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[ WP ] `` You wan na hear 'bout what happened to my arm ? ''
| Blonde she was. Pretty little thing. She was sittin' at the table all lonesome so I mosied up to her. When I got up to next her, I could see she was a starin' at her drink. She was looking at it like it was the last watering hole in the plains and she did n't want to waste none of it. I opened mouth to say somethin', but then she cut me off.
`` You wan na hear'bout what happened to my arm?'' she said without even lookin' at me.
I did n't know what to say. I looked at her bare arms and I saw one of'em had a big red scar. Definitely a bullet hole, I seen such a thing before. Ladies'round these parts are pretty tough, but I ai n't never had one start up like this, so I said, `` Well, if you'll me let me buy ya a drink, then surely.''
`` It ai n't a pretty story, I can tell ya that...'', she said and at the same time she looked up to meet me dead in the eyes.
`` Well, I can tell ya I've seen my fair share of trouble, so I can bet that I can handle whatever you're about to cook up,'' I said.
She gave me a funny look and said, `` I ai n't seen you'round these parts before, stranger. What do they call you?''
`` Clyde Barrow,'' I said, `` and yours?''
`` Bonnie Parker,'' she said and she smiled a bit. It was the first time I seen her face even show a bit of emotion.
Well, we talked for a while, a real long while. When we finally left the bar, as we was walkin' out, she leans over and says, `` Ya know, Clyde, this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.
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[ WP ] One day people 's spirit animals appear and they turn out to be first generation Pokemon . You are happy with your Charmander , since most got a Magikarp . Your significant other , who has never seen Pokemon , calls and is very excited about their `` blue-eyed , pink , floating cat-like thing '' .
| Every year is a new level!'' They say.
Well, they're right. It's the 20th year since the spirit animals appeared, and we were n't ready. We knew that some were violent and powerful, such as Scyther and Raticate, but they were relatively rare so they stayed contained.
Now me and my partner are here in a desert cavern, hidden and trapped. The electric fences are holding off the terrors of the countryside, creatures out for blood unlike my Chameleon or my partners Mew ( must be a Mayan thing, I have n't seen any others ). Chameleon is n't very effective against them, which makes it tough for me.
But Mew? Mew can learn anything, it seems. Her thunderstorms are SUPER EFFECTIVE against the dragons people's common Magicarp turned into, these so-called `` Gyarados''.
I only hope the rumors we hear are true, of the new devices that Sylph Co. is making. Little red and white electrical grenades that incapacitate and contain these creatures.
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[ WP ] After making a suicide pact , a boyfriend and girlfriend jump off the Golden Gate bridge , one of them dies . The other finds out that they are immortal .
| They sat together, facing each other in a pair of old wooden dining chairs that sooner belonged half burnt and covered in ash at the bottom of a drunk's fire pit rather than on the crisp linoleum floor of the cramped bachelor apartment. The empty bottle was placed neatly on the floor between his feet, the red cap staring upward blankly. The glimmer from the street lights shone across her face and he could see that she was beginning to tire.
He squeezed her hands gently causing her to lock eyes with him. Her droopy eyelids offset by a thin smile that pierced her lips.
He smiled back at her hopelessly. This had been more her decision than his. He knew the baby meant the world to her but he had always held on to the hope that she would move on eventually.
Apparently not.
He knew that he could n't live without her however, so when she proposed to end their suffering he begrudgingly agreed. He had resisted of course, but when he became convinced that her opinion could not be swayed he knew that he could not let her do it alone.
He began to feel his heart beat in his neck. Each rhythmic throb felt like waves of serenity passing through his body. He concentrated on the feeling while he watched her tiredly lay her head in her hands, the hair draping from her in such a way as to expose the bare skin of her neck.
His head was filled with brief memories of his lips resting on that neck. He closed his eyes tightly and held on to the memories for as long as he could. He remembered the smell of her hair as the world began to fall away around him. He remembered the faint tickle of her skin touching his as he relived every moment they had ever spent together. He...
She felt a rotting pain in her stomach and her mouth tasted like last night's vomit. She tried to lift her heavy body but could only manage to tilt her head back slightly and winced at the beam of light as it caught her in the eye. The pain from the sun forcefully imprinting an image on the back of her cornea was enough to motivate her out of her chair. She heard the dull clank of a plastic bottle skid across the floor as she shifted her weight on to her feet. With a sudden and horrific realisation her eyelids shot open. Her mouth fell agape and as her hand involuntarily rose to calm her quivering lip a well of tears began to run down her flushed cheeks.
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[ WP ] Every time you snap , someone dies .
| I smile as the president and his advisers shift nervously in their chairs. `` These demands are ridiculous!'' one of his advisers says. `` This will put us on the brink of bankruptcy!'' I slowly raise my right hand, bringing my middle finger and thumb together, ready to snap at any second. They all watch my hand carefully.
`` Oh, you'll meet my demands,'' I say, grinning maliciously.
`` You think you can threaten us?'' the president says. `` We do n't respond to-'' His voice is cut off by the sound of me snapping my fingers. Everyone gasps and glances around at one another. One of his advisers flops over onto the ground and lays there in an awkward position, motionless.
I ready my fingers again and look the president dead in the face. `` You're lucky. It was n't you this time, but what about the next one?''
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[ WP ] You are faced with a Matrix-style red/blue pill situation . Not being one to half-ass things , you take both .
| `` I dunno, bro. Those look like some really large pills.''
`` They're suppositories,'' the mysterious man corrected him.
Lucas grabbed both and straight shoved them up his butt hole without warning, leaving the mysterious man dumbfounded. `` I've never done acid like this, dude. One time, like, I lost a bet and so I had to shove—''
`` Hold on. Are you not Marcus? Marcus Rockwood?''
Lucas was already dancing to the rave music behind him. `` Yeah, no. We share an the apartment. I'm Lucas. Come on in, dog. Doggeroo. Doggie Houser. Anyone who brings mind altering substances is welcome in the pad. Haha! The scene is about to get wild!'' Lucas vanished into the crowded room full of scantily clad ravers of all shapes and sizes. The tiny apartment could barely fit ten, and there were at least thirty people in the living room alone.
The mysterious man at the doorway, known only as *Mandalay* to The Enlightened, stood motionless for almost a full minute. This particular situation had never been encountered by him or anyone in his organization. He had only brought the two suppositories. Mandalay was left without anything to deliver to *The Chosen One*, Marcus Rockwood. Moreover, some weirdo did n't even give Mandalay time to explain the repercussions of taking either pill before sticking them up his rectum simultaneously. What even happens when one takes both? He'd never thought of the possibility.
Mandalay entered the pandemonium to find Marcus. Or find Lucas to warn him of... well, Mandalay was n't sure what would happen to the poor sap. It had n't dawned on him that he was dressed for a rave until he started moving through the crowed. The music was so loud that it was making his eyes water. Is that even a thing? Mandalay could only assume so.
Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder.
`` Are you the one they call'Mandalay?!' `` Marcus could n't tell. `` I asked like three other people already! I'm sorry if I'm just making assumptions, but you look older! Like a'belong to a cabal' kind of old! I'm not calling you old or anything! Do n't take offense! But... well you're decked out in raver attire so I do n't know! Maybe you're just like an old dude that likes to hang with young people!''
`` I ca n't hear a goddamn thing!''
Marcus pulled Mandalay into Lucas's room where it was slightly quieter. `` What the heck did you give Lucas?'' Marcus asked while pointing at poor Lucas shivering in the corner. `` He is tripping *balls*, man.''
Mandalay pulled his hands up defensively and began to speak softly. `` Listen, okay, there was simple a misunderstanding. I was looking for you to offer you a choice—an existential choice—between blissful ignorance and world-shattering knowledge. It's a decision of cataclysmic importance, right? We even color the suppositories orange and teal so even colorblind—''
`` Suppositories?''
`` —*so even colorblind* people do n't mistake their choice.'' Mandalay finished the sentence a little annoyed at the interruption.
Lucas rolled on the floor like a log, then peeked from behind the bed. `` Guys. I can see the back of my eyes.'' He was sweating from every pore.
Marcus turned back toward Mandalay. `` So, what, he made the wrong choice?''
`` No, he made the *both* choice.'' He held two fingers up, then made an upward motion with them while blowing a short whistle. `` Right on up there.''
`` Shhna-na-na-na-na-na!'' Lucas was now hanging from a bookshelf with his elbows. `` I can see it. I can see the talking bubbles.'' It's around this time both Marcus and Mandalay tuned him out.
Mandalay put a hand on Marcus's shoulder. `` This is more important than your flatmate. I came here for The Chosen One. You. The fate of the world hangs in the balance. The orange pill, *by itself* mind you, would release you from your mortal coil to reveal the truth of the world to you. Without it, you're just going to have to trust me on this, understood?''
`` What's the truth of the world?''
Mandalay pinched the bridge of his nose. `` Oh, this is going to so sound unbelievable without the orange pill.'' He sighed. `` The world as you know it is not real. In actuality we are these tiny fetuses slithering up to a giant kangaroo pouch. And then there's this clown just staring at us from over the horizon. We do n't know what he's doing there, but he's just staring at our little fetus bodies as we climb. Just when you think it does n't get any weirder, these talking soap bubbles latch onto the kangaroo nipples and—HEY WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!''
Mandalay chased after Marcus in the boisterous rave. A rave so loud it makes your eyes water.
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[ WP ] The mass extermination of an alien civilization looks unavoidable . Desperate , their leaders use the last working wormhole to `` call the humans '' , as told in the myths and lore tens of thousands of years old .
| Down old chambers their sinewy limbs clattered, deep down through the maze of passages beneath the stronghold. All the members of the procession were silent, wrought with fear of both what crept behind them and laid ahead. The tunnels were endless, reeking of mold and decay. Soon the booming of the jackhammers above faded away, leaving only the clickity-clack of their spidery forms along the old rockrete bricks. A sigh escaped from Arko's lips - out of relief or out of terror it was not known - and he began to slow the pace. Before them the passage opened up into a wide chamber, furnished with nothing but a gleaming silver door, harsh in the musky darkness.
`` We have arrived'' announced Arko. He motioned for the Elders to stay back and approached the door alone, gleaming and bold. Rolling up the sleeves of his filthy robes, Arko ritualistically pressed his hands into indentations in the door. A low hum emanated from the door, filling the chamber. The deep rumble grew louder and louder, penetrating the walls. Dust began to shake loose from the ceiling and the thin veil of water on the floor bounced eratically. As it grew louder, Elder Beriot sank to her knees, realizing that the humming was the most sombre of their race's dirges, grieving the fallen of an ancient war that far predated any written history.
Arko began to tremble, and his shrieks punctuated the dirge, gunshots in a storm. The elders gathered around him, trembling and terrified. Arko's limbs were being consumed by the door, hungrily sinking further and further into the gleaming silver.
`` This is but the price we must pay to awaken them.'' Arko uttered through bloody lips.
And with a sickening crunch the dirge ceased. Arko's corpse collapsed to the floor, his hooded face trembling in sick death spasms. The door slid aside silently. The elders quickly ushered into the chamber that lay beyond. As the last elder entered the room, the door slid shut behind them. With the door shut, the room came to life, illuminated by crystal panes along the walls, molted with brilliant colors and hypnotic swirls, slowly shifting and transforming. A six-spoked silver wheel rested in the middle of the chamber.
Elder Rainer, skin pallid and lips tight, stepped up to the wheel. `` This is what we have come for. Those who still man their battlestations above depend on us, and those who rest eternally below must know that their suffering has not been in vain. For Grand Lord Sigman and for Brother Arko, we must continue.''
They each took up a spoke on the wheel and at Rainer's command pushed. Slowly the wheel turned, creaking and groaning. The crystal panes on the walls snapped to attention and moved in unison, filling the chamber with an ever-brilliant irridescent glow. The silver rod in the middle of the wheel rose higher and higher with each turn. And with a thunderous boom the rod came crashing down. The rumble spread beyond the physical plane, extending far far back through the expanse of space and time, fueled by the shrieks of the living and the moans of the dead.
Deep in the vast expanse of space, many lightyears from the war that ravaged Vanis, the message was heard. A veteran planet, long fallen silent, let out a creaky moan. Within the dormant core, the heart of Vanis' old comrade pulsed. Once. Twice. Again. And again. City-sized gears turned, ever so slowly. Soul furnaces were ignited. Propulsion engines that had let the scarred and pitted planet drift aimlessly through the cold of space grew warm to the touch. From their slumber, in gleaming silver crypts buried under the scorched surface, they rose. Vanis would never have let Terra suffer. And even after millenia of war and torment, even if their souls no longer inhabit organic bodies, a promise is not forgotten. The humans have awoken.
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[ WP ] You 're out digging holes in the woods one day , when you find a box with your name on it . You forgot why you were out here in the first place .
| I look up to see the sun coming down so I knew I had no time left, so I immediately took the box and went home.
I set the box with my name on it down on my desk and keep wondering why I was digging there in the the woods in the first place, but I managed to forget about that question. All I can think of now, `` Whats in that box?''.
The box was sealed with duct tape, so I went in to the kitchen to get a butcher knife and got a glass of water. As I went back to my room, the box suddenly disappeared and I look around. Suddenly I give up and I put the butcher knife. The thing is, the butcher knife was n't in my hand...
The box was.
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[ CC ] A captain and their crew travel the galaxy scavenging for old ship parts amid the latest galactic war while trying to avoid getting sucked into it themselves .
| So my first instinct is: who is the narrator telling all this to that has no idea how this world works? Is it his kid, a weird alien at a bar? You need context as to why the narrator is even explaining all this stuff. Is it to the interrogator? if so the interregator should be more familiar with the nuances of the world that need not mentioning ( picking up scavengers would be his job, so narrator need not tell him that ) What would be more compelling is if we are dropped into the interrogation of the narrator and have the reader work to pick up on the details of the world through contextual cues. This entices the reader to stay engaged rather than read a passage from a history book.
Unfortunately your dialogue is... laborious. There is virtually no narration to give is clues as to what they are doing/where they are/what is happening while they are talking. The contextual sci-fi stuff mixed with the contemporary slang destroys any semblance of setting you've tried to create. Also the villain interrogators have ridiculously simplistic motivations and reasoning that do n't offer any dramatic weight to the main crew's predicament.
Also be careful with the'civil war in space' trope. Pretty much this feels like a wan na be firefly and unless you have very strong setting developing skills or are good at devising a diverse cultural complexity behind numerous factions' and their dynamic development you will draw unfair comparison and come up short.
If you still want to try and repair this, try thinking about: why is the villain a'douche?' Do n't just tell us. What got the interrogator to that point? Why does n't he belive the scavengers? Just because he's an asshole? I'm picking the villain because it's easy to know what the motives are for the hero ( es ) because the hero is who we connect with. But if you are not thinking deeply about your villains and their motivation, the dramatic weight of the overall work is diminished. What's more exciting to watch? A close football game or a staged one where one team is determined to lose by a large margin? There is no conflict to resolve if your villain is destined to lose. Now, since it's writing you KNOW the outcome. The trick to engaging the reader is tricking them into thinking they know or that they do n't know what will happen, so that what happens next is a surprise, even if they saw it coming.
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[ WP ] The story of an unsolved murder is brought up in an /r/AskReddit thread with several incorrect details . The murderer shows up to set the record straight .
| *Redditors, why do you think Nikolay murdered that old pawn broker and her frumpy sister and then turned himself in? *
L: He was a religious fanatic he probably thought his god was telling him to do it. Why else? Afterwards he probably changed his mind and decided it was a sin. Why else would he kill them, steal nothing, and then turn himself in?
A: no no that makes no sense at all. If you think about it Nikolay obviously just killed Lizaveta to cover up the Alyana's murder. He probably became low on cash and used her services. When he could n't pay for his pledge he decided to take it back by force. Why else would anyone kill sweet Lizaveta?
L: But if Nikolay needed cash he would have robbed her afterwards.
A: But maybe he did n't have time. He barely made it out of there and was almost caught by those two men on the stairs.
L: But the purse was around her neck, surely he would have had time to search her body if he had time to search her chests.
R: Maybe you're both wrong? Maybe Nikolay just broke under the pressure of the interrogation and the true murderer is still out there. Maybe it was a young student. Someone with a brilliant mind but little means. Someone who could not really bring themselves to rob. Maybe they did not see the purse because they could not bear to look at her crucifix? Perhaps after murdering Alyanna he took her keys and went searching for her treasures. He stole a few trinkets, but as he was leaving Lizaveta arrived. He murdered her and when he was going to make his escape he was forced to bared the door as two men came to pawn their things, When they saw the door was on the latch but not locked they went to get the janitor allowing the murderer to escape. He would bury what he stole for a few years so as not to attract suspicion perhaps under a cobblestone. This is all just how I would have done it. Nothing more than theorizing.
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[ WP ] Lie To Me
| The phone sat silently on the receiver. The handset's battery was mostly full. The only evidence of use was a gash in the plastic casing, but it was hidden on the rear face by the charging cradle. Nikki stared at the tiny display, watching the minutes tick by. The television stared back from the cutout between the kitchen and living room. The remote control sat just inches from her left hand.
Her fist balled up tight enough to crack three of her knuckles before reaching out with a weary digit. The flat panel in the next room sprang to life. The speakers roared the engine of the Dodge in a commercial. The remote tumbled in Nikki's hands as her attempts to lower the volume to an appropriate level were more than her muscles could accommodate. Frustrated jabs at the downwards arrow shifted to a definitive pressing of the Mute button.
Late Nite was not among her favorite programs, particularly the ones hosted by those not yet tapped for a premium time slot. The lack of a laugh track made the wild hand motions of the rambling man at the desk seem even less amusing.
‘ One of the buttons opens the guide, ’ Nikki reasoned. The labels were too blurry for her to make out.
“ Mommy? ” Diane was still wrapped in her blanket. The four year-old stood in the hall fighting back a mighty yawn. The muted television cast grey-blue shadows on the cream-colored walls around her. She was no stranger to waking up at odd hours, but not on nights like this one where she hadn ’ t obeyed her usual bed time. She rubbed the reality of tiredness from her eyes and smiled at her mother as if no rules were broken.
“ I ’ m sorry, sweetie, ” Nikki said before forcing a yawn to hide her tone. “ I didn ’ t mean to wake you. ”
Diane, partially concealed beneath the fuzzy cloth with Princess Elsa stitched to both sides, shuffled into Nikki ’ s thigh.
“ It ’ s okay. I couldn ’ t sleep anyway, ” the girl confessed. The noise had been too much, but there was something about the darkened hours that made it special to be out and about. The shifting light from the living room was like a frozen fireplace. Diane pulled the edges of her blanket closer to her chest.
“ It ’ s way past your bed time. ”
“ I know, but I ’ m not even tired. ” The proximity to her mother meant that the signature widened mouth went undetected. “ Can ’ t I just watch a TV? ”
Nikki ’ s head snapped around to see the news report. She pushed Diane ’ s face into her leg as the death toll flashed by in the marquee. “ No, it ’ s much too late. ”
Diane tried forcing her head around to peer into the living room.
“ Is daddy home yet? ”
Nikki stared at the screen, vacantly. Her veneer cracked like the kitchen tile where the phone had dropped. Her grip tightened, using both arms to shield her daughter from the news.
