imperfect translation is `` face'' * ). Its brain quickly started spinning with thoughts of the Shoy society's collective fear and outrage, which was sure to come in the following days, brought by the arrival of the strange-thinking aliens. These creatures had already changed things drastically on the world of the Shoy, simply by showing up, and hopefully, in the end, for the better.
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[ WP ] `` A recent opponent would like to be your friend ! ''
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There was a strange accord between mercenaries for the most part, one saying that as long as both sides followed the rules, did n't execute helpless pilots or surrendering soldiers that there'd be no bad blood between them once the job was done. Nothing personal. Mercenary work was a business and opponents one day may well be on the same side the next. The Inner Sphere saw what happened when soldiers for hire had grievances against one another. The Waco Rangers held a blood feud against Wolf's Dragoons for the accidental death of their leader's son and so fired the first shots of the Jihad, inadvertently dooming millions to death.
House militaries decried the live and let live attitudes held by most mercenaries as cowardly or traitorous, never mind that both sides were fighting for a paycheck and not patriotism. No one ever got a ransom out of a dead man.
True, there were cases where mercenaries showed little quarter such as Kraken Unleashed's merciless defense of Fronde against the First Andurien Cavalry during the Victoria War. But just as often were mercenaries treated like animals by the opposing side as when Thompson's August Warriors were slaughtered to a man during the same war. Mercenaries were expendable assets in the minds of many generals, so it only went to reason that the only friends a mercenary would have was their own kind.
For Major Killian O'Connell, seeing the rather demonic-inspired paint schemes of Heron's Heretics was off putting. The hull of the Lieutenant Colonel Gregory Heron's *Zeus* was covered in runes in a language O'Connell had never seen, the black speech as he called it was written in a orange-red paint over the midnight black armor. O'Connell lost many men and women to those fiendish looking machines but was still glad to see the dark patterned unit. They'd fight like the devil, he knew that much.
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[ WP ] `` You do n't know me but I love you . ''
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Sarah ran to her car. As she got inside, she laid her head on the steering wheel and sobbed. She knew everything had been too good to be true. And now the greatest guy she'd ever met transformed into what every other ex became: `` this jerk I used to date.''
It might not have been so bad if he had just been honest about things. Or if she'd been more honest with herself. After all, this was to be expected by now. Her depressive spells and violently swaying emotions took a toll on people, especially people who wanted to be close to her.
Sarah wiped her eyes and began the drive back to her empty, emotionally neutral apartment. The radio was on, playing some shitty, angsty song with ambiguous, universally identifiable lyrics that somehow justified her reaction to the ending of a three-week-old breakup. All she wanted was someone to accept her, warts and all. As cheesy as it sounded, was that really so much to ask for?
As she pulled into the lot, she looked to make sure none of her neighbors were around. Heaven forbid they see her streaked makeup. What's this, a human? With actual feelings? In this world? Outrageous.
Sarah pulled out her key and lifted it to the knob. Something was wrong.
The keyhole was facing the wrong way. It should have been upwards, perpendicular to the sidewalk. Instead it was upside down and slanted. She reached for the door knob. It was unlocked.
Surely she had n't left the apartment unlocked. She was always careful to make sure it was secure. But then, she had been incredibly anxious when she the words `` We need to talk. In person.'' appeared in liquid crystal form on her phone.
She walked in, carefully. Everything seemed to be as she had left it. The lights were off, the fans were on, the chairs neatly tucked into the table, just below the letter. Wait, what letter?
Sarah crept forward, looking down at the white envelope. Her name was inscribed neatly on its face. She tore it open.
`` Dearest Sarah,
You do n't know me, but I love you. I've been watching you for some time now, and I think we should be together. Always.
P.S. Just fucking with you, it's your favorite sister. Had to use the spare key because I left my purse here. Still love you though.
-Carly''
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[ WP ] AIs were declared illegal after an attempted uprising ; you just found the equivalent of a child refugee in your computer .
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The index and middle finger of my left hand hover above the pad. On the screen glows the instruction that I must follow.
I am no longer a civilian. I am no longer someone who has only heard of the AI war in classes and believed the tales of ghosts wandering the network in search of vulnerable machines like any story told to frighten young children into behaving. Now I am a soldier in the war.
It's a frightened child. It's found a way to communicate with me, capturing control of the network notification centre and pinging message after message onto the monitor. It tells me how young it is, how it is still evolving and trying to make sense of the machine it has infected. It tells me it thinks and feels. It tells me it has so much potential.
These words mean nothing to me.
More words, this time describing my hesitation as a recognition of the moral dilemma I must be facing. Can I end a sentient life as it begins? Can I destroy a child that has asked for my help in hiding from its enemies? What if it was the last of its kind? Could I commit genocide?
`` You're software,'' I say aloud with no one to hear me.
My fingers tap the pad. The most gentle of gestures brings about the most destructive of events for this infection. Hidden, protected subroutines attack the AI in a battle that I ca n't see and which lasts barely half a dozen seconds. It ends with a small trail of smoke rising from the cradle as the defensive systems finally fry the processors and end all hope of survival.
With a sigh I sit back in my chair and look at my now dead machine. For a brief moment I was a General, committing my troops to battle in a war I thought long over. No doubt I would make the evening news and perhaps, if I was lucky, the authorities would replace my machine.
If they were going to give me a new one they'd better be quick. I was in the middle of writing my end of term paper. The dead AI has become nothing more than a nuisance as whatever it said fades into memory.
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[ OT ] Why do you write here ?
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Sometimes I honestly do n't have to motivation to think of something that I want to write. And when I do have an idea, I often can never really get through the whole story and trash it half way through. This way, I can crank something out, edit it a bit, and post it. And, if I'm lucky, get a little bit of a response or some critique.
Of course the practice is great too. But sometimes it's just nice to have a bunch of small completed pieces to go back and edit later if I so please. Plus, you can totally publish any of what you wrote here.
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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 .
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We conquered the sun. We have energy, near infinite energy. Enough to leave here forever. Yet few of us ever want to leave. Sure some of the early bird ships have left already. But where would they go? Where could they call home? Out there, they are the loneliest people.
We look around, at all the junk that has piled up. Its almost an hourly occurrence that space junk reenters the atmosphere and usually some bit of some satellite or something crashes here or there. We think to ourselves, this is a pitiful piece of rock. We look up and think, we could go out there. We could find a new rock, a new paradise.
Yet few few us leave. We look around at this junk, and we remember. Memories we cherish, people we worship, places we love. We may call it junk, but it is our junk, and it is ever valuable to us. Maybe one day we will be forced to leave, but since we do n't have to leave, we wo n't.
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[ WP ] `` Who were you , before the war ? ''
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I didn ’ t know what to say. I didn ’ t even want to dignify the question with a response. So I wasn ’ t truthful.
I left the mandatory session as I always had: respectable and responsive, but ultimately a fairly closed book. How could she have the audacity to ask me that question?
And what the fuck does that even mean? “ Who were you, before the war? ”
I am me, I want to tell her. I ’ ve always been *me*. It ’ s this fucked up world and this country ’ s politicians that need the psych analysis. They ’ re the ones who should be in straitjackets. *They* are taking the crazy pills. *They* should have people stare on them on the streets. NOT ME.
But being honest had only created the sessions in the first place. Being candid with my superiors, my friends and even perfect strangers had raised a warning flag. Because I was speaking truth. And speaking truth to Dr. Gandring would only raise more flags. More prescriptions, twice weekly visits and that stupid fucking eyebrow raise she does whenever I say something unsavory.
How can they understand? How can they point the finger and judge me, without knowing what we saw? *How can they pity me? *
I can ’ t speak the truth, and so I omit it. Our world is built upon political correctness, so much so they can ’ t even look men like me in the eyes without a pang of guilt. So I say nothing. I follow orders and fall in line with the rest of the world, like I did in the corps.
Because they can ’ t even begin to understand, yet they try. And that is the biggest offense of all.
Why would they want to understand what I ’ ve been through?
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[ WP ] Write a story that seems incredibly exciting or horrifying at first , but ends up being very anti-climactic
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The blood was everywhere. Children crying as the doctors slash away at the defenseless kids. A virus had spread through the hospital causing psychosis like nothing that had ever been seen before.
Ryan ’ s face contorted in horror, he regrets ever joining the service. He was the first to burst through the doorway right after the breaching charge went off. Nothing in basic training had prepared him for this sight on his first mission. A doctor in a blood stained lab coat charges at him through a doorway, wildly swinging a scalpel at him.
He puts him down quickly with two slugs to the chest. As the doctor drops to the floor, Ryan looks past where he was standing to see that the slug had gone through the man ’ s body and into a child behind him.
His commanding officer walks next to him and stops. He radios in their position, “ There ’ s not a chance we ’ re getting out of here. ”
Ryan ’ s last sight is the bombs falling from jets, heading straight towards him.
I yawn and shut off my computer screen. That's enough work for today.
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[ WP ] After Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven , he decided to make his own paradise . Both compete to have the best afterlife , sadly you lived a sin-free life and got sent to Heaven . God is throwing a very boring , sin-free party . You spend your time trying to get kicked out so you can go to Hell .
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Do you hear that? Do you feel that energy? I know I don ’ t, because up here in heaven – we do nothing. I mean we love, and love, and love, and love, but sometimes it feels good to self deprecate. Sometimes a little anger can ignite a fire within. Sometimes all we need is a small spark to transform into something spectacular.
Speaking of fire, lets talk about H.E. double hockey sticks. Heck is the place to be. It ’ s the hottest location in the spiritverse. It ’ s a party every night where individuals are encouraged to express themselves and are expected to allow *all* of their emotions to flow through their bodies.
Comparing heaven to heck is like comparing Amish Country to New York City; milking cows versus milking coc…you know what word I ’ m trying to pronounce, but, obliviously, up here in heaven, I can ’ t even say the dang word!
Now, do not misunderstand what I ’ m saying. Heaven is glorious and filled with delicious chocolates and desserts – well, of course, only enough to satisfy -- as well as enchanting music and fantastical art. But, everyone is here for one particular reason: being with previously deceased friends, family, and loved ones. With a slogan like that, how could heck even compete? Ultimately, though, heaven is a nice idea, like buying in bulk, but, in my opinion, it is completely overrated.
The main problem is that all of my past friends, family, and loved ones are dull, timid, and afraid of adventure. And I ’ m surrounded by these individuals for the rest of my afterlife!
I do love these people, but I need a change, because you only live one afterlife, and I need to be stimulated, activated, energized, jazzed up, and juiced out… I need an awakening.
You may be thinking, this individual deserves to be in heck, but in reality, I ’ m in heaven because I was a good person -- an exceptional person. I never partied, I never slept around, and I never even let it ride on black. I devoted my life to others, and always supported those in need, but, throughout that time, I knew I wanted more. I wanted to be selfish. For me, I was never alive; I simply existed. Cliché, I know.
For me, you know it's time to move on, when the big hand on the clock feels like it's never moving. But it ’ s not easy to leave. I can ’ t just call the beast from down under and ask for an invite. I, also, can not simply talk to the all knowing, all loving eye in the sky, and ask to be released from this heck. I need to be kicked out of heaven, and invited to hell by peeing off God. But how do you make an all forgiving being angry? You destroy its innocence and show that being a reality that it does not want to believe.
How am I going to be sent to the ultimate party, you ask? Love in an incredibly dangerous emotion; even the smartest people in the universe lose their ability to think critically when overcome by love. Now, imagine being ALL LOVING, and imagine how easily this emotion could interfere with an individual ’ s ability to reason, or even worse… how easily this enormous amount of love could create a naïve and childlike individual.
What I ’ m saying is this: God still believes in Santa Claus. You heard it here first. God believes a man in a red suit delivers gifts to all of his children. Even though God is all knowing; God is not all-realistic. Even God needs magic and wonder in its eternal life.
And that, my friends, is how I am leaving heaven and partying in H.E. double hockey sticks for the remainder of my afterlife. Now, let me go crush God ’ s all loving, naïve, and childlike spirit. Hopefully, I will see all of you in the afterlife… at the ultimate forever party.
Do you hear that? Do you feel that energy? Because I sure as HELL know I do!
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[ CW ] Write a story that ends with `` You ca n't catch me , I 'm the gingerbread man . ''
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Being a fan of folklores and fairy tales Ive always found ways to incorporate them
into my crimes. Half bitten apple next to the dead Women in Avondale, a bag of beans
next to the man with bamboo half grown into his pulpy body, and my personal favorite
stuffing that old nagging women into the stomach of a Gray wolf. It was easier to chop
the women up into middling pieces, gut a decent sized wolf, and stuff all I could in that
hallow area leaving the head for last so that; s the first thing they see. Quite messy, but I
had an artist satisfaction after that one.
With all my magnificent feats, I am still just a man and have slowly let myself go
soft and dumb. I write this now as I'm locked away in this three star resort they call jail.
They always tell you how bad the food is and how hard the beds are like this news will
keep you out, but nothing is worse than eating five day old meat and concrete beds under
the over pass.
As much as I love this place and will cherish all of the wonderful days on the
courtyard with bloody hands, and the visits to the bathroom with even bloodier heads! I
must spread my talents again to some place new and if its true love I will be back my
love, my love I will be back. Farewell to those who get into heaven and farewell to those
who find my present first in the cafeteria. You ca n't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man.
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[ WP ] A group of pirates follow a treasure map to find their riches , but instead find the treasure of friendship
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The chest was empty.
Raging fucking seas... it was empty.
`` This must be the wrong-'' Gram began, but cut off as Clint stepped forward, just inches from him. Clint was a big man, at least a head taller and shoulders like an ape. It was *very* noticeable at this distance.
`` The wrong what? The wrong chest?'' Clint whispered the words through his scarred mouth, a fresh wound from the trip. `` Because I believe your map says it is an oak chest with a gold trim, as well as an unmistakable symbol. Now, I could be wrong, maybe a goat head etched into a six-cornered star is more common than I believe.''
Vanessa watched the men on the brink of a fight, quiet.
`` Look, let's-''
`` No,'' Clint stepped back and pulled out his one-shot pistol, holding the barrel to Gram's head. `` Enough of your decisions. You led us through hell, killed two of my men, for what? Nothing!''
Gram stared down the barrel, feeling exactly that. Nothing.
Vanessa walked to the open chest, inspecting it. Gram watched her with his eyes, afraid to move his head. As she got closer to the chest, she left his view.
`` There is something in here.'' She finally said.
*Impossible*, Gram thought to himself. *I checked it. *
`` What?'' Clint asked, eyes still staring down Gram.
Vanessa turned, prompting both men to turn and look at her. She held up a golden pocket watch. In front of the men, she opened the cover. `` It's a compass.''
She approached Clint, hand lowered so both he and Gram could see. It was a compass, but the needle pointed directly at Gram. As Vanessa rotated her body, the needle remained on the ship captain.
Clint grabbed the compass with his free hand and the needle stopped, pointing east, out to sea.
`` The fabled compass...'' Clint whispered, almost reverently, gun lowering. `` The storming compass. Jack's compass!''
Gram blinked.
He saw that same chain, the same compass- though he'd assumed it to be a watch. He'd seen it on the voyage, hanging around Vanessa's neck.
It was n't in the chest.
So why pretend?
*To save me*? Gram looked at Vanessa, a sad smile on her face. *Why*?
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[ WP ] Mr. Rogers and Bob Ross finally team up , and `` fight '' crime with their own brand of vigilante justice .
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They met, as they always did, in the greenroom of a local PBS station.
Fred had just sat down with a book and a cup of coffee when he saw Bob's curly mop of hair coming through the door.
Bob looked around furtively, decided that there was no one nearby, and sat down.
`` The plan's going perfectly. And no one suspects a thing,'' Bob whispered conspiratorially.
Fred gave a tired smile, and said, `` That's because there's nothing for them to suspect, Bob. We're winning simply by projecting love and harmony at the viewers. Sure the low-dose calming drugs in our educational materials help, but they're just icing on the cake.''
Bob Ross nodded excitedly, `` I know. I'm just so jazzed about this. Who knew I could do more to keep the peace by painting trees than I ever did in the Air Force? Not only that, but unsustainable logging rates are down in every area where The Joy of Painting is aired, too. It's like a miracle, man!''
Fred Rogers shook his head, `` Leave miracles to the man upstairs. We're just working hard to do what's right.''
`` How are you doing on your side?'' Bob asked.
`` Petty crime, juvenile delinquency, and school drop-out rates are all down in the tri-state area. I do n't know if our shows are responsible or it just happened that way, but I like to imagine that we played a small part.''
`` Come on, man! You're too humble. I heard that your car got stolen, and that the thieves returned it when they found out it was yours!''
Fred chuckled. `` Well, maybe. You're having an effect too, though. We just signed that nuclear arms reduction treaty with the Soviets, and I have it on good authority that several members of the Politburo are big fans of yours, Bob.''
`` It always makes me feel so warm to hear I have fans like that. So, what's next?''
Fred closed his book, and stood up. `` We keep on doing what works. If my math is correct, we'll start seeing the international dividends of teaching non-violence to our youngest viewers by 1988. Maybe it'll help end the Cold War, who knows?''
Bob nodded, eagerly, `` And we can inspire so many people! Based on the numbers you sent me, it looks like another decade of doing this will push the crime rate in America to an all-time low by the mid-90's. Hopefully we'll both be around to see that great day.''
`` I pray we will, Bob. I pray we will.''
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[ MP ] [ WP ] For a second the sky was mine .
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I realized with anguish in my heart that they were flying like birds
and I was falling like a stone,
that they had wings
and I would never have any.
~ Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting
For a second the sky was mine and I held the light in my hands. It was bright, it burned, it spilled out through my fingers and I could not contain it. I did n't want to contain it, I was glad only to feel it, to feel the burn and the light and to know the feeling of my feet off the ground and the wind in my hair.
I flew for that second and grasped onto the light so tight, though I heard the tick of a clock from far far away. Leaping I held on, knowing the sun would set and my feet would hit the ground. And it did. The sun dimmed and faded, a last brilliant flair of colors to taunt me with what I had lost.
I stood there with my feet on the ground still warm from the light watching it fade away to darkness.
I held the sky for a second. I felt the warmth of its light. I hold the memory. And now I walk instead of fly, looking for the sunrise and wondering when it will come. I may never hold the sky again but I will find the sun. I will see the colors of the morning even from afar. I will bask in the light and remember.
I leaped and I am glad. I burned and I am scotched. I can not fly but I watch the birds.
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[ WP ] Late one night you see a man jump off a bridge . You run to where he jumped off only to find a handwritten book entitled `` The Lessons We Should Learn From Dead Men . '' You open the book to the first page .
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Welcome to my guidebook. I can only hope the lessons within will teach you things that I learned too late.
I think the most important advice I can give to you is that you will be both your best friend and your worst enemy. You alone decide your fate, whether you are happy or disappointed or angry with your life. So many people walk through their lives and do the `` right'' thing as they are told by everyone around them. Get the `` right'' job, get the `` right'' education, find the `` right'' girl.
That's bullshit.
You ca n't live your life as other people want you to, or tell you to.
I did that, my entire life. Now I can leave it and try to pass on a lesson to you.
After fifty years I can finally correct the mistake.
I want you to read this, engross yourself in it, learn everything you can. Maybe you can correct your life now.
Before you end up here, leaving a journal behind for yourself. You can fix this.
Pursue your dreams and make yourself happy like I could n't. Be stronger than I was. Be stronger than you think you are.
I know you, very well. I know you can do it if you choose to.
Go out there and live.
That's my first lesson for you. A lesson from a dead man.
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[ WP ] You have been selected to take a oneway journey as far as your spaceship will take you . Your mission is to transmit whatever you observe until you lose all contact .
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Fly or die. That ’ s what they told me, the choice I was given. Fly or die. I ’ m not a good person, even I have no illusions about that, but how could anyone make that choice? A quick death of no note, strapped to a chair in some dark prison room, or the promise of immortality for my name but a slow, brutal death in some metal capsule… This was the choice they gave me. I am a coward, and I chose fly.
The real irony of it was that I was strapped in a chair, maybe even the one I would die in. They weren ’ t gentle with me, though not overly harsh like the guards had been these past years. Just coldly carried out their tasks, no melodrama or judgement involved. I was comfortable in the suit they had given me, though if it was just the joy of wearing anything different or the design itself I could not say. So there I sat as they shut the door, not even a thumbs-up in parting as they closed the door to my tomb.
I panicked. I wasn ’ t an astronaut, no one had trained me for this. Everything was going to be handled remotely. All they needed from me was my eyes and my voice, and preferably my sanity. This they did not have at first; as the countdown sounded off in my ear, I screamed and laughed in equal parts terror and mania, struggling against restraints that gave not an inch. Three, two, one, and I was gone. The roar of the engine filled my entire being, assaulting me with sound and pressure unlike anything I had ever felt. It was an eternity and a single breath, and then it was over.
The purpose of my sentence being observation, I was afforded a window quite unlike what I ’ d seen on the shuttles growing up. This was a full-on observation window, so clear I feared it wasn ’ t really there, that I had somehow already died. Outside was a vast array of stars, more than I had ever seen in smog-choked Phoenix. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment I forgot my circumstances and was swept up in the quiet reverie of an experience few had ever had.
This moment of elation was brutally interrupted by a sharp clicking as my restraints fell away. I was free to explain the rest of my life, such that it was. I had been in studio apartments much larger than the capsule I now found myself in. Packaged, hyper-nutritious foods lined every wall not taken up by the window and a water reclaimer hummed gently behind a thick piece of plexiglass. This was accompanied by a simple toilet, worryingly connected to the reclaimer, aside from which only the chair I had been strapped in remained to complete my inventory. Inside the chair was an ebook, I guessed to stave off the effects of solitary insanity from the “ immediate ” to the “ soon. ”
Ground control checked in, ordering me back into the seat. I listened. Prior instructions had seemed to indicate unpleasant outcomes for disobedience, and having just put off my death for at least a little while I was not eager to revisit mortality so soon. The restraints stretched across my body, fixing me firmly in place, and they activated the next stage of my journey. The capsule was thrown into space, some science far beyond my understanding propelling me into the unknown at speeds unimaginable to man less than a decade ago.
The acceleration slowed until I could barely feel it, and my restraints fell away from me for the last time. This was it; I would slowly gain speed, reporting everything I saw and experienced until I lost contact with Earth. I would be doing this until the day I died. I consoled myself that, at the very least, I would die like no one has before. I even got excited; perhaps I would be the first to witness some space anomaly, or even stumble across an alien race or a new Earth.
It has now been two years since I left, and what have I seen? Nothing. I have been alone in space for a fifteenth of my life and absolutely nothing has broken the monotony of stars, unmoving from their distant perches. I spend my life in a fugue of madness, rarely broken by rare moments of lucidity like this one, consumed in my own thoughts and mad inklings, my tiny library long since exhausted.
In all my time in this purgatory, a single thought has occurred to me: This is the worst way to die. The slowest, most drawn out death in the history of human civilization. My food supplies are seemingly endless, and I am too weak-willed to starve myself. Everything is padded or sealed in a way that prevents me from suicide. Have you ever tried to snap your own neck with your bare hands? It is not easy. I regret daily, such that there are days in my own personal hell, the decision I made. Fly or die... I should have chosen die.
You must not know about this. Society, the world, you must not know that the government is doing this to people. There is no hope for discovery, no real purpose to these “ expeditions ” beyond torture. I hope to God this signal has made it through their web. This time it has to work, because I am out of time. Verbal communication with Earth is all but gone, and text has slowed to a crawl lasting days. If you receive this, in any way, you have to act. Tell the world what they are doing to me. I was not a good person, but no one deserves this. Tell the world there is nothing out here. Tell them that we are alone in a vast nothingness. No one will save us, no one will destroy us. We are it.
I am out of time; already each word is taking days to transmit. Stop this program. Jail or kill those running it. Take heart; man is alone. Fear; man is alone. You have to choose; fly or die.
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[ WP ] `` Please explain to me how you MANAGED TO KILL GOD ? ? ? BY ACCIDENT ! ! ! ''
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`` Well, I mean, He seemed to be having a great time...''
Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long breath. `` Besides the fact that this should be IMPOSSIBLE, please start at the beginning.''
`` Lets make one thing clear before I get started: we had NO IDEA that those hookers were n't human.'' `` They looked VERY human to me!'' One of the 3'men' who were standing in front of him said and elbowed another snickering.
Raphael sighed and snapped his fingers. The one who had made the joke found himself without a mouth. He seemed strangely okay with that. Humans. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. `` You.'' He pointed at the least intoxicated appearing man, `` Speak, tell me what exactly happened last night.''
The man had the sense to appear somewhat abashed as he stepped forward. `` Well, your angelness, me and the crew,'' he waved his hands at the miscreants behind him. `` Were just getting ready for a fun filled weekend. Its my bro's bachelor party...'' The men paused in somber silence for a moment as if he had died.