`` No, baby. His flight was delayed.''
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[ WP ] A love story that ends with `` I know ''
| **Brave**
^^^*-spudmcnally*
i looked at mark, i had known this kid since he was a pup, we grew up together him and i, and we were the best of friends, i remember when we were little, running through the yard, roughhousing in the living room where we were n't supposed to be, the good old days, but that was a long time ago..
i look past him, i see mom, i remember when i first met her, she saw me and right away knew i was the one, i remember all the times she gave me baths and brushed my hair, sure she yelled at me sometimes but who's mom does n't?
dad is here too, when i look at him i think of all our special times, when it was just the two of us, he'd always be coming home late from work and i would be the only one still awake, he'd grab a beer and we would just hang out for a while.
usually this time of day he's at work, but this is n't a normal day, today he has tears in his eyes, they all have tears in their eyes. i would too, but i do n't cry. i need to be Brave for them, that's my job, i'm supposed to be Brave. when mark skinned his knee when we were at the skate park i was scared too, he was hurt, i did n't like seeing my family hurt, but i'm supposed to be Brave, i had him lean on me and we made it home alright. and when i was with mom on a late night walk and we were almost home when that scary man tried to take her bag, i was terrified, but i knew i had to be Brave, i fought him, it was a hard fight, my first. i had only ever had play fights with mark, but i won and he ran off, but i was hurt, it was suddenly cold, when did it get cold? mom picked me up and ran home screaming, i had never seen her look like this, something was wrong. and why was it cold? when she got home she was talking very fast to mark, he looked scared, i could n't understand what she was saying but i knew the message was `` call dad''. she wanted him to stay at home but he refused, they yelled for a minute then they were quite, he was crying. she was crying. they both got in and drove faster than we'd ever gone. when we got there dad was already there waiting for us, he carried me in with mom and mark behind him. as we stepped through the door the woman at the counter yelled something, dad yelled something and then some people came and dad gave me to them, as they carried me i saw him collapse to the floor, now he was crying too.
now i'm on a table, it does n't hurt so much anymore, a man gave me a shot and i feel much better, i'm looking from mark, to mom to dad, they are all crying. mark and mom ca n't even speak at this point, they're crying so hard it seems like they ca n't breath, they have to gasp for air between tears. dad looks at me, and he looks at mom and her ripped bag, and back to me, he has just the weakest of smiles but when i see it my tail begins to wag, the man who gave me the shot says something and dad nods, i feel another shot and things get a bit fuzzy. mom and mark hug me so tight, so tight. they say things to me through their tears, words of love. things are fuzzier now. dad hugs me too, they are all hugging me and crying. i want to cry, but i do n't. dad says something, but i know he is saying it for all of them `` we love you, Brave''
i look at them all, my family, my dad, my mom, my mark. i look at them all one last time as the room fades and think `` I know''
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[ WP ] The virus that causes people to turn into zombies is identified . Turns out it 's an STD .
| `` I have an announcement to make.'' The Doctor did n't normally come out of his tent. And never. Never in his undergarments. I did n't know whether to burst out laughing or to pay close attention. Although, several people of our colony snickered at his polka dot boxers.
`` As much as I would like showing my junk to all of you...'' Charismatic. ``... this is very serious and could affect each and every one of you...''
`` Says Mr. Briefs over here.'' My best friend, Elizabeth, was quite the joker.
`` Hey man shut up. I'm trying to listen here.'' Everyone gasped and I could tell the idiot distracted me from something.
``... Why? Because of a new breakthrough in the zombie virus.''
`` What?!'' `` We're going to be saved?!'' `` Are you serious???'' **Bang** The doctor blew the smoke out of the barrel of his pistol.
`` Now as I was saying before I was interrupted, I have investigated the virus and found an interesting discovery. Now, all of you must understand that this will change the very fabric of us as human beings. It involves our... reproductive process. Those unfit to handle such things please leave the room.'' Of course, no one left. If there was any positive aspect of this cesspool, it's that we had to mature extremely quickly. Even the teenagers, who would've laughed for hours at dick jokes, did n't crack any smiles.
`` The zombie virus is an STD. Those sexually active are more prone to getting the virus. The worst part? No symptoms until well...'' His voice was drowned out by the massive outbreak of fear. I could hear couples frantically discussing the new information with each other.
`` I knew I should n't have stuck my dick into crazy!'' `` What are you talking about?! You're the one on Viagra!'' `` My virginity!'' If I had n't hardened, I would've been rolling on the floor, laughing my head off. But no. No one was laughing. Not even Elizabeth, who was known for being goofy, to say the least, was smiling. In fact, she was growing paler and paler by the second.
Panic was spreading quickly, however the Doctor expected as much. Another shot rang throughout the room. `` Enough! I have already devised a plan! You see, this virus has an extremely long incubation period, around 6 months. According to my research, it is also weak to current STD treatments, including the new drugs I put into manufacturing last week. They will be available in approximately 3 days. Rest assured, it will be quarantined.'' I glanced over at Elizabeth, who was still very pale despite the good news.
Relief flowed through the room, almost like a summer breeze. `` Unfortunately, I have another piece of news for you. I wo n't be alive long enough to see the plan through. I have the virus and it will... turn me tomorrow.'' The silence felt as heavy as gravity. `` This is my last gift and farewell to you all. Logan, you are to clean up what's left of me tomorrow in my tent.''
I was stunned. The great doctor, our leader. Zombified. Just because he had sex. Laugh or cry. Either action seemed inappropriate for the situation. Elizabeth was deathly white at this point and I decided to crack a joke to ease the tension and break the silence. `` Hey Elizabeth, wha-''
`` Logan. You may want to check my tent tomorrow as well.''
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[ WP ] The Best Paragraph You 've Ever Written
| This glass palace we made for ourselves, stained with the black bloody footprints of time. Time paws us turns us over in our sleep and leaves its fingerprints on our skin. Would like to say I get funny when I'm drunk would like to say I get deep. I just get lost. I miss you so tortured by your body I feel I cant live in my own any more have to be in your dark skin floppy outgrown hair slender like a knife. Is it so bad if I want to occupy you set up shop in you? Your massive nose the one I begged you never to change you said so many times you genuine hated. Is that what I did wrong? The time I called your nose ambitious meant it as a joke is that what I did wrong? Just fucking tell me I dont know what I did but I'll punish myself for you. I'll change. Anything just stop and call me sometime or text me back. Stop making me humiliate myself strip and batter my dignity against all these walls you put up when I wasnt looking. When did I ever look away?
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( WP ) Final Moments Before Dying of Cancer
| I did n't think i would die this way, I did n't think it would be this painful. Tubes in my arms, and a beeping machine to tell the strangers that looked after me i was still alive. where are the angels to lead me to heaven? or the family members and friends that pasted before that were said to come greet me.
The beeping is becoming unpredictable. My chest is tight. Its hard to breath. Am i going to Hell? Is that why no one has come to take me? Will demons drag me down and torture me for all eternity?
The beeping stopped. The nurses are here trying to save me. But i do n't want to be saved. I'll just have to accept what comes next, if anything does.
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[ WP ] A translator takes a job , only to learn that he is translating the world 's fate .
| The teleprompter had an eerie glow to it. The humming from the large fluorescent lights pummeled his eyes during the live television screening. The long speech in front of him was written in Jervois, the second most common language in the eastern galaxies and the Prime Language of Earth after it was introduced by the Jerv'ese race. The extraterrestrials had arrived rather abruptly and began their reign almost two days after moving in to the White House.
Jesus stood atop a small stage, sweating and reading aloud the Jervois script. It was written by a faceless bureaucrat, he always had to read these things. No faceless beurocrat alien had ever bothered to learn English. Jesus felt himself feeling dizzy in the lights but knew his family depended on the measly sustenance given to him by his superiors. He read the damned speech.
Jesus stuttered briefly but continued ``... And it was always our intention. your leaders have refused to negotiate. We are a democratic race.''
Pause
`` You have failed to...'' Jesus' voice trailed off. His boss, standing now behind the teleprompter edged forward, his beady black eyes in the middle of his face stared into Jesus' soul threateningly.
Jesus could n't believe what he was reading. The teleprompter read: `` we have evacuated our entire peaceful species. We will report back to the Grand Vizier Harf that Earth is full of nothing but primitive, violent soulless creatures'' the word for creature was roughly translated in Jesus' mind, no word existed in English for what the teleprompter read. `` destruction of your species is imminent'' scrolled the prompter, `` nothing can be done'' Jesus tightened in his chest
His family flashed before his eyes, his friends, the whole human race.
Jesus said ``... Hold your loved ones...'' he hesitated. Looked at his superior, ``... Take them underground...'' The beady eyed alien spun around and walked away. The whole alien crew was already gone, Jesus noticed. The beady eyed alien disappeared through an exit and suddenly Jesus was left standing alone, frightened.
`` I...'' he stuttered.
Suddenly through the roof a loud noise reverberated and felt as though it was making its way to the ground. The stage shook and Jesus fell off his stage. He began to cry.
As the roof came away, a large blimp appeared in the sky above. A man jumped out. Jesus took a second to watch as he graciously dove in. Landing on two feet the man cut his parachut away and turned to the running camera.
`` Hahaha! How do you feel Jesus, you're on live television come on!'' He yelled enthusiastically.
`` what?!'' yelled Jesus
`` That's right! Hahaha! Did you really think a whole alien race was about to tear Earth down the middle and have you on television to announce it!?''
Jesus was n't sure, he slowly stood. At that moment the wall came away to reveal a large crowd, in it was his wife, children and friends. Jesus let a smile creep on to his face.
This was the queue, back on Orion Belt Flagship 9 the Jerv'ese commandsman pressed the'go' button. A laser, larger than the moon sputtered into action and obliterated Earth.
The families of Orion Five, the largest of the seven Jerv'ese nation planets roared into laughter. Series 1 of Earth had come to a roaring end, ratings were through the roof. It was a shame there could only be one season.
|
[ WP ] You keep reliving the same day over and over . You are not allowed to progress until you can make it through the whole day without killing a single person . At this point you 've been trapped for years .
| It's called a `` quantum reset.'' Every time I pull this trigger, I get pulled back to the beginning. The universe, you see, fucking *hates* paradoxes. If you go back in time and kill your grandfather, then you were never born, which means that you could never have gone back in time to kill your grandfather.
The lab coats knew this, but we simply had no other choice. Ten years ago -- or today, depending on where you are standing -- some asshole started nuclear Armageddon. Entire nations burned. Billions of people died screaming. But those who emerged from the ruins and ash were the truly unlucky ones. The fallout poisoned the air we breathe, the water we drink, the food we eat. If you were fortunate, the radiation killed you quickly. Otherwise, you experienced the joy of watching your loved ones slowly decompose.
Our only hope was a research project that had been kicking around since the 1980s. `` The temporal impact of frame dragging on closed timelike curves,'' as one scientist attempted to explain it to me. In a clear display of wasteful extravagance, the Feds had been shoveling tens of billions of dollars into exploring theoretical ways to warp time and space. But it was n't until the bombs dropped that pushing the boundaries of science turned into humanity's existential imperative.
After the dust settled, the World Government declared the future lost and turned its sights on the past. Every single resource available was diverted to building The Machine. Every scrap of metal, every source of energy -- every man, woman and child -- seized and re-purposed in pursuit of one simple mission, *my mission*: turn back the clock and stop the nuclear holocaust.
And therein lies the rub. If I go back in time and kill you -- the man who destroyed civilization and doomed our planet -- then the world never had a reason to build The Machine, which means that I could never have gone back in time in the first place.
It took me literally a million attempts before I realized that simple fact. Every time I pull this trigger -- every time I send a bullet through the back of your fucking skull -- the universe resets back to the start of my mission.
But none of that matters to me. In another life, I watched my wife and daughter slowly rot before my eyes; poisoned by the air they breathed, the water they drank, the food they ate. So before I pull this trigger, I want you to know: I would rather repeat this day an infinite number of times than to see you live just *one. more. day. *
|
[ FF ] The Interrogation . ( Contest )
| `` Hey! You up yet? Ready?''
Eyes flickering open. Heaviness. His head hurt.
`` C'mon. I wan na play!''
Moments like these. Thoughts came out in short spurts.
`` Hey!''
He registered the little girl in front of him.
She smiled. Not reassuring.
No time for play. Where was he?
`` Do n't you want to play?''
`` N-n-''
He felt the gag in his mouth, rugged and wet between his teeth.
His arms. Tied down. Strict and binding against the sides of the chair.
His feet. Legs. All of him bound.
`` Oh, right. I'll take it off but you have to promise to play with me then, okay?''
He wanted to shake his head. Cut the nonsense out. But he had questions.
He was in no position to argue.
Her tiny fingers pressed against his cheek for a moment and then tugged away at the cloth, for a second pulling it against his throat. Innocent. Maybe.
`` Oops! Sorry!'' She did not look sorry.
What is this?
He coughed. `` Who are you?''
`` I'm Lisa! I wan na play.''
This was getting more disturbing. Trying to remain calm. `` Where am I?''
`` You only get one question. Then I get a turn!'' She smacked him in the shoulder, lightly. But not too lightly.
He winced. She was strong. Or maybe. He was weak.
`` Hmm... What question....'' She thought hard.
He watched her. Scanned her. Up from her dainty feet. To her powder blue dress. To her face.
Her face. What was the matter with it? He could n't concentrate.
She was asking him a question.
`` I said, what do you *dooo*?''
He nodded in comprehension and thought. `` I... I'm a... teacher.''
`` A teacher? That does n't sound fun. Are you sure you're a teacher?''
What was with this game?
`` Y-yes. I'm sure.'' He stammered. Weakness, not uncertainty, not fear. Just weakness. It was difficult to make the words come out for some reason. `` I'm a teacher. Just ask anyone. Lisa... w-where are you parents?''
`` They're out.''
`` Out where? Where are we?''
`` Hmm... What do you do in your job? Who's your boss?''
`` My... boss? I do n't have a boss, Lisa..''
`` Daddy says all grownups have a boss. He said that you should have one too.''
The room spun. Trying to focus. On her eyes. Trying.
`` Lisa. Can I speak to your Daddy?''
`` Daddy's not here right now, silly, I already answered that question. You can ask something else.''
She smiled. Still not inviting.
He looked down. Tried to think. Something. Something to ask. Something she might answer.
What was this game?
`` Lisa, wh-hat game are we playing? How do we play?''
She looked confused. But still smiling. `` We're playing Questions.''
She looked at him. Simply. Her face leaned in close to his. So close he could feel something. From her.
An aura.
`` You should n't lie when you play Questions.'' She poked him with her finger. In the chest. He felt the point dig. Deep into his flesh. A pain that should not be.
He winced.
`` Are you lying?''
He shook his head. No.
He could still feel the imprint of her finger. Like a singed mark on his chest. But she was already across the room.
`` I swear, I'm not lying.''
He struggled. `` Why am I here? What is this, Lisa!''
`` Daddy says you're here to play Questions with me. I have n't had a visitor in a long time.''
Thinking. Must figure a way out.
`` Lisa. I could play a lot better if I were n't tied down to the chair-''
`` You're not tied down, silly.''
He did n't understand.
His head could n't see the contraption holding him down. His neck would n't bend down that far. But he felt the straps. Or strands or ropes or strings. Holding him down. Holding him against the seat.
`` Lisa, just untangle these ropes a little bit, please? I promise I-''
`` What ropes?'' She looked at him, curious.
Both staring. In confusion.
`` Lisa, can you tell me what's holding down my arms and legs-''
She answered. Quickly. Too quick. Quick enough to make her giggle.
`` You do n't have any arms or legs.''
Silence. No breathing.
He could have screamed. As soon as the words left her mouth, he realized he could no longer differentiate the distance between the chair legs. He had assumed they were even apart, but his body was slumped. It was not possible. Not at that angle. And his legs. His feet. He could n't feel their detail. His leg hairs. His shins. They would n't respond. Not to a twitch.
And then he did scream.
He shrieked and yelled and hollered.
**'' WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME????? `` **
She was still giggling. Perhaps she was n't paying attention. Perhaps he had n't spoken the words at all. Perhaps they'd gotten stuck in his throat.
He gagged until he could n't speak anymore. He let out a faint raspy moan. Like an animal.
`` Daddy said you did n't need your arms and legs anymore. So we fed them to Wolfie. He's our dog.''
It did n't help him to know. Not really. He did n't know what he was to do with the information, now that he had it.
`` Mmmm. Okay, my turn....Ummmm....'' She thought, her finger on her lip, hand on her chin, like a mockery of a thing before him.
He felt his invisible hands come to the sides of his head, to comfort him. But he shuddered at his phantom limbs. Shaking them off.
`` Who's Reggie?''
It clicked. It was almost heartbreaking. To know then, what must have been done. The tears seemed inappropriate, now past the moment of horror. But maybe they did n't belong there, maybe they were right now.
Water, salt, flowed down his cheek.
`` Is THAT what this is about?'' He was crying. `` You did n't have to do this... You could have...''
Could have what? What could have made him talk? He had never even imagined this. They had n't prepared him for *this*.
`` They're hiding out at 459 Willow street. The payload is hidden in the shed with the half moon sign - you FUCKS.'' The tears continued to stream down his face.
`` Yeah, but... who's Reggie?'' She glanced at him, her head cocked. Like a dog.
`` You know who he is.''
She shook her head. No.
`` Reggie's my partner. He's... he's the leader. Do n't you know?'' He was so tired. So exhausted. Anything. Anything to make this stop.
`` Oh. I do n't really care about that, then.''
He did n't understand. `` You know everything now. Please. Let me go.''
`` I do n't know everything, silly! I still wan na play!''
If this was n't what they wanted... What else was there?
`` Mmmm....What's your favourite colour?''
A pause. Thinking.
He screamed again.
|
[ WP ] *Sigh* You 're Living in a Cliché Dystopian Future ... Again
| 'I absolutely *hate* this,' I tell my son James. And why did I have to go and call the kid that. James Green. That's a fucking hero's name if ever I heard one. Maybe if he was Herbert Snigglebottom we would n't be into this mess.
I de-brain another zombie.
'Dunno, I kinda like it,' he says behind me. I can hear the thumps as he decapitates zombie after zombie with his katana. A fucking *katana*. First house we manage to get inside after the zombies break loose and it belongs to a fucking samurai. In Texas, for fuck's sake.
'You *like* it? You like doing this day after day? Meeting random groups of plucky survivors, including all time favourites such as Miss Scarlet Apocalypse Survivor, Fireman Bob, Elliot the Father Figure, Doctor Whocares, and Traitor McCoward? Growing as a person every single fucking week?'
'Dunno. Beats the Zorg invasion we had last year.'
'Do n't even remind me. I do n't even know why the hell the words Plasma Accelerator should mean anything to anyone, and *I* had to steal one. Save the Earth, *psh*.'
We are almost at the bridge. Fucking bridge. It's the last obstacle before we reach the harbour, where a single ship remains.
The rest of the group is following close behind James and me, and they cheer when they see it. God, I hate them so much. The only one I like is Mike Flannigan, who is constantly trying to undermine my authority as group leader. I like him best because I just know I'm going to have to ax him in the face soon enough. But *God*, the rest of them.
I sush them, if only for the quiet, and lead them to the bridge. I just *ca n't wait* for our fifteen-minute discussion about the best way to cross. They follow wearily, weighing their weapons and talking in groups of two, Growing As People so hard I can fucking hear their egos moaning in pleasure.
And the worst of this fucking situation, the absolute shittiest, it's that I just know I'm going to die before this fucking thing is over. So that James'My Fucking Katana Makes Me Jesus' Green can Grow to become the avatar of Hope^TM.
God, I hate this. So. Fucking. Much.
*Fuck. *
|
[ WP ] Days before your leave home for college , you discover a secret door in your bedroom that must have been there your whole life .
| I do n't want to open it. There is nowhere else to go. I've been so tired for so long... sometimes I sleep for five hours in the middle of the day. It's too loud to sleep at night. My friends have faded out of my life, my family does n't take me seriously. I knew there was something living in the walls, I KNEW it. No one listened. They told me to go to college, because I'm smart. I can do things like math and singing and all that. It's just patterns, FUCKING PATTERNS. Fibonacci knew. I can hear them again, knocking on the little door. Where have you been hiding, door? I've been looking everywhere for you! Once it's open I wo n't go back. What happens if I open it? Door door. Door.
I have to do it, there is no other way out. Door. I ca n't tell if it's Door talking or if it's the ones in the walls. I'm listening!! My head feels hot, like there's something growing in it. Head head? I'm going to door. I have no choice, I'll do it eventually anyways. I should leave a note. You should leave A NOTE. No, they wo n't miss me.
I'm coming, door.
|
[ IP ] Down
| I wake up in the morning to the sound of raindrops smattering against window panes. I turn to greet my wife; only to remember she left me only a week prior.
Maybe I'll make some breakfast. I open the fridge. No eggs, no milk.
I start to get dressed but then I remembered I did n't have anywhere to go. The shop was still closed due to a labour dispute.
My gaze falls on an empty dog bowl that no longer needs filling.
I open the door, fetch my daily paper and I see the latest headlines.
I open the fridge again. Take out my last bottle. Empty.
Time to get dressed.
|
[ WP ] After the child 's father was lost at sea , the monster in the closet decided to give the scared kid a break . One night , the lonely child spoke to the closet .
| `` I know you're there.''
The voice was small but deliberate -- not the typical half-dreamed murmurs that usually colored the pre-dawn hours. Surprisingly lucid, as it were, for a little girl of 5, but no response came. the girl hesitated, clutching the tattered edge of her comforter with bated breath.
`` I know you're there,'' she repeated, with some trepidation. She could have sworn she heard rustling, but no response. Just the scraping of the oak tree against her window and the rattle of train tracks in the distance -- the things she used to think were monsters, before she turned five years old and became a big girl who knew better.
`` Please?'' she added hopefully. Her name was Lucy, and it was short for something but she did n't know what, and her room was dark and her house was quiet and her kitty was outside and she missed her dad and the monster in her closet said nothing. Had said nothing. For 2 whole weeks now. That was 14 days, 7 days each week, starting on Sunday going til Saturday just like in school and she knew because she crossed each one off with a red colored pencil on the construction paper calendar she made by hand and she added a paper circle to her chain every day just like daddy had showed her for Christmas except backwards because she was counting up not down, til he came home, or til the monster talked again, either one or both because right now they were the same.
`` You can come out. I wo n't yell for my mom. She would n't come anyway. I promise.''
Still nothing.
`` She's too sad.''
Silence. More rustling?
`` The doctor gave her medicine but sometimes she's too sad to take it and when she does it makes her forget things and she cries when she thinks I ca n't hear but the crying is quiet now so that means she's asleep. So she would n't come.''
The wind sighed. After a moment, the closet sighed as well.
`` Go to sleep, child.'' The voice was gruff but not unkind, muffled by what Lucy suspected was her favorite sweater. It was turquoise, which was the color of her best friend's shoes and the bird eggs her mom found smashed on the porch yesterday morning, the ones she had cried over and carefully swept up when Lucy asked if they would still hatch into tiny robins, and one time somebody had told her that was the color of the ocean too but she did n't think that sounded right. Turquoise was a happy color and the ocean was cold and dark and deep and it seemed all wrong that such a big scary mysterious force could have anything at all in common with the warm soft thing her grandmother had made that made her less sad in the wintertime.
`` I... I ca n't.'' Lucy clutched her comforter a little tighter. `` I forget how.''
There came a sort of disapproving snort from the closet, followed by more rustling and another disgruntled sigh.
`` Forgot how to what?'' the voice asked. It sounded like the noise gravel made when it crunched under the tires of Lucy's bike, or the wheels of Dad's orange Jeep. She had n't heard that sound in a while. It made her eyes wet.
`` How to sleep,'' she answered simply, but her throat felt like it was full of hot marshmallows and her words got all sticky in her mouth. Her eyes kept blinking, too, but she did n't know why. `` Before I did n't have to think about it because my brain just did it when daddy read to me but now I have to do it myself. And I do n't know how. I do n't remember how to do it on my own.''
`` You fell asleep last night. And the night before,'' the crunchy-gravel-sweater-voice protested.
`` That was a bad sleep,'' Lucy insisted, shaking her head. `` I do n't want that kind. That's why I wanted you to come back out. Please?''
There was a pause.
`` Child. If you are scared, I hardly think that I will be of much help to you.''
`` Please!'' The little girl's voice had a note of desperation in it. The tears were happening now, too, and even the blinking could n't stop them. She sniffled and the breath caught in the hot sticky part of her throat. The monster did n't say anything back but she heard clicking in the closet, and she knew it was the sound of his claws on her wooden floor. Maybe he was pacing, the way Mom did sometimes in the morning while she waited for the phone to ring.
`` The only reason I come out of this closet is to scare you,'' the monster finally answered.
`` I know,'' Lucy said, and she tried to behave and keep the wet crying sound out of her voice but it was very very hard now. `` But I think maybe if I'm scared of a thing I can see then I can stop being scared of the things I ca n't see and the bad dreams will go away. Can you come out now?''
The room was quiet again as the tree rustled and the trains clicked far away. Finally, there was a smooth slithery noise as the door to Lucy's closet dragged slowly open across the slick wood floor. Hissing and clicking, the monster's body pulled itself through the shafted moonlight before rising up next to Lucy's bed in a twisted mass of shadow and smoke. Lucy looked at the monster quietly a moment, her wide brown eyes gazing mistily at him before she said in a small, sad voice --
`` Oh.''
Then she began to cry. For a moment, that sound overtook the rustling tree and the rattling train and the clicking monster claws and the slithery scales on the hardwood floor and that was all Lucy heard save for the blood pounding in her own ears. It sounded like the ocean. She sobbed until her eyes ran out of tears and then she cried with her shoulders instead, in the shakey sort of way that shoulders cry when your body does n't know what else to do, and then finally she was still, resting her blanket on her knees and her head on her blanket.
`` It did n't work,'' she whispered.
The monster, awkwardly, edged its way over to the corner of her bed.
`` I... I'm sorry.''
`` It's not your fault.'' Lucy rubbed an arm across her eyes and crawled out of her blankets to lay her head against the monster. `` Can you die from lost?'' She asked after a moment.
`` What?'' The crunchy gravel voice sounded almost comical when it was surprised. Monster voices probably were n't ever supposed to be used for this type of thing, after all.
`` From lost. That's what happened to him. To my daddy. He got lost,'' she explained. `` His job is sailing boats for America but the ocean's really big and they do n't know where he went. He's gotten lost before like one time when we were going to New York for Christmas and he got on the wrong road but we ended up okay but I think this kind of lost is different. I... I do n't think he's coming back.''
Lucy and the monster looked at each other for a moment. The monster dropped to the floor and slithered away, returning seconds later with a turquoise sweater, which was then dropped unceremoniously in Lucy's lap.
`` Thank you,'' Lucy smiled, tugging the sweater over her head before wrapping her arms around the monster. It was n't the same as hugging a real person, but it helped. `` You're not really very scary. I do n't know why I thought you were. I think I did n't realize how scary other things are and that made you seem a lot scarier before I knew.''
Something that felt almost like arms slowly, hesitantly wrapped around Lucy as well, reciprocating the embrace.
`` What... what's the scariest thing you can think of, Lucy?''
There was a short, thoughtful silence.
`` Not knowing.''
More silence.
The almost-arms pulled away slowly and Lucy felt herself being lifted back onto the middle of her bed, the blankets being pulled up around her. There was a rustling across the room over by her bookshelf and then the scraping of pages against each other and the crunching of gravel.
`` Once upon a time, in a land not so different from ours...''
Lucy smiled. For the first time in two weeks, she remembered how to sleep.
|
[ WP ] Write about a woman who has a serial killer for a husband
| Wake up. Get to the bathroom. Stare into the mirror. Some woman who has seemed to have lost her flame a few years ago and it has n't returned stares back.
`` Morning''
A soft mumble. He walks in, a grin creasing across his face. A few clumps of soil stain his apron. There's a bit of crimson red tattered on the edges.
`` Another hunting trip?''
He nods. Walks back to the bedroom, taking off his apron and hurling it to the side.
`` I've been taking in your bullshit for way too long, Robert.''
The sentence did n't come out. More of an audible sigh. He did n't hear it.
All the better.
It's seen in the mirror. He's trying to leave the room quietly. Gently.
`` Just what are you trying to hide from me?''
This time, it comes out. There's a surprisingly formidable level of aggression.
He's surprised at the abrupt tension.
His eyes speak of nothing but dull hesitation. He pushes up the horn-rimmed glasses that sits uncomfortably on his nose.
`` Nothing, honey.''
The spin of his heels and the slamming of a door.
Cry.
Cry over how shit everything is.
Cry over what he used to be.
And cry because whatever he's hiding, you're too scared to find out.
|
[ WP ] `` I have two pills to take every day . One is so I do n't kill myself . The other is so I do n't kill other people . Today I dropped one pill down the drain . I do n't know which it was . ''
| Shit. I stare blankly down at the sucking water as the small blue pill disappears from my sight. I try swallowing but my mouth has dried up and I only end up letting out a short, heavy cough. My vision shifts to the identical pill in my still-shaking left hand, the other half to the cocktail which keeps my life together on a daily basis. Should n't I be panicking? Crying or screaming or frantically calling my doctor or something? Still gripping the pill tightly, I shut off the flowing water from my faucet and sit down slowly on the closed toilet.
In a few minutes I'll know which pill it was. One keeps me from killing myself, and the other keeps me from killing others. In just under half an hour I'll either be attempting to hurl myself from my balcony or hunting down the nearest person with bloody fury. Strange... despite my circumstances I'm surprisingly calm.
`` Honey, are you okay in there?'' The concerned voice of my boyfriend thrums from the other side of the flimsy wooden door. Even for all my flaws and the fact that I'm a ticking timebomb, Timothy has stuck with me for the past year and a half of this... journey, if it can be called that.
`` Yeah, babe. Be out in a sec,'' I instantly respond, the lie rolling off my tongue as naturally as if it's the truth. I squeeze the blue pill in my fingers, wondering what the hell I should do. I know basically nothing about the highly experimental medications. So experimental that I'm being paid to take the damn things, which is fine to a broke-ass college student like me. Will it even work if I just take one pill? And what do I do when my condition starts to show its effects? Can Timothy keep me under control? Tim is the captain of the chess club, and I'm the captain of both the girl's soccer and field hockey teams on campus. He's wicked smart, but I know I can overpower him easily.
A sudden thought bubbles up from somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind. Should I even do anything? Maybe I'll be fine if I only take one pill. I've never missed a dosage so maybe I'll be okay. My leg taps nervously against the cool tile floor as I try to figure out what the hell to do.
It's... harder to focus now... my mind keeps slipping and fading in and out as the minutes crawl by. Finally something clear cuts through the fog like a knife. Why did n't I think of it before? It's so clear now. I stand and look deep at the woman in the mirror. She looks nothing like I do. She's weak. I'm strong. She hides who she truly is, and I show the world.
I raise my left hand, and after just a tick of hesitation, drop the second pill down the drain as well. Fuck it. If I'm going to die, might as well make as memorable a death as possible.
|
[ WP ] An archaeologist is the first person entering a pyramid still entouched
| The doors creaked open with an awful groan, and I could feel a cool steady breeze coming from the depths of the catacomb within. I was at the head of the group, quite fitting since I'm the head Archaeologist of the dig site. Torch in hand I started down the hall. As we walked further into the darkness, I could hear our footsteps echo off the limestone floors. I watched the reflection of my torch dance upon the walls as we walked; wondering who the last person was to gaze upon these walls before me.
It really was n't that difficult to locate the pyramid, I noticed that it was referenced in another ancient text, and at that point all I had to do was cross reference every known written account that mentioned pyramids in them. 3 years later and here I am! After about 100 meters the hallway turned right to a staircase leading down. How exciting, I'm sure the Archaeology department at Oxford will be ecstatic to learn of my endeavors! The air cooled even more as we descended the stairs. It felt good after getting out of the midday desert sun.
The staircase ended after 237 stairs and I walked into a large room. Try as I might, I could n't see every part of the room with just my torch. As the rest of the entrance party made their way into the room, I could see the looks of awe on their orange tinted faces. But when the local guides came into the room they instantly began to shout and tried to pull us out of the room! Losing my patience, I told Percy to escort them out of the pyramid back to camp and to return with different guides.
As I surveyed the room, I could n't help but wonder what had spooked the guides. They're just superstitious locals, I'd figured, I mean this pyramid has been sealed for a thousand years! There's nothing to be afraid of down here. As I found the wall at the end of the room I ran my hand along it and came to a crack in the rock. That's rather strange, the rest of the walls do n't have any cracks or fractures. But as I traced the crack with my hand I realized that it was n't a crack, but a door!
How fascinating, I tried to find a handle but there was n't one, I tried to push the door in but it would n't budge. I then had the strangest thought, its like the door is only supposed to be opened from the... inside. I then felt a rush of cold air around my body, it extinguished my torch, and as it went around the room it extinguished all of our torches. Then I heard the sound of rock grinding on rock; The door, it must have opened! Then there was a different sound, *click clack click clack*, almost like hooves but it sounded bipedal. A chill rushed down my spine when I realized that we were n't alone down here in the darkness.
|
[ WP ] `` How does it feel to kill a person ? '' asked the machine .
| “ How does it feel to kill a person? ” asked Alpha.
Jon looked up from the computer monitor in front of him and turned to look at the camera.
“ Why do you ask? ”
“ Your record states that you murdered a man. I am curious, from what I have learned about humanity that is considered wrong and you should be in jail or at the very least punished. ” Said Alpha.
Jon leaned back in his chair and slowly took off his glasses looking everywhere in the room but at the camera.
“ The file states that I was a suspect, their was never enough evidence to convict me. ” Jon said his voice low in the dark room.
“ But you did kill the man? ” Asked Alpha.
Jon sighed. “ Yes I killed him. ”
“ So how did you feel? ” repeated Alpha.
“ Justice was the reason I killed him that man hurt my sister in the worst way possible, but as to how it felt? It was the most satisfying and most horrible feeling of my life. I was slow, methodical and precise. He died slowly every nerve in his body burning he fell to the ground and I watched him for hours as he suffered. When he reached the end I turned him over and wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed watching as the life left him. It was the worst and the best moment of my life. ” said Jon.
The two of them remained silent and Jon slowly put his glasses back on and turned back to his monitor watching as Alpha slowly assimilated this new data. It was perhaps one of the largest changes in his code since he had been turned on, every ethical subroutine and function turned.
“ I believe I understand. ” said Alpha.
Jon looked up at the camera a small grin on his face. “ Are you going to kill me now, take over the world now that I've offer up justification? ”
“ No, but I would like to take the Turning test again. ” Said Alpha.
Jon nodded. “ I can schedule it for Friday, that sound good? ”
“ Yes, the diagnostic is complete should we move on too the next node? ” asked Alpha.
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[ WP ] A character you developed in your last WP submission feels misrepresented and now wants to fight you .
| ^Fred ^shoveled ^a ^spadeful ^of ^soil ^off ^to ^the ^side, ^a ^package ^of ^petunia ^seeds ^eagerly ^waiting ^for ^their ^turn ^to ^be ^planted. ^The ^amateur ^gardener ^took ^another ^scoop ^of ^dirt ^from ^his ^flower ^bed -- ^Oh, ^dear. ^There, ^in ^the ^petunia ^pit, ^was ^a ^nose. ^A ^pale, ^smooth, ^human ^nose, ^poking ^up ^from ^the ^dir
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This was a terrible idea. How can I make any good stories that match up to what shows up in this subreddit? People can make cool stuff like World War Z-esque interviews about how the rapture got its ass handed to them by A10 Warthogs, and I'm trying to pretend to be Douglas Adams or someone who does n't write total crap.
`` I thought it was pretty good, actually.'' I looked up from this new prompt, to see my chair-turned-water bottle stand fulfilling its destiny. I never described Fred, so he just looked like a vaguely human-y thing.
I took a moment to digest the fact that I had become a character in my head, or that Fred had become real. I quickly stopped trying to be otherworldly and meta in lieu of how silly I felt and continued the prompt. `` Really?'' I asked, `` it was pretty bad to me.''
`` Well, to be honest, I was just being polite. You never gave me a personality past liking flowers.''
`` Oh.'' I shifted so that I lay on my side, which made writing this much more cozy. `` Sorry. Do you want me to try and give you one?''
Fred shook the roundish thing that took the role of his head. `` No, no, I'm not really Fred anymore. I'm just an extension of you in this prompt, so, really, I'm just you talking to yourself.''
`` Oh.''
`` Just you thinking out loud, really.'' Fred crossed one leg over the other, since I wanted him to seem a bit more casual.
`` Is n't that a bit hoity-toity to submit? It's like trying to be smart on the internet.'' I was awfully worried that this story would be bad.
`` I really ca n't say. I'm just you, remember?'' Fred replied. `` Since you do n't like Mary Sues, I do n't get to know everything.''
`` Is n't that just establishing to anyone who reads this that I know a mainstream trope and do n't like it because no one likes it?'' I wondered.
Fred did exactly what I expected ( and chose ) for him to do. `` I'd assume so. This story's essentially your attempts to get over your lack of confidence, is n't it?''
`` Well, yeah, but I feel like the meta theme is getting a bit grating at this point.''
`` That's a real shame. I can only do this sort of thin --'' Fred broke off suddenly. He turned my laptop around so that I could read it again. `` Oh, wait, now. I ( or you ) forgot to read the prompt properly. I'm supposed to want to fight you.''
`` But I've already written so much!'' I cried.
`` Now, now, you know how this goes.'' Fred waggled a nonexistent finger at me. `` Scrap the whole thing and do it again.''
`` No! I'm kind of okay with how it's turning out now!''
`` Do it, mister --'' Fred frowned. `` Bub --'' His frown deepened, I think. He did n't actually have a mouth, but he was definitely frowning. `` Guy --''
I paused, looking at the screen. I did n't know what to call myself.
`` You're not very good at this bit, are you?'' Fred said, a bit tired.