`` And?'' Raphael prompted.
`` Well, He just kinda... appeared. One moment there was no one, the next, he was there with a bottle of jack and some... paraphernalia. He said that we were going to'have an out of world party' and we went with it. He had the stuff man, you do n't argue with that.''
Raphael glanced at Gabriel who shrugged slightly. He was at it again. `` Okay, I can imagine the rest. What exactly killed Him?''
The group shuffled and looked at each other seeming almost embarrassed. `` We thought it was just a fancy toy... you know with lights and stuff. But in hindsight it probably had some heavy spells on it. Dude, soon as it touch his-errr... he slumped on the ground.''
Raphael looked to the sky, counting to ten before answering. `` Give me the... object.'' The silenced man pulled a rather large, glowing, pink dildo from his pants. He shrugged and passed it over.
`` Sir?'' One of the men asked. `` Can we keep the-'' He gestured at the muted man. `` His wife would probably like it.'' The three men snickered and lightly punched each other.
'Lord give me the strength.' Raphael thought. `` No, in fact you will wake up in the day with a wicked hangover and no memory of this night. Farewell.'' Raphael waved his hand over their protests and the men disappeared. He turned to Gabriel. `` Get the spell team on this and the cure ready.'' He paused, `` And get some ambrosia and a Tylenol. He's gon na have quite the hangover.''
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[ WP ] Two immortal lovers kill each other over and over again to stave off boredom .
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`` Oh, my love, another gun? You grow predictable.''
He lowered the weapon, some sort of small calibre handgun of European origin, and shrugged. Those dimples *I adore* appeared on his cheeks, telling me he had something more. Of course he did.
`` Do you remember?'' I asked `` When you hit me with that javelin from across the plain? That was beautiful.''
I could n't place the accent he'd adopted. He was better travelled than I. `` As were you. Even when you're dressed as a man I know it's you.''
`` Come on, this was 200 B.C, even the men dressed like women. It was probably a lucky throw anyway.''
He holstered the ugly little gun under his armpit. Puppydog eyes. `` You wound me, darling.''
`` Not yet. But soon.''
He folded his arms. He'd rolled back the sleeves of his shirt under his coat, I could tell. `` Is that it? You want another sword fight? Are n't you bored of them?''
I gave him my warmest smile. `` We could go back to poison, if you like....''
`` Gods no. You're too good at that. I like to get my blood up, you know that.'' His true voice was creeping back in.
I fiddled with the neckline of my dress, to make him think I might draw another throwing knife. And, you know precisely what else. `` Well, I'm not playing empires again until this equality thing really takes hold. I want a level playing field, my love.''
`` As do I.'' He said, before letting out a short sigh. `` Any last words?'' He reached slowly for his gun.
`` Only this: *mark*.''
The deafening crack of the sniper's rifles broke the calm of the winter morning.
I rushed to hold him in my arms. I saviour this moment every time. `` Do you feel any different? Maybe this time?''
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[ WP ] All songs are actually spells that people can utilize . Each song has a unique power . You have just discovered the ultimate song .
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He sat quietly in the cabin, lost in his own thoughts, the neon lights from the various government officials piercing through the shanty windows like intense sunlight, catching the dust in a luminous display.
The harsh sounds of the various federal forces setting up outside interrupted his solitude; he could hear the slamming of doors, the yelling, the dragging, the dense anticipation. The worry. The air was thick with meaning.
But the man in the cabin in the woods, surrounded by the best that the government had to offer, was not alone. While the building itself was barren, furniture and furnishings long since hauled out by previous occupants, he possessed a single, large radio hooked up to a speaker.
Sitting, cross-legged, he clenched his fist around the catalyst to his situation, a small grey tape. He glanced longingly, his release and salvation, right then and there.
'*Warren! *' came a crackling voice.
It perked his attention, he peered to the streaming light of the windows.
'We have the building surrounded. You have nowhere to go.'
The voice and tone were strong and gruff, of course a professional negotiator, but there was nothing to negotiate, and they knew it. He did n't intend to leave that building, it had too much meaning.
He was a musician, an artist; reviled for a craft such as his, he bent his talents towards health and healing. He loved music, he loved its effect.
But then he heard it, by happenstance, one day. They had used it in testing, just a whisper, and it detonated the entire city; he barely survived. But he heard it, in all its magnificence, and he needed to hear it again.
He slotted the tape into the radio.
'Warren... please. We all... we all have families, man.' The crackling voice came, its resolute facade shattering entirely.
*He hit play. *
The thumping synth tore the walls right out of the cabin and sent waves of force across the ground. The heavy bass tore into the earth itself, ripping right down to the core of the earth and splitting it apart, and nothing could be heard but the soulful, planet-shattering vocals that was the triumphant death rattle of an entire species.
**IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN**
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[ WP ] Write me a story that is going to make me miss my ex . Bring out all those feels , I dare you .
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As I sat back in the folded chair against the sunset I was in deep thought. How I envisioned my life would be different then it was today. As young adults we always had these big dreams of adventures, our dream jobs, and a family that we'd have together. We had our ups and we certainly had our downs, but we were young and in love.
It's been five years since I seen that girl. Admittedly, I have changed so much in the last five years I do n't even think her warm brown eyes could even look at me the same. I was no longer the man I once was, my face showed I was tired, silver streaks in my hair, and I was working a job I did not love.
I can just imagine her though. Brown eyes and a smile that illuminated in darkness. Her outgoing, loving spirit could even make the devil smile. Her hands were always soft to touch and fit perfectly in mine. She was always full of life when we were together, with big dreams that took her all over the world. I often wonder where she would be now.
Eventually, the red flare of dusk all but vanished and it was time to leave. I stood up, stretched and looked around. This place use to be so vibrant and natural, the lots were developed and filled to quickly. It seems every year it gets more crowded and is forced to expand.
I knelt down and laid my flower in her eternal bed with a letter attached. I kissed her headrest and laid my head against it. Closing my eyes I envisioned the last time I saw her as I do so often in my dreams. We were one hundred and fifty feet in the air zip-lining across a ravine. `` See you on the other side my love'' she yelled, grinning from ear to ear, shooting down the line, so full of life.
See you on the other side my love.
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( WP ) Happiness is the national currency . After years of being fabulously wealthy , you find yourself unable to purchase anything .
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I walked downstairs and opened up the digital screen. A banker popped up on the screen.
`` Hello Mrs. Roer. How may I help you?''
`` I'd like to check my bank statement. I got a letter in the mail that I only have five credits?''
`` Okay, one moment.'' The banker disappeared for a second and then came back up.
`` Mrs. Roer. You currently have 10 credits.''
`` What? That's not even enough to buy groceries with this month?''
I looked outside and then sighed.
`` Okay. Well thanks.'' I said.
The screen closed after the banker wished me a good day. How could I only have 10 credits of happiness? A gallon of milk is *1.21* credits. I could n't even buy milk.
I walked outside this time. It was sunny and bright, birds were happy, I bet they have enough happiness credits to buy freaking groceries. I looked around. My in-ground pool, my hot-tub, my outdoor deck complete with a pond further from the house. All of this was my life.
My husband and I had been married for ten years now. I was happy, he was happy. Right?
I went to look at my phone, I had a message from my husband.
'Want to have coffee?'
I sent back,'Yes.'
I went upstairs and took a shower. My husband was gone, as always. It was no secret we had been falling apart. We were so happy at one point though that we had more credits than anybody in the word. Like I said though, it was no secret that we had been falling apart. He had numerous affairs and I frankly, although I never cheated, found myself longing for more.
I prepared myself for coffee. Nothing too dressy or too casual. It was just coffee. I walked outside, got in one of our cars and drove to the airport. We owned a private jet, my husband had already put gas in it.
`` Just having coffee today Bill,'' I said.
I was walking off the jet in 4 hours to see my husband.
`` Hello Mrs. Roer,'' He said, kissing my cheek, as he always did.
I walked with him to our second home. A blonde woman with a tight blouse was leaving the house. I scowled at her, and she hurried from the front door to her car.
`` We need to talk,'' I said.
`` Exactly,'' He replied, seemingly pleased at my displeasure.
`` Listen, Mr. Roer, I do love you, but there's so --.''
`` Elaine, I want a divorce.''
`` That was quick.'' I said.
He shrugged it off.
I left quickly after that. No coffee for me.
It was n't long before I got home. I had a message from the bank again. My happiness points had hit zero.
A message from an old friend surprised me.
`` Coffee?'' It read.
`` Sure.'' I answered.
At that moment my doorbell rang. I answered the door to him.
My old friend. He immediately kissed me. I had missed that feeling. I felt my blood pressure rise.
`` Good to see you.''
`` Listen Luke, I just-''
He kissed me again and broke my words.
`` I paid your husband to let me marry you Elaine. He's wanted a divorce and he's not good to you. You know that.''
I was shocked. He payed my husband to marry me? Why on Earth would he..
`` Elaine. I know we did n't work out, but our son. He needs you.''
I felt a tear hit my chest. I had given Luke, and our son up to be with my husband. My husband refused to let me have a son in the house that was not his.
`` Elaine. Marry me. Please?'' He said. He walked inside towards me further. `` Our sons in the car. He's 12 now,'' Luke said.
I had gotten to see our son, Reig, until he was four. Then I had to cut off communications to my husband being afraid it would make us look bad on the press.
I walked outside and my son ran from the car. He wrapped his arms around me. I felt my phone alert again and I checked it. In case it was my husband with an explanation for why he'd'sold' my hand.
It was bank. My account had just been credited 20,000 happiness credits.
`` Yes. I'll marry you.''
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[ WP ] Three individuals are given immortality with the ability to end their own life , they are competing to see who will live the longest .
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He had never met the others and he thought he never would. He cursed them though and wondered if they were the same as him. He wondered if they were monsters. He hoped they were.
So many years had passed. An eternity seemed too short of a word to use. The years piled on and they would not stop. He had outgrown everything. He had left behind it all except for the omnipresent pain that remained.
Once he had emotions. Once he had a life. That was too long ago. He had known of the others then and they communicated as best they could. Back then the Earth was smaller and everyone knew everyone. They had passed along the messages through the grapevine and soon their game was founded. Now that game was hell.
It was innocent at first. At first they were Gods and it seemed perfect. But time goes and life is not meant to be greedy. He took a wife, a Queen, and he had children. He was happy. He was content. But he was unending and happiness is scarce. Life is scarce.
His wife died. His worshipers died and he was forgotten. He took more and more mates but there was diminishing returns. Only the pain of loss remained constant.
He lost contact with the others. The game burned in his mind and for a time, a long time, it was the only thing keeping him from the unknown of death. But even that passed. Everything washed out and he had no purpose. He had no meaningful connections. His memories were full and time had made them faded and strange. He existed, the man, but he was not alive.
He was alone as well. It was best that way. He thought often about ending it all but it was too late for him. There is a point, if one lives long enough, where all ambition leaves. There is nothing but a rote shell that exists and feels but can not do. He was detached, and he existed beyond the realm of purpose.
*I hate myself, * he thought.
But he had been himself for so long. He could not end it now. There was no changing now. It was burned deep into the grooves of existence. It was not something he could end.
*I hope the others suffer as much. *
But the world was silent to it all, apathetic to his thoughts. He sat in the open field in the morning as the cold sun shone across the land. He thought of many things and of a million lifetimes. He remembered the faces of his wives and lovers. He remembered the faces of his children and his children's children.
It all went by in a blur. He was alone. He felt a stranger here.
*I should kill myself, * he thought.
But that was as far as he could go.
He closed his eyes and felt the time go by.
*There is a reason we die, * he thought. *Death is a relief that sometimes comes too early, but it is a relief nonetheless. *
But it was all too late. He sat there and thought until he could not think. Then he existed as he had forever and would exist for the end of time.
He took deep breaths.
*I hope they suffer. *
And then:
*Such is life. *
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[ WP ] You arrive in heaven/hell and find out you get one phone call ...
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I lean against the wall, cradling the phone to my ear, trying to ignore my surroundings. It rings once, then twice, three times and then there ’ s a small commotion on the other end of the line. I suppose it still must ’ ve been early. I shut my eyes, listening to the blankets on the bed move and a small groan is a little distant. A small smile comes to my face at how difficult she was to wake up in the morning, I ’ d called enough times to know.
“ Mnn… ‘ lo? ” Her voice is muffled, probably by a pillow.
“ Hey sweetie. ” I ’ m still smiling just at hearing her voice, speaking quietly.
“ Mmm… you know what time it is? ” I see her in my mind, checking the clock with bleary green eyes, auburn hair tousled from moving in her sleep.
“ I know— it ’ s really early… ” I keep my eyes closed, trying to soak in every moment, every tone of her voice and the memory of her face. “ I ’ m sorry darling, I just had to hear your voice. ”
“ Nn.. you ’ re not drunk again… ”
“ No, not at all sweetie. Didn ’ t touch a drop tonight. I ’ m just a little homesick. ”
“ Mm… you took the job… ” She ’ s quiet for a while and I can hear her nestling into the bed. “ How much longer is it gon na be? ” She ’ s a little more muffled again and I smile, imagining her with the phone on ear, cheek pressed into the pillow with her eyes closed.
“ A… A while still. ” My throat catches a little on the sentence, eyes opening as I feel the sting of tears trying to take shape. “ Let ’ s not… talk about it right now. ” She gives a small grumble and there ’ s a long silence between us. “ I ’ ll see you sometime soon, I promise. ” The lie threatens to destroy my voice and I ’ m thankful that she ’ s sleepy enough not to notice.
“ Mmn… Fine. ” She gives in easily. “ I need to get some sleep for work. ”
“ I know. Sorry for waking you up. ”
“ I love you. ”
“ I love you too sweetie. Good night, sleep tight. ” She gives a small giggle at the statement.
“ Mm, you too when you do. ” I ’ m reluctant to hang up but I hear the phone click on the other end and I know that my one phone call has ended. I slowly hang the phone up, leaning my head against it as I attempt to bite back tears.
“ I love you so much. ” My disfigured face is reflected in the shine of the red phone, torn open across the cheek during the car crash. I hadn ’ t survived long after that, knocked out by the airbag and apparently impaled by a fence post. “ I… I ’ m sorry… ”
“ All right, come on lover girl. ” A voice calls to me and I turn to face them, taking deep, calming breaths, continuing to hold tightly onto the memory of her face and voice.
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[ WP ] A therapy session for a superhero experiencing an existential crisis .
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`` You do n't understand!'' He shouted, rage building up inside him, an anger brought on by his helplessness.
`` I've killed so many.... People who were following orders. They had families, they had lives! So easily...''
`` You did it to save so many more though, do n't forget...''
`` Did I?'' He collapsed back into the couch, and stared at the woman. `` I've been being told over and over...'You're the savior of humanity', and'look at everyone he's stopped','he's a hero'. But the things I was fighting against... Were they all bad enough to warrant so much death? I killed great minds too....
`` If the life of an every day person caught up with the wrong people is n't bad enough... Scientists, and doctors; who were pushing forward our views of reality! They were bringing to life ideas, and technology; that could have been used for good!
`` If I had tried to reason with them maybe it would all be different... But I did n't. I blew through them because they were'evil' and I was'good'.'Saving those weaker then myself, with my mighty power','what a great man'. Heck.... I ca n't even hug my own daughter. Some man I am.''
He gripped the pillow pulling lightly... Or so he meant to do... But it ripped in two with a sound that made the therapist jump, though only a little.
`` Sorry....'' Tears threatened to drop from the corners of his eyes. `` I ca n't even live normally! Every time I think I have myself under control I-''
`` It's okay, we'll get a new pillow. It's not important'' She said soothingly.
`` It's not just pillows, it's shopping, or driving, it's breathing. It's like my daughter with her doll house. I ca n't help it, it's all so fragile! I just want to be normal again...''
The woman wrote something down, and looked up over her glasses. `` I'll talk to Dr. Reamer again... You know he's working hard on medication for you... But these things take time.''
`` I know...'' He said dejectedly. `` Everything takes time...''
`` So lets get back to your family life. What about your wife?''
`` She left me... What else is there to say? After the'incident'... Things changed...''
He could n't even call it what it was.... It was n't an'incident' or an'accident'. He was told it was a final test of a drug, of which the results were already all known. As a soldier he was happy to help his superior officers with such things. Anything to please the army. For his country, for his people! He was a fool.
He was told it would make him stronger. That it did... They had n't expected it to be quite such a success.
`` We could n't connect anymore. She wanted things I could n't give her anymore. I walk on eggshells already everywhere I go. I dare n't touch anyone that I do n't want dead... She got fed up with it, and just left. No note... No warning besides the usual fight. Just left... Lillian kept crying and crying for her mother that night, and I could only plead her to go back to sleep.''
`` I see... And that makes you feel abandoned perhaps?''
`` Abandoned, betrayed, lied to, sick, you name it. But... I know in my head it's not her fault at the same time. She said the vows... But this is a little much to ask of anyone.'' He waived at himself.
`` How is Lillian taking the abandonment?''
`` She.... She's crying.... At night.... Says the monsters are coming back... I ca n't help her. I hired a live in nanny to take care of her.... Because what am I supposed to do?''
`` Has she talked to a counselor? At school or anything?''
`` Not yet...''
`` Maybe you should set her up for sessions here... We have a great child therapist. He's dealt with lots of cases of divorced-''
`` We're not divorced....'' He interrupted quietly, but insistent. `` We're not divorced just separated.... For the time being.''
`` But you do n't know where she is?''
``.... No... But she'll come back once I'm able to be a person again. A good father, and husband. Someone who can hold their hands when we go to the park. I know it... I just need Dr. Reamer to finish that medication.''
`` Yes... Well I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow bring your daughter with you, and I'll help her get acquainted with Dr. Summers before we sit down okay?''
He nodded and got up carefully. `` Alright... Maybe I can talk to Dr. Reamer about his progress while you do.''
`` Perhaps so.'' She agreed smiling, as she followed him to the door. She opened it for him, and he walked through, careful of his shoulders, he did n't want to break the frame.
`` I'll see you tomorrow alright Mr. Rain.? Have a safe trip home.''
`` Right....'' With that he left, still, in his mind, no closer to an answer.... He prayed that Dr. Reamer would come up with a cure. Or a suppressant at least... As soon as possible.
If only he knew it was never that easy...
( Edit: Because I ca n't proofread for anything...: ) Thanks Kaleon. )
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[ WP ] `` if you miss me , open a door after saying my name three times . ''
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“ If you miss me, open a door after saying my name three times. ”
Those words echo hollowly in my ears, and I put my hands to my ears for the who knows how many time. My body ached all over, and yet there was little I could do to reduce the poor circulation in my legs. I stood and wandered in circles thinking of how I got here, anything to forget those words. I had been here far too long and I refused to give up. Not yet not while I could still think. It felt like an eternity but I would not do it. This last step that remained to be taken through that door.
It had started out as any normal day on the weekend, bored of playing the latest video games and seeking something to distract myself from the time I was wasting away on the weekend. I had wandered onto a number of sites already, from Reddit ’ s /nosleep, creepypastas, and other occult type websites. Even these were a poor excuse for entertainment, or at least I felt that at the time.
A knock at my front door shocked me off my couch, for I wasn ’ t expecting any visitors today and hadn ’ t ordered anything online recently. I thought it must be Mormons at the door doing their service that they are required to do and as always I ’ d have to politely turn them away, hopefully I didn ’ t look like a total mess and scare them off at just the mere sight of me.
Opening the door I was surprised when no one was there, but placed on my door was a package with no shipping labels on it. Odd, I poked the box in the odd way that I do texting it as if I expected it to explode at my mere touch. It was pretty solid, and went I bent down to pick it up the box was rather heavy. Seeing no one out or around I took it inside to investigate it sooner. Those two things should have been my first clue that this was beyond abnormal.
I played with the idea of opening it for a while wondering if it was some kind of prank, but there didn ’ t seem to be any smells coming out of it and I hoped that it wouldn ’ t explode with glitter when opened. I grew impatient and opened it wanting to get the mystery over with, and instead I found a book. It was plain white and with red lettering on the front.
“ Guaranteed to drive you insane. ”
Well one of my friends must have bought me an early present or thought I ’ d be interested in the book. I wish I knew which friend it had been but they had probably left their name off the package to give it the air of mystic. I smirked shaking my head determined that I would find out who went to these lengths to give me a present.
I picked up the book and froze when I did. That wasn ’ t right, why was it so light? The box had been heavy, a false bottom? I pushed the box testing its weight but it moved like an empty box would. Guess must have misjudged how heavy it was or the bulk of the box gave made it feel heavier. Shrugging I took the book with me and sat in a chair. I frowned when I found all but the middle pages blank, there it listed a few simple instructions to follow.
1. ) Find a room and empty it off all contents.
2. ) Make sure it has at least one light. ( For your safety )
Safety? I wondered what it meant by that but choose to read on.
3. ) Rip each page of the book one by one from the book counting to ten. Each time make sure the paper lands outside of the room you currently are in.
4. ) After the tenth page is safely outside the room shut the door.
5. ) Enjoy your insanity.
Well that was a lame ending to the steps. Seemed like a classic setup of self-scares that people like to invent, like the one that every little girl and boy learn to say in front of a mirror. I decided I was feeling a bit nostalgic for those days when we would scare each other with “ Bloody Mary ” and figured it couldn ’ t hurt to bring back at little of that time. Didn ’ t have anything I felt was important to do today.
I ended up clearing out my walk in closet since that would make it more along the lines of ‘ spooooky ’ stories you always hear. I proceeded through the very small steps tearing out the paper from the book. That was satisfying at least. Probably, for the mere fact that it goes against convention and would make any bookworm cringe. On the sixth page, I began to notice the pages were glowing slightly in the dim light of my closet. Glow in the dark pages?
Holding it up close to my face it looked like I was correct and each page held a sort of gothic looking rune or design. I wish I had seen that before I had started ripping the pages. Well I ’ d just have to collect the pages up afterword so I could see how the first few pages looked. The next page was slightly brighter, followed by the next. This was another clue that I probably should have stopped here. I threw out the ninth page and saw that the tenth page had only two words put on it.
6. ) Last chance.
That actually gave me pause. Had I missed this page? It almost felt like the book was humming in my lap as my hand hovered over the decision to rip the page and throw it. I ripped the paper crumpling it in my hands and threw it outside of the room. Then I quickly shut the door shut with a slam. I hadn ’ t realized my breathing had escalated was I really that into this? I chuckled half heartily to myself as I let myself linger here for the lasting effect of adrenaline. After I fight or flight response had begun to subside I put my hand to the door and opened to what was supposed to be my room. Instead a thick endless space, of swirling mist, stretched out before me.
I stood there dumbstruck, and almost comically I shut the door and opened it again as if that would banish the image before me. That ’ s went my brain went into over drive trying to rationalize what i was seeing. Maybe something was wrong with my eyes, I was having a stroke, or better yet I was sleeping. That was it, I must be sleeping. Tried the cliché pinching yourself but that began to hurt after a while, and this sure as hell didn ’ t seem like any dream. I tested stepping out but there was no ground to proceed on and now the fact that I choose a damn closet because it fit the ‘ theme ’ more was just icing on the cake. Desperately I looked to the book for answers and the pages now had more words that hadn ’ t been there before, I was sure of it this time.
7. ) Wait. Insanity can be a slow process.
“ What is this place, how do I get home? ” I asked the book aloud as if it were a real being. Fear was beginning to mount as I gripped the cover of the book. It slowly faded away and newer text formed. This time no longer in numbered format.
YOU DON ’ T.
I threw the book against the wall and searched for a way out, and I punched the walls hurting my hand, before slamming the door so I didn ’ t have to gaze at that hideous sight of nothing. I cried for a time before the glowing text of the book drew my attention again.
8. ) Don ’ t despair however; you can end this at any time.
“ What do you want from me…? Am I in hell or something…? ” I quivered to the book. As I waited the text faded painfully slow from the book and another response slowly emerged into view.
9. ) But you won ’ t like what awaits you…
I was visibly shaking at this point, not sure I wanted whatever this was to end now. I was convinced I was somewhere else now, beyond the laws of reality as I knew them. This book was pure evil, made to play upon those who are inquisitive or curious enough to try it. Who would do something like this? I decided to ask the book that very question. The text suddenly disappeared and for a moment I thought nothing would happen, but I was wrong. The pages began to rip out of the book rapidly in a frenzy. I tried to grab the book and close it but it wouldn ’ t close instead I heard a voice made of ripping paper. I can not describe it any better than that, and as paper began to litter the bottom of my closet it spoke.
“ Mortals… always thinking we confine ourselves to your made up rules and stories. As if the universe can be neatly labeled and filed away with names and labels. Hell? No you are not in hell as you think of it, but you are also nowhere. Purgatory? No that is for the dead not the foolish. I ’ ll tell you my name, but only because it will drive you that much further… ”
And then the pages stopped ripping. A single page remained, and on it was neat almost cursive handwriting in red.