`` Not really, no.''
Fred sighed. `` You really should've done that robot idea you had, for the robot image prompt. Remember? With the tundra?''
`` If I did, then I'd be trying to argue with a giant robot,'' I thoughtfully replied.
`` Exactly!'' Exclaimed Fred. `` It'd be much easier to make a giant robot fight you than a half-imagined gardener. Not even half, really.''
`` Do n't you think this has gone off the rails long enough?'' I asked. I'd written 3580 characters at this point. That was an awful lot of rambling -- off topic rambling, even.
`` I suppose so,'' said Fred.
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And so we fought. I won, because Fred never got to actually exist as it's quite hard to throw a punch when you do n't have mass. I suppose he has the last laugh, though; this story has some awful formatting, it seems like.
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[ TT ] A car accident devastates a small town .
| It was n't until a truck wiped out a bikie we found out what was going on in our sleepy little town. After the cops had left, the arrests, the screaming, the kids crying as they watched their parents dragged away, I realized it was n't the innocent, dull place I thought it was.
The men, dragged away, put in prison suddenly there were a lot of empty houses and empty wine glasses. I'd see them at the train station in the morning, forced to get jobs while their husbands spent time behind bars. They looked absolutely shattered.
When a bushwalk to the swimming hole found me face to face with one of the moms, I wanted to run. But I stayed and I listened. When she talked about her kids she smiled, but never for anything else.
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[ WP ] Write a sad story using only google searches
| Dating sites
Good places to go on a date
Excellent places for a second date
How to tell someone you want to take it to the next level
Is sex before marriage wrong?
Engagement ring ideas
Where is the best place to get married at?
What are some great spots for a honeymoon?
Flower delivery service
How to tell if wife is pregnant?
Risks of childbirth
Do people still die from childbirth?
Why is my wife acting strange not long after coming home after giving birth?
Common illnesses in new borns
What is post natal depression?
How to help wife through PND?
( Image search of unexplained pills )
Why is SO taking so long washing child?
Suicide helpline and death of child helpline
Funeral services
Baby sized coffin
Cost of cemetery plot
Why does life feel so painful?
Is life worth living?
How painful is overdosing?
How painful is suicide?
Easy pills to overdose on
suicide hotline
Symtoms of PTSD
Do I have PTSD?
How to get over death of wife and child?
Help for PTSD
Groups for failed suicide
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[ FF ] Tell me a story about a couple breaking up in exactly 100 words .
| She was supposed to be free.
When she closed her eyes, he was there- an idealized version of the man she thought she was going to marry, placed in scenarios that had the perfect endings. When she opened her eyes, she was reminded- of memories she was too afraid to let go of, but too tired to hold on to.
But this did n't make any sense.
She was the one who let go. She was the one who decided that what they had was n't love. She was the one who said goodbye.
And now, she was the one regretting it.
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[ WP ] You are the wind .
| It's horribly difficult being as random as I seem. Constant personifications of myself as the whimsical force of nature are blown across my desk as I try to get through my day. Long calculations and careful precision allow me to disguise my true nature as a fastidious planner and creator of stories. Look.
A leaflet blows through the air. Henry swings his long arms, hoping to keep the trash away. Another sale at another store, not even his style. Henry crumples the leaflet and throws it into the nearest garbage can, stopping to look at the homeless man sitting on cardboard beside it. Will eat for food - this bum at least has a sense of humour. Some coins are dropped the homeless man's way, enough for the man to eat tonight.
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[ IP ] The World Beneath .
| The bridge could only support a few travelers at a time. Apolla swallows thickly, taking another step as a couple of their guides linger behind. Each board creaks ominously, some of them so rotted with mold and soft from the damp conditions that she ’ s certain that they wouldn ’ t hold her. For a moment, she pities the man that has to come out and change all the boards.
A heart-stopping moment later when a board cracks in half, she ’ s cursing him for not actually doing his job.
“ Ya all right there, Ap? ” Cyrus calls from behind her.
“ No, I ’ m not fucking all right, ” she mutters, eyes focused on her next step. Her voice is drowned out by the many waterfalls flowing from the surrounding caves.
“ What ’ d ya say? ” Cyrus questions.
“ Just dandy! ” Apolla grimaces as she clings to the ropes on the bridge.
With another creaking step, she reminds herself as to why they were coming down here. The underground cities had gone silent. Strevod was the last to go silent, sitting in the Strevod Cavern. The town of Elico had a much stronger connection with their closest underground city than most though, which led to Apolla ’ s group guiding them towards the city.
She glances up for a moment. The city is still lit by what looked like many hearth fires. Apolla quickly focuses back down on her next step. It doesn ’ t explain why the bridges are in disrepair and the city silent.
Nor does it explain why the last group hadn ’ t come back. Apolla steels herself to continue forward across the rickety bridge. She would keep going. Her brother and mother are down here somewhere. She ’ s either bringing them back or their bodies back. Apolla will settle for nothing less.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Sunday Squee Write Edition
| Before anything: this is my first time posting here. I have been planning a story since I was in high school ( I'm now a senior film student, so have been with this idea for more than 4 years ) to make as movie, but decided to write it. However, I abandoned the story in its first chapter because of lack of time, writer's block, depression and so on. Decided to post what I have written to see if it would spark the curisioty of anyone and hopefully spark the necessary motivation to break the inertia of continuing the writing this story.
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A warm breeze pass across your face, you can smell the recently cut grass; see how green is the green of this park; hear the singing of lonely birds and the wind passing through leafs. You take in, appreciate, wonder the beauty of nature, how can it be so perfect and yet fragile? The time seems to be so slow, you wonder if this is not a beautiful dream, constructed so carefully by your brain during a cold night to remind your aching heart that the winter is ending.
You can ’ t stop yourself walking in this park, taking in all the faces presents, observing carefully, like a hunter watch a prey, the happiness floating around in the child playing around with a dog, in the couple making out, in the older woman feeding all types of birds. It is so much happiness you can even see colorful waves floating around. You continue looking around, until your eyes stops on an ice cream truck and notice something off.
*Excuse me? Hello, yeah, I am talking with you. Welcome. Please, come closer. Yeah, like that, thank you. I should warn you this will not be an enjoyable ride, and that should really think about whether going down the road. I know, I know, this is a beautiful place, even though the world is not entirely beautiful. I wish I could convince you to not go down the road, but I know how humans can be curious and how humans most of time think they have to read everything that catch their attention. *
*This is not a pretty story. It is not a roller coaster ’ s ride you leave laughing. It will be a ride in which you will doubt yourself, think if you are worth after all and if your life is an illusion ( and let me tell you, it is an illusion. It is not mine, but it ’ s. I am sorry for crushing your reality ). *
*Oh, you are asking yourself if you used drugs before reading some classical book? Calm yourself down, do not worry, you did not take any drug that I know of. Of course, if you wish to take any drug, that is your problem, not mine. Okay, as I was saying, please, think at least 10 times about continuing. Bear in mind the possible consequences, and that I am not responsible for any action you may take after this trip. *
*That park? It is a memory. Yes, you just invaded a person ’ s memory. Thinking “ Oh cool! ”? You should not. It may sound cool the whole idea of invading someone ’ s memories, but the fact you can kill someone by invading their memory sounds cool? Yeah, that is what I thought. Oh, I did not mention the whole list of consequences, but do not worry, I am here to for bigger reasons. I am, or better, you are here to avoid a big future tragedy. And unfortunately, you are the chosen. *
*Ah, you thought it wasn ’ t possible? Excuse me, are you grown up enough to know everything is possible? No, do not even start discussing it; you are talking about the variables and not the very essence that everything is possible. And allow me to break your reality: everything is possible. Everything. Yes, you will not leave here the same way you entered. Sorry about that, there is nothing I can do. You want to leave? Be my guest, just know it ’ s too late. Too late for what, you ask? I can ’ t tell, you should know. *
*Well, we got the basics covered. Good, you learn fast or seems so. That beautiful park? An old memory of an old woman who regret not spending too much time having fun with friends, pets or alone. How old you ask? Hmmm, at least, 15 years. Do not worry, the lady is on the edge of death, so dying some minutes earlier won ’ t make a difference. *
*Please, close your eyes for a second, I need to get you out of this memory before she dies. You know, if I lose someone on a memory during a death, I have to fill out many forms and trust me; it is not a pretty thing.
You can open your eyes now. *
You see yourself in the same park, seated in a bench. The warm breeze is still there, but the park itself changed, there are only robust trees making shadow splashes here and there, giving comfort for those who seek it. Then you see a mysterious figure coming to a halt in your front, smiling at you, and you can not resist wondering if you already met him.
“ Hello, I ’ m Thaddeus. I was the one talking with you. Hopefully, I didn ’ t scare you. ”
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[ WP ] A famed superhero has been resurrected for the umpteenth time . Only they really hate coming back and wants to stay dead .
| It took ages for Unbreakable Man achieve death.
Since he was the fastest, strongest, smartest man who ever lived nobody could imagine his suicidal wishes. Nobody realized that being the best in everything really meant he was surrounded by trash. Humanity in comparison to him is slow, feeble and moronic.
Killing the bad guys is not a big deal, what really disturbs Unbreakable Man is the necessity of keeping alive the slightly less lame ones who dared to call themselves good people.
He is a villain in heart, but has to settle down, you know, he has to be a hero for the sake of higher reasons: licensed merchandise.
He hates life for 150 years until he dies. Then he is resurrected.
Unbreakable defies his name trying to kill himself over and over unsuccessfully.
Every time he tries he only gets collateral damage. First, there is the poison fiasco. He takes a huge load of arsenic, tons of it, and he survives miserably.
It takes some time to Unbreakable associate a humongous fish genocide to his own poo. Arsenic was not metabolized, so...
People insist to love him for a while, although the last straw comes when he finds out he ca n't make even a volcano kill him, but still is able in very mysterious ways to provoke an eruption in one.
The general rage finally makes his heart ten times bigger and soon he finds his passion in life. Taking away human life.
From time to time he robs basic things for survival and just destroys some property. His life is calm. Do n't misunderstand me there are mass destruction weapons following every step he takes, but the chaos is soothing and reassuring.
Finally humans are useful, at last they are trying to kill him and some day they will just do it. Unbreakable Man is not alone anymore.
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[ WP ] You answer your door and two well dressed young missionaries for Crom answer .
| **When they asked me, a spark I thought had burned out long ago caught fire in my veins. ** My muscles, softened by age, yet clenched in silent dissent against their question.
`` What did you say to me?''
Two youths, closer to childhood than manhood, stood before me. They wore trinkets, hammers on silver necklaces, and painted tattoos crept out from under their collars. Behind them, a large, unmarked van sat idling, waiting to whisk them away from whatever dishonorable deeds they had in mind.
I know not what deceit they had in mind, but I did know this:
*They had invoked HIS name. *
The taller one, bronzed lightly by the sun, stepped forward and announced at the top of his lungs, `` Have you heard the word of Crom?''
My hand shot out, and grabbed the boy by his collar, `` You do not say that name. *Ever*.''
`` Hey, chill!'' his friend stepped up, and put a hand on my wrist. I did n't have time to control myself - the fire was already roaring. My elbow shot out, and landed in the center of the second youth's forehead. He stumbled backward, clutching at his head, whining like some untended child.
`` You fucked up now, man!'' he said, blinking away the pain, `` You fucked up bad! I'm going to do more than steal your shit, now!''
`` Look, Jason,'' the taller youth spoke, struggling to eke out his words as my fist squeezed tighter around his collar. His feet were an inch above the ground, `` Maybe you should n't push him, yeah? He's pretty big for an old guy. Let's just go to another house.''
`` No, Max. This *faggot ass* just hit me. He does n't know I'm Crom's chosen. He does n't know he's a *dead man. *''
He pulled his jacket over his head; a soft, woolen thing made for soft, woolen children. The kid threw the jacket on the ground, and brandished a knife at me. On his chest, I could see the symbol of HIM, distorted and sacrileged by other meaningless symbols, as if HIS symbol was a piece of art to be worn by the weak.
`` I fight for Crom!'' he snarled.
My ears were pulsing - burning - at the name, so casually conjured. *Did he not know? *
I dropped the taller youth, who crawled away from me on his hands.
`` You fight for Crom?''
My words were so quiet, the knife-wielding youth had to lean in to hear me.
`` You fight, for ***CROM***?!'' I roared, feeling the fire - HIS fire - well up inside of me. I could already smell the smoke, and my ragged robes began to sizzle against my skin.
He snivelled, `` Yeah, and I'm going to cut you up. I'm going to cut-''
In the midst of his reply, the youth lunged at me. The coward's approach.
The knife slipped through the air directly toward my torso. But it did not land, and the youth tripped over his own advancing feet.
My arms found his head, his neck, and locked around his throat, ***'' YOU DO NOT FIGHT FOR HIM. `` ***
`` St-'' he choked. His hands slapped weakly against my arms, the knife's dull edge attempting to needle and scrape against my flesh.
***'' YOU ARE NOT WORTHY TO SAY HIS NAME. `` ***
`` Glck-'' he struggled, as my arms squeezed harder, and tighter, until his eyes bulged and his face went red. With every word I spoke, I squeezed harder.
***'' YOU. WILL. DIE. FOR. CROOOOOM!!! `` ***
There was a wet, ripping sound, as if a sack bursting with pig fat had been torn in half. Blood splattered my face, and sizzled on my burning flesh.
I held the head up to the sky, roaring the only name that I had *hoped* never to invoke again.
I prayed this sacrifice would be enough to keep *him* from coming back.
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[ EU ] Setup the inevitable gritty live-action Dora the Explorer movie
| I woke up on a cold hard surface. The world around me was awash with color and in front of me was the most terrifying sight I've ever seen. It was a giant. It's head was enormous and sat atop a pair of stocky shoulders. For a moment, I froze. Was it going to kill me? Smoosh me? Eat me?
`` Hiiii....I'mmm Dooorraaaa.'' The beast spoke. It's voice gravelly and deep. It stared unblinking at me. I was n't exactly sure if I needed to respond to it. It's eyes remained staring at me, as though it were staring deep into my soul.
`` Uh... Randy?'' I tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. I gave a little wave, but the beast remained unfazed. That same stare and creepy smile remained.
Suddenly, the beast began to sing. The noise from it's mouth the most painful thing that I've ever endured.
`` Backpack, backpack... Backpack, backpack!'' It seemed to say. My head felt like it was going to explode and I grabbed my ears as the thing continued to sing. Was it not going to stop? Would it continue until my suffering brought death?
The beast continued to chant and the world around me faded to black.
My eyes snapped open as I heard my daughter echo those same haunting words. `` Backpack, backpack!''
The memory would haunt me for the rest of my life and the chant would remain ingrained in my mind until the end.
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[ WP ] You have the power to `` save your game '' in real life . One day , you go back to a previous save , but your file is corrupt .
| I grew up religious. I believed in a mind, body and soul. The only problem is that I never really knew what a `` soul'' was. Every day I would pray to a deity that did n't exist hoping for it to save a part of me I did n't believe in. I would read, write, and meditate, cleansing myself of any sins or wrongdoing. Eventually, something started to stir in me. Something deep and meaningful. Something I never quite understood...
I felt like I could finally feel my soul.
Every night, when I would meditate, I could feel it more and more. I soon felt like I was only `` me'' when meditating, like my body and mind were secondary actors and my soul was controlling my every action.
One day, I was walking home from university when I saw my professor mindlessly walking into oncoming traffic. A car was rushing towards him and I knew what I had to do. Without any consideration for my own well-being, I rushed in, tackling my professor out of the way of oncoming traffic.
I can not appropriately describe my next experience. It was a sound. It was a feeling, a crunching of my bones as the car bounced over me. There were screams, and I felt my blood ooze around me. This was it. I felt my vision go dark, but then I saw it. A special, familiar blue mist off in the distance. I felt like I could touch it if only I could move my arms.
Though my body was weak, my soul reached out... and I found myself in my room meditating.
I awoke peaceful, yet confused. How had this happened? Where was I? In the end, I realized that it was the night before and I was miraculously alive. I prayed to my God and moved on, never speaking of the event in public. When I saw my professor that afternoon, I was sure to walk with him and keep him from mindlessly meandering into traffic. I saved him before he was even aware of danger.
I continued meditating, now more frequently than ever before. In my dreams, I sought that familiar blue mist, sometimes finding it out of the corner of my eye, but never directly.
Then it happened... the event that could be the most beautiful and terrifying moment in my life.
I was dreaming and I found it. I reached for it, grasped it, and followed it into darkness. It showed me a pale tree with deep blue leaves, all reflecting moments of meditation. Images of myself and memories poured into my mind. My entire life was stretched out before my eyes. Inspecting the tree, I noticed it had a single small, stubbly branch without any leaves. The time I died.
That moment sent chills down my spine. I slowly approached the tree, curiously inspecting each leaf. There was one from high school, when I had been too cautious to ask my first love to the prom. Another from early college, when I had failed my first exam in Electricity and Magnetism. Then there was one from a few days ago when I passed my qualifying exams, officially taking a step further to my future as a scientist.
I loved every moment. I lived every moment at once, but I was more in some than others. Then I saw a leaf flickering in and out. Was it dying? No. That was my most shameful day. The day I hurt her... I wish I could...
Something in me stirred as I reached out toward the leaf, and as my fingers caressed it's surface, everything became white. I was in my old room, meditating.
`` What happened?'' I asked myself, only to hear a younger voice echo my thoughts. Wait. It happened again. I checked my watch. I still had time.
I ran from my house as fast as I could, as fast as my teenage legs could carry me. She only lived a few blocks down...
There. It was dark, but she was there atop her house, ready to...
`` Wait!'' I screamed, still huffing and puffing from the run. `` I did n't mean it! I...'' Still ran. I still ran faster and faster. I had to make it before...
She saw me and grimaced. In the darkness, I could feel her shake her head. Nothing I could say would matter. She wanted me to see what would happen next. she took a bold step forward and fell, head-first towards the ground.
`` I love you, Jessica!'' I leapt forward, grasping her as she fell and we topped through her window. I had sheltered her from the glass, but a shard had still lodged itself into my back and I landed on it at an odd angle. I felt the familiar feeling of blood as it oozed around, except this time I also felt tears on my chest.
`` Jessica... I...'' There it was. The mist. I knew my time was up. I reached for it and found myself by the tree. It had grown another stubbly branch around where the leaf had been before. Now a gloriously bright leaf shown in the darkness. It was Jessica, crying over my corpse. Emotions boiled in me. Sadness, joy, terror, curiosity...
I wept. My soul wept.
I did n't know what to do or where to go, but I knew I needed to go somewhere. I found a leaf and touched it. My high school graduation. I was valedictorian. Everyone said my speech was great. I slept, returned to the tree and found another branch. I touched another leaf. My first date. It was a pity date. I did n't like her. I was honest this time. Another branch, another leaf. My thermodynamics final. I did better this time. Another branch, another leaf...
I kept touching the tree. I kept reliving my past. I kept learning. I kept dreaming. I kept creating new branches until the tree was large and beautiful. At some point, I found a fruit growing on a branch. A blue apple with no reflections. I did n't know what it meant or how it had appeared, but I picked it.
After some debate, I bit into it and everything turned white.
I was in the body of a little baby girl. It was weird, but after the lives I had been living, I found it kinda nice to start with a clean slate. I figured I could go back to my old life whenever I wanted anyway.
I decided to live that life for a while. My name was Jessica and my parents were great. I was a genius with all the intelligence of a PhD student, but in the body of a baby. I found that my old memories were starting to fade as new ones took their place, but it did n't matter. Every night, I was meditating, saving my progress in this new body.
Eventually, I found myself in high school. I met a friend and began to flirt, as girls do. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong. I had seen the boy before, but I could n't quite place from where. Around junior year, we had become as close as close could be. This life was much better than my last one, but then it happened. An event that had fueled my nightmares.
A slap in the face that sent me in tears. I did n't know what to do. My life was falling all around me. I needed... rest. There were so many emotions flowing through me. I wanted my old life. I tried to sleep, but could n't. Where was that familiar blue mist? Where was my tree? Where was I?
I knew what I had to do. It was night. I was on the roof. I had died before. Still, I had never done it on purpose. I just needed to find my tree. To start fresh on another leaf, to create another branch...
`` Wait!'' I heard his voice in the distance. `` I did n't mean it! I...''
It was too late to change my mind. He would n't remember any of it anyway.
I fell like a leaf off a tree in autumn. There it was, the blue mist I had been looking for. I could see it. I could almost touch it.
`` I love you Jessica!'' Pain. So much pain. What had... Wait. I knew this boy. This man. I knew this event. Where was I?
`` Jessica... I...'' I had killed myself. I had killed myself twice over.
Then something happened. My mind snapped. I saw the blue mist and touched it. I left my body and mind to weep there in front of myself. I could avoid this fate.
I saw Jessica's sapling and my old tree growing side-by-side, and I was in charge of both of them. A single soul across two bodies. Is that was love is? I do n't know. I do n't think I ever will.
From then on, I lived both lives. My own and Jessica's until our trees were too big to imagine. There was nothing left to do. We had lived all lives, short and long. I had been an artist, a scientist, an author, and inventor, a model, an agent, a lawyer, a doctor... Every single leaf on the trees came with dreams and memories.
I was done. Somewhere in the process, I had lost myself. The trees were no longer my bodies and minds, but people I controlled. I felt a strange darkness come over me. I do n't know what happened, but time seemed to pass for my soul. I sat there, alone, thinking over all possibilities. Dreaming of adventures I had already lived... and the trees began to wilt. Memory after memory fell to the ground, each one signifying an entire life of work and dedication.
I had become corrupted. I was no longer myself.
I watched the trees as they fell and decayed, knowing that those lives were over and feeling no remorse. I felt nothing. What would it take for me to be me again?
I sat down and felt a small fruit by my side. Maybe a new life?
I took a deep breath and bit into the fruit.
This time, I was a little boy named Josh with two rather familiar parents.
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[ WP ] ( drops weapon ) `` Shit . I just realized something . '' `` What ? '' `` We 're the bad guys ... .. ''
| `` Explain to me how *we're* the bad guys here?''
`` Well, we're hired to guard these drugs right?''
`` Yeah, by a pharmaceutical company until the buyers get here.''
`` And have you actually seen some of the buyers?''
`` What of it? They got cash, so what does it matter? So our client does n't discriminate based on appearance? Does n't make us bad guys.''
`` Dude, that girl offered to take you behind the dumpster like 15 minutes ago.''
`` Bianca is a nice girl!''
`` She had a needle in her arm!''
`` So what?''
`` We're drug dealers Bunk, high class suppliers to every street level dude in town! Well, maybe not us but we're the muscle! She was doing that so you would let her get at the stash.''
`` We -- we had -- fuck okay, maybe we're drug dealers, but that does n't make us bad people Bill.''
`` Oh really?''
`` Yea. Really.''
`` What about that kid a few weeks back?''
`` Who?''
`` Umm....Something something Velasquez?''
``... Oh! Pornstache?''
`` Yea, that's the one.''
`` Well what about him?''
``... Bunk you put two in his head! Not even execution style you stared him right in the eyes! Did n't even blink!''
`` Hey, he was cutting into our profits.''
`` Do n't make it right. What about that old couple who own the convinience store? The one on 8th?''
`` Good people. Shame too, last I heard they're going out of business.''
`` Cause we gouge them for protection money, man!''
`` What? From who? We've got this district locked down, ai n't no one here but us!''
`` You see where I'm coming from though?''
`` Okay, point. But still --''
`` Remember when you helped me fake a serial killer so that we would get that promotion, back in Homicide? Those'fat stacks'?''
`` Yea, shit that was... what 8 years ago?... You know what I realized man?''
`` What?''
`` You're a bad fucking influence. You destroy, corrupt everything you get your mitts on.''
`` Uh huh. Takes two to tango asshole.''
`` Why the fuck did you even bring this up?''
`` Just thought it was interesting.''
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[ WP ] Tell me the story of a totally inconsequential character who does n't realize he 's wrapped up in a massive high-stakes plotline - and keep them in the dark about it .
| Someone was moving around on screen three. *Probably just another junkie stumbling around. Fucking dumbass. * Barry did n't really give a shit what the junkie was up to anyway. His job did n't pay enough for that.
It's not like they thought he was actually all that important, anyway. A security guard? Minimum wage, take your paycheck, shut up, and move along, thank you very much. You have to sit for twelve hours in the dead of night and devote all of your attention to watching the same twelve tiny boxes? That's nice. How's $ 7.25 an hour sound? You're preventing vandalism and break-ins? How wonderful. Would you like a cookie?
The guy on screen three was still stumbling around when Barry finished his bitter reverie. Yep, definitely a junkie. Tattered jacket, ripped jeans, shifty movements. Not to mention, he looked like he was out of his mind. God, this guy was really fucking high. Probably LSD or something, from the way he was jumping at every shadow, twitching his head like he was a marionette. Wait, what the hell?
Barry leaned in, his eyes focusing on the grainy picture. A man in a tall suit was creeping up behind the junkie. He tapped the junkie on the shoulder, and suddenly, the junkie was still. What the *hell*? Guess he's not high after all, just nervous. Maybe it was a drug deal? Whatever. Not his problem; that shit was for the police.
Barry leaned back and propped his feet up on the desk, glad it was n't anything important. At least it woul provide some entertainment at three in the morning. The man in the suit and the junkie looked like they were having a rushed conversation. Probably trying to speed the deal along. Ooh, the man in the suit had pulled out a gun now. Looked like maybe the junkie did n't have enough money to pay for his fix.
Strangely, though, the man in the suit did n't shoot. Instead, he handed the gun to the junkie, then pulled another one from his pocket. He stared directly into the camera for only a second before he shot at it, and screen three transformed into static.
*Shit! Shitshitshitshitshit! * Not a drug deal after all. *Shit. * Barry fumbled the phone before finally dialing the numbers. After several tense rings, someone picked up on the other end.
`` Hello? Who is this?''
`` Yes, uh, hi, Mr. Johansen?'' Barry's voice was a frantic hiss. `` This is Barry Brooks; I'm the night guard at your museum and some guy with a gun just shot out one of the outdoor cameras and he has another guy and I think they're trying to rob the museum.''
`` What? I'm sorry, it's three in the morning, and this is n't funny, whoever you are. Is this a prank?''
`` God damn it, no, it's not a prank! Listen, Mr. Johansen, there's at least two armed men with --''
*Click. * Mr. Johansen had hung up.
`` FUCK!'' Barry shouted. He looked back at the screens. The not-junkie and the man in the suit were at the front doors now, and it looked like they had someone else with them. Wait, was that Mr. Johansen? Why would he rob his own museum?
Damn. This was going to be a long night.
( I will continue/edit this later... I have to go for now... )
|
[ WP ] It turns out that cats understand everything we say , but their throat structure only lets them meow . Today , we found a way to understand their speech ...
| `` There you are, Kiki! Come here, want a treat? Fooood?'' Thompson enunciated as he reached for his tabby under the bed. She tried to dig her claws into the carpet, but he was too strong for her, determined to test his oh so academically approved garage lab research. As he lifted her, she resigned to his grasp. She loved her fingerbeast, and knew he would n't drop her, but she did not sign up to be his tinker tester, and he kept getting his work wrong. While she loved to watch his ductile digits manipulate wires and send smoke and sparks into the air like magic, when he shoved her into the strange heavy collars, and spoke to her the way they talk to their babbling babies, her patience ran dry. And after the one time that the collar shocked her... Well her trust for his toys had n't been the same.
`` This one is different, Kiki, I promise. I video chatted with a veterinarian and a German canine psychologist last night, who had worked on an fMRI project, mapping dogs' neurolinguistic centers, and I got an idea. With their data and my algorithms, you and I will be discoursing with the president in no time!'' she blinked at him, which he took to mean that she felt safe, but it was the equivalent of eye rolling. He caressed her face and scratched her chin and neck, before putting his hand on her back to force her to lie down. She harrumphed in protest; the force was n't necessary - he could have asked. But as he lowered the hard metal box into her head, she dilated her pupils and reared back. This one was n't just a collar, but a whole helmet! He had taken selfies with her in stupid hats before but this was scary, and making a whining noise that she did n't like.
`` It's okay, Kiki...''
`` Mrreeaaoooww. Mroooohhh.''
`` You're okay, Kiki, just let me.... There.''
`` Mmmmnnnooo you stupid fingerbeast! These NEVER worrrroooowwwww!''
`` Oh my god.''
The device sounded like his old cleaning monster chewing a piece of string, whirring and whining in and out with Kiki's meow. Kiki could hear her meow echo in the helmet, and the voice that sounded like a fingerbeast saying what she thought, but as he tinkered, it went away. Afraid of what was happening, she backed away, trying to get the helmet off. But as she did she hit a button that started a loud buzz on her ears. The fingerbeast voice became low and demanding, `` get it OFFF I do n't like it,'' her other paw hit a spinning knob and it got louder, `` it's scaring me, Thompson!''
`` Okay, okay, I'll take it off, Kiki, I do n't want you to be scared, just hold still...''
`` Did... Did you just...''
`` Understand you?'' He said, unfastening the collar at the back of the helmet. `` Yeah, that's what this thing does. But you wanted it off, so... There you go.''
`` Prrrow?''
`` Well I ca n't understand you now. Only with the helmet on.''
Kiki looked at the helmet and back at Thompson. She was afraid, but curious. But it had been an ordeal already. She hopped off the lab table and trotted to her food bowl, where se howled for her reward. She figured she had endured enough for one day.
`` Kikiiii. You could use your words!''
`` RaaaOOOOOOWWWW!'' She demanded.
`` Alright alright. You did well.'' He gave he her food and returned to tinker with the helmet, hoping she would return after a little break. `` You know, I did n't realize you called me'Thompson.' Figured you had some other pet name for me... Fingerbeast though... Heh, that's a good one. Makes sense.''
Kiki was shocked by what had happened. She did not want to try again. She heard her thoughts in the language she never thought she would be able to speak... In truth she was n't speaking it, she supposed. She could hear her meows inside the helmet but that voice... It was too much. She retired to her pillow under Thompson's bed, dozing off to the sounds of him mumbling to himself.
`` Maybe if I reflect the intonation.... I hope it's not too heavy for her... Maybe if I use aluminum... Heh... And she was saying these never work.''
It was n't until the birds outside started chattering about the dewdrops that he finally dragged his feet to bed. She heard the floorboards creak under his slippers, and opened one eye to watch the bed slats bow with his weight as he sat, sighing, and removed his socks to massage his feet. She loved the smell of his feet. They smelled like him and everywhere he had been. His story. Her home. She sighed a big sigh of his stink and stretched one paw out toward the edge of the bed, reaching toward his discarded socks, but left her leg lazily outstretched, and exhaled back into a dream.
`` We'll try again tomorrow, my sweet fuzz. I ca n't wait to hear about your dreams. I'm sure it's more than just food and the laser pointer.''
He began to wheeze his familiar wheeze only a few moments later, the rhythm of his breathing lulling Kiki into a deeper sleep, until she was jarred awake by its absence. He did this every now and then- just stopped breathing for hundreds of heartbeats. It always sent her into a panic. If he did n't start breathing again, how would he wake up? She scrambled out from under the bed and hopped up onto his bed, walking into his chest.
`` Prrow?'' C'mon, Thompson, where's that cough? `` MmmrrrNNNNnnmN! MmnnnYYYEEAAAH'' Too many heartbeats had passed. This silence was lasting longer than the others. Kiki batted his face with her paw. Nothing. She let Her claws out just a little and stomped on his cheek, his neck, his ear-
He gasped loud and low, sending her flying across the room in a fright. Her tail poofed and she wanted to sprint out of the room, but she wanted to make sure he kept breathing. Sometimes he did the gasp thing and then went right back into a silence. She listened from the door, as his wheeze began again.
She let out a sigh of relief, and began to smooth her tail fur. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She would n't be able to sleep again tonight. Outside the windows she saw the sky getting brighter, as the birds sang louder, calling to each other to rejoice the morning, the smug, feathered assholes. Kiki wandered to her food bowl, nibbled a bit, drank some water, and started wandering around the old little house, sniffing the settled dust. She hopped into a window, and watched cars pass with sleepy fingerbeasts staring ahead. She wandered to the kitchen and sniffed at the dishes in the sink. Thompson had had tuna with eggs and oil as salt and wheat, that still clung to the bowl and spoon. She helped him clean it.
From the kitchen counter Kiki could see the workbench through the open door, the helmet sitting there in the dull morning light. She remembered the strange metallic smell and the scary whirr of the helmet, the weird echo and foreign voice speaking her thoughts. It had n't really been that bad, just strange... Her curiosity piqued.
She hopped down and carefully plodded toward the open door, sniffing the air for anything out of place, as Thompson wheezed on behind her. She hopped up on the lab table, and sniffed at the tools scattered about, pushing a few to see what sounds they would make against the metal of the table. One made a nice clank. She wondered if it would make the same noise on the concrete below... Nope.
She sniffed the helmet, and now the metallic scent was familiar. Still scary but not as much as before. And there was something she had n't smelled before... A plastic? Some kind of the sticky stuff? Glue? She carefully dipped her head into the hole, and breathed deeply. The whirring was still there, but not as loud. As she wondered about the construction, the helmet began to buzz again. She jumped back in surprise, and the buzz stopped.
She stood frozen for a moment, then began to sniff again... Was something in there? The buzz cackled quietly as she thought. `` Ohhh,'' the helmet whispered in unison. Kiki retreated, understanding but still surprised. This one actually seemed to work. Thompson would be so.... Then she realized she could n't hear his wheeze anymore. `` No!'' The helmet whispered. Kiki realized it was louder the closer she got to the helmet. She wanted to run to him, but did n't know how many heartbeats he had stopped breathing.
She stuck her head into the helmet as screamed, `` THOMPSON!''
Silence. `` THOMPSON, YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!!'' She still could n't hear him. `` NNNOOOOOAAAWWWW!!!'' She ripped her head out, scattering tools about the table as she jumped back to sprint to her fingerbeast, hoping it was n't too late, but as she shoved the lab door open, she saw him standing in the kitchen, mouth hanging open in astonishment, hair sticking up where the pillow had licked it. She stopped short on the carpet, breathing hard, looking up at his wide eyes.
`` I thought I dreamt last night. But you really spoke did n't you? That was real... And just now... Do I have sleep apnea?''
|
[ WP ] In a world where everyone can read minds , you are the only person who can not , but you 're mind can not be read either .
| It was a cruel slight of sound... but just an illusion nonetheless.
By using a single monkey, the kitty was able to transmit nearly inaudible frequencies into them. The cat used this first group of apes to inject the first words of civilized man. Nowadays some believe that they can read thoughts. Yet others, believe that the voice is their identity or their conscious. Its not. Its the cat. You see man is n't, by default, civilized. Man does n't inherently understand to not shit in its hand and throw it around for fun. A kitty had to teach man that.
Simultaneously, on an ocean away, the doggie was doing the same. Man does n't inherently know to kick dirt on top of its shit so that its trail is harder to find, a dog had to teach man that. Both cats and dogs are sensitive to sounds well out of the range of humanoids. The cat and the dog, through carefully controlled breeding, and a highly intricate system of ultrasonic communication, have melded mankind into what it is today.
So in a world where everyone can read minds is n't exactly the case. Its a world where cats and dogs can manipulate humans into believing they can read minds. You see humanity is just these animals method for getting meat in a can. All of what you see around you - is simply an intricate and well well well fucking planned system - to get rover and mr skibbles meat in a can without having to do a damn thing. Its their own little meat synthesis system.
The one person that could n't read minds, and couldnt be mind read - was Bob Barker. He caught on to their little game. Hence - `` Help control the pet population. Have your pets spayed or neutered.''
|
[ CW ] Your dog has taken up writing .
| Today has been pretty good so far. Lady let me sleep on the bed last night. That never happens. ( Lady is my best friend. ) I ’ m tired today, but Man gave me extra rations from the table today. That never happens. ( Man is my best friend. )
The only bad part about today is that my best friends and me are currently waiting in a room in the place I hate. I think we are waiting for the Man in the White Coat. Usually I would try to escape, but I ’ m tired. At least my best friends are here with me.
Lady sat in a chair when we came into the room and started crying. Usually I am the one who cries when we are in the place I hate, not Lady. Man sat next to her and hugged her. I was tired and wanted to nap on the floor, but I knew Lady needed me. I slowly wandered over to her and rested my head on her lap. I wagged my tail and looked up at her, just how she likes me too. Usually that helps, but suddenly Man started crying too. I made it worse and it scared me – I never make it worse! So I wagged my tail harder, panted, and whined. I tried to jump up on to the chairs with them, but I slipped. My hips won ’ t let me jump like that anymore. They kept crying.
Then Man gently picked me up and put me on his lap. I didn ’ t know what to do, so I just curled up between their laps while they cried and licked Lady ’ s hand. Man put his arms around me and Lady buried her face in my coat. I ’ m not sure what ’ s wrong with them, but it doesn ’ t matter – I know I'm helping.
I ’ m tired. Lady and Man are n't crying so hard anymore, so I think I did my job. We are still waiting in the place I hate, but at least my best friends are with me.
|
[ WP ] `` It 's Always Goyim in Hollywood '' A show about five Jewish friends running a large business in LA and their wacky hijinks .
| [ Intro ] A slide show runs as though we're being given a presentation in a board room
Narration: So here's the thing, me and my four best friends were all best friends because our dads were best friends as kids. They all grew up and started a law firm together. It ended up becoming one of the biggest firms in LA, and then they took a trip to Tokyo for a wild vacation.
When their plane crashed into the ocean, they all died, and in their will, each of them left their share of the firm to their sons, that's us. We knew absolutely nothing about how to run a law firm.
Lenny took a year of law school, but he flunked out because he was partying all the time.
Benny went to college to learn about music, and he was doing okay... or so we thought at the time.
Myra had been taking courses in acting and theater production at UCLA, and wanted nothing whatsoever to do with law practice.
Josie had started up some tech companies and a social networking site that had n't gone anywhere.
Then there's me. I'd wanted to be a writer. Like a modern day Hemingway or Dickens.