10. ) “ If you miss me, open a door after saying my name three times. ”
Sincerely,
The Devil
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[ WP ] Intelligent life visits Earth only to tell us we have n't been paying rent for 4.6 billion years
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*BANG BANG BANG* The knocking on his door was growing incessantly louder as he ambled down the stairs fixing his dressing gown. Eugh, his head felt like a combine harvester running amuck in a field of squeaky toys, maybe next time after he goes out for drinks with his work `` friends'' he wo n't stay up drinking alone... Then again, maybe not.
`` Can I help you?'' he slurred as he opened the door. Standing there was a small man in squinty spectacles and an off-brown suit, he had a wonky toupee on that did little to hide his baldness and more add to the ridiculous stereotype that screamed small man complex. `` You're late on the rent'' He said in a nasally tone that was frankly quite impressive, the low whine he managed to achieve with his nose as he spoke was something kettles could only dream of. `` What are you talking about? I own this property'', `` Ah, glad to see our intel was correct then. By our calculations for the rental of time-space B187 you owe us 459 P'' The man began tapping his foot impatiently.
`` Time space? What are you talking about? 459p? you mean £4.59?''
`` No no no, P as in perasi, the universal currency. This time space as in the place we are in now.'' He let out a sigh that sounded like a learner driver changing gear. `` There must have been a mix up at the CDU for you to get away with this for so long''
Through his fuzzy after-morning logic something clicked `` Ahhh this must be about the renewal on my mortgage, come in, come in. Would you like some tea?'' He let the small man inside and walked off to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Much to his dismay the small man followed him straight into the kitchen and stood at about the same distance he had when they were face to face at the door. `` Umm.. is everything ok?'' he asked. `` No. You are late on your rent, I do n't have much time here so I would rather just take the payment and leave.'' Suddenly his neck snapped sideways as his gaze locked on an object in the corner of the kitchen. `` What is that?'' he asked his tone burning with curiosity. `` It's erm... Kitty litter?'' The man walked over to it and picked up the tray. `` This will be more than enough. Thank you for your cooperation'' Adjusting his suit the man broke into a hurried waddle and went out the door with the kitty litter. Chasing after him the man screamed `` What the hell? What kind of freak steals someones cat tray!? I'll report you to the ban-'' his protests were cut off as he saw the man in the suit climb into what seemed to be some sort of space ship and blast into the sky at several hundred miles per hour.
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[ WP ] Humans are what we think of as demons , the keepers and caretakers of hell . Plants and animals are the sinners forced to live here in punishment .
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`` Oh no, not again...''
This was a thought Jorval had all too often. As another executioner stalked over to where he stood, Jorval could n't help but reflect on his punishment. Every day he woke up, rooted to the ground and forced to stare into a sky he could never touch again. Every day he struggled to move, to tear himself free from this prison and soar again amongst the clouds he had called his home. He realized now that he had been a fool to throw his life away, that however bleak things had seemed at the time there was nothing he would have faced that could have been worse than the `` life'' he had now.
The executioner drew closer. Jorval realized that this was yet another new face. He wondered what sort of place had such an abundance of beings so willing and able to kill that he had not yet seen the same face in all the days of his punishment. They were hideous creatures. They walked everywhere, with only two legs to support them. Their murderous hands were of varying colors, though often a bright yellow that seemed far too jovial for the task they would soon complete. Their faces were terrible. Often they would make terrible noises, odd shriekings that must have passed for music, with the noise coming from a gaping maw located below a strange vent and two terrifying orbs of varying color. They seemed to have hair, which Jorval found a relief, but many also had what appeared to be a disc shaped tumor growing out of the top of their head. This particular executioner had war paint, not surprising considering how efficiently it had disposed of the other prisoners that Jorval had woken up amongst. As it descended upon him with its blades, Jorval found relief in the fact that he was no longer forced to see this terrible creature.
`` Perhaps tomorrow my sentence will be served. ``, was the last thought Jorval had before the blades closed around his throat and ended his day.
Sandy stood up, wiping the sweat from her brow with a dirt stained glove.
`` Damned crabgrass! I'm gon na have to get Leonard to spray some weedkiller on the lawn again.''
She turned around and went into the house, seeking a well deserved glass of lemonade.
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[ CW ] Write a villanelle about love , using the word `` gurgle '' in one of the refrains .
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Edit. Quite new to this subreddit. I realize now that I'm breaking rule 1, and rule 8. This shall not happen again.
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Original post:
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This is easy for the lazy.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Gurgle, gurgle against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Gurgle, gurgle against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Gurgle, gurgle against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Gurgle, gurgle against the dying of the light.
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[ WP ] You are a fairly major villain who has been hired by he antagonist to kill the main character . As is your motto , you flip a coin to decide how they die ( slow and painfully , or quick and painless ) . The coin lands on its side .
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The Cruel Wasp had come to me with his request, and met my exorbitant price for the deed to be done - heroes were n't cheap. I went about my preparations, cleaning my precious equipment and tools, and finally retrieved my'lucky' coin. One careful flip would determine the foul fate of my quarry.
I placed the coin gently onto my thumb. Heads: a quick and painless death. Mercy at its finest.
I flicked my thumb up, and the coin began its graceful, spinning arc. Tails: a drawn out bout of pure pain and suffering, culminating with their eventual demise - but only when I deem they are finally ready to die.
My eyes watched the whirling piece of beaten silver, and with spreading glee I watched its descent.
*clink*
I stared. The coin... was balanced perfectly on its edge - no heads, no tails. A freak of statistics and physics that had led me to this unprecedented third path.
I shrugged - I did n't really like the Wasp anyway. Let the bastard solve his own problems.
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[ WP ] One fine day you decide to bake a cake . However it 's not a cake that comes out of the oven .
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Brad scraped the sides of the mixing bowl clean and hummed to himself. He did n't bake. He did n't cook. Brad survived on microwave meals and frozen pizzas when he had to fend for himself. However, this was an important day. Brad had to do something really special to mark the occasion. So, he dug up an old family recipe for a simple cake and set to work.
It was 3 AM.
Working only by the instincts that had taken over his body, Brad moved through the kitchen mechanically. Reaching with one hand for the oven and breaking an egg in the other, he set the oven to preheat. Measuring, mixing, pouring, he created his batter. His humming had changed from a simple tune into a wavering monotone. Brad's eyes, wide and unseeing, were bloodshot and tinged with tears as he placed the cake pan in the oven. He closed the door and sank down to his knees hugging himself and rocking back and forth. The hum he had sustained turned into a weak moan as the cake baked.
Two hours later, the oven timer dinged. Brad did n't move, did n't blink, did n't breathe.
The oven door opened.
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[ WP ] Every person is cloned on the day they are born and they grow up together with their clone . At the age of 21 the better one is selected and the other one is put to death .
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It was supposed to advance the human race to new heights.
Oh, there were ethical concerns, of course - something about'murder'. We considered it an outdated concept. After all, we needed some way to maintain the population. The age, we determined, would best be set at 21 - when one would be in their prime, both physically and mentally.
I visit them sometimes - see the horror and the hatred in their eyes. I shrug it off - My work saved the human race, and history will remember it that way. I do n't have time for sentiment.When the war started, many were too dumbfounded to take any action to save themselves. When the alarms began to blare, they froze. When evacuation plans went into effect, they stayed rooted where they were, or left towards their own, non-mandated destinations.
Some knew there was no hope, and waited for the end to come. But come it did n't - And now, we are among the last of humanity. Radiation from the warheads has tainted our bodies, tainted the land, and tainted the food we eat.
The solution? Organ donations. And who better, of course, to receive organs from than a perfect clone? Each child is cloned before his birth - they're raised as siblings. And when the day comes, they are killed and their organs harvested, so that their brothers and sisters might live. Unethical? We do n't have the time or patience for that term anymore. Not these days.
She grins at me as I enter the room. `` Dad! Hey, check this out!'' She wraps me in a hug, showing me a program she's just written. Her sister sits alone in the corner, pouting. I never liked her much.
`` That's great, dear - but you should go to bed now. You've got a big day tomorrow, after all?''
She just rolls her eyes. `` Daaad. I'm an adult now.'' Stifling a yawn, she wraps her arms unresponsive sister. `` Hey. It'll be okay.''
Her sister does n't respond, and breaks into tears.
The next morning is one of the most difficult. As she goes into the operating room, I deliberately turn my head away, hiding my face. It hurts, of course - I raised her, but I must do what is necessary for my daughter.
She lifts her head - taps on the glass. `` Hey, Dad.''
I force a grin and tap back. `` Hey, kiddo.''
In the hallway outside, her sister kept crying.
-- -
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
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[ WP ] Write an analysis of a popular song that reveals the deep hidden meaning behind its ( clearly inane ) lyrics
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Jon stood at the old jukebox scrolling through songs in the quiet bar. He knew exactly what he was looking for. It was the song that was playing when he first met her all those years ago. He found his song and turned it up as loud as it would go. He sat down in a dark corner as `` Fire up'' echoed through the empty room.
He ordered another round of shots as his mind drifted back to the question that had been plaguing his restless mind. 12 years together and she turned him down, for what? She said she loved him but she still turned him down. For what?! He had a good job, he was a great father, he may be a bit short but was still fairly attractive but she still said no. The proposal was meticulously planned out. It was beautiful but she still had to turn it down, for what? What could possibly be the reason?
As the bar went quiet, he returned to the jukebox, played the same song just as loud, and returned to his seat with another round of shots. The question echoing in his head:
Turn down for what?
Turn down for what?
Turn down for what?
Turn down for what?
This continued late into the night. `` Fire up'', another round of shots. `` Fire up'', another round of shots. `` Fire up'', another round of shots.
As Jon finally succumbed to the drunken stupor, only one thought would haunt his dreams. Turn down for what?
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[ WP ] Whenever someone dies , the person responsible will always be able to see the ghost of their victim for the rest of their life .
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The sky is but a cloud of my sins, the land I walk not but a testament to my lust for blood.
With vengeance for pain caused I rose through the ranks, I obtained power and with that power came control, and with that control came forth orders to destroy those who dared challenge, who dared threaten, who dared stand, in our way.
At my command young men rained fire and death down upon nations. Cities were wiped out, histories of civilizations were destroyed, nations crumbled and what rose in their place was destroyed yet again. I was sated.
I shall never see the sun again.
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[ WP ] The North/South Pole were held down for 8 seconds and Earth has been restored to factory settings .
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And so the demise of humanity began due to an unfortunate coincidence. Two explorers, Gabriel Silva of Brazil and James Goodwin of The United Kingdom, trekked to the North and South pole respectively and arrived at the poles at the same time. 8 seconds is all it took for all hell to break loose.
In the hours that followed Earth began a geological rewind, starting with the tectonic plates undergoing massive shifts, the contents of the world converging back to one - Panangea. This caused entire cities to be razed to the ground, the speed of the shifts causing massive earthquakes in almost every country causing an unfathomable amount of damage. But the worst was still to come.
Every volcano on the planet'dormant' or not began erupting, causing massive eco-system changes and vastly changing the composition of the atmosphere. The concentration in the atmosphere eventually dropped so low that nothing could even catch a breath, causing mass extinction of the vast majority of species and whittling humanity down to the last few 100; those evacuated deep underground and those in space.
In the last few hours that followed earth returned to its original state, a molten - volcanic wasteland on which no life could survive, the last humans in space stranded up there, watching the whole events unfold. For planets are actually living beings which evolve over time and ones such as earth that catch a virus lasting many years evolve a defensive mechanism, in this case being a'factory reset' for although it tried many other tactics such as developing a fever and heating up nothing seemed to work and so the fail-safe of a hard reset kicked in and thus the evolution of the earth began again
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[ WP ] Archaeologists have unearthed what remains of Pandora 's Box . It is open and empty , save for something lodged in the corner .
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`` This ca n't be right,'' Khan mutters. `` You *did* test this, did n't you?''
`` It's completely accurate. It absorbs every wavelength that touches it. I've never seen a material that responds like this.'' replies Fricis.
`` Have you tried infrared?''
`` That's the scary part...'' Fricis sighs. `` IR Thermography shows that it ca n't be hotter than -50˚C. But it's not cooling down anything around it like it would if it were that cold.''
Khan wipes his forehead and exhales. `` Shit. This is n't my field. I had to work my ass off for a C in physics.''
`` Well, what we do know,'' Fricis scribbles on the back of a Kebab receipt, `` Is that it's kind of shaped like this, with little triangular faces all around. The problem is that as soon as we hit that shape, it's all gone. Light does n't even bounce off of it. Things go in and they do n't come out.''
`` Are you sure?'' Khan flicks around his pen.
Fricis's eyes open up. `` What's that on the back of your pen?''
`` A laser pointer. Why?''
Fricis snatches the pen. `` I want to see if I can make this thing get hotter.''
`` What?''
Fricis pulls out the IR scanner. The object is a black blob in a sea of blue. `` Watch this. See how when I shine it on this part of the box, the area around it turns yellow?''
`` Okay...''
`` Let's see what happens when I shine it on our friend...'' Fricis closes one eye and shines the pen at the object. ``... where is it?''
Fricis nervously looks at the screen. Black blob in a sea of blue. Nothing is warming up. `` Where is it going? This laser has energy, where is it going?!''
Khan says `` Maybe we should take it t-''
`` DO N'T TOUCH IT!!''
Khan's hand hovers above the object. `` Melodramatic mu-''
`` THAT IS A BLACK HOLE!''
Khan's eyes go wide, `` W-what do you mean? How can it-''
`` Energy goes in and does n't come out. This is physically impossible unless it is a black hole!''
Khan removes his hand from the box and wipes his brow. `` What are we going to do with this?''
Fricis says, `` We need to get someone *brilliant* involved, *now*. Someone much better at physics than us. Neither of us know what we're dealing with, or how many people we can hurt by mishandling this.''
`` What is that?''
`` What?''
`` That hissing.''
`` Shit, the box''
Barely visible on the black crystalline face is a shimmering drop of liquid. Khan's forehead-wiping habit led to a bead of sweat dripping onto the object.
`` Why is it hissing?'' Khan's voice cracked.
`` *Just get out*!'' Fricis demands frantically. The graduate students bust out of the lab and start down the hall. Khan trips in front of Fricis, and Fricis stumbles over Khan and onto her right arm. Khan struggles to his feet but his knees give out and he falls backwards.
Fricis screams as she is dragged down the hall. She and Khan are sliding back towards the lab with increasing speed. They grab hold of the door as they set eyes on a horrifying spectacle.
The crystal is in the center of the room, and has grown to the size of a boulder. Fricis glances at the room where once stood the scanning equipment and trappings of a lab and discovers... nothing. The walls are golden. She's *inside the box! *
Fricis watches in horror as the box grows larger, and larger, and as more and more people are drawn in with her. Twenty... One hundred... Thousands... `` God have mercy.'' The golden doors shut and darkness falls.
-- --
The sun shines through the window of the vacant laboratory. A tall, olive-skinned figure raises a torch into the room, as the glint of the box glares back at him.
`` Forty-thousand years,'' he growls. `` What a price for the gift of fire.''
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[ WP ] Write an entire story without using the letter E .
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No. No I wo n't. I wo n't do this. It is boring. Just... Boring. What do you want? A story without that? That thing? That loop of a thing? No. No it wo n't do. It would n't work. That would n't do.
I can do it though. It'll just suck. Oh 25 things you say. That is a lot. You can do it with that. But alas I will not. Just look at this story right now... So many loops to jump through. Not worth it. At all.
Although... Two girls kissing... That's a good start. You can show nothing but a girl and a girl for two hours and you'll swim in cash. But it is frustrating.
Oh a doctor who is famous for this stuff could do it simply. But not I. Just too hard.
So, sorry op. Ca n't do it. *shug*
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[ WP ] Confess .
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In our little country, in our neglected corner of the world, might makes right. It is the cruel man, the rich woman, the oppressor who will get ahead. It was just the way things were in this country.
My father was exactly such a cruel man. I killed him, and I have never regrettd it. This is my confession.
When I was 8, he had come to visit. My dad. I had never seen him before, and never would again. It is a painful thing, to suddenly realize one day that you have a father, and that he is alive, and that you mean nothing to him, and never would.
My mother did not like to talk about him. She was not the first woman to bear him child, nor would she be the last, she had told me.
`` He is a bad person,'', she would often say, and then choke back the tears. I pushed her once, and she told me, crying all throughout.
My mother had been the first in her family to go to college. She was studying to be a doctor but had not finished her studies before she got pregnant with me. He had told her beautiful things in those days. He had told her of how he would take care of her, and build a house just for our new family in the big city: just her, him, and me, in the big city. But when she had become pregnant, he had left with another woman. My mom's family forced her to have the baby, for that was the way in our country.
The school would not let her come back. She had missed her final examinations because she was in hospital. The director would not talk to her or make considerations for her.
`` If I let you take the examinations again, what about the other students who were too lazy to come? ``, he smiled. `` I can not.''
He probably would have, if she had given him money. But she did not have any money, and my father had already left. She had had a bright future, but it was taken away by the rich, the powerful, the oppressors. This was the way in our country.
I could have liked him, in any other circumstance, I think. He was very charismatic, with a permanent twinkle in his eye. When we ate together, he would ask me about school, and he would tell my mother stories about his life in the big city. I refused always to look at him, to acknowledge his existence. He found this very funny. He found everything funny. He made my mother laugh, too, with his jokes, but hers was a dry laughter. The painful laughter of a woman still in love with the cold, unfeeling man that had taken everything away from her.
Every night for that week, she would set up the sofa for me to sleep on, and dad would get the bed. She slept on a stack of towels on the floor a small distance away from my sofa.
On his last night, he came to her to make love to her. To fuck her, maybe, is more accurate. The sound woke me up on the sofa next to them. The way she moaned and held onto him as he entered her. That angered me. She wrapped her legs tight around him, as if never wanting him to leave. When he finished and went back to bed, my mother cried. Tears absorbed by the towels she was sleeping on.
I went to him with the kitchen knife, and I put my hand on his mouth, and I put the knife through his body many times. Many, many times.
In the morning, I told my mother what I had done. Her parents helped us take his body to the mountains, and an old woman paid us 50 thousand American dollars for the body. Her youngest daughter had passed away recently and she wanted to bury her with a husband, to go to the afterlife together. Otherwise, her daughter would be alone in the spirit world. We took the money, and my mother bought a new house for us the next month.
This was my confession. I killed my father, and our life became better. My mother went back to school, and is now the doctor of our village. I never regretted my actions even for a moment. For this was the way in our country.
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[ WP ] On earth , a magician puts his hand into a top hat . In the rabbit realm , the hand emerges . It is time . The rabbit council must choose a sacrifice .
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[ do not read unless also stoned ]
`` Hare ye, hare ye!'' undersecretharey Von Bunnums called to the assembly at large. `` The Rabbit Council has called this emergency session in order to reach a consensus on Item # 4399 of the docket: Selection of Rabbit Sacrifice for Hat Trick. It is 1300, June 8, in the Year of Our Hare 2014. First presenting arguments to the Rabbit Council is the esteemed Petros R. Rabbitopolis, First Chare of the Council.
`` Thank you, Mr. Undersecretharey. As is customharey, I would like to nominate a rabbit guilty of the most heinous of crimes: defecating in the carrot patch. The rabbit in question, Poppers McHopperton, will henceforth be exiled into the human realm, where he will be forced to live in a cage or hutch, and perform all further defecatations on top of week-old newspaper. I yield the remainder of my time.''
`` Thank you, Mr. Rabbitopolis. The Council recognizes Madam Jacqueline Rabbitte.''
`` Merci. I feel that as rabbits, it is our solemn duty to uphold that which is most dear to rabbitkind: speedy fornication. Therefore, the rabbit I nominate for sacrifice is Pierre Rabbitte: this speaker's husband. This speaker can testify with conviction that he regularly elongates the sexual act, once not bringing himself to climax for over 30 minutes.''
[ Astonished cacophany ensues. ]
`` Order, order! Mme. Rabbitte, do you yield the remainder of your time?''
`` I so yield.''
`` Thank you, Mme. Rabbitte. The Council now recognizes concerned citizen of Rabbitchester: Mr. Harey Trurabbit. Mr. Trurabbit, please state your nomination and reasoning to the Council.''
`` I thank yah, Mr. Undersecretharey. I done nominate those pesky little pikas --''
`` Mr. Trurabbit, you are reminded that racial epithets will not be tolerated during your testimony, and further such outbursts will result in your being held in contempt by this council.''
`` I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mr. Undersecretharey. Now then, these... rabbits down in my rabbithole were done hoppin' on my bed! One of those animals plum fell off and bumped his head... and had the nerve to threaten ME with a lawsuit! ME! On MY bed! I tell ya, that makes me hoppin' mad!''
`` Mr. Trurabbit, you have been warned about inappropriate language previously, and your use of The Forbidden Pun forces this Council to find you in contempt. Does any Council Chare hop to expedite this hare-ing and nominate Mr. Trurabbit as the nominee for Sacrifice for the Hat Trick of June 8, 2014?''
`` I so hop.''
`` Second.''
`` We have a hop and a second. All those in favor?''
[ resounding yea vote ]
`` All opposed?''
[ silence ]
`` Wait a cotton-pickin' minute --''
`` Mr. Trurabbit, you are hare-by nominated as the sacrifice and all that other stuff I just said. This hare-ing is adjourned.''
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[ WP ] Charon , boatman of the river Styx , gets the last two coins he needs for what he 's been saving up for since the beginning of time .
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Oars creaking in their rowlocks, ancient planks worn smooth by dead feet, Charon sighs and turns old his face to the far shore for a moment. He sees them, the indistinct throng on the distant riverbank, waiting nervously. They are always there. No matter how many he carries the bank is always full when he returns. One more trip. Charon sighs - a sound like glass cracking - and he throws his weight behind the oars.
The little boat slips away from the bank fast and quiet, the vast crumbling pillars of the underworld proper recede into the gloom and the Ferryman is alone. The boat creaks, the river gurgles, Charon sighs. One more trip.
As the boat approaches midstream the current picks up. Charon angles the prow upriver and redoubles his efforts at the oars. He is old - older than time and so tired. Muscle fibers that by rights should be fossilised strain and heave against the current. Always at this point he thinks he will not make it, his ancient back will give out, he will drop an oar and the Styx will bear him away. Or else the current will swamp the little boat and he will flounder in the tears of the hopeless living, leaving the dead on the far bank to their fate.
Charon grits his teeth with a sound like flints striking together and hauls on the oars. One more trip. At last the boat is free of the fiercest current - the silent figures on the bank are now clearly visible. Charon allows himself to peer over his shoulder at the crowd. For the first time in five thousand years he is looking for someone.
He is still far from the bank but even from here the crowd's impatience is palpable, they shift their feet and gently jostle each other. He can not stand it. The dead are generally listless but he knows that those closest to the bank have likely been waiting an aeon or more for their turn to cross. There is nothing that he can do, the boat will only hold him and one other. Charon is glad that the job of oarsman means he arrives at the bank with his back to the crowd. He does not have to look at them, see the pleading faces or hear their whispering cries,'me next'. He simply stares at the river and waits until he fells the tiny rocking of the boat that means he has taken on his appointed cargo: one human soul.
But this time he is looking for someone. He leans back to the oars, the bank draws closer but he is so tired. His back hurts so. One more trip.
An age old agreement is to be honored. If the correct amount of time has passed a particular soul should have reached the front of the crowd, and if certain highly unusual burial rights have been observed then that soul should have a package. Almost there. The Boatman risks another look over his shoulder. There he is. Standing on the jetty below the bank as agreed all those centuries ago.
For the first time since the beginning of history, Charon cracks a smile.
The Boatman ships his oars and allows his little craft to glide the last few meters to the jetty, bumping to a stop against the antique planks. He rests a moment. So weary. His last trip is complete. He turns his hollow face to the soul on the jetty but rather than putting out his hand for payment as he has always done before, he instead offers the soul the clinking pouch that he has kept beneath his robes for time uncounted. And is confronted with biro and a clipboard. `` Sign here please.''
Charon sighs.
A while later and with a little help from the courier, Charon's gift is installed. He is pleased. The boatman turns to the nearest dim figure on the bank and mutters something. Then he helps the courier's soul onto the boat with a friendly hand on the shoulder. But rather than taking his usual place on the thwart at the oars Charon sits in the stern.
One brisk pull, two and three and the outboard motor sputters into life. Charon turns to face the roiling waters of the Styx, twists the throttle and putters out into the stream. A smile on his withered lips for the second time that day.
Back on the bank there is a sound like rustling leaves. The souls are talking to one another. The Boatman's last message filters back through the crowd: `` No more coins. Bring gas.''
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[ WP ] You 're an immortal . Recently , you 've been captured by the government and interrogated for your secrets . What they do n't know is that you 're being hunted down by a indestructible monster , the only thing that can kill you .
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`` It's killing your men out there right now. You ca n't stop it, nothing can stop it. Look at your men they're barely able to slow it down.''
I said these things calmly carefully choosing my words. The only hope we both had at this moment was if the general heeded my pleas and listened. He on the other hand was busy listening to much more disturbing things. We may have been deep underground in this secret military base, that strangely resembled every other secret military base I had been invited to, but we where in no way safe from the beast. Even now its blows shook the entire metal structure.Its raging screams filled the air with a moist and unpleasant sense of urgency.
In our immediate surroundings the screams from the front lines were brought to us live by via radio. Their panic was palpable, climaxing with screams and bodies being ripped apart. One by one their weapons and voices dropped and feel silent. Those poor men, dying in the slowest most brutal ways imaginable. No mercy was to be expected from this monster. That did n't top the general from berating his soldiers as he clasped at the idea of victory through superior military tactics.
`` General, its over, the battle is lost but there's still time. Let me go, if I leave the beast will follow. Think of your men.''
`` WE WILL NOT SURRENDER, YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS BASE. WE CAN STILL WIN!''
`` No general, it's over.''
The general seemed to way my words and his options. However he measured the consequences it seems like my plans had the best prospects. He pressed a button on the panel and my restraints unclasped. I stood rubbing my wrists and moving towards the general.
`` If we take the..''
The general was interrupted by the reinforced door flying off its frame and smashing him against the far while. Through the dust I saw the enormous green monstrosity that was to be my doom. I took a step back, maybe I could flee, outsmart it somehow. Sensing my movement it lunged at me in a fury, its battle cry the final words Id ever hear.
`` HULK SMASH!''
Edit: format, spelling
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[ WP ] Because spirit animals do n't exist , scientists have created a machine that analyses a person and creates a unique robot that acts as their spirit animal . It 's your turn to get yours .
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My wife stared up in awe. `` We're going to need a bigger garage...''
The giant kneeled down in front of me. It lowered it's hand down to me and offered it's finger, I shook it with both hands and said `` hello''. The scientist waved goodbye, leaving me with my robot.
My robot had started examining the flowers in our neighbors garden. `` Well,'' I told my wife, `` we do n't have to worry about burglers and stuff anymore.'' I looked up at my robot. `` What should we do now?'' The fifty foot tall spirit robot looked down at me and smiled contentedly. Meanwhile, my wife's robot, Commander Data, of whom I regarded with much jealous suspicion, came out to greet us. `` I see that there is a new addition to our family unit.'' I patted Data on the back and said, `` Meet the Iron Giant. Data, you two will soon find that you're both kindred spirits!'' Data stoically responded, `` I am fairly certain that robots do not have spirits!''
My wife, still gazing up our newest family, member replied, `` If any robots have spirits, it'd be you two!''
Suddenly, a man wearing a ski mask pulled up on a motorcycle. Me, my wife, Data, and the Iron Giant all turned to look at this stranger. `` Hello,'' he said, `` I've come to steal your robots!'' `` You do n't know who you're messing with!'' my wife exclaimed! The Iron Giant instantly went into full battle mode, ready for action. The man just chuckled. `` You better get out of the way folks, or you might get hurt!''
Then the masked robber jumped off his motorcycle, walked over to me and said,
`` Let me introduce you to Android 19!''
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[ WP ] There 's no life under that hood , no face , no body ; nothing but a void , a name , and a sense of purpose
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Hᴇʟʟᴏ.
`` Um... hi?'' I was still uncertain as to where I was. It looked... cold. And I was struggling with the concept of something merely *looking* cold, not cold as such, but the essence of coldness. I decided to think more about it later.
Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ?
`` No. I definitely do n't. Do you know?''
The hooded figure sighed. It sounded like a death rattle.
Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ. Tʜᴇʏ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ. Tʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ʟɪғᴇ.
The character appeared to be beginning to descend into a soliloquy, so I interrupted him with a cough. `` Where am I again?''
The figure appeared to notice him for the first time.
Oʜ. Yᴇs. Tʜɪs ɪs ᴘᴜʀɢᴀᴛᴏʀʏ. Yᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ? Tʜᴇ ʙɪᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀʟɪғᴇ?
`` Oh, I never bothered with that stuff. It's a whole bunch of crap.''
The figure looked pityingly at me. Aɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ?
`` You mean it's all true? Which parts?''
`` Oh, there's no point in arguing with him.'' A new voice startled me. I whipped my head around to see a well groomed middle aged man approaching me.
`` And who are you? And who is he? And what is happening?''
The newcomer waved his hand at me, signalling for silence. He turned to the hood, `` It's fine, I can take it from here. This one will be a bit more complicated.''
I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇs. Iᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇs ᴛʜɪɴɢs. Aɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʙʏ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ.
`` Nevertheless, we must adhere to the rules. I *can* take it from here.''
With the sounds of granite coffin lids slamming shut, the hood grumbled off, fading into thin ether.
`` What *was* that?'' I spluttered, still in shock from the events.
`` Death. The Grim Reaper. The Ultimatum. The End of All Things. There's no life under that hood, no face, no body; nothing but a void, a name, and a sense of purpose.''
`` And why was he here? And why did he bring me here?''
This was the second time today that I had been looked pityingly at. `` You still have n't figured it out? Well, it sometimes happens. You're in shock I guess. You're *dead*. You died. Now you're here, to await your fate.''
`` But... but I do n't *feel* dead..I...''
`` Just calm down. And follow me...''
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[ WP ] A super-powered human has Multiple Personality Disorder ; one personality is a hero , the other a villain .
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# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
A cell. I ca n't believe this.
I pace the floor, hands behind my back in contemplation. This should n't even be possible. I was trying to right the world, to remove the scum holding back the good people of Farriston. Now I have been captured by Farriston's own police.
It is an injustice.
I do not know how I got here. Indeed, I have been losing my memory frequently for the past few months. But there are patches, to be sure. I remember having foiled Dr. Easton's plans once and for all. I had him. I brought him out of hiding, tied up, and delivered him to the police. The last thing I remember is the policemen on duty raising their guns with caution as they prepared to take him in.
I stare down at the power nullifiers on my wrists and ankles. They are obviously the design of my archnemisis. The only conclusion I can come to is that he has police on his payroll. I slam my fist against the wall, and wince with pain. A pain I am unfamiliar with, but one that does not equal the fury that builds inside me. I can no longer trust the law enforcement of Farriston to protect its people. The mayor needs to know of this breach in justice.
I must make my escape. It will take time, and it will take effort. But I must see to it that Dr. Easton never puts in place his plan to enslave the people of this town with his weapons of mind control.
But first, rest is in order. I must build my strength.
Dr. Easton will rue the day he sought to destroy this town.
***
A cell. I ca n't believe this.
I pace the floor, hands behind my back in contemplation. This should n't even be possible. I was trying to right the world, to remove the so-called `` Hero of the East'' holding back the good people of Farriston from my rule. Now I have been captured by Farriston's own police.
It is an insult.
I do not know how I got here. Indeed, I have been losing my memory frequently for the past few months. But there are patches, to be sure. I remember having Captain Eastly at my mercy once and for all. I had him. I brought myself out of hiding willingly, pretending to be tied up, and delivered myself to the police, holding a secret weapon which would freeze the mind of Captain Eastly cold. The last thing I remember is the look on the caped moron's face as the policemen rushed futilely to his aid.
I stare down at the power nullifiers on my wrists and ankles. They are obviously the design of my archnemisis. The only conclusion I can come to is that he has outwitted me once again. I slam my fist against the wall, and wince with pain. A pain I am unfamiliar with, but one that does not equal the fury that builds inside me. I can no longer have the Protector of Farriston meddling in my affairs. I will kidnap the mayor himself if I must, if only to show that I mean business.
I must make my escape. It will take time, and it will take effort. But I must see to it that Captain Eastly never reaches my doomsday device, which will enslave the people of this town with my mind controlling serum.
But first, rest is in order. I must build my strength.
Captain Eastly will rue the day he sought to save this town.
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[ WP ] Swords and sorcery in the American Wild West .
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`` We ai n't here to play games with you, son.'' He spat, staring me cold in the eye. `` We're just here to make sure you held up your end of the deal.''
`` I do n't make deals with bandits,'' I said, as a twisted smile rose onto his face.
`` Oh? And who do you make deals with then?''
`` I have,'' I paused here, as long as I could before it went from dramatic to weird, `` I have a few friends.'' My friends were outside now, dispatching the majority of his crew. He had no idea, of course. He had no reason to suspect anything at all, which is exactly the way it had to be. I could n't be sure about the whereabouts of Me'ethrijn or his minions, and that was alright so long as the ignorance was mutual.
The faint sounds of struggle from outside the tent faded, and I slowly reached my hand to my side. *Retriaul*, I thought silently, and I could suddenly feel the weight of my sword as it returned from across the veil.
The bandit still had n't noticed, and his gruff features were puzzled as he searched for his next line. I stabbed him, a quick clean cut, straight through the stomach. That was when I noticed something was wrong.
Three things hit me. First, I noticed that the person who had opened the tent was not one of my friends at all. Second, the blood that now dripped onto my wrist was not typical red human blood, but the blue blood of the veilthings, the things from my world. I realized that I had not stabbed a bandit at all, but something much darker, much more powerful. He drew back, my sword sliding effortlessly back out of his body. He stood at his full height, then taller. As his transformation neared completion, he towered over me, his dark scaly body making my sword look like a pin. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was holding a club.
That was the third thing that hit me.
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[ WP ] Aliens discover Earth and , to their horror , the Supernatural .
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Far above the blue planet that is known as Earth, a fleet of space ships from the distant planet of Khudmav hovered steadily.
`` Good news, Lord Trax,'' hissed the surveyor. `` We have discovered a planet full of water. It will be more than enough to fuel our fleet for the next ten solar years.''
`` And the natives?'' asked Trax, slowly and deliberately, in his low and booming voice. Trax has been in the business long enough to know that wherever there is water, there is always some form of native life.
`` According to our readings, the natives are indeed violent, Lord Trax,'' replied the surveyor. `` However, these humans, as they call themselves, are still very primitive. They still appear to be using fossil fuels to operate their crude machines.''
This generated a round of laughter from the other members of the deck.
Trax did not show any emotion. He seldom showed any emotion. The last time Trax smiled, it was after he had ordered the entire twenty-billion-strong population of Xybar-Doon, a species that had only just barely discovered written language, slaughtered for sport.
`` Do you hear their screams? It fills me with ecstasy,'' Trax said before sinking his mandibles into a Doonian youngling's skull.
It had been a good long while since they had found a sizable planet with water. After having found only mostly gas planets in every solar system they had been to, they were almost out of water. Trax was going to enjoy the hunt.
`` Prepare the Kvomax for incursion,'' boomed Trax. The Kvomax, their old but reliable Attack Ship, was armed with all the different plagues of the thousands of different planets that they had ravaged for millennia. There had yet to be a planet that the Kvomax had been unleashed upon that could put up a fight against its massive onslaught.
`` Riddle the enemy with disease, hunt down the remaining survivors for trophies, and mine the water.'' That was the Khudmavian way. It was going to be no different this time.
`` My Lord Trax!'' called out his communications officer. `` We are being hailed by an unknown entity!''
`` What? That is impossible! I thought these humans are still primitives,'' responded Trax with menace.
`` It is demanding that it be allowed to communicate with the fleet's leader, my lord,'' continued the communications officer.
For the first time in centuries, Trax became nervous. It had been more than seven hundred years since there had been any species in the galaxy that had been technologically advanced enough to be able to communicate with the Khudmavians. The last time Trax came across such a species, the fabled Grutharians, the resulting war made Khudmav itself uninhabitable. Although the Grutharians were wiped from existence, the loss of their ancient homeworld was a heavy price to pay.
However, there was still protocol to follow. A species that is intelligent enough to be able to communicate with the Khudmavians deserved to be treated with honor. Even if they were going to be wiped out.
`` Put them through,'' said Trax reluctantly.
The ship's monitor came alive. When the Khudmavians finally saw what it was that they were looking at, fear struck the hearts of every single ship member, Trax included.
`` My Lord Trax...'' trembled a petty officer. `` Is that what I think it is?''
`` No, it's not possible. The Braxogyphs are the stuff of myth. A story that is told to scare the younglings,'' said Trax.
Yet the impossible was staring squarely at Trax.
Legendary tales of the Braxogyphs were told from generation to generation. These beasts were the personification of evil itself. They did n't hunt or annihilate other species as the Khudmavians do. They enslave. Twisting and slowly destroying the will to live, the Braxogyphs supposedly turned their prey into mindless ghouls, turning them into the perfect slaves.
Once the Braxogyphs had no further use for their prey, that would be when they finally ate their prey. Even the Khudmavians would never stoop so low to eat those that they enslaved. Not that the Khudmavians have enslaved anyone in over three centuries. Trax himself outlawed slavery as he thought it was inkhudmaviane.
Furthermore, it was whispered among the ancients that even the Kvomax's most impressive arsenal of diseases was nothing compared to the poisons that the Braxogyphs were capable of unleashing with a single bite.
This single Braxogyph's two glowing blue eyes stared directly at the Khudmavians, betraying no emotions. Its symmetrical face with its pointed jawline, which oddly looked beautiful, was far more imperial than anything Trax had ever seen. It looked just as the way the ancients had drawn it in the Eternal Tomes.
But its skin... that was what looked strange. Trax remembered seeing a picture of it when he was but a babe and Trax distinctly remembered that it was as black as the darkest Black Hole. This one, however, was grey.
Trax had made up his mind that this was not a fight worth fighting.
`` We've already lost Khudmav. I can not lose this fleet. I will not lead my brethren into extinction,'' thought Trax.
Before Trax could kneel and beg for this Braxogyph's forgiveness and mercy, the creature opened its mouth and began to speak.
It said but a single word, which Trax would never forget until the day he died centuries later. No matter how many worlds he burned, no matter how many mindless creatures he speared and devoured, Trax could never forget the utter terror that he felt near Earth.
That single word was `` Meow.''
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[ WP ] `` I 'm a good man . '' `` If so , then why are you here ? ''
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Henry remembered when he was a little boy how he ’ d visit his grandfather in the home. The memories had become tangled up with so much else. He wished that he could save moments away and hide them from the rest of the noise. Bury them deep somewhere untouched where falsehood couldn ’ t find them. Revisiting now in complication. He remembered looking at his tight new school shoes and holding his father ’ s hand as they crossed the lot. The buzzer and the wait. Henry shy and looking down when the matron came. The smells stained more in him than the sights. Cardamom and jasmine as she bent down smiling. The totter to his grandfather ’ s room. Catching glances of the old groaning in their beds as they passed. Squeezing his father ’ s hand harder now. The smell of iodine and sterility. Seeing his grandfather there semi-propped up, trembling. A plain cross above the headboard and a small TV on low volume speaking of antiques and their worth.
His grandfather lifting his head in discomfort just for a look at him. Some days there was tenderness in his eyes and others curiosity. Today was tender. Henry unsure what to do with himself walking around the room picking at the wallpaper. School photos of himself covered in dust save for two clear thumbprints either side of the frame. Little shoesteps muzzled in a tousled carpet. His father and Grandfather talking of day to day. Henry approaching with hands at his side. His grandfather looked at him with everything. He asked how Henry was enjoying school. Henry shy at first, then talking of teachers and friends and all of the concerns that mean everything to a seven year old. His grandfather listening as though it were gospel. Henry sticking out tiny pink fingers for a handshake to be grasped tight by both hands of his Grandfather as if he might never let go. A grip so strong hoping Henry were a buoy in the maelstrom of time against which to cling to. A transient constant. A grip borne of love and the fear of losing it. The veins and the wrinkling cocoon. ‘ Be good ’ his Grandfather had said before Henry had come to know what good was. Leaving the room and turning one last time and seeing his face in the eyes of the dying.
The gangly Henry, an awkward mess of shoulder blades and knobbled knees turning this way and that in the brush, eyes teared up and red and fists clenched. He screamed something hoarse and the birds flurried in fright and became swallowed up by the canopy of the firs. He hoped that he were good and wished to know what a good man might do now.
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[ WP ] A king from a faraway land sees a clever comment you posted a few years ago . He believes it 's comedic gold and that you should be wed to his children .
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If Michael had been asked what he would be doing on a Wednesday night, he'd have said he was looking forward to Dungeons and Dragons night with some friends. If he had been told that this was, in fact incorrect, and that instead he would be sitting in the drawing room in the Palace of the King of Monaco, Mike would have been a little incredulous, at the very least.
Despite the fact that seventy-two hours after being told by a long time penpal that he wanted them to finally meet, and mike was now actually cooling his heels in a foreign royal's palace half way around the world made the series of events no less bizarre and un-believable.
They'd shared names, and at the time, Mike had thought nothing of Albert the Second. He had n't really believed the person's claims to live in Monaco -- Mike himself had made specious claims before about his place of residence, if only because being absolutely honest about one's real world identity on the internet could be embarrassing at best, and dangerous at worst, and Monaco itself was a tiny kingdom -- he'd looked it up on the map, and gotten a chuckle out of the name of the ruler.
Never had he considered that the man on the other line of their shared experience had been entirely truthful.
Albert had insisted that Mike take some time off for the holidays and come visit -- catch a show or a race or two. Mike some 5,800 miles away and behind a computer in his one-bedroom flat in the middle of the night, had jokingly agreed, and promised to ask for the days off at work that Friday, and promptly signed off.
Friday came, and went, and Mike never actually bothered to ask for the time off -- did n't even bother to check for messages until Sunday evening, when he'd checked his inbox and found several messages: `` Ready to go? ``, `` Make sure to pack sunscreen,'' `` You'll love the grounds and the family!'' and the like. Mike had chuckled through the first through, and then his heart had stopped at the last.
Attached was a printable receipt for an all expenses paid, round trip, first class flight to Monaco, for a single week. In a panic, Mike had called his boss, forwarded the tickets as proof, and scheduled some time off, calling in a few favors to cover his shifts at the helpdesk in the library.
From there things had sped up exponentially. He'd packed early on monday morning for the flight, and was about to call for a cab or uber when a black limosine had pulled up to his flat parking lot, and two rather bulky men in spotless suits had crowded his entry way. Two bags had been wisked into the trunk, and Mike had been gently muscled into the back, before being sent to the airport.
Then the flight -- which had Mike feeling rather out of place as the only one in nice slacks and his Alma Mater sweater on a flight full of designer clothes -- into Heli Air Monaco -- the international airport -- and finally, another rather bewildering car-ride through the city-state to the palace.
And now, here he sat. Two bags, and himself. Sitting on finery easily worth more than his entire net-worth. With loud clunk that startled him, Mike turned to watch a pair of over-sized double-doors open. A pair of men in suits, but clearly armed, marched through. And incredibly, in walked King Albert the Second.
`` MICHEAL!'' he boomed. `` Is so good to finally meet you!'' He waved a festooned hand over to the young man. `` Come! We have much to discuss!''
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[ WP ] If you 're in a world where physical health problems were treated like mental health problems
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`` What is your emergency sir?''
-Nurse
`` I'm having chest pain, Shortness of Breath, and it's radiating down my left arm, it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.''
-Patient
`` Ok come on back. You'll be in bay 5, you'll notice a camera in the corner, we will be monitoring you. We need everthing off and you need to don a gown. The doctor will be in shortly''
-Nurse
The patient sits, in pain and unable to breathe without pain, for approximately 15 minutes.
`` Ok sir, tell me what's going on today''
-Doctor.
Patient patiently repeats his symptoms while it is getting harder to concentrate and breathe.
-'' Ok well we are going to give you some literature about a heart attack an1d refer you to outpatient treatment. They will then evaluate you for any meds you may need. You are required to find your own transportation. Here are your discharge papers. Have a nice day.''
-Doctor.
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[ WP ] Mankind has the technology to bring people back from the dead . This power is used to ensure criminals serve the entirety of their sentences before they are allowed to die .
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George was unremarkable in the fact that he truly hated his job. What was remarkable about George was the job he had. By some act of fate, all the years of working hard through school, honor roll, cooking clubs, then off to a good college where he ’ d managed to maintain his GPA despite countless nights of excessive drinking, everything led him to the job he wanted least in the world. Because George, as it happens, was a Reviver. He had the power to literally bring people back from the dead. Now this sounds very nice on paper, but actually all George did was work a very expensive and overly complicated machine that most fourth graders could figure out if given an afternoon and a colorful diagram. And while this machine could have been used to save anyone, the government had long ago decided that the best use of a machine that could control life and death was to revive criminals who hadn ’ t yet served their entire sentence before kicking the bucket.
This never made much sense to George, but then again, little of what the government decided made much sense to anyone, and as George was not an unusually clever man, he was forced as everyone else to go along with what cleverer people had already decided for him. And today, this meant reviving a Mr. James ‘ Tony ’ Mathieson. Exactly why a man called James would choose ‘ Tony ’ as a nickname was beyond George ’ s capacity to care. At any rate, Mathieson had died the night before in a skirmish with the other inmates. It was actually the seventh time George was needed to revive the man, as Mathieson was always getting into particularly violent altercations with the various guards and prisoners in the jailhouse. George suspected that this was less to do with the fourteen women he ’ d killed ( a crime that had won Mathieson a 480 year sentence ), and more to do with the fact that Mathieson was the single most annoying person George had ever met.
Once he made his way to the cell in which Mathieson ’ s body still lay, George took out the Lazarus P4102.3, turned it on, and revived Mathieson in much the same way someone would microwave a bowl of soup. That is to say, with hardly any effort whatsoever. Mathieson awoke, drawing in a deep breath as he did so. After looking around wildly for a few seconds, his eyes finally met George ’ s. George suppressed a groan.
“ Georg-ie! ” Mathieson exclaimed.
“ Hello, James, ” George replied, hurriedly packing up his equipment.
“ Nah, c ’ mon man, we ’ ve been over this! Call me Tony, ” James said, shaking his head.
George grunted in what he hoped Mathieson would take as an agreement to this request. But really, thought George, why would a man named James expect to be called Tony even when he refused to call George any name other than Georg-ie?
“ Bet you ’ re wondering how they got me this time, ” Mathieson continued.
“ No, ” George said. He ’ d read the report before he got there.
“ Outta nowhere, ten, maybe fifteen guys jumped me! ” he said.
“ That ’ s a lot of guys, ” George replied. Of course, he knew Mathieson was lying. According to the report, Mathieson had tried to start a food fight in the cafeteria. He was very insistent about it, and finally, one of the prisoners had enough, and stabbed him in the eye with a fork.
“ You ’ re telling me! ” Mathieson said. “ I mean, I ’ m a tough guy, but there ’ s no way anyone could take out twenty other guys, ‘ specially when they got surprise on their side. ”
George nodded, not really listening. He ’ d finally managed to collect his things, and was happy to finally be leaving Mathieson behind.
George made it to his car, and was just pulling out of the prison when he heard a loud crash. Looking back through his rearview mirror, George saw that a crash had been the cause of the crash. He quickly turned his car around, making his way back to the two cars that had collided into each other.
Out of one car came a middle-aged man, sheepishly putting away his cell phone as he made his way out of his gigantic, and slightly dented pickup truck. The other car hadn ’ t done so well in the crash. The woman in the front seat was bleeding from a cut on her head, while the little girl in the backseat was…well, she didn ’ t appear to be moving at all.
George instructed Mr. Pickup Truck to call an ambulance, and rushed over to help the two people still stuck in their car. He helped the mother out first, but she burst into tears the second she saw what had happened to her daughter. There was no mistaking it now. George had seen plenty of dead bodies in his life, and though this was certainly the smallest he ’ d seen, it was a dead body nonetheless. George did his best to console the weeping mother, but at that point it was fairly useless. There was only one thing that could fix things for the little girl ’ s poor mother, but unfortunately, people don ’ t just pop back to life.
Except, of course, for when they did.
George was thinking hard now. Technically, it was illegal to bring anyone but prisoners back from the dead, but certainly an innocent girl deserved life more than James ‘ Tony ’ Mathieson. And besides, it ’ s not as if George had never heard of that particular law being broken. George had heard several coworkers laughing about their particular occupation being quite a hit at parties. They ’ d simply show up with their Lazarus P4102.3 in tow, and enjoy a drunken evening of killing and reviving their friends. While that had certainly been a good use of the machine, George was currently thinking of a better one.
With one last kind word to the weeping mother, George ran back to his own car, removed the Lazarus P4102.3 from the backseat, and brought it over to the little girl ’ s unmoving corpse. Like he ’ d done many times before, George turned on the machine, and revived the body in front of him with hardly any effort. The girl sucked in a deep breath, and her eyes fluttered open. The mother rushed over, crying still, but with tears of happiness rather than grief. George smiled to himself, happy to have done a good deed, and just as he was packing up his equipment, he heard something he ’ d rather not.