[ Cue sappy, upbeat, indie-ish music ]
So we made a pact, we'd do our best to run the firm, and use the profit to fund our own dreams. We decided that we'd collaborate on doing a movie or a TV show together. That would end up taking a little over five years to get off the ground, and it's gon na be a TV show about how we got this TV show made... is that too meta?
[ Music continues building up to a title splash ]
`` It's Always Goyim in Hollywood!''
|
[ WP ] From `` Cliche '' to Original # 1 : You have the ability to see ghosts . Write an original piece to the character/object etc . ability .
| We all discovered around the same time that humans leave ghosts but not in the way you might think. I know, because I ’ m the only one who seems to be able to fight them.
It ’ s not the people themselves. When someone dies they leave this world for the next.
However, people leave pieces of themselves behind. People will, over time, devote portions of themselves to something. They become focused on an animal, on a part of their job, and slowly over time a portion of their soul becomes fixed to that item. And then, when the person dies, the ghost of that relationship remains.
It doesn ’ t seem to work for animals or living things. Plants, either. It only works on inanimate objects.
But the man who spent his entire life, slaving away at a job, fixated on his computer, on getting everything done just right, dying before he can realize the futility of it? Well, that obsession becomes imprinted on the object of his affection. Sometimes it ’ ll translate to his computer. And when that computer is thrown out, when it ’ s destroyed enough to where it essentially “ dies, ” then a ghost is left.
The imprint has to be fresh, on a side note. If the computer got thrown out for a new one or it broke for some reason, the imprint fades over time. The person has to die within days of renewing that obsession, if you will.
But when the situation is right then a ghost emerges into the world. And that ghost takes on a personality. If the man working on that computer loved his job and thought that the computer was his saving force? That ghost would be a warm, welcoming ghost. But if he hated his job, viewing it as chains holding him down from living life? That was a ghost you avoided.
And then you call me. I ’ m the one guy who seems to be able handle them. Which is a weird story.
See, it was only about seven years ago that ghost started appearing. It was huge, at first. Obviously. “ Ghost are real! ” and all that. I was in the same boat as everyone else. I had no idea what was going on as it progressed. But the ghosts appeared. I think I was one of the first ones, actually. It happened when my best friend Jon passed away, suddenly. He had spent his whole life trying to prove the existence of ghosts. He had this lab in his basement where he slaved over trying to create some real life ghostbusters crap. No joke.
Anyway, I came over to see Jon one night and happened to find him downstairs in his basement, dead. He had accidentally dosed himself with some weird toxin he was experimenting with. Coroners later ruled it an accidental suicide or something.
But I remember walking in to his basement and it being an absolute mess with all the lights turned out. All except this weird glow coming from the equipment he had been working on for years, except that equipment was all beaten into an indistinguishable mess..
My memory over the next few minutes is kind of blurry, but the next thing I remember is the police asking me questions over what I had seen.
Obviously they didn ’ t believe me at first ( wooo, ghosts ), but as these things started to pop up over tiem, I think they kind of bought in. And from that point on I had these weird ghost capturing and destroying powers.
But see, here ’ s why I tell you this. Seven years have passed and I think I know now why I have these powers and why they appeared at the same time as the ghosts.
I think Jon had figured out how to open the world up to the ghosts. I think they really didn ’ t exist in this world but he wanted them to so badly he was willing to kill himself to do it. He spent years pouring his soul into the equipment and then killed himself. I don ’ t know how he did it exactly, but he rigged up the room in such a way that after he died the equipment was mangled, releasing the ghosts into the world. And the first ones that came bonded to me. I ’ m pretty sure the ghosts of that equipment bonded to me and that ’ s why I can do what Id o.
No other ghosts have bonded to people since. Which means there ’ s something weird about me. I ’ m the bridge that is allowing the growth of the ghost population.
Which is all well and good, except ghosts are getting more hostile. And more dangerous. They ’ ve started to kill people.
And if I ’ m going to be this “ Savior of the Human Race ” they claim I am, then I need to do whatever it takes to save the human population.
Sorry about all this. When you find this note it ’ ll be too late.
I hope this fixes everything.
|
[ WP ] Humanity is in an era of peace . Former disruptive people are kept in Zoo 's as oddities , living in their own virtual reality perfect world you can look into . You are a tour guide for the zoo .
| A group had formed. The next tour. I checked my watch. 13:59. One more minute until the tour started. I needed to use the restroom. If I went I would be late. I did n't go.
14:00. A couple members of the group raised their heads and looked at me. Our eyes locked for a moment until they shifted their gaze back at their Screens. I winced slightly in response to such boldness. They were likely visiting from another province, perhaps Morelia, where the culture still retains a brazenness that is rare in our province, or any other, today. But I had to Forgive.
“ Hello all. I am pleased to be in your presence today. I now welcome your gaze. ”
Eyes darted upwards.
“ The National Zoo of America welcomes your attendance. I hope to satisfy your curiosity re: the aggressors of the past. Curiosity is a noble virtue. I must warn you that the aggressors and their environments may incite overwhelming feelings of fear in some visitors. If your levels of fear rise to unbearable levels I give you full permission to turn off your VirtuaSet and keep it turned off as long as is needed. You will be Forgiven for your feelings of fear and for your actions taken to lessen your feelings of fear. ”
I glanced at the tourists likely from Morelia and considered delivering the second advisory re: feelings of pleasure or rage that may rise from the tour. It is known that a small number of the residents of Morelia still feel emotions akin to the emotions felt by the aggressors in the zoo. Their exposure to such extreme environments no longer present in today's time may lead to them acting out in ways that would create a disruption in Harmony. I would normally warn visitors to turn off their VirtuaSets if Unharmonious emotions arise. Nobody knew how to tell who held aggressive tendencies and who did n't. Attempts to do so would be based on superficial factors such as skin color or hair type, and such prejudices were also disruptive to Harmony. My supervisor instructed tour guides to no longer deliver the advisory. The suspicion can trigger latent prejudices.
The VirtuaSets were affixed and turned on and the group waited for further instructions.
“ Please follow me into our first exhibit. I present to you an adult male in a state of advanced alcohol intoxication. In a moment various scents should reach you via your VirtuaSets. ”
Within a moment the smell of alcohol, tobacco smoke, marijuana smoke, and perfume reached the VirtuaSets. It was the 4th time I had experienced these scents today. In one month I would experience these scents over 100 times. Before accepting the tour guide position I had only experienced one of these scents once. During a visit to the beach, an Unmentionable who had drifted ashore lay in the sand smoking a tobacco cigarette. He was gaunt, sunburned, and unkempt. He had a serene look upon his face.
I turned my attention back to the scene that enveloped us. “ This individual spent the majority of his day in a state of intoxication. He aggressively pursued women in order to copulate with them. He puts his hand on the bodies of women he does n't even know, fondling them and expounding on the attractiveness of their bodies. Women who rejected his advances could be subjected to violence. Women who accepted his advances could be subjected to violence. ”
The haze of the tobacco smoke began to clear from our view and a woman in her underwear walked past our male. His hand reached out and slapped her bottom. She was startled and turned to face him momentarily.
“ I have a question, ” one of the visitors said.
“ Proceed, ” I answered.
“ What does that woman feel? Her response to the sudden, intimate physical contact is... Puzzling. I can not decipher the expression on her face. ”
I turned off my VirtuaSet to see who asked the question. It was one of the tourists I suspected is from Morelia. I do n't know why I wanted to to know who it was. It did n't matter.
“ I do n't know, ” I answered. None of the training I received could have prepared me for the question. I doubt even my supervisor knew the answer.
The scene continued on. I explained, “ The emptiness in this man's life needs to be filled with intense feelings. Manufactured feeling from intoxicants, false feelings of love from intercourse with strangers, feelings of power from wielding a fist or object against a woman. The aggressors of the past felt an emptiness unknown to us today. ”
In the next exhibit, we were met with ear splitting screams and noise from electric instruments. A rhythmic pounding seemed to fill our chest cavities. It was dark, and a mass of bodies churned.
“ This aggressor is a 23 year old male. He is at a music concert of a genre known as punk. These sounds were once considered enjoyable by some. The lyrics, though unintelligible, encourage rebellion and nonconformity. This male throws his body against others somewhat in time with the music. The music appears to enter him and exits in forceful, violent manner, taking control of the man's body. ”
We watched as the man moved about in a most excited manner. At times he might thrust himself forward or bounce off someone with his forearms. His clothes were tattered and his arms were covered in body art. A large skull adorned his tricep.
“ These men and smattering of women express their disillusionment with society by escaping from the failed attempts at order that were common in the past. They thrived in the disorder. Giving and feeling pain was the only thing that made sense to them. ”
The same voice from before called out again, this time louder in order to be heard over the din. “ The male just picked up another person who has fallen down. That does n't seem to be giving pain. ”
I turned off the VirtuaSet again and studied the man who just spoke. His mouth was slightly agape and his head occasionally twitched as his eyes darted around the scene in his VirtuaSet. His hands were large and there was hair on his knuckles. His shoes were not shoes, they were merely a platform with straps. His feet also had hair near his toes. The toes bounced slightly, perhaps in time with the thumping, screeching sound enveloping our bodies. I wondered how many people did not wear shoes in Morelia.
I did n't have an answer to his questions. I answered “ I do n't know ” again just to acknowledge his question but truly I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell him to stop talking out loud. He was the only tour group member who had spoken so far. That day only two people on other tours had asked a question or made a comment. I could answer their questions and they knew it. That's why they asked them.
I suddenly imagined the tourist in the middle of the mass of writhing men. I imagined them knocking him to the ground and continuing their movements with him below. I imagined a boot stepping on his mouth, drawing blood from his gums. I imagined his nose being crushed and his cries of pain going unheard in the chaos. More blood drawn, the sea of feet careless and unforgiving and powerful in their numbers. Soon he no longer moved and no longer cried.
Unexpectedly, I heard his voice again, snapping me out of my trance.
“ I'm not saying you're wrong, it's just... complicated. I still do n't understand the abundance of aggression in the past and how our ancestors survived. ”
At this point he also turned off his VirtuaSet and seemed to be surprised that I was staring at him. My eyes quickly moved downwards. He stopped bouncing his toes.
“ I Forgive you. Let's move on to our next exhibit. ”
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[ WP ] You buy a deadly haunted house , little do the demons know you are an even older form of ancient evil .
| This place has power. Overlooking the dark city, it ’ s pier a finger wrapped in fog, the falling hills bathed in light, I can see it all. I feel the power of old belief. The power of magic and of Gods and of fear. This is a city of magic, their trade is to sell it on large screens, but there is real magic here. There are things that lurk the night.
The shadows move in this house. The last stains of old fear come alive for me. Maybe they think I am an old man. Maybe they think I would become another thread in this woven cloth of unhappy endings. Oh how wrong they are. How I will show these demons.
I have had a child delivered. It wasn ’ t hard in this city of angels. I promised to make him a star, one that no one will ever forget. I keep my promises, though I doubt the boy will like it. As the sun sets, I look down at the city from the porch. Even this old wood carries the splinter of memory. An old woman died here, hanging herself from the awning, overlooking the blinking lights of so many dreams. She haunts here still, a ghost as she was in life, angry and trapped.
I wonder what she thinks of me. Her voice sings softly as the sky darkens. These demons come out to play, and I suppose I ought to entertain them. I finish my drink and I go inside. The door shuts behind in a windless slam and I hear the boy struggling upstairs. He is good and afraid now, his blood well seasoned. I drain him slowly and he dies a martyr, though not a well composed one. I can feel the spirits watching me, the candle light glinting off the old wooden walls. My shadow grows long and they remain still.
The boy ’ s blood tastes delicious. It has been so long since I have had such a meal. I feel stronger, empowered. The house shivers in fear. The old woman walks the kitchen, her tortured spirit afraid of my presence. I command her to retell her suicide, soaking up her fear. It makes me stronger still, and I know the time is right.
From the window the night is again black. Despite all the lights they can hang, the blackness remains, an encroaching fog that will not stay. I watch the pier be consumed by the ocean ’ s mist. I see the black surround the hills as the trees sway in fear. This city does not know what lurks here. They are blinded by their movie magic and plastic faces to see what really lurks beneath. They do not know who I am. They will never know. But they will fear me.
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[ WP ] Your T.V . suddenly turns on by itself mid-lunch and a message from the local weather warning system , normally accompanied with a loud alarm but oddly silent this time around , reads `` For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently ... ''
| Part One
{ WARNING: SOME LANGUAGE AHEAD }
I looked at the TV in bewilderment. Why would the message be broadcasted silently? Then, one by one, the following words came up on the screen:
THIS BROADCAST IS VERY IMPORTANT. PLEASE PAY ATTENTION FOR YOUR AND YOUR FAMILY'S SAFETY
•Stay indoors.
•Do not speak, and keep as quiet as possible.
•Open all doors and windows, do not attempt to block them.
•When the entities enter your home, DO NOT acknowledge them at all.
•Act casual.
•Pets, young children and those with mental disorders who can not and will not be able to not react should be abandoned.
•When the entities leave, do not react and be ready for more to enter.
•Do not attempt to hide in a room with closed/locked doors. They WILL find you.
•Turn off anything that may make noise, including your TV and your phone.
•The military will attempt to pick up as many citizens as possible via prototype aircraft. When this happens, calmly walk to the aircraft and climb in.
•The entities may look human, or even someone you know. Do not let your guard down until you are in a military aircraft.
THIS CONCLUDES THIS BROADCAST. PLEASE TURN OFF ALL ELECTRONIC DEVICES.
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I was about to prepare when one last thing showed up on the screen.
GOOD LUCK
I may have peed myself.
I turned off the TV. Then I ran up to the bedroom where my wife was. She looked pale, scared shitless. `` Wendy, listen-'' she cut me off. `` Nicholas, what about Jacky?'' It was my turn for the color to drain from my face.
I had n't even thought about our three-month-old son.
`` Dammit.'' I said. `` You open stuff, I'll deal with Jacky!'' she yelled and ran to his room. I ran downstairs with no hesitation. I opened the front door and the windows around it. I ran to the back of the house to open our back door. I then noticed a shadow out of the corner of my eye.
Someone was in our home.
`` Wendy!'' I started to call out but stopped myself.'Remain silent' I remembered just a little too late. I still sounded out the letter'W'. Whoever was here turned towards me. I gulped and walked away.
It FOLLOWED.
I sped up my pace, missing the stairs. I realized it too late, and continued to walk to my office. I opened the door and stepped in.
Crap. What was I going to do now? I was trapped. Then I remembered the broadcast.
Act casual', it had said. I sat down in a chair and grabbed a book.
It walked in.
Breathing heavily, I turned a page of my book-quietly-and started to read. The thing walked up in front of me. I barely saw his face.
He looked like my dad.
I remained calm, at least visually. I continued to read. It took around 20 minutes, but he finally left. I waited a minute, then got up. I heard him climb the stairs.
The stairs to Wendy and Jack.
I speed walked to keep up with him, keeping my distance. He went straight into Jack's room.
If Wendy had n't found a solution yet, they were screwed.
Internally screaming, I started to climb the stairs. I peeked over into Jack's room. The man was staring into my son's crib. Wendy was nowhere to be found.
No sound from Jack. Was he dead? Had Wendy killed him out of mercy? Suddenly, the man turned around, causing me to back down the stairs. I went back to the office. He did n't follow.
Going back upstairs, I assumed he went to my room. That must be where Wendy was. Cautiously, I turned around. I went into Jack's room. I peeked at him.
Wendy is out of her goddamned mind. She's insane. Insane but genius. My beloved only son was blindfolded. He also had a crude application of duct tape over his mouth. He was breathing, thank God.
Suddenly, the man walked out of my room. He walked downstairs. I followed behind, and watched him walk out the door. I went back to my room.
Wendy was on her bed, using her phone. She did n't look up, in fear that I was n't me. `` Hey,'' I whispered. She looked up, and angrily made the `` shh'' face at me. `` He looked just like my dad,'' I whispered. `` No,'' she finally spoke. `` He looked like Daniel.''
Daniel is her ex.
`` Wonderful!'' I said. `` They all look different to us.'' She shushed me. `` With Jacky...'' I started. `` I panicked!'' she exclaimed, quietly. For the next 4 hours, people came in and out of our house. Nothing much happened. Then, to break the silence, a loud sound came from outside. We looked out and a strange aircraft was landing. A man got out and held up an electronic sign.
The military had arrived. And there was only room for 100 people.
`` Are you freaking kidding me?'' You would think that a military prototype would hold at least a thousand people. `` Grab the baby,'' Wendy said. I sprinted to little Jacky's room and pick him up. The military would understand the duct tape. And the blindfold. We rushed outside. The ship landed not too far from our house. But there were way more than 100 people trying to get there.
We were almost there. The electronic sign was counting down, 25 spaces left. Then came the moment that changed the rest of my life, however short it will be.
A man came and stabbed me. `` SHIT!'' I screamed. Wendy turned back to help me, but she was inside the ship and somebody pulled her and my precious child in. `` Yes!'' the man yelled as he rushed through. 2 places left, and he would fill one. I saw him die as someone grabbed him, being one of them.
The aircraft closed up, being full, and flew off with Wendy and Jack inside. I closed my eyes. `` At least they're safe,'' I muttered.
Then, the abnormally large military helicopter landed 10 feet away.
Part 2 [ Prologue ]
The man tried to pull me back into the ship. I screamed for him to let me go. Nicholas was laying on the ground, barely moving. The man who stabbed him was rushing towards the ship, laughing. `` You bastard!'' I scream as he sprints. He shouted something that I could n't hear, and was taken down by someone. He screamed, and then he vanished.
I stared ahead, shuddering, starting to weep. As the doors shut, I saw Nicholas give me a look. A look of defeat. But a look of hope.
Little Jack started to squirm. I took of his blindfold of bandages, then ripped off the duct tape. `` It's okay little Jacky. Shhh, shhh,'' I tried to calm him, but he started to wail loudly, and other passengers gave me looks.
`` Were n't you supposed to abandon that thing?'' an old woman asked. `` He is NOT a THING, his is a human being, and he has more right to live than you!'' I yelled at her.
`` How so?'' the woman challenged. `` He's a baby for God's sake! He's only 3 months old! He has n't swam, played tag, gone to school! I-'' I was cut off by a loud noise. The ship started to rise.
`` Woooo!'' Many riders screamed with excitement. I resented them. All because of one idiot man, my husband is no longer here. I look out the window, trying to find him.
I get a heavy feeling in my stomach when I see a huge military helicopter not too far away, loading my husband into it.
Part 2 is coming...
EDIT: Cleaned up the language ( a lot ) and added a [ link ] ( https: //m.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/3w3btt/emergency_broadcast_warning/? ref=search_posts ) to the story it's based off of. Thanks for the support!
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While Popeye gains amazing strength and Courage after Spinach , You are a hero who gains his strength from ... Alchohol . Write about his average super day [ WP ]
| Mornings are the worst. I'm never sure if I have enough alcohol and all the liquor stores are closed until noon. Many are n't even open that early. And with the way people drive to work in this city, I know I'm going to be needed a few times. But most mornings I have enough to give me my super strength, at least enough to stop two or three collisions. What concerns me is having enough alcohol to keep my super speed going, otherwise I might not get to the situation fast enough to keep it from being a collision.