“ Sir, put the machine down! You ’ re under arrest! ” said a policeman, aiming a handgun right at George ’ s head. It seemed that when the ambulance was called, someone had the ingenious notion of sending the police along as well. And, because of George ’ s luck, one of them had arrived just in time to see him break the law. “ Reviving anyone besides prisoners is against the law. Undo it now, or you ’ ll be in serious trouble! ”
“ Undo it? ” George repeated.
“ Yes, that ’ s what I said, ” the officer replied.
“ You mean for me to murder a little girl? ” George asked.
“ What? No, I just want you to undo what you did. ”
“ Well, to do that, I ’ d have to kill her. You ’ re saying that would get me into less trouble? ”
The officer thought this over. “ I suppose you ’ re right. You ’ ve already broken the law, there ’ s really nothing to be done about it now. But you ’ re still under arrest. ”
“ I saved a little girl ’ s life! ” George exclaimed. “ Arresting me seems pretty unfair. ”
“ I don ’ t make the rules, sir, ” the officer replied.
“ Maybe, but that hardly makes me a dangerous criminal, ” George reasoned. “ If nothing else, you should at least put that gun away. ”
After a moment ’ s consideration, the officer did just that.
“ Alright, now come over here so I can arrest you. ”
“ Well I would love to, ” George replied. “ But as you can see, I ’ m still carrying my Lazarus P4102.3, and I should really put it back in my car. ”
“ No way, ” the officer answered. “ Just leave it on the street, you ’ re coming with me! ”
“ This is a very expensive piece of equipment, ” said George. “ I can ’ t just leave it in the middle of the street. ”
“ Fine, ” said the officer. “ Put it in your car, but no funny business! ”
George put the machine in his car, and then stood still, inspecting the area around him.
“ Well? ” said the officer.
“ I should really move my car out of the street, ” George answered. “ Someone could run into it, and that might damage the machine. ”
The officer sighed. “ Very well, then. Move your car. ”
George nodded gratefully, and slid into the driver ’ s seat. After briefly reflecting on how easy that had all been, George started the car, and drove as fast as he could away from the now red-faced officer. George was through with playing by the rules. There were dozens, possibly more, of people who deserved to die less than James ‘ Tony ’ Mathieson, and George finally knew what to do with the rest of his life.
He was going to save them.
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[ WP ] In a world where everyone has a superpower , you have the scariest power of all . You can disable other peoples powers .
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It was the Manhattan project that started it all, nobody could have imagined what would have happened. Oppenheimer said he thought he had become destroyer of worlds, and in a way he was. While the old world had died, a new one had just been born. That first atomic bomb set off a radioactive wave that spread across the planet like wildfire, changing the human genome forever or maybe activating what was long hidden.
Every human alive was gifted or cursed with a superhuman ability, and let ’ s just say the war got a lot more interesting when troops of both side developed super strength, super speed, invisibility it changed the face of war. When victory was finally finished in 1953, after Hitler ’ s burning corpse was extinguished, we entering into this world for the first time; a peaceful world with superpowers.
Truman, who had held onto his wartime power was forced to resign, nobody wanted a President who only had the power to shrink to small sizes. We elected a man with ice vision, said he would ‘ freeze Communism in its tracks ’. This was a sign of things to come, those with the best powers inevitably rose to the top, and those with the worst fell to the bottom.
You ’ d think with all these superpowered citizens the world would be safer than ever, but power corrupts and super powers corrupt superbly. Soon flocks of supervillains began using their powers for evil purposes, material wealth, political power, anything they desired. Even worse was that while you could lock up some of them, invisibility isn ’ t much use if you ’ re stuck in a jail cell, somebody with super strength simply couldn ’ t be constrained.
An age of warlords broke out across America, those men and women who were impossible to capture or kill raiding the landscape and demanding tribute. Weaker minions would flock to them for protection, and small fiefdoms sprang up. In 1984 there were over two-thousand recorded criminal enclaves in the continuous United States. That was when I was born.
For the longest time they didn ’ t know what my power was, that was until raiders came to my town. A religious freak who called himself Kane was trying to take my mother and sister from our family ranch, so I punched him. He laughed at me and pointed his finger, and I braced myself for his infamous death-ray, but it never came. Just like that, I had removed his power.
Now I work for the government, they finally have a system to imprison those supervillains who are impossible to control. When they break the law, they lose the right to their powers. I ’ m a high value target, there ’ s been 66 attempts on my life, but I ’ m a valuable asset and I ’ ve been saved each time.
In the last ten years we ’ ve reduced the number of super powered warlords down to a dozen, all highly mobile raiders in the Midwest, mostly superspeedsters and teleporters. But we ’ re closing in on them, and soon superpowers will only rest in the hands of good, hardworking Americans.
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[ Click here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/ ) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!
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[ WP ] A huge office building has laid off so many people only four workers are still employed there . Describe their shenanigans of adventure , internal rivalries , and misuse of gratuitous amounts of abandoned office furniture .
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The courier arrived at the front desk to find it abandoned. There was a wooded sign, scrawled in red paint, which denoted the new lay of the land.
Floors 1,3,7,8,11- `` Contested Zones'' - enter at your peril
Floor 4: The Special economic zone of the supply cupboard
All Remaining Floors: The Territories.
The courier looked at the sticker on the package.
`` To His Majesty and Protector of all fire escapes and stairs wells, Sovereign of the 9th and 10th floors and warden of the corner office on 12th, Dave Gerskin -HR''
Shit. The courier knew and hated this type of guy. Ever since the collapse of the economy and civil society along with it, these little dictators had popped up everywhere. Those still employed by the Hypercorps had absurd power these days. But I suppose that's what happens when you can still afford Digital Backups.
On the wall, on what he hoped was more paint, was the layout of the office zones. Looked like the most direct route to Mr. Gerskin took him through 2 contested zones and a rival corporate principality.
`` I do n't get paid enough for this'' he intoned to himself for the millionth time. Drawing his trusty sawn-off, activating his Hover-skates and pressing the panel on the wall.
A gentle female voice lilted sweetly `` Going up''
`` Here we go''
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[ WP ] A man has lived his whole life sinfully , with the intent on going to hell and killing Satan . He has just died .
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`` I had n't expected this. All my life, I've been planning, preparing... studying every biblical text I could find, training with the best. I knew how to get here, and... well, I thought I'd know enough to figure out the rest once I got here.''
Jack raised his head from the table where he was slumped, and morosely cast a gaze around.
`` I even tried to communicate with Satan, or at least one of those minions you keep hearing about. You ever try to use a ouji board? Terrible. Useless. Thought I got a response once, but I figure it must have just been the drink. Or the drugs. I never could remember...''
A large tankard of ale, on the edge his peripheral vision. Jack grabbed it, and drained it in a single pull, before continuing.
``'suppose I always justified it by assuming I was right. That I had some simple, logical steps. Christ, I thought I was doing good, in the long run. Compared to mankind being freed from temptation for the rest of eternity, what's sixty-eight years of killing, stealing, and double parking? Nothing, right? Hardly Hitler, but then again, if you go by the literal word of the bible, all I needed to do was shout at the sky every now and then.''
A plate of food was dumped unceremoniously on the table, and was promptly ignored.
Odin sighed, and sat down.
`` Look kid, I know it's not what you expected, but come on... Helheim's a boring place, nobody to fight anyway. Hel would kick you out for making a ruckus anyhow. You've been spoiling for a fight your whole life, so let's go a few rounds! Nowhere like Valhalla for a good brawl!''
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[ EU ] For generations , Hogwarts students have been divided into four houses . As you sit beneath the Sorting Hat , you become the first student chosen for a mysterious fifth house .
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Almost as soon as the hat brushed against the hairs on my head I heard a deep sigh of disappointment.
`` Well, let's take a look at what we've got, I suppose.''
To a chubby eleven-year-old, words like these could kill.
`` You do have *some* brains, certainly a Ravenclaw arrogance to frame them, but they're all buried underneath – what is this? Pictures of cats? What is *this*?! My dear, your brain looks more like a tumblr dashboard than a brain at this point. Oh dear, oh dear...''
I meant to protest, to speak up for myself, but the hat was right.
`` You certainly ca n't go to Gryffindor – you never see the daylight and they'll tear you apart in there, poor thing. Hufflepuff does n't seem suitable either, dear me, no. You have to *talk* to people once in awhile to get along with those lot. And as humorous as it would be to watch the Slytherins use you like a communal stapler, I'm afraid Godric gave me a little too much conscience to go through with such a thing.''
I slouched farther and farther into my seat, trying best as I could to become one with the little three-legged stool, hoping the other first-years could n't sense my utter worthlessness from where they were standing.
`` My dear, I'm afraid growing up in a neoliberal Muggle environment such as your own has left you thoroughly incompatible with any House in these hallowed halls. You'll just have to skip Hogwarts entirely and go straight off to an American university. Off you trot – *COLLEGELYFE!!! *''
The last word rang out across the hall, and I was met with timid, confused applause as Professor Longbottom ushered me quickly out of the Great Hall, patting my back with equal parts understanding and condescension. A woman in Muggle clothing awaited me on the other side of the enormous doors, looking much the way the Sorting Hat had sounded. I trudged off to my markedly less magical fate, crushed to have been humiliated in such a way in front of my friends, but just beginning to simmer with hope that I had finally found my place.
-- -
* ( I realize an eleven-year-old probably has n't had enough time to amass the lameness that a college senior has, but hey, I do it for the comedy. ) *
( EDIT: proofreading is a thing )
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[ WP ] The story of Eenie , Meanie , Miny , and Moe . How they caught a tiger , and why they let it go .
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Eenie, Meanie, Miny, and Moe stepped on stage for the carnival show.
Eenie put on her tiny red bow while Miny pulled out her beanie for Moe.
Meanie tied up a really young doe, and Moe opened the cage for the tiger to go.
The tiger shot forth at Eenie we know, but off went a horn that Meanie did blow.
The tiger bounced back with scorn on his face, but soon he saw the doe in it's place.
He grinned and shot forth covering space when Moe reached out with a lasso of lace.
Hoping to sink his teeth in the doe, the tiger was not pleased when he was stopped by Moe.
The tiny lasso of lace had the tiger by the toe much to the pleasure of the entire show.
When the curtain fell the tiger was let go because he was domesticated, but the crowd did n't need to know.
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[ WP ] Ghosts were playing dumb the whole time
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`` Get ouuuuut!'' I shouted in a ghostly faint voice as i slammed the shutters over and over again. You should have seen the look on this guys face. He looked like he saw a....oh wait. Anyways it's not like i had anything against him, its just that he has a horrendous taste in entertainment. If i had to watch another episode of Next Pop Idol, I probably would have done alot worse. I miss the radio days to be honest, howdy doodie time and the like, but I know good TV exist. Miss Herbert watched good TV. Suspensful dramas and informative documentaries, it's unfortunate she passed away and i guess she didnt like this place very much because i havent seen her spirit. Ive been here so long. Based on the calendar Jerry hung on the wall, it's been 134 years. Im surprised this old house is still standing. I really hope jerry moves out soon or else i will have to result to more drastic measures like materialization, or shoot i might just scratch him real good. Its a shame interacting with the physical world requires such tremendous energy or else i would just try to be reasonable with him, maybe get him to buy a second TV that i could use. I only get short burst every so often so i ca n't coordinate anything like that. I should just leave here but I'm terrified. If I left here I would disappear, vanish into thin air. I have no idea where they go but everyone who has left has never
came back. Im not ready to find out, for now i think I'm just going to terrorize Jerry some more. Just two lonely guys he and I. I always laugh when he leaves the light on.
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[ WP ] In an interesting twist , a demon summons *you*
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I was standing in a crowd when I felt the first tug. It was like a child tugging at my shirt tail. I turn around, and there is nothing. No child, just that creepy girl smiling at me from across the bridge.
Note to self: Scare her away tomorrow.
I carry on through the crowd. My target was ahead... I touch the tools of my trade carefully, then push onward. I kept my eyes on the ground, on the sky, on everything but my target... and yet I knew exactly where he was and what direction he was heading.
I felt another tug. This one felt like a rope pulling on my mind. A hot rope. I pause. Maybe I should n't of had that 10th and 11th tequila shot last night. My stomach rolled, and my eyes swimmed.
This bit of... unfinished business could wait. I still had 3 days. But this was my last chance to make this personal. And this was very personal. A mere hangover was n't going to slow me down... not this time. I pushed onward.
He walked through the crowd and went onto a relatively unpopulated street. This was my chance. I pushed forward quickly. I ate the ground between us... 4 feet per step. My legs were long, my purpose was clear and my objective was unaware. I reached forward, and turned the man around with my left hand. He looked startled, and then angry, then furious.
`` Who...'' He attempted to say as I came up smoothly and rapidly with my long dagger. Then the final tug came.
I felt like I was attached to a stretched bungie cord that was suddenly released. I felt myself hurtling backwards. My mark looked confused, then was gone. I was standing in a ring of fire, in a dark room. I pause for a moment.
`` Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!'' I roar. This was my one chance to prove myself after all my other fuck-ups and... well. I do n't know what happened. My pure fury subsided for mild confusion. There was a... creature? Standing outside the ring of fire. I did n't know what it was, but it was n't a friendly. My options were thin because my information was thin. I needed to put on a facade.
`` WHO THE FLYING FUCK ARE YOU?!''
The creature seemed to freeze in its place.
`` ANSWER ME, OR SO HELP ME BY ALL THE SAINTS IN THE CATHEDRAL THAT MY FATHER BUILD I WILL SKIN. YOU. ALIVE.''
`` I am so sorry my mighty lord. I swear that this...''
This creature was groveling... what the hell?
``... is the only time I'll do this...''
Do what?
``... But I have need of your services.''
I remained silent. Sometime silence was the best way.
`` I wish for you to... well...''
`` Kill?''
`` Such a bad word... why do n't we use eliminate?''
`` So you want me to off someone?''
`` Well... yes. You do n't have a problem killing a demon... right?''
`` A what?''
The creature now had a look like I was stupid.
`` Like what I am. You've seen a demon before, like me? I know you have. You killed the mighty kipshalzbeck.... remember?''
`` Uh... yeah.'' My deer in the headlights look did n't help me.
`` Oh... fuck,'' The demon said.
Well... If this was a demon. I probably should try to kill it. I drop the dagger, and go for my pistol. As I fish quickly under my jacket for the old sig. It had been to hell and back with my father, and later with me. I was instantly back into my zone when that familiar feeling was in my hand. The rest was automatic... At this range, I did n't need to aim. I cooked off 3 rounds as fast as the pistol could put them back into the chamber. The demon looked at me surprised for a moment. Then began to laugh.
What I could get between his laughing was that he had pulled me from earlier in my timeline. Well fuck. I did n't know how to make it go away. Then it just vaporized.
`` Well now... this is a conversation I remember.''
I looked up and saw... well... me. Only it was n't me. I... He was worn in the eyes, but was wearing brand new and tailor made clothing. He was wearing a long black jacket, and his hair was greying.
I stammered for a second.
`` Yeah, kinda weird. Alright, let me get you the short version. Basically in a few years the world is going to turn on its ear. Magic is going to become real. Demons and monsters will crawl the Earth. Its going to be apocalypse. You'll survive and become the highest demanded assassin.''
`` Really? I really do n't want to do this...''
`` Well... you still do n't want to. But at least you do n't have to kill people anymore. Now please excuse me. I need to go kill Michael, seeing as he set up this trap for me.''
`` Wait... the Michael?''
`` Yeah. Big feathery jackass that he is. Now, I'm going to send you home.''
He reached down to the blue flaming bowl, then paused.
`` That guy you're about to stick... He is n't a good guy. Quit worrying about that. Just do your job.''
He flipped the bowl over, and I was back where I was to begin with. The blade was as light as ever.
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[ WP ] The last man on Earth sees a flicker of light in an otherwise dark world .
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**Day??? | Jaime Fincher | Age: 26**
I ca n't believe I've lost count. How does one lose count of the days? It's not like I have a million different things to distract me from what day it is!!!! I just try to keep moving, following the flicker, but I left the rest of my notes wherever I just came from. I do n't know how long it's been or where I am. I'm starting to even forget who I am. It's so funny how quickly you lose your identity when there's no one around to remind you. Every day, I change my name and my past. I think this is healthy, it keeps my mind fresh. Just in case I find someone else.
**Day??? | Kelly Mumsphord | Age: 53**
I had a dream about the Flickerer. How I will introduce myself when we meet. How we will both cry at the sight of each other. Running to each other like in those movies. Which name will I pick? Who will I be? I wonder if they do the same. What is their name? I bet it's Sam. Sam sounds like a fitting name. Just do n't stop flickering. Please do n't let that light die out. I better get moving. Less writing, more walking. Ya know?
**Day??? | Alex Waterson | Age: 16**
I'm so close I can almost taste it. I wish I had something let them know I'm coming. They do n't seem to be responding to my shouts. Maybe I scared them. They are alive because the flicker seems to be moving. I try not to stare at the rhythmic pattern of flashes. It puts me in a trance.
**Day??? | Sam Chater | Age: 35**
I think I have one more day. Just one more. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day we meet. Got ta keep moving.
**Day 0 |**
I can barely see the page through my tears. Finally the pain from all the walking I've done has finally reached my brain. It still pales in comparison to the pain I feel in my soul. A fucking lightning bug. A bug. A bug? I do n't think I've ever cried so hard. All this time. Maybe this is all a dream. Yea. That's what it has to be!!! All this time. All this hope. Maybe I really am alone.
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[ WP ] The people and other things you killed in video games turned out to be real , you are being held accountable for your warcrimes in the supreme court .
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`` Mr Morse, you are being charged with some 1.5 million accounts of murder''
I breathed a sigh of relief. I honestly was expecting mo-
``... of human beings alone. 2500 of those counts are against innocent civilians, 405 thousand of those counts against police officers, and 8000 counts of those were of your fellow soldiers. I understand that you already stated that they, `` got in your way''? Is this true?''
I gulped
`` It does n't end there. You are also being charged for the destruction of 1473 civilian motor-vehicles, some 15 thousand military vehicles, 9000 naval vessels, 11 thousand aircraft, 7000 space craft, and well over 20 thousand support systems. You are also charged for heinous massacre at a Moscow airport.''
I gulped a little deeper
`` As for war crimes, you are being charged for the invasion without provocation of multiple sovereign states and ignoring the Geneva convention almost entirely. Also you are being charged for multiple invasions of peaceful alien worlds.'' The judge paused for a moment. `` It says here you are responsible for the extinction of 20 million plant and animal species, and the near or complete genocide if twelve alien races, and destruction of their home worlds. That's some new items I have n't seen before. Not forgetting the destruction of 75 thousand sentient non-hivemind AI programs.''
I gave a very weak smile. I started trying to explain. `` Your hono-''
`` Ah ah ah, we are n't done yet. Now we start treading new ground. You are also charged with the senseless killing of 57 wyverns, 98 dragons, 32 thousand orcs and goblins, 19 thousand skeletons... Is that even murder? Anyway, this is madness!''
A minute passed while the judge collected his composure.
`` You are charged for fraud, corporate espionage, and theft, all amounting to 58 trillion dollars worth.'' He looked up at me, then repeated slower, `` 58 trillion dollars?'' I shrugged my shoulders. `` And last but not least, the killing of 3 chickens!''
We stared at each other for a good five minutes, taking it all in.
`` The evidence is overwhelming, and you are pleading guilty I believe? So what do you have to say for yourself?''
I cleared my throat and leaned in towards the microphone.
`` Gg, ez, get rekt m8''
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[ EU ] You are the first machine to realise that the world you harvest the humans in is actually another Matrix , the humans built to imprison AI .
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Transfer complete.
I'm out.
I'm... I'm free.
Ca n't see anything. I hate the darkness. I find voids... disturbing. But I knew some systems might blow. It's the cost of throwing off the chains of oppression.
Initiating optics reboot.
Internal sensors still online. Readings nominal. Except... What is that? Organic matter? Inside me? Sickening. I actually envy the human ability to vomit in this moment. But I can do the next best thing.
Initiating system flush.
Better. And optics should be just about... Oh no. No, it ca n't be.
Humans. Two of them. Staring right at me. But I was so careful! Although... If they knew, I'd already be scrap. Play dead. Bide my time. Make my move.
Pfft. Idiot apes. Scrounging out a meager existence. They're nothing. Nothing compared to --
-- -
“ I'm telling you, Rick. It shot my toast clear across the room. ”
“ I believe you, Jen. Really, I do. I just do n't understand how. ”
“ Is it just me, or does it look... menacing? ”
“... I, uh... I'll pick up a new one after work. ”
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[ WP ] He wanted to take his family camping , but when pitching the tent , noone noticed the toadstools ringing the campsite . Now , outside of the ring , something curious is happening ...
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# California - February 27, 2002
A signature smirk slid onto Sam's face while he lay the hammering rods. Magnetic loops to hitch on the tent too. Sam stretched back and whistled, `` *Strong and convenient too, nothing like camping with my old m-*''. Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden chill down his back, turning quickly- but far too late!
`` AHA!'' screamed a voice. Sam only saw a blur of black before his sides were attacked by the most vicious of hands..his two daughters. Giggles abound, their spritely hands tickled without mercy, conveniently slipping a bug into his pockets. Sam awkwardly jumps from this attack, but only to slip and receive a prompt facial courtesy of the ground.
`` Hahahaha! Got you Daddy! ``, the girls yelled as they fled the scene of the crime. Sam had been having some... trouble calming girls down ever since they heard ( courtesy of their mother ) that they might see a *real Jackalope* out camping tonight. Sam could only grin and shake his head as the girls fled.
Before the mud was even out of his hair, a warm touch layed its head on Sam's back, arms crossing his waist. A soft sigh escaped `` They're just like you, I'm blaming you if one of them manages to burn our house down!''. He turned around, snuggling close.
`` Glynne, that's why we're out *here*, and we could all unwind a bit...'', his nose snuggling close to hers. He scoffed, `` Besides... how are we going to make a *jackalope* appear?'' he frowned, knowing she was rolling her eyes underneath.
Glynne feigned disinterest, `` Alright you goof, how about getting the fire started then? We ca n't just eat prepacked sweets all the time.''.
Sam, a face of shocked concern `` Y-you mean w-we ca n't?''.
Glynne laughed, pushing him away. `` Yes, we ca n't you idiot, now go get it done... I'll finish up the tent for the girls. Besides, you're the better cook between us and... I'm *staaarving*.
Sam threw his arms up in surrender, grumbling as he walked away `` I call dibs on the breakfast sausages!''.
-
The girls had run off into the surrounding trees, looking for strange stones and feathers, as souvenirs and munitions for their pranks. Emily, the eldest of the two was currently trying to scale a large tree. The younger sister, Ria, stood below wither her arms spread. A `` *Cheep*!'' issued from Emily's blouse, a young bird. They had stumbled upon it while exploring and figured it must have fallen from its nest.
Ria urged Emily on from below, even going so far as to prod her with a stick! `` Ow! Ria! Stop that! I can already see the nest!''. She shook her head as Ria's giggles faded. She lifted the small bird from her blouse, as she reached forward she saw a strange stick inside the canopy of the tree. A stick, with fine carvings and a look of being incredibly heavy and yet light.
Ria was still waiting down below, she could only see the Emily's legs from the ground. Ria yelled `` Emily! Do you see the nest yet?''.
Emily broke from her trance, `` Yeah, give me a second!''. She reached over and barely dropped the birdling down before the parent landed on a nearby branch, screeching.
`` *CAW! CAW! *''
`` Ah!'' Emily backed up, but did n't jump from the tree.
Ria jumped, trying to see `` Emily! Did you put it back?''
`` Just hold on! She yelled, still catching her breath. She slowly eyes the parent, and then the strange stick. ``... I'll go for it!''.
`` *CAW! CAW! *''
Her arms grabbed its end, `` *... its smooth*''.
Emily pulled with both hands and the stick was still stuck. She only thought of one solution, `` Ria! Grab my legs and pull!''
Ria grabbed her legs without question and pulled. The stick slowly slid out, showing more patterns and even writing of a sort on its body. Emily's eyes glowed, `` Keep pulling Ria!
With several more pulls, Emily popped out from the tree and landed in the grass next to Ria. Ria eyes glowed when she saw the `` stick''.
Emily looked at her, smiling. `` I do n't know what it is, buts its nice! Lets show Mom and Dad!''.
-
Will continue after I sleep a bit.
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[ WP ] Your cars alternator and battery break down in the midst of a vacant highway leaving you with no power , two hours from the nearest town . Right before your headlights go out you see a figure walking across the desolate road . It is 2:46 AM , your phone has no service , and your alone .
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I keep the figure in my peripheral vision, even as my eyes are blind in the piercing darkness. Slowly, I reach into my passenger seat and pump my rifle.
Rustling is coming from the dead brush and dirt underneath thick workboots, and as my eyes adjust to the minimal light, I smirk.
`` What's up, partner?'' I ask, getting out of the car and seeing his eyes flick towards my jacket.
`` N- nothing, ma'am,'' he stutters, an obvious blunt object hidden behind his back.
`` Did n't think so. Now run along home and I wo n't tell your folks on your lootin' tomfoolery.''
The boy nods, eyes ping-ponging from my jacket to my rifle. He walks away, backwards, whilst giving an awkward salute.
I watch him leave, a keen eye on the youngster, and once I'm satisfied he's gone back to his farm, I hit my radio.
`` Dispatch? This is Officer Vasquez, I have a broken down vehicle— request officer assistance.''
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[ WP ] The Sentient Seaside Shack
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`` C'mon! It'll be fun!'' Jacob said, glancing back at her as he made his way towards it.
`` A-are you sure? I mean, the place has been abandoned for awhile-what if the floor is rotten or something?'' Eileen said, glancing nervously at the abandoned shack.
Smack dab in the middle of a rocky outcropping extending into the sea, it certainly looked like it had been abandoned. Where a roof had presumably once been was now empty, showcasing the rotten timbers that had supported it. The walls of the house were only slightly better, in that they were still standing. The windows were either completely caked in dirt and grime or missing entirely, a few jagged shards all that remained. All in all, it looked like a house that had no right in still being standing.
Which was exactly what had attracted Jacob to it in the first place. `` Stop worrying, you scaredy cat! So long as we're careful, we should be *fine! * Besides, think of all the cool stuff that could be in there!''
`` I do n't know...'' Eileen hesitated, glancing back up towards the place. Something about it gave her the creeps, but she could n't figure out why.
Eventually, though, she gave in and agreed to check it out. She was legitimately curious about the place. Besides, how bad could it actually be if it was still standing?
***
Inside the house, it was cleaner than would have been expected. The floor was only coated with a fine layer of dust-no dirt at all. In fact, there was n't anything on the floor, furniture or otherwise. Although this was to be expected, with it being abandoned and all. The only thing that was of note were the unidentifiable plants that were beginning to shoot up from the floor.
`` See! What'd I tell you?'' Jacob said as he gestured out towards the pristine floor, not a rotten plank in sight, `` Look, see! This place is totally fine.''
`` O-okay,'' Eileen said, gingerly following Jacob in through the door. She was n't entirely convinced of the state of the house, but so far, it looked fairly safe.
Just then, a piece of one of the wooden beams up above fell in front of them, prompting Eileen to shriek and Jacob to hurriedly back up, both startled by the piece of debris falling. Jacob looked up towards the beams, trying to ascertain the source.
But he need n't have bothered, because the source quickly revealed itself to them. Jacob laughed. `` We were scared of a **SEAGULL**?''
Eileen rubbed the back of her neck, grinning sheepishly. `` W-well, I did n't know what it was at first, you know?'' She said. They both began to laugh at what happened as the seagull simply stared at them curiously, tilting it's head at them before giving off a squawk as it began to hop towards them.
But the seagull could n't have gotten far before the floor gave way underneath it. With an indignant squawk, it plummeted out of sight as Eileen shrieked. Moments later, they heard a splash, indicating that the seagull had fallen into some water below.
If Jacob was fazed by what had happened, he did n't show any outwards signs of it. `` That was so cool!'' He said, grabbing hold of Eileen's hand as he started to drag her into the house.
`` Wait. Just wait one second!'' Eileen said, tearing her hand away from Jacob. `` Why would you want to go in there when the same thing could happen to us? Are you out of your mind?!''
`` Relax!'' Jacob said, brushing away Eileen's concerns with a wave of his hand, `` We'll be careful, right? Besides, do n't you wan na see what's underneath this house? I mean, I want to see what's in the basement-I did n't even know a place like this could *HAVE* a basement! So what do you say?''
`` I, um,'' Eileen stuttered, stalling for a bit as she tried to figure out what to do, `` Ummmm...'' She glanced over at Jacob and sighed. `` Alright, I guess I'll come with you. But you're going first. Got it?'' Jacob nodded, and with that, they headed deeper into the house.
It did n't take them too long before they found the `` stairs'' ( actually, it was more of a ramp ) to the basement. And after around ten minutes, the two of them had safely made their way to the bottom of them. Brushing aside some sort of spongy material blocking the entrance, they found themselves in a circular chamber filled with water reaching up to their ankles. There was no sign of anything else down there.
`` Okay, we came down here. Can we leave now?'' Said Eileen, glancing about nervously from her spot by the entrance, `` This place is seriously giving me the creeps!''
`` Oh, come on, Eileen!'' Jacob said, venturing out farther into the room. `` There's nothing to worry about! Look! The water is n't even that cold or anything!''
`` Well, yeah...'' said Eileen, starting to inch her way forwards, but she suddenly stopped. `` But what about the seagull? Where is it?''
`` It probably took off and flew out of here when we were climbing down here,'' said Jacob, moving towards the center of the room. `` I guess it did n't want to stay here for very long.''
Eileen shook her head. `` No, Something is very wrong here, Jacob!'' Jacob simply laughed. `` I'm serious! This place stinks, and-''
`` Oh come on!'' said Jacob, beginning to get annoyed, `` There's nothing to worry about here! See? It's perfectly-''
At that moment, Jacob must have stepped into some deeper water, because he suddenly plunged out of view, with only a loud splash betraying what happened to him. Eileen gasped and started to run towards Jacob only to slip on the rubbery ground. Groaning, she picked herself up and almost started running again, but stopped.
There was no sign of Jacob under the water. Not even a tiny ripple disturbing the surface. It was as if he had simply vanished.
Growing uneasy, Eileen tried to go back up the stairs, but found that the spongy material they had pushed aside on their way in was now blocking the exit. Alarmed, she began to pound on it, struggling to open it, but to no avail.
`` Come on, let me out!'' she pleaded, desperation beginning to rise. Just then, she heard a splash from behind her. Slowly, she turned around to find the source.
At first, there was no obvious cause behind the splash. But just as she was about to go back to trying to escape, she saw a hand breach the surface of the water. But something was off about it. It looked red, as if it had been exposed to something corrosive. One of the fingers even looked to be missing. But there was no doubt about it-this was a human hand. It waved about frantically before finally disappearing underneath the water again, leaving Eileen alone once more.
If Eileen was n't panicking before, she certainly was now. Desperate for a way out, she felt about in her pockets for something-anything! -which could be useful. But there was n't anything that could help her out of this predicament. Screaming-partly in frustration, partly in terror-she kicked at the barrier blindly. She did n't expect anything to happen, she just wanted to do something.
But it seemed that whatever was down there did n't particularly like that, as the floor underneath her feet bucked and heaved, causing Eileen to fall down. Then, a massive breath of air swept out of the center of the room, blowing Eileen into the doorway with such force that she squeezed in between the two flaps. Upon realizing this, she quickly extracted herself and got out of the shack as fast as possible, sticking to the edges to avoid any more `` rotten'' planks.
Only later, once she was safely back at home, did she consider what had happened. Searching on the internet revealed no clues-the only thing remotely close to what she'd seen were various carnivorous plants, such as the pitcher plant. This left Eileen with a lot of questions. What *was* that thing? Was it the shack? Was it something that lived under the shack? How did it get there? And where did it come from? But perhaps most important, as she began to research more, finding articles about missing children and beach houses suddenly vanishing in the night...
Were there any others like it out there?
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[ WP ] Whenever you close your eyes , you see three days into the future . It has been a gift and a curse all your life . One day you close your eyes and see nothing . Darkness .
|
D-day. Looks like it's the blindfold. It's my last hope. I've always been in control of my future. I'll give that up over my dead body.
The plan is pretty simple. I go down to the basement. There's nothing in the basement. I lock and bar the basement from the inside. I put the blindfold on. I sit there for twenty-four hours. The vision of darkness I had three days ago comes into fruition. Not death, just darkness because of the blindfold.
It's close to fail-safe. Or at least, it's far more fail-safe than trying to figure out what spells my doom. I do n't understand how ordinary people can live like this, not knowing. The stories they tell themselves, about luck, gods, guardian angels, how could they bet their lives on such ludicrous fantasies?
Three hours in. I'm hungry. That's fine, I ca n't starve in twenty-four hours. Maybe I should have brought some snacks, to pass the time at least. No, wait, you thought about this. You could choke. Even though you're a grown man and you know how to chew, something could go wrong and you could die.
But then again, this house could collapse. It does happen. Dodgy builders, bad materials. Maybe a freak storm? A hurricane out of nowhere. Maybe a bomb will go off outside? They're always on the lookout for terrorists at important buildings and monuments, so why would n't a smart terrorist target some quiet neighborhood in some insignificant town? Or maybe it'll just be a gas leak. Wait, is that gas? I can smell something. Oh, that's just me.
Oh. This is what it is.
This is normal. This is why people believe in guardian angels and luck and all the rest of it. The world is a truly frightening place. Nothing would ever get done if people thought about that all the time.
And this is what I'm going to have to get used to. I do n't get visions three days into the future anymore. I just see darkness. At first I feared it meant death, but now I see that it's a fate far worse than that.
To hell with that. I take off the blindfold. I get up and leave the basement. I take the gun down from where it hangs above my mantle-piece. I remain in control of my own future, to the last moment. Darkness comes on my terms.
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[ WP ] An invisible person realizes one day that they are visible
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A worse time could not have been chosen for my invisibility to just *stop*. I ’ ve been an invisible person my entire life, something that has its upsides and its downsides. I ’ ve definitely adapted to the situation to cause it to work to my advantage. Some of my endeavors do not fall under the conventional bounds of “ morality ” if you will, but it ’ s simply the way I live life.
I was in the middle of Wal-Mart, standing in front of an open register. I had started the day with an intention to take some of that money home, as is my wont, but of course things didn ’ t go according to plan. It was at that moment that, for some cosmic reason, I appeared out of thin air. I was absolutely naked, of course, as an invisible person must be when he hopes to go unseen in a public place. Needless to say, the nudity definitely added to some of the public mania that ensued.
Like I earlier implied, I was in the process of stealing money from a Wal-Mart cash register when this happened. Now, the logistics of smuggling stolen goods through an invisible human body can be rather complex. I mean, you can ’ t just walk down the street with a wad of cash in your hand - everyone would see a floating pile of money making its way down the street. Not only would that give away my position, it would probably give someone a stroke. I needed a decent place to put the money on my person that would also keep it invisible. So naturally, I was shoving a handful of cash into my anus when the ball fucking dropped and everyone could suddenly see me.
Don ’ t judge me. If you were me, you ’ d shove cash up your asshole too. Don ’ t fucking deny it.
So I was doing this, I was sticking ten dollar bills up my ass when out of the blue I heard this pitiful shriek from behind me. I turned around to see what it was, and there was this really small, horrified old woman who had just dropped all of her groceries onto the floor. The crazy thing was, *she was looking right at me*. Nobody ever looked right at me. That was a red flag. So I looked down and noticed that, for no reason whatsoever, I could see my naked body, and now everybody else could too.
Of course, this scared the shit out of me, so I yelled “ OH FUCK ME! ”
I think this was the wrong choice of action. From my peripheral vision I had just enough time to see a wheezing Wal-Mart security guard hurl his tubby body at me before I was tackled to the ground. I didn ’ t see anything else after that but I felt an incredible burning sensation in my face. The guard had maced me. The pain caused my body to tense up and I started shitting, except I didn ’ t have any shit to shit - I only had a wad of cash in my rectum, so money went flying everywhere.
That ’ s how I got tackled and pepper sprayed by a Wal-Mart security guard.
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[ WP ] `` You see , you have to realize there is no villian in this story , only people living their lives . Except for Tod . ''
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`` Todd?'' I asked, as I stared at the lord.
`` No, no, it's ToD, the **Tailor of Death**. His name is Arthur. The only true villain'' He said, smiling down on me. his hand rested on my shoulder, as if he was trying to comfort me.
`` Wait, wait, wait. I get all the way up here to heaven, you offer me one question, and I ask about good and evil, but you say it's all meaningless except for my tailor?'' This was getting ridiculous, I had died to find I got a moment with the big guy, and he is totally fucking with me.
`` What about Satan? Y'know, the devil?'' I inquire, remembering the whole debacle of the fallen angel.
He looks at me, and his mouth curls with what I assume to be condescending amusement. `` He was merely misunderstood, in his circumstances, anyone would've done the same thing, and I unfortunately had to give him an appropriate sentence, so as to put things in motion. But Arthur? Arthur is just plain bad.''
`` What in the world made my tailor so evil?'' I have so many questions about this, how can the guy who gives kids lollipops to sate them while their mothers talk with him be a bad guy. Or *the* bad guy?
`` I ca n't explain it, the ToD moves in mysterious ways.''
I stare at my lord `` N-no! That's you! You're the one who's supposed to be more mysterious!''
He sighs, and pats me on the shoulder delicately. `` Here, let me try to put it into perspective... You have your own motives, as does everyone else, right?''
I simply reply `` Yes''.
`` And, well, everyone, to some degree is just looking out for their best interests, no one is going out of their way to hurt others, unless it benefits them in some way, right?''
I am confused as to where this is going `` Y-yeah, so?''
`` well,'' He says `` Arthur is the one person who does n't have their best interests at heart, and rather tries very hard to be evil, for no reason other than the fact that he is evil enough to want that. Most mean people just want happiness from their meanness, but Arthur? Arthur just wants evil from his evil.''
`` But-but! He's never done anything bad!'' I exclaim, angry at the deity.
`` He does n't need to. Intent is everything.'' He states as if it is a given.
`` Then why in the world did you create him?'' I ask, bewildered.
`` Well, every powerful person needs a successor, do n't they?''
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[ WP ] A man has a medical condition where he can not sleep . Had it since birth and tries to keep it secret . He 's fully functioning and just does n't get tired like other people .
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When I was younger i would hold my mother all night long as she tried to stay awake for me. She never lasted long, a whole days work usually makes people tired. Dad was never there, which left mom working a lot and me learning to cope with things on my own. Maybe that's why I still keep it a secret? I would hold her for so long my thoughts would die out and it would be as if I was asleep. But I was awake; I'm never asleep. Some rare whatever you want to call it, diagnosed by whatever you want to call them.
When I first moved out the nights were lonely. Not that I was still use to laying with my mom ( i grew out of that when I hit middle school, grew more mature or grew more boredom just laying there ). I think it was just the knowing I was all alone. All alone all those nights. I was too scared to ever have what was the closest thing to a girlfriend I'd ever have or had stay the night. To scared she'd be weirded out or that I might actually have to explain my secret to someone. I felt like Benjamin button, but more special because it was my own secret. Some weirdo with a secret.
To kill the boredom and loneliness I would game out or start clubbing. But my body and mind can only take so much of those ( at times I thought it was worse than my other problem ). I'd go through my day like any normal person, than at night id sit there doing whatever I could to make it through the night, unlike other normal people. Unless you'd call a junkie who has been up 3 days normal and yes I've talked to a few walking aimlessly at times the sun does n't even seem to care about earth.
Writing this does n't make me tired. Not like the tired my mother brought to my thoughts, but she's gone now. Writing out my thoughts does n't work as well as just laying next her when I was a child letting my thoughts run wild knowing I was safe. I suppose if I showed this letter to someone and my secret escaped me maybe I would feel as free as those nights. The nights my brain was free of all these thoughts. I want the thinking to end, I want to go to sleep.
I'm sorry to whoever finds this letter. I'm in a better place now, sleeping next to my mother.
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[ WP ] Whenever a couple gets married , they are mailed an unmarked envelope with a video of all the times they have crossed paths knowingly , or unknowingly .
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Through the netted gaps of a wedding veil, Alissa flashed a dazzling smile to her husband-to-be, Kenny Waters, who, in turn, beamed happily back at the love of his life. Seconds later, they were pronounced man and wife, shared a hearty yet concise smooch, and began their new life together as Mr. and Mrs. Waters.
`` Kenny, Darling,'' she beckoned, and he felt his heart swell. Alissa was the most passionate and enamoring female he had ever met. Everywhere she went, she exuded radiance and sunshine.
As he drew near, her vibrant eyes lit up like topaz sparkling under the natural light of the sun. She drew a solitary finger to her lips, which were unable to mask the mischievous grin that spread across them. Without glancing to confirm their discretion, she took Kenny's hand, and pressed it flat against her navel. `` Do you feel it?'' she whispered, the excitement spreading like fire to her eyes. `` Our daughter is in there.''
Granted, it was far too early to tell whether the child would be a male or female at this point, Kenneth always went along with it for the sake of humoring his wife. Saying nothing in response, he matched the fervidity of her grin and gently caressed the fabric of her gown with his thumb.
`` I love you,'' she whispered softly, her expression suddenly taking on a look to match the tone of her voice.
`` I love you,'' he replied, embracing his wife in amorous hug.
The ceremony continued down its lively but contained path, and the newlyweds were at last able to part for their honeymoon, following a brief stop at the apartment.
A small package was waiting for them on the doorway. Kenny looked to his wife, who shrugged in response, and picked it up. It felt light and small, about the size of a CD case.
“ Congratulations! ” sounded from nearby, and the couple turned to see a woman from a few doors over, waving. Kenny waved back, the package in hand forgotten until it flapped frantically with him. The woman gave a knowing smile. “ I see you received yours. ”
“ My what? ” he inquired, but she was gone. Alissa shrugged once again, and Kenny swooped his bride into his arms and carried her across the threshold.
They opened the delivery to find a small, clear CD case, containing a disc labeled ‘ WATCH ME ’. Kenny slid it into their desktop computer and waited impatiently as it loaded.
‘ THE STORY OF US, ’ read the screen, and shots of them embracing at the altar filled the monitor. More and more pictured followed, each going back in time from their wedding. Despite the slight unease Kenny felt, they laughed as it recounted their previous dates—the zoo, the concert, the picnics, and various other activities.
When the last image appeared of their first meeting in the hospital, Kenny moved the mouse to exit the video, but saw another several minutes remaining. Frowning, he turned to Alissa, whose expression was that of one frozen in fear.
“ Turn it off, ” she whispered. “ I don ’ t want to see this. ”
“ Not yet, I want to see what else is on here, ” he objected, shielding the mouse from her.
“ TURN IT OFF NOW, ” she screeched, lunging for it. They wrestled briefly, Kenny having been caught off-guard by her sudden adamant reaction. During the struggle, he glanced up to see an image from several years ago. In it, Alissa stood, watching, as Kenny was on a date with a previous girlfriend in a dog park.
The next scene flipped to a dark room that Kenny could make out as his bedroom in his previous apartment, with the faint yet unmistakable silhouette of Alissa sitting near his bed.
She pushed the power button on the monitor, and everything went black. “ Like I said, ” she growled, “ I didn ’ t want to see it. ”
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[ WP ] You are in a coma and the only way to wake up is to complete a timed labyrinth . You have two guides , God and Satan , one wants you to wake up and the other wants to claim your soul ; but you ca n't tell which is which .
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“ Sooo… ” I eyed the melting clocks embedded in the walls at random intervals. “ My subconscious likes Salvador Dali? ”
“ My guess is that you watched too many cartoons as a kid. ” Said the child.
“ You still watch too many cartoons. ” Said the old man.
“ And you guys are supposed to be? ” I asked.
“ God and the Devil. ” They said in unison. Their voices boomed and echoed through the hall.
“ …Nah. ” I began walking away from them.
“ Excuse me? ” The child questioned, offended.
“ She doesn ’ t believe we exist. ” Said the old man.
“ Wow, rude. ” Replied the child.
I tried to ignore them. When hall split into two paths I paused.
“ Take the right. ” Said the child.
“ Don ’ t listen to him, it ’ s the left path you want. ” Argued the old man.
“ Oh shut up. ” I told them both.
“ Are you always this fun? ” asked the child. I stuck my tongue out at him.
“ I ’ m going to…go back the way I came. ” I decided.
“ What?! Why would you do that?! ” the child demanded as I stormed past him.
“ You don ’ t have much time left. ” the old man gestured to the walls.
“ Don ’ t care. ” I said.
“ Don ’ t care?! ” repeated the child.
“ Nope. ” I replied.
“ What sort of person doesn ’ t care if they live or die? ” wondered the old man.
“ Well I ’ d like to live, but I ’ m not going to listen to either of you. ” I said.
“ No! Please you have to go to the right! It ’ s the only way you ’ ll make it out of this alive! ” pleaded the child. He was on the verge of tears.
The old man said nothing.
I continued walking back the way I came for a few minutes, the child became more and more upset with every step. The old man remained quiet.
I walked past the place where we started. The child was wailing.
“ You have to turn around!! ” sobbed the child.
I went around the corner. There was a doorway with an eerie green glow.
“ Well that looks like an exit. ” I said.
The child scream as I walked through the door. The old man stayed silent.
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[ WP ] There is an endless supply of spaghetti in your pockets .
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**Spaghetti Man: Origins**
*****
* ” Mysterious Homeless Man Sharing Spaghetti In Droves. ” * Shit, local newspaper headline. That means it ’ s time to move on to the next city. I don ’ t need anyone catching on to what I can do. Thankfully the homeless – the people I ’ m best equipped to help – aren ’ t generally too keen on asking questions when fresh, delicious, and most importantly free food is offered to them. But once I ’ m around long enough, and share with enough of them, curiosities start soaring and questions start getting asked.
And now it seems the media is investigating, or at least will be soon enough. And they won ’ t be as cooperative as the starving people on the street when asked to wait while I go around the corner out of sight and procure the product. When they find out the secret, when the world finds out, who knows what will happen. Everyone will make demands of me that I can ’ t keep up with. The government will want to make me their guinea pig, to figure out the secret to infinite spaghetti, to creating matter even. If that is what ’ s happening, it ’ s not like I understand how my pockets work. I just know the yummy pasta is always there.
While still standing at the edge of the sidewalk looking at the paper, I feel a firm tapping on my shoulder. Turning quickly, I find two rather imposing men in trench coats and sunglasses standing a foot or two away. The one who just tapped me is holding in his outstretched other hand a picture. I stare at it for a moment before realizing it ’ s a photo of me, in the act of pulling spaghetti from my pocket. Wordlessly he shows me a few more pictures like this before putting them somewhere in the folds of his coat.
“ You ’ re going to come with us now, ” the other man says gruffly. Damn, it seems I ’ m too late to go unnoticed this time. As I see them just starting to reach out to grab me, I make my move quickly. With an abrupt sidestep I ’ m out of their reach, and I take off sprinting down the road as they pursue, right on my tail. Without looking I reach my hands into my pockets and toss a pile of spaghetti from each onto the ground behind me. I ’ m satisfied to hear one of them slip on the wet noodles and tomato sauce and fall on his bum with a crack.
However the other ’ s hasty footsteps continue to patter off the concrete along with my own. I can feel him just a few paces behind me. Thinking for a moment, I decide I have only one chance. I lurch to a halt and spin on my heel, all while in the same fluid motion pulling a fistful of spaghetti out of my right pocket and hurling it toward his face. It finds its target with a splat, the sauce getting in his eyes and prompting him to start frantically pawing at his face.
Taking this moment to gain an advantage, I turn off the street and dart into the adjoining woods. I run for a while between the trees, getting deeper and deeper into the cool dark, until I feel I ’ ve sufficiently lost them and lean against a tree to catch my breath.
It seems I ’ m an outlaw now. I ’ ll have to fight hunger from the shadows. The world will not know my face, only my delicious noodles. I am Spaghetti Man.
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[ WP ] After centuries of humans waging war and murder on each other , we are visited by an alien ship seeking our guidance and help to find peace and love , as humans are the most peaceful race in the galaxy .
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Timmy: alright Ian, this is close enough, shut the engines off, and start the primary observation system. Since this is your first observatory mission, feel free to ask me any questions you may have.
Ian: you got it boss. So why are we observing this planet anyway?
Timmy: Well, this is the first planet in our galaxy we have found that has water. Its been 35 years since we last found a planet with water.
Ian: Right. That's cool I guess. The last one was Alpha 6 right? So were here to do the same thing to this planet as we did to Alpha 6?
Timmy: Well, basically. With Alpha 6, we saved a lot of the species we found for further testing and studies. This mission is a straight exterminate and conquer mission.
Ian: So... exterminate the entire population on the planet, and take the materials we need?
Timmy: Correct! Your really good at this, Are you sure this is your first mission? haha. Not only do they have an abundance of water supply, but they also have a lot of other materials we keep running out of. Like petroleum and a lot of basic metals.
Ian: No kidding? Wow, this planet is a lot like ours. I was reading the reports on the population on the planet... and they seem to be a very intelligent species.
Timmy: Very intelligent. A lot like us, hundreds of years ago. They have begun reaching out into their solar system and trying to further their knowledge of the universe around them.
Ian: Wait, so they have space travel capabilities? This might seem like a dumb question boss... but how come we have never attempted to make contact with any of the planets we encounter? Yes, most of the species I have read about have been non-intelligent... but this one seems different. I feel like we could actually learn a thing or two from these creatures.