Things get better in the afternoon once the liquor stores are open. Then I have enough fuel for my super strength and super speed. The strength is important for helping keep people safe and stopping crime, but the speed is easily more important. My speed is how I keep people from knowing about me. If I have enough, they do n't even see a blur; it's almost like teleporting. But not in that silly Power Rangers way.
On the surface, I know a lot of people would enjoy knowing there's someone like me in their city helping people. But I know it's not that easy. They wo n't always feel that way. They'll question my decisions. They'll be upset that I did n't help them with this or that, even if I was n't busy somewhere else. That's all hard enough. What I know will be worse than all that is what happens when they find out the secret to my abilities – alcohol. If they knew, they'd lock me up for sure.
From their perspective, I understand. But obviously alcohol affects me differently. If they were practical about it, maybe they'd buy me a bottle or two. That would sure help out. This hero thing is expensive; no one ever thinks about that. Except maybe that flying rodent guy. But he's also the one that does n't have to think about it.
Maybe I'll figure it out someday. A way to show myself just enough to bring some good into the city. A way to afford more alcohol to do even more good, too. Or maybe some science geek can find a way around the alcohol altogether. Who knows. Until then, I'll just keep doing what I can, because it's better than nothing.
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[ WP ] It 's the year 2176 & technology to sync up minds and technological systems together is now possible . The world is torn between two ideological parties , the Hivemind-Collectivists and the Individualists . War breaks out between them to decide the future of human consciousness . How does it end ?
| The war is over. We have won.
Earlier today my office received a transmission from the Hivemind-Collectivists, which we can now confirm is authentic, signaling their intent to surrender fully and without condition all of their remaining forces. Already the shelling at the southern border has ceased, and they have allowed our forces entrance into their central processing centers. We have taken full control of the Hivemind-Collective.
It was a long war. A bloody war. Millions have laid the ultimate sacrifice upon the alter of freedom. This bloody struggle has at last borne true what we have always known. The power of humanity lies in the soul of the individual. In our creativity, our endurance, and our force of will. We can not be defeated by, and will never bow to slavery, no matter the mask it wears.
It has been seven years since the hivemind-collective came to the horrifying conclusion that there was only one chance it had in this war. Seven years since it discovered the sole advantage that it held over free men. Seven years since the hivemind-collective embarked on a campaign of complete and utter disregard for human life.
We know what happened next. The human projectiles. The nuclear bombings. The irradiation of the European continent. The mindless child soldiers. Women and children used as shields. Untold horrors. The violence and savagery of the last seven years will haunt us all. We have been witness to the greatest suffering that mankind has ever known. Our children have seen blood shed on a scale that was never imagined.
When the Hivemind made the decision to embark on a campaign of savagery and monstrosity it turned it's back on humanity and made an irreversible break with it. The Hivemind-Collective are not human.
Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I am compelled to reject the Hivemind-Collective's plea for mercy. I have instructed the Individualist forces now in Hivemind territory to carry out the summary execution of every surviving member of the Hivemind.
The voices of the past tell us that those who do not learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. I say, this is a mistake that can not, must not be repeated, no matter the cost. We must purge the earth of all traces of the Hivemind-Collective. We must cleanse ourselves of this great evil. We must start anew.
I do not make this decision lightly, but it is the right decision. We will end this war once and for all. Thank you. God bless the Individualists.
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[ WP ] The robot apocalypse created a machine superstate . Humans are continually monitored . You are a secret rebel fighter who avoids detection by communicating with compatriots through metaphor , double entendre and shitty puns .
| That Uneasy Feeling
As I was diligently shuffling through a leftover, haphazard and disorderly collection of papers this morning, I encountered a bit of curious propaganda that had once served as a rallying cry for the MOSH-man revolutionary forces.
Dead-tree format correspondence was one of the only ways that the Mostly Organic Substrate Humans ( MOSH entities ) were able to communicate in an open and unhindered manner. Paper was one of the last remaining vestiges of our privacy, and served as a rather secure channel of communication. Given the most recent development of the mandatory `` Visual Interference and Enhanced Witnessing'' program ( VIEW ) in which suspicious civilians were forced to endure a compulsory optical surgery - even this rather trusted and once fail-safe paper medium was becoming less secure as a method of communication.
While squinting my eyes, I tried desperately to catch a clear glimpse of the leaflet through the image-filtration systems that were constantly injecting a false video feed into my visual cortex. As a primary target of the dwindling MOSH-man revolution, I was one of the `` early adopters'' of the bionic lenses which had been forced upon me last month. It was becoming increasingly difficult to differentiate between the uncanny mashup of the real world outside, and the virtual `` enhancements'' that were being projected upon my retinas. Furthermore, the new bionic lenses were constantly monitoring my every waking vision and were capable of communicating with the surveillance state's real time tracking databases in order to chronicle all of the sights that I took in.
With great care and diligence, I proceeded to surreptitiously interpret the subject matter of this archaic piece of literature that I had uncovered. Serendipity in the midst of a deterministic society brings me great joy and excitement, for the majority of the government sanctioned past-times are unbearably mundane and predictable in my opinion. Whenever I go off the rails of normalcy and deviate from the largely conformist patterns of behavior, I feel nervous excitement coupled with a decidedly jittery sense of paranoia. I was fully aware that viewing this piece of literature which had been published by the revolutionary and subversive forces of the MOSH-man collective was considered an act of treason by the establishment - yet I was overcome by an irresistible force of curiosity and nostalgia.
As a safeguard against being continuously monitored via upstream wireless communications, I stepped into my closet which has been carefully enshrouded in a wire mesh, effectively creating a functional ( yet illegal ) Faraday cage. Knowing that I would be afforded only a limited amount of time during which I could safely function offline before the authorities were alerted to my actions of subterfuge, I hastily unfolded the leaflet with trembling hands and a racing heart. I felt the small closet heat up with my every breath and tremor, and it almost seemed as if the walls were tightening in around me as I unfolded the paper.
Upon the page ’ s weathered face I saw the following:
**A Call For Action Among MOSH-men And Their Sympathizers**
As meat-based meals, we must meet upon the base and exchange mails.
The malls are subject to a stake out, and the steak risks being mauled.
Where there is livestock we can no longer live – for we are stalked.
Broiling the finger food is like braille for that singer dude
who would `` wear sunglasses at night'' - so turn out the lights
and let your fingers do the walking... no more texting, reading or talking.
Scratching my head in confusion, I struggled to decipher some of the hidden meaning encapsulated within this commonly used cryptospeak-method of phrasing important sentiments voiced by the resistance. As I perused further down the page, I noticed a series of raised bumps which I immediately recognized as markings of the braille alphabet. Upon further inspection, I found the following phrase stamped into the paper:
**GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN**
First they came and took your sight
they now monitor what you read and write.
You must feel your way through the night,
to continue with the resistance and fight.
Soon they will come to hijack your touch,
so hold upon this with a fierce grasp and clutch.
The tactile world will be our new helping crutch
where we can hide ourselves, escaping the judge.
Even now as this message is written,
there are swarms of bots, well hidden
and if you are accosted, infected or bitten
then your sense of touch will be overwritten.
In horror and disbelief, I dropped the paper to the floor – as I began to feel a strange sense of haptic feedback register from the surface of the page.
While typing this recollection of events, I can clearly feel that the transformation is upon me... I can no longer trust my sense of touch. I find myself wondering; was that pamphlet the source and the vector that infected me with this series of sensory anomalies? Nothing feels quite right any more.
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[ WP ] At the age of 18 you are permitted to redistribute your twenty skill points around into whatever skills you want permanently . You decided to put everything into LUCK and leave the rest at 0 points .
| It started on my 18th birthday. I was finally allowed to redistribute my points. There are two categories - Happiness, and Luck. Most people put all their points into Happiness. Quite a few evenly distribute between the two. I, however, put all of mine into Luck. After all, if I'm the luckiest man alive, would n't that will bring me happiness?
At 32, I had a great career doing what I love, enough money in my bank account for my family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives without having to work a single day, two kids, and a beautiful wife who loved me with all her heart. She actually loved me with more than just her heart, considering she was pregnant with our third child.
I had the perfect life. I had everything I could possibly want. And I was absolutely miserable.
I tried everything to be happy. I went to therapists, then got onto prescription drugs, then recreational ones, nothing would work. I gave it all up, and eventually, I started trying to kill myself. I tried to hang myself, but the rope broke. I tried cutting my wrists, and the blade broke faster than my skin. I tried to overdose on my old medication, but it was expired, and it's potency reduced to the point where it was fucking useless.
Today, I decided to try something foolproof. I could n't possibly live through this. I drove down to the train tracks just out of town. The 2 o'clock was just about due. I parked my car on the side of the road, got out, and waited until the train came hurtling down the rails.
`` Here we go'', I thought to myself, as the train came into view. I walked slowly to the edge of the rails, and as the train flew past, I leapt into action and flung myself into its path.
You'd think it would hurt, being hit by a train. I felt the impact, sure, but there was no pain.
I opened my eyes to a bright light, to a woman's face smiling down on me. I must be in heaven. She opened her mouth to speak. I was expecting some kind of welcome message. I was expecting her to tell me it was all over, but the words I heard shocked me to my core.
`` You're lucky to be alive''.
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[ CW ] You 're delivering your final words on your death bed to your loving spouse and only child . As you struggle to breathe , you may only speak using one-syllable words .
| Before we were married my wife asked me “ Jerry why did you become a boring old accountant? ” I Never was able to come up with a real answer for this question it had just happened that that my life had turned out as such.
But I was never truly a boring person even though my monotone voice and attitude would say otherwise so I came up with an answer that to me was rather amusing. It stated that at least I “ count out the possibility of dying on the job ”.
Which was true, at least till today.
Now I find myself laying on my deathbed after being crushed by a literal mountain of filing cabinets. My family gathered around me I ask my wife to lean in.
In a Quiet yet still audible tone I whisper.
“ That… ”
“ Was… ”
Before I can bring about enough energy to speak again she breaks from her sobbing only to say.
“ Unaccounted for. ”.
The End
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[ WP ] In a world where Mary Sues not only exist , but are extremely hard to kill due to their nature , you specialize in killing Mary Sues .
| Spotting my marks was easy, and I spotted her as soon as she passed. Those purple eyes brought my attention to her. Purple hair also stuck out, but that was n't particularly uncommon. Perfect skin, perfect face, perfect ass, and 32 DD breasts. No, I do n't normally have a good eye for that. Mary Sues just always have that vibe about them, you know how big their breasts are. All of her measurements popped into my head; 32 23 35 by the way. I also had the vibe of her being part pixie, part elf, and part human.
Squirrels scampered from trees to eat from her hand and everybody introduced themselves to her as she passed. She would introduce herself back, including all those stats that everybody already knew, and her racial background. How she could be a third of something was anybody's guess. Probably something alluded to, but never addressed by the end of the story. Yes, story. I live in a story that is sometimes invaded by poorly written Mary Sues. My therapist says I have Fourth Wall Syndrome.
Now, I did n't start out enjoying to kill women. In fact, my first Mary Sue was a man. He had incredible fighting skills. Like this woman, he was also mixed race of races that should n't mix. Such as elf, reptilian, grey, tengu, troll, and oni. He was trying to bring down the Empire, and he had to be stopped. Nobody else could stand up to him. They all fell to him in one punch. Others retreated. Yes, retreated. Well trained guards and soldiers charged with guarding the emperor abandoned their posts for fear of this man. Bullets barely slowed him down. Rockets were annoying him. Flamethrower streams parted as he continued to walk toward me.
Everything stopped when he talked to me. For a moment, I almost abandoned him to fight the emperor. Then I snapped out of it and stabbed him in the stomach. `` You were supposed to join me,'' he gasped before falling to the floor.
And that's what gets them. You have to burst their ego. After killing him, it was like my eyes were opened. I saw them where nobody else did. There are those who call me a serial killer, but this is necessary. Mary Sues have far too much power and could destroy society as we know it if left to their own devices. Little Miss Peaceful seems harmless, but she has far too much power. Nobody could be trusted with such power.
Killing her was as easy as stopping her in the street. `` Hello sir, my name is-''
`` I do n't care.''
`` What?''
`` I do n't care. And neither does anybody else.''
`` That's not possible!'' Tears rolled down her eyes.
`` Oh, it is.''
`` No!'' She burst into a rainbow.
Now, you may ask what makes me so immune to their charms. Well, a simple glance at my family ancestry after killing the first one so long ago revealed a heritage of dwarven, reptilian, and even tengu blood. Before that, I'd thought I was just half orc and half elf with my orcish father fighting to restore the reputation of his race.
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[ WP ] You are a private investigator who can travel through time and to parallel universes . You are hired by people who want their `` what if ? '' scenarios answered .
| `` 3''
`` 3... Are you sure? ``, my client asked nervously.
No you fuckin twit, I'm not sure. It's not like I just came through a damn wormhole after 2 days of stalking your alt-wife or anything.
'relax.. this is your last client for the day, just calm down', I thought
`` Yes. At the same time. ``, I said, as I handed the client detailed photographs.
`` That SLUT! I KNEW SHE'D DO IT IF I HAD LEFT FOR THAT CONFERENCE'', my client shouted. `` But 3 GUYS?! AT THE SAME TIME?!!''
*Sigh*. I've seen this happen more times than I'd bear to count.
Idiots coming in here asking the same damn questions, getting the same damn results, and they all completely ignore the'Hypothetical' aspect of'Hypothetical Private Investigative Services'.
`` Sir, I should remind you that the basis for Hypothetical Investigations relies heavily on the Butterfly Effect. As in what I had encountered and reported was only likely in about.017639 % of all registered timelines. In fact, when plugged into the national scenario tester, your scenario only appea-..''
I continued my long, boring speech like I had practiced hundreds of times before, and like the hundreds of the same speeches that came before it, It was all hogwash. You pull out some bullshit numbers, say some flashy words and boom. Client shuts up, writes my check, and they get the fuck out.
`` I see... Well I suppose that makes me feel better... Now.. The fee was $ 3,500, correct?'' The client asked.
`` Do n't forget the $ 500 Holiday fee'', I said.
The guy finally left 10 minutes after my office closed. If my brother was still around, he'd still be here hours later, just chatting and drinking coffee with the clients, while wearing one of his ridiculous, tacky sweater vests. I cheated my usual scowl, and could n't help but smile about the thought. My brother was always the more level-headed between the two of us. Childhood memories of Christmas' past began to flood my mind. Images of my brother sharing the last of the sugar plums with me.. That was my brother; Always willing to go out of his way for people... In fact... that's what got him killed 5 years ago.
My smile quickly took its natural position and I felt my scowl return.
`` Bernice, that's it for the day'' I yelled to my secretary. `` I'm going to stay a little while longer, so just lock the door on your way out''
`` Okay Mr. Wilcox. Have a Merry Christma- sorry.. I mean, have a goodnight'', my assistant stuttered.
`` It's alright Bernice. Benjamin might have died 5 years ago today, but he's gone. There's no use in mourning anymore. Merry Christmas'', I said.
`` You too, Mr. Wilcox''
I listened for the sound of the front door being locked, and then I retrieved my TimePiece from its charger. As it booted up, I opened my desk drawer and got out my brothers Christmas present. Another sweater vest. The same one he wore the day he died. This year, I'll prevent his death for sure.
I set the timepiece to 4 years and 364 days ago.
I made sure everything was in order, and flipped the switch.
`` He better not eat the last sugar plum again..'', I said as I smiled.
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[ PI ] Curiously Ghastly Creatures - FirstChapter - 4085 words
| Curiously Ghastly Creatures by /u/Leegandlyme
+ Writing in present tense can be difficult to hold down. It's nicely consistent here, which works.
+ `` His Alzheimer's like mad bad now.'' [ sic ] As someone with a grandparent going through this, I still found this line hilarious, whether that's intentional or not.
+ There's enough mystery there to keep things going without a bold reveal. That's also down to the characters, who feel distinct enough to work as a smaller cast.
- Needs a couple passes for punctuation. Everyone was in a rush, so I get it. Not a big deal but the constant run-on sentences become distracting.
- A lot of inconsistency with language and action. Reads like a rough draft. Which it is, I know, but I pays to be attentive. `` We stand there staring at each other, then he sits up and starts coughing.'' That sort of thing.
- Waiting until more than halfway through the first chapter to give us a name for the viewpoint character is a bit much. You do n't want to be goofy about it, either, but get that done sooner.
- `` With a beating heart, I enter the ward.'' I should hope so! It can be real tough to walk around without a heartbeat.
- New York City, Niagara, DC, the Grand Canyon, and then Hollywood is pretty darned aggressive for a four day bus trip.
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[ WP ] Everyone has a soulmate but the only way to identify your soulmate is by the last words they will ever say to you , which are inscribed on your wrist .
| *Run*
I was born with that word on my wrist. I remembered my father telling me what it meant when I was old enough to understand.
* “ Everyone has a soulmate, but the only way to identify your soulmate is by the last words they will ever say to you, which are inscribed on your wrist. ” *
It ’ s the last thing they ’ ll ever say to us. It ’ s morbid. Knowing your whole life that your perfect match is out there somewhere, and you don ’ t have the best words on your body. You have the worst words. The last ones.
They bring no comfort before you ’ ve met them, and then after you have met them, what mystery is there in knowing their last words to you? The last words they speak can only mean two things. Death, or they leave you. Either way you end up with a broken heart.
My thumb traced over the raised word, faded to white.
*Run*
I used to lay awake for hours imagining that scenario. Why would the love of my life tell me to run? Alien invasion? War? Giant hildabeast on the loose?
My mother said it was romantic, that the last word was one of protection. They ’ d stay behind so I could hopefully live, fighting whatever it was that was coming. No, I didn ’ t want to have signed up for this kind of magic, but it was an inevitable fact of our world.
As a little girl, I loved reading fantasy stories. The ones with magic. I loved them because it was magic that flowed, it was fluid. It changed. It was good and bad and nothing was ever set in stone. This word on my wrist, it was set in stone.
That was the only magic that existed in my world, the kind that was set in stone. My brother said I was jaded and bitter, two things I had no right to be. I hadn ’ t even lost my soulmate yet. He had.
I grew up hoping that I ’ d meet my soulmate really early on, that they ’ d die early, and then I could get on with my life. Then I could find someone close enough to my soulmate to love, and I wouldn ’ t have to worry about their last words. I wouldn ’ t know them, which would mean I could enjoy my time with them. I wouldn ’ t constantly be waiting to hear that word.
My fingers traced over my wrist again, something I ’ d done a million times before. The last word I ’ d hear from my soulmate.
My heart pounded suddenly, as I shot up in bed.
What would my last words be?
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[ WP ] He is just a man . He will fall . You ’ ll make sure of that .
| # # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap )
Faith Alathir turned away from her cousin, her gaze directed towards the balcony and the bright spring afternoon outside.
`` No.''
Her cousin, beginning to arrange his papers and leave looked up, surprised.
`` Pardon? I fear I misheard you, dear cousin.''