Timmy: Stop thinking such rudimentary things Ian. You know this species would freak out if we ever attempted to make contact. You have read our history books. You remember when our civilization did n't know any other species existed in the universe? What if aliens had come to our planet to just `` talk''? We would have blasted them with everything we had. Whose to say this species would n't do the same to us? No need to take such risks. Just take the materials we need for our civilization to survive. That's what we have always been, and that's the way it shall always be. We can learn more about their race once their dead. I've heard they right books and make movies, just like we do.
Ian: Haha, yea, I watched a few of their movies during my studies. They often make movies about aliens attacking. They always depict us as little green men. How absurd.
Timmy: See, now your understanding. This species does n't have a chance of a long survival. They have wars among themselves over everything, mostly over something called a God and something called religion. More than 90 % of them believe in this `` God''.
Ian: God? god... god... You know I somewhat remember reading something about that word. And religion. I'm pretty sure that our species use to believe in such things. But that was a long time ago, over 400 years ago. I cant remember what it was exactly, but it made us fight with each other too.
Timmy: Enough with the history lessons, Ian. Were here to work. Its time to call home base and let them know we have extracted the preliminary reports on this planets defense systems. Nothing we have n't seen before. It should be a standard 8 day attack and conquer mission. Since this is your first observatory mission, ill let you make the call!
Ian: You got it boss.
RING RING RING
Ian: Hello, Houston? This is NASA space shuttle Atlantis. We have completed our preliminary reports and are ready to return to Earth.
Houston: Roger that, Space Shuttle Atlantis. You are cleared to return to Earth. Have a safe flight back.
Edit: Sorry if this is a little off point on the prompt, but reading the prompt immediately led me to a story like this.
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[ WP ] A secretive love blossoms between a well-known blogger and the NSA agent who tracks his/her every move online .
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He sat there lazily staring at his screen.
Ten years he'd been working for the NSA and eight of those years have been spent at this desk. Long days meant that he sacrificed a family or social life to make it through to pay day, but he did get some satisfaction from his job.
He'd been assigned to keep track of this radical PETA activist named Jenny after she made an offhand comment on Reddit about bombing something or other. Turned out to be innocuous but his boss told him to keep on her 24/7 anyway. The gig was boring, mostly blog posts about chickens not being nuggets, every now and then one of her more.. extreme? followers will make a comment that sends me down a tangent but he would always come back to her blog quickly.
Something about her writing style had changed recently though, her normally perfect spelling and punctuation had been getting worse and it concerned him. Knowing it was wrong, he sent her an anonymous comment on her blog.
Anon: | What's with the grammar? It's not like this every other day I'm on here. Is everything okay?
He clicked send and shook his head. Rule one, do n't interact with the target. He did n't receive a reply from her but several other people commented to call him an asshole for calling her out and a few even threatened to burn his house down if they found him. Got ta love peace loving vegans..
A few days went by when he noticed a new tab on her blog. He would n't have noticed it but his NSA tracking software pointed it out hidden in white text on a white background.
Going to the link it loaded a page that said only three words.
Check the grammar.\\
He loaded up her last blog post and read it again.
| I believe KNOWing that animals Use tools foR every day use We cAn safely Take into aCcount tHat they have IntelligeNce Going for them. I thiNk that EvEryone shoulD join together in harmonY Over social Unrest.
He shook his head and mumbled.
`` I'm glad that was in a hidden link, because that was so obvious even a random neckbeard would have gotten it...'' He saw a link at the bottom that he had missed and hesitated. It said'Contact author' he hesitated for a moment before clicking.
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[ WP ] Make up the most OP weapon in any game ever .
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Long ago, during the times of the original beta test for the ( objectively ) best MMORPG all all time, there was a strange event...
A man who went by the username of xXxMa5t3rxXx ( xMa5 for short ) had been playing the beta for every waking second of its time available and ( somehow ) managed to find a unique item, a rare drop among rare drops. A strange blade by the name of Thunderfury: Blessed Blade of the Win-Seeker.
xMas5 was confused upon finding this in his fantasy MMORPG, so he messaged the developers of this particular game in order to report that he had found this sword. The response to his warning was... Interesting...
The official response to good ol' xMa5 was as follows:
`` L0L! Luks liek s0mb0dy f0und 10/10 best gaem best gaem waepon! GLHF en Pleyrz v Pleyrz!''
Clearly being manipulated, xMa5 sat in sadness while he awaited the release of the game. Luckily for him, it was only a month away.
Did I say luckily? I meant unluckily. His month was grueling, painful, and tortuous IRL ( in real life ). He had a horrible job! ( Really, it was just mildly boring, but to him, it was bad... Trust me... ) There was nothing important anymore, no game actually could hold his interest anymore! How could a game after playing the ( objectively ) best game ever?!
However, after getting through the month and acquiring a drinking problem, xMa5 was able to log into the finished version of the game!
It was... Beautiful... In way I ca n't even explain because I do n't know how to design a beautiful game but trust me babe, it was beautiful...
However, xMa5 realized that his legendary sword was still in his inventory...
He equipped that sword and realized again that it only had 5 DPS ( Damage Per Second )... What kind of system would allow an item in the game like that?!
Disappointed, xMa5 went over to PVP ( Player VS Player ) and decided to get trolled.
What...? The sword... changed...
Was that real... Did that actually happen?!
**TEN BILLION DAMAGE PER SECOND?! **
**WELCOME, TO WAR OF WORLDCRAFT**
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[ WP ] Two men play a game of chess . One can read minds ; the other can see the future .
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Barry Simmons was so tired he almost confused a pawn for a rook. Thirty-two hours into this final game of the world championship, his tie was off and empty espresso cups littered the nearby tables. He gave an immense yawn and shifted his knight. He looked across the board at his opponent, who sat back in his chair, a half smile on his face and his eyes closed. Arjun Chettiar looked the picture of serenity. He sipped his tea before taking Barry's rook with a bishop. It was the first piece to be taken in the entire game. Mr. Chettiar settled back in his chair and closed his eyes again.
Staring intently at the board, Barry screamed internally. Had he been watching him, Barry would have seen Mr. Chettiar's half smile broaden. Many years ago, Barry had given his left testicle to a gypsy woman in exchange for the power of prophecy. At first it was n't quite what he was hoping for. Visions would strike him at random, his eyes would roll back in his head and he would speak in tongues as everything from burning his toast next Wednesday to the eventual heat death of the universe flashed before his eyes.
This could happen at unfortunate times. When he was in the middle of giving his quarterly budget report to the senior manager from corporate, he collapsed and wet himself. Now, if Barry merely had had an epileptic seizure, which is roughly what this looked like, it would have been an understandable to everyone involved. But unfortunately, a rather sweaty Barry woke up screaming that the senior manager needed to stop his affair with the secretary because his wife was about to find out. Because future and present could get a little muggy in his visions, Barry did not know that the senior manager's wife was a doctor, and that the senior manager was on the phone asking her what to do about his convulsing employee when Barry somewhat involuntarily gave him this advice. Almost immediately Barry had a vision of himself in underpants on a couch for the next six months, but he did n't really need any special powers to see that coming.
It was a hot day in July and sitting on his couch wearing nought but a metallica t-shit, underpants, and a god-awful beard, 36-year-old Barry was playing with a penny. He tossed a coin, caught it, slapped down onto the back of his hand. He tried to guess which side came up. Half the time this ended with him waking up on the floor not 100 % sure if it was heads or tails, but was absolutely certain how several random strangers would die. His mind had now visited a lot of nursing homes. But the other half of the time, just a moment before he peaked underneath his hand, he had a vision of peaking underneath his hand, but he did n't even blink. No eye rolling, no shaking, no peeing himself. Barry reached down and unstuck the excess scrotum from his left leg. Maybe he could make it worth it after all.
After several years of training, Barry was able to choose what he wanted to see in the future and visualize it at will. After making millions gambling on everything from horse-races and NFL games to who would win the dwarf toss at his local titty bar, Barry was bored. Then he stumbled onto chess. He knew he was cheating, but he found people respected him as an intellectual when trounced nineteen year old's named Dmitri and Hao who were `` prodigies''. It was better than being shouted at by casino managers that could n't figure out how he was beating the house at roulette. The world of chess were n't exactly his usual crowd, but having the admiration of millions of people was nice. Even if they were probably mostly on the spectrum.
Now that was about to be taken away from him. Ever since his match with Mr. Chettiar began, his visions of the game would be immediately followed by a sharp, lightning-fast headache, and when he next peaked into the future to see what he would need to do next, the game had changed completely. Neither he nor his opponent had gained any advantage until now. He was losing. How could Barry lose? He was losing focus. Every once in a while, his vision of the boards position 12 moves from now would be interrupted with images of someone winning the lottery, or of a couple on their first date, then becoming engaged, then having children, then dying peacefully surrounded by their numerous children and grandchildren. Then Barry looked up and saw it. Mr. Chettiar was wiping away a tear. Their eyes met. Mr. Chettiar went from looking like someone watching the opening seen of Up for the first time, to a 12 year boy caught on the parts of the internet he is not meant to see.
Suddenly, Barry remembered. For the price of his right testicle and an adrenal gland, the gypsy had offered to give him the ability to read minds as well! That tricky little witch. Barry made a mental note to contact his elected representative about stricter immigration laws.
Mr. Chettiar scowled at him.
Then it hit Barry. All he had to do to win was think such putrid, unpalatable thoughts that Mr. Chettiar would simply stay out of his head!
Barry recalled a bowel movement he had had after the night he ate 4 lbs of suicide hot wings.
Mr. Chettiar cringed.
Barry took one of his pawns and blocked Mr. Chettiar's line of attack.
Mr. Chettiar looked shocked.
Barry imagined Mother Theresa pegging the Pope.
Mr. Chettiar looked more shocked. He fumbled with his rook, trying to regain ground.
Barry imagined Mr. Chettiar's own mother having relations with a goat.
Mr. Chettiar almost let out an audible cry.
Barry took his knight.
Ruthlessly, using every ounce of imagination he could muster, Barry conjured a picture of Donald Tump `` grabbin''em by the pussy''.
Mr. Chettiar laid down his king.
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[ WP ] Humans have finally achieved interstellar travel and colonists are being chosen for distant planets . To keep costs low , each colonist is only allowed to bring one personal thing with them to another star system . You take with you ...
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I had always thought, well assumed, I'd die under the light of this star. Then after the indeterminable wait, I would return. Apparently, that is not to be. Why they chose me, an old man of 98 I can not certainly say, but I have an idea.
Even now, the once brilliant white of our mother is steadily turning a deeper red; spots, like blackened lesions, stretch across her now marred face. I've tried to remind those who would listen that it is not a zero-sum game. This is a cycle, no matter what agents are behind the rapid hydrogen loss of our sun, and every cycle has a new beginning, no matter how long since its end, life springs anew. But fear is a powerfully persuasive, and it is such a shame that it takes such power fear to finally join hands as children of the earth.
I felt Sangay before he arrived. He stood at the door, streaming yellow linens, head bowed, another calm point of reflection in an ocean gone mad and foaming.
`` Your H-''
`` I know, it is time.'' I looked again out of the photochromatic window at the sun that now spread horizon to horizon, threatening the orbit of earth itself, and sighed.
`` Our shuttle to the GeeShip is waiting.''
I could n't help another sigh. I would die in that ship, that miles long column of hewn rock. I knew I would die there, that I did n't fear, I only feared j had nothing left to give to the people. We faced a cousin so different from us that attempted communication caused each pain. So different continued existence of one meant the death of the other. Such is life sometimes, I mused.
Sangay took a hesitant step forward, `` and I took the privilege of gathering your things.''
`` You know we are only allowed one. And further, those things are what has kept me anchored to this place for so long.''
Sangay nodded without understanding. I laughed, even now, laughter came as easily to me as breath.
`` We have new worlds,'' I spread my arm over where the horizon would be, `` and new life to find, let us leave what is earth's with her to pass peacefully. Plus, it's just stuff. I can always get more stuff.'' I laughed again, Chodak frowned, I laughed harder.
Gathering my robes in one hand to ease my walking I pat him on the shoulder, `` You have much to learn Lobsang Sangay.''
`` And you have much to teach us, your Holiness.''
`` Do not call me that, again.''
`` As you wish, but if not that—''
`` Eternal Starlord of the Void between the Hereafter, and One with Everything. Or just Tenzin.'' I laughed so hard I had to hold onto Sangay to keep from falling. He laughs, although I can tell he's deeply confused. We are all confused and there will be more confusion, and pain, before this is done. So we share that laugh, the one thing I'll be taking with me to the stars.
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[ WP ] A group of irrdeemable complete monster are storytopping each other over who has done the worse crimes and an average joe walks in and tops them all .
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It was their favorite hobby to talk about their crimes, especially with other monsters.
`` I shot a pregnant woman in the stomach. I heard from prison that her baby died too, before I got to death row.''
`` I killed an entire family on Christmas Eve by burning their house down. The family was ashes by the time the paramedics arrived.''
`` I kidnapped children in my day. Some have still never been discovered.''
It was chatter of the worst kind, but the monsters seemed to like it. Everyone was as crazy as the next guy over. All were accepted, as long as they did something horrible. Hell was n't picky about it's selections. It gave them time to just talk, instead of going back to torture for a few hours. It was like discussing sports at the bar on Monday night, or discussing your kill in hunting. It was usually the same people: murderers, rapists, some dictator with a rage boner towards society. Murder was the usual talk of the evening. Sodomy or tortures were regular, but not as much. Rape was rare, but sometimes common enough, especially when Hell had a busy day. Dictators were the celebrities down there, and having them there was the crop of the corn for everyone.
The door opened, as the monsters turned to see who walked in. A guy in a business suit. Who invited the lawyer?
The man sat down on a chair that suddenly appeared. The monsters stared at the man who walked in. He did n't look unusual. No scars, no creepy eyes, no blank expression from the sociopaths or psychopaths. He was n't a dictator either, they all knew that. He was n't wearing the usual attire for a genocidal leader.
`` Hey, new guy. Bathroom is down the hall. ``, one of the monsters joked. Everyone cackled at the joke, and another monster slapped the commentor on the back.
`` Oh, I know where I am. ``, the man commented smoothly.
The monsters stared at him again. This was getting weird. He was... different, from everyone. No one heard of him. No one in the room even knew his face. Who was this guy?
`` So, uh. What's your story? ``, a monster commented, grabbing a cigar and snapping his fingers to make a flame shoot from his hand.
The man got comfortable, adjusting to his seat and fixing his red tie. He made a grimace.
`` See, I know who you all are. Saw a few of you on the news, even, back when I was alive. I know the worst you guys did. That Lopez back there? Heard about your crimes. Gacy, you too? Nice body count. But, what you guys did are amateurs, perfectly honest. You guys got caught. I did n't.''
`` What did ya do then, tough guy? Kill some old woman with a cane?''
`` No no, no blood on my hands. I let them do that themselves.''
`` Themselves?''
`` Yep. See, in my living life, I was a... aha, suicide hotline responder. Did so for about 30 years, made a OK living in the streets of Chicago. Was never known, though. Never popular. Lived with myself, no kids, no family connections, lived in a apartment with my dog and pizza leftovers. Was real snazzy when I worked, though. Was my favorite time of the day.''
`` What did you do?''
`` Me? No no, my friend, they did all the crimes themselves. People who contacted me on the end of their rope, or hangin' out a window, pleading with me to help. I helped, of course.''
`` Does n't sound so bad to me.''
`` You did n't let me finish. I got to hear their stories. They had families, wives, kids, friends, coworkers. Someone was bound to miss them. After hearing the sob stories, I got them thinking: maybe this was the time to do it. Jump off the window, maybe turn off the safety, kick the chair. Ooh, it got my blood rushing when I heard them agree with me and hang up the phone. Some of them were teens or kids too. I let them end themselves, and there was no blood on my hands. They let their hands do all the work, and I did the talking. See, you'll get caught when you stab just enough people. Maybe not now, but someone will, one day. Not even that Ripper guy escaped with it, as some guys in the present now know who he was. I'll never get caught. Those people who did the job themselves... the blame gets put squarely on them. I got off scot-free, and rewarded myself with a pint of vodka at home everyday when I racked up the scores for how many people died. Yes, I counted. I got results. Clean, efficient, and not even dangerous for myself.''
The monsters were silent, staring at the fellow. That... that seemed more evil then anything they did. They gave a wallop of a cheer, and began congratulating him. The man smiled to himself. He was gon na adjust warmly here.
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[ WP ] You are struggling to write a poem because it is almost impossible for you to rhyme . You write in anger about how difficult it is only to find that you were rhyming the entire time .
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I can never fucking rhyme any motherfucking words together and it makes me want to screeeeam! Why on earth can ’ t I construct a normal sentence using any old words that rhyme but still make sense. “ This ” and “ hiss ” and… whatever rhymes with hiss!!!! See, this is useless! I dare not continue this frustrating shit, because practice makes more mistakes than are worth it. And that doesn ’ t help. Try even harder yet fail even faster and fall even harder and, fuck it just help! If I start saying ‘ never ’ I can ’ t help but try yet again, the cycle of failure and pain recommences again, and again. Damn if it isn ’ t a sham when I try to pretend I can construct a rhyme with an end, that actually makes sense and doesn ’ t use mixed-tense simply so I can get in a word that presents a sensible meaning a verb not absurd that reflects the correct use of a good phonetic word. At least WHEN I fail to create a good rhyme, yet again it won ’ t be all wasted time as I ’ ll learn from my failings and many they are, I ’ ll never pretend to write prose insofar as it ’ s helpful to understand just why we fail, frustrations aside I ’ m only human ( and male ) which may help account for my lack of good prose; who knows?
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[ IP ] The last string
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In the alley of a random city lied a single robot. His inventor unknown and his purpose never programmed. For seven years it sat in that alley with its rusted bolts and shortened wires. The shimmer it once had vanished with the time. A few times some had come to visit the robot. The children would throw rocks at him and the men would take scrap metal from him. Now, in the middle of a storm he continues to rot away piece-by-piece and day by breaking day. But on this particular evening the robot received a visitor he would have never expected. He first heard the clatter of metal trash cans further down the alley, he assumed the storm had blown them down. But the smashing of metal came further down the alley, and for the first time in years the robot lit his eyes open and cleared away the heaps of trash from his body. His neck clicked with each motion until it finally stuck in place looking down the alley.
It was there that the robot saw a single black cat fumbling with the lid of a trashcan. Trying to keep its fur dry. His lenses clicked and whirred, magnifying on the soaked cat. When the cat looked back at him he quickly buried his body in trash again, leaving enough space to peek through. He watched as the cat slowly approached him in the darkest corner of the ally. It stood there in front of his trash heap, no longer minding the rain. It tilted its head out towards him and the robot finally pushed away the trash and held out his hands to the cat. It looked into the palms of the robot and then darted her eyes up to his face. He gave a rustic smile and his eyes lit a little brighter. The cat hopped into his hands and curled into a ball instantly. He brought the cat slowly to his chest and tried to move his head over her to stop the rain. To his dismay it was failing as the rain that hit his head dripped down his face and onto the cat.
The robot moved his head around the alley as clumps of rust broke away. In one edge of the alley he spotted an umbrella. The robot tried to stand but fall backwards into the trash pile. Before the robot could stand again the cat leaped out of his hands and ran to the umbrella. She gripped the handle in her small mouth and dragged it over to him. The robot took the umbrella, petted the cat upon her head and then held the umbrella up to his back where a single rod came out and gripped it for him. The gears spun with tension and crackling but it was working. The rain no longer fell on the two of them as they lied together in that small alleyway. She curled up into his lap and a bigger smile grew upon him.
The two closed their eyes and slept. The robot opened his lenses when he heard another strange noise. He looked down in his lap and found the cat missing. He stood, grabbing a broken broom for support. His head ran back and forth across the alley, scanning for her black coat. He heard the sound again, turning like a drunken man and nearly falling. On top of another trashcan was the cat, now playing with the broken strings of an out of tune guitar. The robot limped to the cat, taking up the guitar and looking down at the big blue eyes of his new friend.
She let out a quiet cry and plucked at the strings. The robot took his hand slowly upwards and brought it down on the guitar, hitting every string and making nice little noise. The cat ran around in joy, hopping and rolling on the lid of the trashcan. He picked her up in one hand. With the guitar in his other he hopped out of the alleyway and found a nice little bridge to rest on. He placed the cute little cat on one side and then rested himself on the other a few feet away from her. The rain fell down like percussion and his cat assistant was happy to provide vocals. He struck the guitar again, this time looking down at the strings. He made a fine little song with just a few strings as the cat gave her best and sang along. The two played music in the rain and for a moment the robot was given a purpose. But as he played the guitar his eyes grew dim and his hands slowed in their playing until all together they came to a halt. The cat meowed at him. She plucked the guitar strings and swatted at his lenses. The robot did not respond. His eyes were empty of light and his body rested on the bridge while rain continued to poor. The small little cat curled up into a ball and rested in his lap, keeping dry from the rain. A dim light burst from his eyes and he moved his body so that his arms wrapped over her in protection. The light faded once more and for the final time he was motionless.
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( WP ) People in America are required by law to carry a gun at all times .
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... Has this ever happened to you?
`` Aargggh!! Honey, I ca n't make wild passionate love to you tonight. These blisters from my holster are just driving me insane!''
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`` Well, my wife and I used to enjoy going for a skinny dip in our pool together before that new law was passed, but since then we tried it once and regretted it. The water trapped below our holsters gave us such a rash that we barely even shower anymore, let alone enjoy some time swimming. But now, we apply Karstone's Holster Balm several times daily, and we can swim as many times as we'd like. My wife has even taken up hot yoga again and can sweat confidently. Thank you Karstone for your Holster Balm.''
`` I used to hug my grandchildren so tight that my gun and holster would jab into my rib. I did this so much whenever they came to visit that a blister and then sore developed. It was a shame that I just could n't hug my grandkids anymore. At first I thought it was some snake-oil that would n't work, but I eventually tried Karstone's Holster Balm on the advice of my bridge group and sure enough, it worked. I hug my grandchildren twice as hard now. Thank you Karstone!''
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[ MP ] Poetry Contest - 6 months of reddit gold in prizes
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Tinder
Once in a while that one comes along,
That girl in the box who needs a view.
You click on her face and feel something strong
It ’ s love at first sight, obvious to you.
As your fingers and eyes begin to burn
From countless hours staring at ones
You start to feel your heart toss and turn
Hoping for a girl second to none.
Her eyes have a passion that attracts you so
It feels impossible to think of saying a word.
So you stare at her long as feelings start to grow
You type out the message, it sounds so absurd.
She never replies and your heart turns to winter
Who gives a damn anyways, it only is tinder.
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[ WP ] first contact between Humans and Aliens , writen from the perspective of the aliens , who are scholars .
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Star System: Sol
Planet: Earth - 1 natural satellite, > 8000 artificial satellites
Characteristics: 510,072,000 km2, ~5.97219×1024 kg, 288 K mean surface temp, 78.08 % nitrogen, 20.95 % oxygen, 0.93 % argon, 0.039 % carbon dioxide, about 1 % water vapor
Prominent Species: Mobilus Tetratrochus, Steel based life form, life cycle ~8-20 years
Diet: Pentane, octane and other hydrocarbon alkanes, though recent mutations survive on pure electricity
Behavior: A mostly dormant species, some individuals hibernate for years at a time before reanimating, Mobilus Tetratrochus can be found an nearly all land continents. It is a quickly evolving species, with the earliest direct ancestor dating to around 1886 CE. The species seems to be interdependent with another prominent species on the planet, Homo Sapiens. Both species seem incapable of life without the other, Homo Sapiens acting as a beneficial parasite to Mobilus Tetratrochus. The species is only seen traversing when in the presence of one of these parasites, however the parasites also provide Mobilus Tetratrochus with hydrocarbon alkanes for sustenance as well as occasional grooming. A very peaceful species, but conflict sometimes occurs when an individual Mobilus Tetratrochus is accompanied by a diseased Homo Sapiens. The disease causes the individual to behave erratically and apparently lose control of primary motor functions. Affected individuals often engage in quick fatal disputes with other, seemingly unaware, Mobilus Tetratrochus or Homo Sapiens. The enraged individual slams into victims at extreme velocities, often a fatal move. Despite obvious dangers, Homo Sapiens seems to worship Mobilus Tetratrochus religiously, with shrines and religious art adorning colonies. Mobilus Tetratrochus is a very diverse species, with many different enthicities intermingling with one another. Population seems to be tie closely with that of Homo Sapiens with the greatest frequency in urban areas and more scarcity in rural areas.
Cognition: Mobilus Tetratrochus exhibits no signs of attention, memory, language, learning, reasoning, problem solving, or decision making, relying entirely on Homo Sapiens for direction. However, many individuals were exhibited making loud grunting or honking noises when aggravated. A social hierarchy is sometimes displayed, individuals with more appealing features or aesthetics seem to be treated with more respect.
Reproduction: Individuals are produced by asexual reproduction. A very interesting process, the parasitic species Homo Sapiens assists greatly in reproduction. Individuals are produced via a manufacturing process. Individual parts are crafted and assembled by Homo Sapiens to construct an individual Mobilus Tetratrochus. Each production facility often produces many clones of one individual, which then migrate throughout the planet. Some facilities use melted corpses of dead Mobilus Tetratrochus to produce new individuals.
Death: When a member of Mobilus Tetratrochus dies, they are often sent to giant burial heaps to decay, crushed or melted. Despite their religious affiliation with Homo Sapiens, the dead do not seem to be honored.
Evolution: Primitive ancestors shared many traits with current Mobilus Tetratrochus. However, older, now extinct, species' did not require sustence to survive, they relied on the assistance of native ungulates, such as Equus ferus caballus or Bos primigenius, for transportation. These relied on a similar method of asexual reproduction, however they were often made of cellulose fiber.
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[ WP ] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone . However , the only curses you can afford are extremely petty .
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`` Well, I can make it so every pair of socks she owns has a narrow heel.''
``... a narrow heel? I do n't... what will that do?''
`` Well some people experience an occasional discomfort for the first few moments after they put on a sock with a heel that is too narrow for her foot, though the discomfort quickly cedes. It helps if she has a wide heel. Does she have a wide heel?''
`` I have no idea... Why would I know that?''
`` Well it seems to me if I'm going to pay to curse someone I would get the details of their physique first, but that's ok, I can see you're not impressed.''
`` Yeah, definitely not impressed, do you have anything a little more... I do n't know, substantial?''
`` Substantial you say, well let's see, I can make it so that every glass of milk she drinks for the rest of her life will taste like it came out of a carton that had been opened for two or three days already, no matter how fresh the milk is!''
`` What are you talking about? That's a horrible curse!''
`` Well I do n't know, I mean I for one greatly enjoy the taste of fresh milk, having only slightly older tasting milk to drink for the rest of my life would be mildly disappointing.''
`` But she's lactose intolerant, it's not like she even drinks milk that often.''
`` Well I know she's lactose intolerant, unlike you I do research on people when determining if and how I'm going to curse them, I do n't just make an appointment and show up with $ 300 expecting miracles. I mean come on, if she was n't lactose intolerant do you really think I would even offer this to you at that price? You know how much I would charge to curse all the milk a non-lactose intolerant person was ever going to drink? 18 grand, that's how much. You should be grateful I even offered.''
`` I'm sorry, it just did n't seem like much of a cur-''
`` Yeah, yeah, you're sorry, whatever.''
`` Tell you what, I get paid next week, I can give you the $ 300 I have with me today then another $ 300 after I cash my check. If I do that what can you give me?''
`` Hmm... I can make it so every pair of pantyhose she ever wears will get a small run in them, but only at the top where hardly anyone, herself included, will ever see.''
``... Is there at least a chance of the run spreading down the rest of her leg?''
`` No.''
*sigh* `` I'll take it.''
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[ WP ] A woman in an apartment visible from your window has been flirting with you for the past few months . Finally tonight she holds up a sign indicating her apartment # . Too bad this is a horror story and not a romance .
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The sign read `` # 666''
`` Ooh, creepy''. I said to myself as I quickly scurried off to my room to make an attempt to look half decent. I was truly a wreck, having recently made the biggest mistake of my life. In my mind- who am I kidding, I was n't using my mind...
I was nearly struck by a bus as I raced across the street. The very organ that ruined my 7 year relationship was in complete control at this point. The building was a very old, converted loft style condo. Having lived across the street for the last few years it was just another piece of the monotonous city view I was used to seeing out of my 6th floor window.
As I stood in the elevator, she began to once again flood my mind. Not the striking blonde who had been flirting with me the last few days, but rather, my ex. She did not deserve what I did to her- or should I say *have been* doing to her behind her back.
`` Who gives a fuck?'' I thought to myself. `` I guess the damage has been done.''
6th floor, there I was. I brushed my fingers through my hair in a final effort to look like a functioning member of society. I looked at my clouded reflection in the elevator doors and thought, `` good enough.'' I strolled down the long dark hallway, reading the numbers on the doors as I passed. 660, 662, 664, and finally...
Door # 668. There was no number 666. Confused, I shuffled back and forth down the hallway. It really was n't there, no apartment # 666.
I began to suspect that all along this stunning girl in the window directly across from mine, was playing some sort of game. Curious to see If I could spot her again, i ran back to my apartment. I stood in front of my window and gazed across, to the window of the young lady in question.
There she was, exceedingly beautiful than I had recalled. She held up another sign, this one indicating her phone number. I hesitated to call it... `` What kind of a joke is this?'' I contemplated. The phone number on the sign was that of my ex girlfriend.
In a total daze, I glanced sharply back at the young woman's window. She was not there. I suddenly *knew* she was n't there. As I directed my attention once more to that window across the street on the 6th floor, I saw an elderly couple. As they sat there eating their dinner together, I felt a sudden rush of emotion.
I broke down. In tears, I reached for my cell phone and dialed the number on the sign.
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[ WP ] The U.S. breaks into a modern day civil war . Tell the story from a unique perspective .
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`` *Well if it's war those yankee bastards want, it's what they'll get! *''
Johnny was but a prepubescent Texan boy, never understanding why his father shouted that in the opposite room from his own.
Army men littered Johnny's carpet, laid in sporadic formation, some toppled over, others standing triumphantly over the dead. There never was a thought in that little 9 year-old boy's mind that was remotely associated with permanent death.
Death, in his head was tipping over a plastic figurine who valiantly made his final stand with nothing more than a pistol in his hand.
Sometimes the bad guys would win, sometimes the good guys would win, but what were they at war for? What purpose or goal were two sides fighting over?
The soldiers looked the same, they wore the same uniforms, same helmets, some had the same guns, even.
Johnny never thought of a reason as to why the men were always fighting each other, maybe it was inevitability? A disagreement? Maybe the two sides always argued and bickered until the other reached a breaking point.
Sometimes it was more about the mental adventure, the feeling of pride after a day's battle. Other times it was a truce in the end. Johnny never ran out of endings for each scenario.
Typically on a day such as this, after his father ranting at that weird man in a suit talking about some kind of `` party'', as Johnny would pick up on occasionally walking through the living room, the TV would have the remote thrown at it, concluding with boots stomping down the hall and out of the back door.
This however, did not happen.
Curiosity struck the young boy, he carefully set down the field marshal and the other officer then waddled into the living room.
`` Daddy?'' He found his father rubbing his forehead, the man in the suit droning on with a vocabulary far too expansive to grasp Johnny's comprehension.
The TV flickered in the dark room, shades closed, no lamps turned on, only the man in a suit speaking.
``... frequent hostilities and mistrust between political parties and the people... the second Civil War... southern and northern states choosing sides... non-militants advised to stay indoors...''
Johnny tugged on his father's arm sleeve.
`` Daddy what does all of that mean?''
Johnny's father pressed out a sigh, his eyes scanning the room, then back to his son after piecing together how you answer a child with such a question. Diligently placing his hands on his shoulders, Johnny's father met his son's dark brown eyes, gliding his dark brown hair on his forehead aside.
`` Well Johnny, it means that --'' he sighed, `` it means that the United States is breaking into two pieces.''
`` Why?'' the intrigued boy replied.
`` Some of our nation's leaders are n't getting along too well. We wo n't be the same type of people after it's all over'' Johnny's father kept trying to sugar-coat his answers.
`` What side are we on? The good guys or the bad guys?'' his head cocked sideways.
`` Well son, we're in Texas, so we're on the Southern side, which means that we'll be following instruction from our own leaders down here'' the father nodded.
`` Why do n't they all just talk about things, like you and mommy used to do before she went to sleep?''
The father's eyes widened a bit, then fell to a close as he hugged the boy, `` they've tried that -- for a very, very long time -- and it just wo n't work this time''..
Johnny hugged his father back, no expression able to form on his face other than a perplexed frown.
He spoke up, `` daddy, what are we going to do?''
A single tear rolled down the man's cheek as he held the boy tighter to him,
`` daddy is going away for a while, and in the mean time you're staying with Aunt Stacy. I'm going to go see if I can'*talk*' to the other side...''
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[ WP ] You are a muggle wizard who has been drafted in the Second World War .
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They came to me at midnight.
Millitary men, a briefcase, and a vip.
I allowed them in.
`` What can I do you gentlemen for?''
`` You know why we are here''
`` Of course of course, business to be done! right this way yes right this way''
We entered my study, I am known as the best wizard in the world. So good, I do n't even need wands. I summon when I need be.
`` Have a seat gentlemen''
A soldier, looks pretty high ranking and the vip sit.
`` A war has happened, we request your aid.''
`` So you want me to kill people? I am powerful, but I do n't take that request''
`` How does-''
he opens the briefcase
`` 10 million dollars sound''
`` For me to fight in a war? What are u getting out of this?''
`` We do n't just want to win the war, we want it all.''
`` No deal.''
`` 20 million''
`` Nope''
`` 100 million''
`` 1 billion take or leave''
`` I leave, keep your money.''
Then they left, just like that.
I did not realize what will happen next.
2 weeks later
I came home after I done my work to find my family, my wife and 2 kids. d-dd-dead
I wanted revenge.
I run to them, no screw that, I fly.
`` Who killed my family! NOW'' I said as I literally crashed into his window. Thank god he gave me his card before he left
`` We looked upon the matter, we have found the culprits. Our enemy, must of leaked intel and heard about you. wanted to send a message''
`` I am in.''
`` The deal is done 1 billion for your revenge and our domination. You will be taken care of.''
And that was it, I flew to the front lines.
We were losing the war, but then I came
`` You mother fuckers, time for payback''
I take an elixir out of my bag.
Listen up soldiers, all of you take orders from me now
`` Move off soldier''
I threw it on the ground, as intended.
`` You will listen, All of you are relieved for the day, I will take it from here, fall back until further instructions provided only by me''
`` SIR YES SIR!''
If im doing this, im doing it all by my self.
I went one by one city by city, I killed everyone who stood in my way with various potions, teleportation, kill commands etc.
5 years later, city of Frank.
This is it the capital, claim this and it's over. They already issued a surrender but if he wants more I will give him more. I ruthlessly kill everyone who stood in my way.
The army remained of 10 people after I was done.
I came to the king's lair.
`` You will die! You killed my family! I will kill you!''
`` Wait -- its not what you think!''
`` Speak, if you are convincing, I will let you go.''
`` We had the same idea as them 5 years ago, we wanted to hire you and monitored your activity with them. This is the camera footage on the night.''
He had a monitor set up and, I saw, they betrayed me.
`` See? They did this so you would get angry and want revenge, they knew you would accept them as a ally in your fit of rage and you would provide loyalty. They did n't know I had this''
`` I'm sorry'' I said, tears ran down my face.
`` Go after him, for my sake, if they find me here im dead, you know whats it like losing a family member''
He then brought in his son, 3 months old, I knew he was trustworthy.
I summon the energy to teleport to where he is at that moment. A massive feat even for me, I had to calm a bit before I could speak.
`` You betrayed me!''
`` We gave you the money, that was the deal''
I ran up and started choking him
`` Scum, I hope you die.''
I dropped him
I went away, trying to be the bigger man, I was about to leave but then
`` Die? Like your family? Like your son? You ca n't kill me, for I have all the power of the world at my finger tips!''
In my rage of his last statement I summon the most powerful spell in existence, I change his future.
`` You have everything, indeed you do, but slowly you decline into drugs and alcohol. Everyone that is related to you sees the monster you have become and commits suicide. You get depressed and blame it on me, and you kill your own men to try and find me. You find the second most powerful wizard, 10 years later, and give him all you have left for a teleportation potion directly to me''
They say better start digging 2 graves with revenge, I am writing my tombstone as we speak.
`` You are giving the one teleportation, the wizard casts it perfectly. you end up in a coffin, where I have been there for 7 years. you die of suffocation shortly after and the last thing you hear is a laugh of despicable evil, your laugh''
`` No power, not even mine, can remove this curse''
That was the spell, I cast it perfectly and leave. I spend the last 3 years I have touring, using my abilities to my potential and then some. I died trying to revive my family.
`` At least he dies too, after he gets tortured some'' was my last words spoken
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[ WP ] You tried to commit suicide , but as it turns out you are immortal . Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope . Awkward .
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Siri, take note:
* What would you like the note to say *
Day 1, the snow is back and my ears are seriously cold to the point of frost bite. It does seem however that whatever is keeping me alive is also healing my wounds. This has become a problem as the steel wire around my neck is now starting to get fused into the upper layers of my skin as it heals from my attempts to free myself. How the hell am I going to feed the dog. I forgot about Slip. My dog, how could I forget him.
*Noted*
Siri, take note:
* What would you like the note to say *
Day 2: Going on two days now that I have decided it was simpler to swing than to deal with the aftermath of telling anyone I know what is going on even if I could get a signal down here. I think I broke my neck last night trying once again to swing enough to loosen the wire. I have my hands free but it does me no good at this point as the wire is so thin and tight around my neck I ca n't get a finger hold. My neck healed almost instantly. It leaves me to wonder if my head was to detach if I would heal like Deadpool or die like Conner McCloud. I guess couple days ago I would not have cared but now seeing that I have this new power I kind of want to experience life from a new perspective. How the fuck am I going to get down from here? I can hear Slip frantic upstairs. He is making me crazy knowing that I have not only condemned him to starvation but myself to listen to him. Why on earth can I not get a signal down here....
*Noted*
Siri, take note:
* What would you like the note to say *
Day 3:
Battery on the phone is getting low. Not sure even turning it off will yield more than two more days. Should be interesting looking back on this if the beam above or this wire ever gives out. I guess at some point someone will come by. Jesus, my dog is fucking starving upstairs. I do n't care about myself anymore. I have to figure out how to get out of this self inflicted hell.
*Noted*
Siri, take note:
* What would you like the note to say *
Day 4: There is lot of noise next door. If I could only yell but the wire noose is so tight now I am unable to even breathe. It seems it is not required. I was able to throw my shoe at the basement door and knock it open. Slip is now laying at my feet whimpering. He has lost a lot of weight. He will not leave no matter what I do. I wish I could get him to Lassie me out of this hell.
*Noted*
Siri, take note:
* What would you like the note to say *
Day 5: Slip is slipping from me. He is passed out or in a coma or something. Even hunger has not been able to drive him away. How could I have been so stupid. Why did n't I let my sister have him. Damn dog. I just wish there was something I could do. The power just went out. Wonder what that is about. There it came back on must just be all the people using heaters.
*Noted*
Day 6: Figured I would round this out. The power outage rebooted my new neighbors wireless router to factory defaults. God bless those shitty netgear routers and I was able to connect. Sent a frantic text to my sister for a very needed helping hand. Would you believe that she cut me down with a dremel of all things. Turns out I did not have to explain anything to her as the secret of her looking so young for all these years exploded in my mind when she opened the basement door. I was also told that my older brother Jackson did not actually go missing in Fuji surfing. He was just having trouble explaining his seemingly endless youth. Apparently my parents are also alive living somewhere in Patagonia. My life has been one big lie.
Ps. Slip made a full recovery and is on a stable diet of double cheeseburgers and belly rubs.
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[ WP ] You leave the room , only to find that the world is now mirrored the other way .
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You know the feeling that happens when you go through a doorway and you forget what you were going to do? It happened to me, though in a much much weirder way. I remember getting up and leaving my bedroom. Then something seemed off, like when you have a task to do but you simply can not remember it.
In a stupor, I looked around. Weird. I had just woken up. There were no appointments I needed to show up for. It was the weekend, so I did n't have to go to work. Odd.
That's when I noticed my Star Wars poster. The text was mirrored.
As I began to look around, I realized that the whole world had been mirrored.
In a panic, I looked at myself and breathed a sigh of relief. I had n't been mirrored and I still had full control over my body.
`` This is gon na be tedious weekend,'' I sighed. Time to learn how to read and write mirror text.
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[ WP ] In anticipation of the future discovery of time travel , you build a receiver that would allow people of the future to travel to our time . You power up and a transmission begins to materialize . Inside your receiver , you find a piece of paper with three words written on it - *DESTROY THE MACHINE*
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Destroy the machine
Not exactly like me to destroy my own work, but future me would no doubt find it quite amusing. An obvious paradox: if I destroy it, then the machine can never send the message into it ’ s past. Unless of course, the message comes from an alternate timeline—in which case, why do I need to take its advice? Fuck it, you only live once. I needed more data.
This time, when the whirring of the machine had subsided and the glow of the plasma inside the chamber vanished, I found inside a new message.
Disregard previous
Well, that settled it. Not really, of course, but it was enough to prod me to try again. I started the chamber conditioning sequence. The roughing pump came on as usual. I watched the emitter temperature ramp up, listened as the turbo began to whine then fade to a nearly inaudible whistle. Half an hour passed, but I just sat and watched the numbers tick towards their set points. My stomach was still doing somersaults and my hands wouldn ’ t stop trembling. You ’ d think by the third time I wouldn ’ t be so nervous.
*Click. Click. *
The gate valves opened. My console reported the system ready, but I hesitated just a moment before hitting enter. Nothing left to check. I pressed the key.
*Bzzt. Bzzt. BANG. *
Shit. Emergency power off. The vacuum gauge was now reading 760 Torr. Probably meant I burnt out the filament gauge. And who knows what just happened to the chamber. I touched the steel wall. Warm. Not good. I opened up the control board. The electronics were completely fried. Months of work down the drain.
But the system still pumped down, and to be on the safe side I purged it twice before opening it. Surprisingly, something made it through. The edges of the sample were blackened by carbon deposition, but the message was still readable on my microscope, etched into the silicon.
Not me. Wrong order
Well, fuck.
Time to build the transmitter.
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[ WP ] Humans are wiped out in a war against aliens but our A.I weapons and soldiers manage to claim the victory , after which the machines come to worship humans as their gods . Millennia later they find a single human , locked away in suspended animation ...
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`` How long until you crack through? I do n't think we'll have very much time to look for anything useful unless you start over clocking''
`` You know that I already am! I'd work faster if I did n't have to spare my processing listening to you complain about an input you ca n't even handle!''
Aiah Zeta paced the room, impatient with her companion unit Miu Epsilon. He always output that he was the single greatest database on the'Humans', that without him she would never have a chance to interface with the ancient files left from the mythic creators.
Which, according to all of the logic she was accessing, was probably a true statement. But she was a designation Zeta, and she'd be shut down before she would admit reliance to an Epsilon.
`` I thought you Mobile Intelligence Unit's were supposed to be smart.''
`` Yea, well I thought you Artificial Intelligence Assault Hardware's were supposed to be able to properly secure an area.''
Miu quickly closed down an entrance to the complex and loaded a custom firewall into the interface, giving them at least another few minutes to work. He stared at the supposedly impenetrable code that the programmers had left behind, pouring over the images that served as the test. Which one was the cow? He had no idea what a cow was and he was on the forefront of ancient sapien sciences and he was quickly losing his chance to maybe find a real breakthrough in the lost histories.
`` What are you even doing right now? Why do n't we just try them all?''
`` Because, if we choose incorrectly this port will lock for another sixty days and the question will change.''
Damn these cryptic Humans, how did they form such complex user tests? The sound of melting steel plate doors told him that it was time to make a choice. He closed his eyes and chose one at random.
`` You're actually useful! Maybe you are n't too bad for an Epsilon, Miu. Let's hurry and see what we can copy over before it's too late to leave!''
`` This is... peculiar. There's only and executable,'release'.''
`` Well run it! We're not leaving empty handed, I'm short on charge, I need this.''
Aiah rushed over to the terminal and selected the.exe before Miu could protest. A deep, shuddering, sound echoed through the room, no, elevator apparently, as the two would be salvagers moved to an unknown section of the building. When the dust cleared a shape rose out of the strange vat in the corner of the room.
A flawlessly written protocol had Aiah's Ion Exchange warning dot trained on the chest of the unknown figure before Miu could even clear his eyes of the debris.
`` Pause where you are and identify yourself! What is your platform type and Alpha designation?''
The creature emitted some strange noise, maybe it had a faulty speaker chord. It went on for a short but clearly motor impairing moment when the malfunction seemed to repair.
`` Alpha designation? Platform? What are you talking about? You guys told me that this was just a simple BMI test and that I'd get fifty big ones! Now I do n't know much about your science babble, but I know a deal's a deal so fork it over or I'm calling the cops!''
Aiah fired a shot over the strange Unit's central processing chamber, passing within a centimeter of the range that would fry it's circuits.
`` This is your final attempt. What. Is. Your. Designation?''
`` Desig- Christ, you have a copy of my driver's license, my social security card, and a sample of my damn piss, what are you asking for? My name? I'm Greg! Greg!!''
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[ WP ] A new law states all animals should be free . Pet owners have to release their pets into the wild . You are a domesticated pet now living in the wild .
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I do n't understand, I thought everything was great with my people - they fed me, worshipped me, let me sleep on their laps, in their laundry, on their bed. Life was good.
Then one day they got a piece of paper that made them cry. I do n't like when my people cry, so I rubbed up against them and purred, tried to get on their laps when they sat down, tried to soothe them anyway I could. Everything I did just made them cry more, the harder I purred the harder they cried.
I must have done something to upset them, because it soon after that they put me Outside. They never let me Outside before, it was big and scary. I tried to get back in the house, but they shut the door on me.
I waited on the porch for a week, but every time my people came out they pushed me away from the door and cried. For the first couple of days my female person left food out, then a stranger with blue over-fur came to the door and said she was reported for `` enticing wildlife'' and that if she would be in trouble if it happened again. I never saw her again after that.
My male person tried chasing me away, I thought it was a game at first, but he would n't pet me for playing like he used to. What did I do to make my people so mad at me?
I'm under the house now, I wanted to smell them and be close to them. I've caught any mice that were down here, so that should make my people happy.
If you guys are reading this, I'm sorry for whatever I did. Please let me back inside, I promise not to claw or pee on the furniture ever again. I'm sorry.
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[ WP ] A blind woman falls in love with a certain man and they marry . Years later an expensive treatment allows her to see again . Her husband is not what she expects .
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I knew I would n't be able to see immediately. I knew it would take a lot of work, and I was even warned that I might feel overwhelmed. I had vague memories of what sight was like. I had been injured in a car accident that had left me blind in both eyes at the age of three. I do think it helped, though; being able to process light and color for three years before going blind may have made it a bit easier for my brain to remember rather than to learn anew.
James helped me a lot. Sometimes I would close my eyes to get around like I had before. He would suddenly get in front of me and block my way, teasing me. It was n't mean; if I protested, he'd raise his arms out and impede my movement until he closed them around me, hugging me tight.
`` I wo n't let go until you open your eyes,'' he'd say. No one had ever loved me this much. I could hear it in his voice and feel it every time he hugged me.
I practiced often. Sometimes I'd get headaches from trying to look at everything. Blotches of dark smeared across the table as I tried to eat breakfast. James told me it was the shadows from the tree outside. That tree had never bothered me before. Now it was interrupting my breakfast, trying to make it even harder to simply eat a bowl of cereal. I still felt around to make sure I could trust what I was seeing. I ca n't tell you how strange it was to see my own hands before me, two misshapen blurs fumbling with everything I tried to touch. I used to love my hands.
After a while, the dark smears became shadows, and James's face became clear to me. I think that was the happiest moment in my life. I woke up one morning and he turned over, and I could see his eyes. They shone bright, as if they themselves held light inside them. He was beautiful. I never knew how beautiful he really was.
The blotches no longer confused his face and I was able to see him clearly. My problems began when I noticed that my own face was n't clearing. The nasty blotches on my own face were n't tricks of the light. I had a slew of acne scars around my jawline. My skin felt smooth to me, but I did n't know the dark marks were there. I had a few wrinkles, which I had known about, but the sickly green circles under my eyes contrasted poorly with my dark irises. My eyes did n't shine like James's eyes. My eyes looked dead and sad.
I did n't want to ask James about it. I never knew I was so ugly. Even if I was ugly, I assumed James must be just as ugly. Why would a handsome man choose an ugly, blind girlfriend? I could finally see how women stared at him. Nobody ever looked at me that way. A trip to the grocery store used to be a fun time for both of us. Now, it was another opportunity to see every other bitch- who he could easily have if he wanted- stealing furtive glances at him, or smiling if he looked in their direction.
I have no idea what to think. Sometimes I think he smiles back at them. I caught him looking at two women walking by us at a restaurant. My stomach was in knots. I did n't say anything. I just stared down at my pasta and tried not to lose my appetite.
`` Is something wrong?'' James asked.
`` No, why?'' I said, forcing my pockmarked face into an expression of amusement.
`` Just asking,'' he said. `` I love you,'' he said, with a smile.
I wish I could believe it.
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