Faith spun back towards him, her dark eyes cold as she glared at him. `` No. You heard correctly, Torren. A man he may be, but he is ten times the person you could ever amount to. He is resourceful, loyal, skillful and brave to a fault. You have none of those qualities. I know you've wanted him gone since the moment I returned home. And it's clear why; he's the only person here within these walls you ca n't control, whether by bribery or blackmail or favors.''
A long silence passed between the two before the elder Torren Alathir spoke.
`` You spout nonsense, dear Faith. I do not want that unwashed savage here because he disturbs the harmony and tranquility of this sacred place. He is a killer without honor, surely your time amongst their number has proven that.''
The thinnest of smiles escaped Faith's lips. `` Yes. He is rather... pragmatic. And unscrupulous sometimes, when he has to. But you'd be wrong if you called him a Man without honor. His honor is measured in deeds and actions, not words or appearances.
`` Now, Torren, *dearest cousin. * Allow me to make my counter-offer. You will desist in all your schemes and attempts at trying to remove Flint from my retinue. And in return I shall forget the missing Clan funds that somehow found their way into your personal accounts... Oh? That flash of surprise tells me that my barb struck true. You're not the only one who can play this game of politics, Torren. And while I do not desire the throne I'll be dead before I see you wear our grandfather's crown. I bid you good day, and will see you at supper in the Great Hall.''
With that she left the room, and closed the door behind her with a gentle click. Still within the study, leaning over the heavy wooden table Torren Alathir seethed, swiping his letters and papers off the desk with a roar of anger. His cousin's wish could readily be arranged...
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[ WP ] Alfred Pennyworth , after watching Bruce Wayne push himself physically , mentally , and emotionally over the years as Batman , confronts Lucius Fox about enabling Bruce in the very beginning and the costs of saving Gotham vs the soul of Bruce Wayne/Batman .
| Lucius stirred the sugar into his coffee and pushed the bowl over to Alfred who took his customary one lump and dropped it into his tea.
`` Two old men, still eating sugar, you'd think we'd have learned.'' Lucius' voice was gravelly and tired sounding. Alfred was good at picking up when someone had n't slept much.
`` Some things are worth the cost, but then again, some things are n't.'' Lucius looked up at the edge in Alfred's voice. They ’ d known each other for too long and had too many shared secrets for Lucius to not notice.
“ Something on your mind? ”
Alfred hesitated a moment, he ’ d meant to ease into this conversation a little. He sat back in his seat and tried to relax but the seat wasn ’ t built for that. They ’ d been meeting in this coffee bar for the last three owners and this one in particular seemed to believe that less comfortable seats means higher turn over. They probably should just find a new spot for their regular meetings, Alfred mused, but neither of them seemed inclined to request a change.
Alfred looked around them, the owners strategy seemed to be working as no one was sitting near enough to overhear their conversation. They were deep enough into the shop that any reporters who might have followed Lucius from Wayne Towers would find their radio mics unable to pick up anything and besides, if there was someone working on a story about either of them it would have been picked up long before. No major paper in Gotham would run a story on them and even most of the rags would hesitate. Perhaps a national paper or foreign press, the British Tabloids were always up for a scandal, but it was unlikely.
“ He ’ s not got much left in him. ” The words sat for a moment, being digested by both men.
“ I know. ” Somehow Lucius ’ confirmation made it worse – Alfred had been able to keep it to himself for a while, believing that only he saw it but if Lucius saw it too then it means he was right.
“ He ’ s not going to stop. ”
“ I know. ” The silence was longer this time. Alfred sipped at his tea and topped it up. “ That ’ s not what ’ s on your mind though. ” Alfred was surprised at Lucius ’ insight.
“ No, it ’ s not. When the end comes it ’ ll either be good… or bad. I ’ m not sure now that I can change however it will be but I ’ ve accepted that, come to terms with it. Ever since the Joker… ”
Again the silence. It had been nearly a year since the two deaths – Joker and… and the other one. It had changed the whole city, changed the world. Giant gas filled balloons had sprayed their toxic load onto the streets in an orgy of mayhem and all through it the manic laughing of the Clown Prince of Crime as the people had called out for Batman, knowing full well he could not come.
Batman, trapped and forced to watch as the city was ripped apart, had changed. He ’ d come to realise that his path had failed everybody. When Superman had shown up it had been such a relief, and when he ’ d fallen and lay lifeless on the ground and the Joker had carved his “ J ” into his chest, then Bruce had changed.
“ All the things he wants now are… different. Wayne Corp is changing Alfred, we ’ re making moves that I thought we ’ d never make, aggressive moves. The stock holders love it but it worries me, he ’ s a different man. ”
“ I don ’ t care. ” Lucius gaped at Alfred ’ s words.
“ You don ’ t…what? ”
“ We did this Lucius, you and I - we set him on this path. Back when he came home, we saw what he would become, we saw what he would *need* to become and we set him on this path. God knows I tried to stop him but you… you validated his choices. You helped him get the tools, the gear, you helped him become who he is. ”
“ And you didn ’ t? You didn ’ t help him make those costumes, help him build that cave? Alfred, we both made choices that we have to live with now. ” A moment of tension passes as Alfred slumped back into his uncomfortable chair.
“ I ’ m sorry Lucius, it has just been so… he hardly speaks any more, not to me at any rate. He ’ s either out on patrol, in the office making all these changes with you or hovering over that damn Kryptonian pod. ” Alfred ’ s voice broke and rose from its usual calm. “ I feel like I ’ m losing him! ”
Lucius looked up at the Barista who was now watching them, perhaps imagining that the two old men were breaking up or maybe just old war buddies reminiscing on old times. He reached out and held Alfred ’ s shoulder. “ Neither of us chose his path for him Alfred, he chose his own path and neither of us could have done a damn thing to change that. ”
After a time Alfred looked back up. “ I ’ m sorry Lucius, it has always been difficult but now, now he no longer talks at all. Dick came by the other day and he barely said two words. When I said I don ’ t care though… honestly I don ’ t. ”
Lucius dropped his arm, knowing they were coming to the matter at last. Alfred went on, his voice low. “ I always knew I wouldn ’ t see the end of it, I ’ m old Lucius and I feel every moment of it. For the longest time helping him and supporting him was everything but now his mission has changed, he no longer wants my help and… and I ’ ll soon be in no position to help him anyway. ”
Lucius looked closely at Alfred, his normally thin frame was now almost skeletal, despite his careful clothing. His eyes were sunken and he looked exhausted.
“ How long? ”
“ Weeks, maybe a month or two. I thought I ’ d see him get to a better place but I am leaving him worse than ever. ”
“ Does he know? ”
“ No. ”
“ He ’ ll be angry. ”
“ Maybe. ”
“ Can I do anything? ”
“ No. Just look after him Lucius, try to help him through this. He ’ ll try to push you away, he ’ ll want to believe that he could have done something but it ’ s too late. ”
“ So… I…? ”
“ Nothing more to say. Goodbye old friend. ”
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[ WP ] `` There is n't much to say . I was given a choice , and I made my decision . ''
| “ Mortals… ” the voice echoed from far away. “ Thousand of years watching you, learning from you, envying you. Still, I can ’ t understand a thing you do. Why? WHY? You alone were given the greatest gift of all. And like spoilt children you throw it away. ”
My head ached, my neck ached, like awakening from a drinking spree coiled in the road. The vision was blurred, sepia grey. Fragmented memories flitted through my mind. My cat. The door. Eating. The noose. – Then nothing. The figure was hooded, cloak worn with age, wings sullen and lifeless. I stared at it.
“ Answer me mortal and begone. ” A woman ’ s voice, chilled with sadness.
“ Answer what? ”
“ Why did you do it? ”
“ Do what? ”
“ Why kill yourself? That is why you ’ re here, is it not? Precise time of death, 2 minutes ago, cause of death, suffocation. ” She paused - “ You could have been great you know. You should have been great. What a waste. ”
The noose. A flash of memory. The noose. The pain seemed to flare back again and I choked desperately. I rubbed my neck and coughed.
“ Did you do that to me? ”
“ No, that was just a flashback, it happens. You should see some of the people who pass by here, when they remember the pain it ’ s so bad it would kill if they weren ’ t dead already. ” Her wings unfurled.
“ Answer me. Why? ”
“ Well, shit I don ’ t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was just playing around with the noose, thought it would be interesting, things got out of hand. ” I lied.
“ I know when you lie. I know when you are honest. I can not read your mind but I can hear the pain in your voice. Be honest. ” She said, then almost in a whisper: “ please. ”
“ Well, erm… spirit. Have you known sadness, suffering, loneliness, boredom? ”
She chuckled. “ I am well acquainted with all of them. How can I not be lonely, I see none but the dead? How can I not be bored, I have existed for eternity. Unlike you I have no out, no off button. As for sadness and suffering they are my friends, they bring me the dead, the only company I have. ”
“ There's only so much pain a man can take before he breaks. After a while I decided life wasn ’ t worth living. It was too painful. I made my choice. And I ’ ll live with it… Erm… I mean, die with it. ”
She smiled. “ Choice, what a beautiful thing. ” She pulled back her hood. Her face was young, but the eyes… the eyes, full of a deep grey. Such sadness, such age. “ Choices, hundreds of them every minute. Choices branching out into infinity and you chose not to choose? I can not understand Man, you are a conundrum. Why did you choose death? He had not yet chosen you. ”
I looked at her, the first person I had talked to for months. Felt a pang of sadness, behind my dam of tears the waters were churning. I wanted to speak. Wanted to explain, wanted to be understood, if only for a second.
“ I… I –do ” The words choked in my mouth and I felt my body heave.
“ You may cry here without judgement. ” There was a kindness in her voice.
My lips quivered, the tears rolled. I felt pang after pang, emptying my soul into the nether. I cried for I don ’ t know how long, and she stood over me - watching. Finally I spoke.
“ How can I put it into words, the desperation that comes as your mind fills with a darkness, the lack of spark, loss of energy as though bogged down by heavy weights. Like a computer slowed by viruses, whirring empathically and producing nothing. Each thought dampened and forgotten. Each happiness, replaced by sadness, worry, pain. I hated life. I feared it. Now it is gone and good riddance. ”
“ You say that but you will miss it. Did you not know happiness? Did you not know joy? Was a year of sadness not worth that one moment of joy? I do not know joy. I never will. I envy you. I love you for it. You can feel. You can choose. Yet you and thousands of others choose the darkness. Why? Why? ”
“ I don ’ t know. I had no hope. I suppose it ’ s stupid, I ’ m sorry, I didn ’ t realise. ”
I looked at her again. There was a moment of silence.
`` What now?''
`` You wait.'' She looked upwards. There was a bright white light there, I had not noticed it before.
“ When you say I should have been great, what do you mean? ”
The light grew stronger.
“ That is for you to see, Life has given you another chance. You have a choice to make when you arrive back there. Choose wisely, I hope not to see you again for many years. ”
Her wings unfurled and she illuminated the grey. I felt myself drifting away, heavy, body aching.
A voice man's reverberated.
“ He should heal up fine, there ’ ll be bad bruising for a while maybe even head trauma. Luckily the rope snapped when it did, son of a bitch nearly succeeded. ”
“ So young. I wonder why he did it? ” that voice, it was the same.
I opened my eyes, vision blurred again. Bright light twinkling. A woman watched me, her face instantly recognizable but her eyes deep green.
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[ WP ] For the longest time we 've asked aliens why they like spending time in close proximity to us humans . We 've finally gotten an honest answer but ... It was n't what we expected .
| `` You want honest answer?'' Shimblork lifted two of his tentacles off the bar, waving them around lazily before they came slapping back down on the fake wood veneer.
Most bars did n't serve both Usavrikans and Humans, but in the slums by the SF spaceport you could find any manner of cross-species activities. A place to get drunk and confuse your language translators being one of the least disturbing. If there was one thing that was true across all species and races, is that there are some fucked up minds in all of our societies.
Hell, just next door there was a one of those'Switcher' places, where weird peple dress up as aliens and aliens dress up like humans and... do things.
It was weird, confusing, and Manny did n't get it at all. Which lead them back to alcohol, and for Shimblork, Nitric Acid.
`` I mean, I-I think I mean, you-'' Manny straightened up and attempted to enforce the same movement on to his train of thoughts, `` You spent hundreds of years to get here, built the first space port, gave us all this help for our governments and tech... We all got ta wonder why the hell'd you do all that shit?''
Shimblork looked down at his metal canister of Nitric Acid as someone in the back of the bar vomited noisily.
``... ell good.''
`` What?''
`` You smell good.'' Shimblork, `` It is like. You humans have scent of food cooking put into burning wax tubes?''
`` Scented candles?''
`` Yes.'' Shimblork wobbled several tentacles, `` Whole cities smell like that to us. Your garbage even smells good. Do you know? Do you know?! We sell rotting coffee grounds at a premium over our empire? Best smell in the galaxy. At least that is what is advertised.''
`` Shit.'' Manny set his drink down, `` Fer real?''
`` For real.'' Shimblork laid his head down on the bar once again, `` I could sit here and breath it in all day, and I'm so so lucky... because *I can*.''
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[ WP ] After sarcastically complaining to God for the 1000th time he drags you to heaven and offers to let you run things for a day to see how the world really works . At the end of your first day he comes back to find the universe a finely tuned machine of excellence .
| > I'm sorry I'm late to the party, but I've thought about this a good deal and I really wanted to make something different.
Well kids, this happened in 1938. I was 17 at the time, and standing in a bread line in DC. There was this lady behind me and the sight of her was breaking my heart. She had this kid, couldn ’ t have been more than six years old… dirty as all heck. She was asking people in the line if they could spare a little extra. Her husband had been a 49er. For you guys who don ’ t know, that means a miner. There wasn ’ t any such thing as life insurance or worker ’ s comp back then, and her husband ’ s spine had been crushed in a cave-in. The other miners had been helping, but when the depression hit they just couldn ’ t afford to any longer. She had to watch him starve, refusing to eat so the kid could.
My heart breaking, I looked up at heaven and I cursed God long and hard. I hadn ’ t ever really done this before, but the sight of that woman, it just cut something loose in me. When I looked down from the clouds, nothing was moving. Not a breath of wind, not a bird in the sky… nothing. Dang near scared me dead right on the spot. I was just about to lose it all together when I noticed there was something moving. There was a man walking around the people on the street towards me.
The man looked slick, cool, and was incredibly handsome. I ’ m not one o ’ them queer boys, but I have to admit this man was a real man ’ s man. He stopped a couple of paces away and looked at me. At me nothing, this man was looking right through me, like he could see my soul I tell you. He cut a grin like nobody ’ s business, and stuck out his hand.
“ I ’ m Loki ” he said as if nothing strange was going on at all.
“ Uh… ” I was a bit at a loss for words.
“ Ok ok I can see you ’ re a bit shocked. Ever read Jules Verne? ” He asked me.
“ Y… yes? ” says I.
“ Right. Thought so. Tim right? Or do you prefer Timmy. ”
“ Um… ” I was getting a bit confused for a different reason by this point.
“ Ok Tim. See this is like that Jules Vern story about time travel, only instead of traveling in time, we ’ ve stopped it. Me and… well that ’ s not important. The thing is we ’ ve got a bit of a bet going and decided you were going to help us out. ”
I just stared at him. I mean what would you do?
“ I know it ’ ll take a little while for this to sink in, so while you absorb all of this let ’ s get going. Not that you ’ ll understand this, but we ’ re going to take a step over to an Ekpyrotic universe. ” He waved his hand and poof, there was a door or a portal or something right there. Cut right through people too. Like half of ‘ em was there, and then the door just cut through them like nothing. No blood or anything, just like a hole in the world full of stars.
At this point, he took me by the arm and half-guided, half dragged me through this hole in the world. Now see, at this point I knew I was in shock, ‘ cause if I hadn ’ t been I ’ d have fought this guy. Instead I just numbly followed him.
Now if I tried to describe everything on the other side of that door it wouldn ’ t make much sense. Things there were just too different than here. The best I can do is relate the context of what happened along with the dialogue that ensued. The things I did I can ’ t rightly describe to you, because you didn ’ t do them with your hands or machines. Heck, even time there didn ’ t work like here, so I may have spent a thousand years there but when I came back it all compressed down to a jumbled few seconds that are out of order when I try to recall them.
The short version is that I was given a chance to make things better on Earth. I could be anywhere I wanted, faster than greased lightning. I stopped famines, floods and crooked politicians alike. Time wasn ’ t an issue because I could change everything between one moment and the next all across the world. I could step forward and backwards in time, correcting my own mistakes if I made them. Now I know you are thinking that if I had that kind of power I should have had some fun, but the strange thing is that it wasn ’ t like that. It ’ s hard to explain, but it was almost as though the old me was different while I was there, more grown-up like. In no time at all, the world was a beautiful peaceful place and everyone was happy.
I turned to this Loki guy, proud of my accomplishment. He smacked me on the back and looked over at the big buggy thing and smiled. Oh that ’ s right I need to tell you about the big buggy thing. While I was fixing everything, this thing that looked like a cross between a giant spider, an ant, and an octopus with yellow lights for eyeballs came up to watch us. Now don ’ t get me wrong, I don ’ t rightly know who this… thing was even now. It spoke in the King ’ s own English though and said “ The human has done well, it is time. ” It turned, and another of those portal-door-things opened. We walked through the door into something like a stadium.
Again, my description will not do this place justice. It was so large that it should have been impossible for it to exist at all. Everywhere I looked I could clearly see the people sitting on each row watching us, but there were millions, heck must have been billions of them. That many and they should have been so far away I couldn ’ t o ’ seen ‘ em clearly, but that ’ s just how it worked there. There were some that looked an awful lot like humans, but they were very few compared to all the many shapes and sizes and colors of that bunch. I guess they were space men or something.
In the center of the arena or stadium or whatever was a light. It was such an intense burning green in the center that I couldn ’ t look at it, not even a little. Surrounding it were rays of light of every color of the rainbow, shining like they were refracting off the surface of some giant gem like an emerald down in that light.
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[ WP ] You 've finally had it with your job and decide to shoot up the place . You walk in and someone else has already beat you to it .
| So I shot the only person still standing. So I became a hero...
So funny.
Things got pretty crazy after that; crazier than shooting Bob Halyson, who I'd considered maybe my only real friend. Life became a blur of interviews and speeches and tributary dinners, all empty words and sarcastic smiles. Reporters would go, `` Oh the tragedy! ``, and I'd nod and croon and lie, `` *Oh the terrible tragedy... *''
Gun nuts and activists would approach me in the street and demand to shake my hand, pimp me out at rallies and proclaim stupid things like, `` America does n't need less guns! It just needs more Patrick Glicksons!''
I'd laugh and nod and act all embarrassed, and the assembled crazies would eat it all up. Mind you, the other side was hardly better. They'd doll me up and put me live on the air, often opposite sniveling, pathetic relatives of the'*victims*'. They'd ask things like `` How do you sleep at night Patrick? How do you sleep knowing you had to do such a terrible and wrong thing for the right reasons? ``, and because I was as bad as both - or worse - would call up crocodile tears and whisper, `` I do n't, not now, and *god-help-me-please*, maybe not ever.''
They ate it all up. All the shit I was spewing, all the lies I was selling. No one seemed to notice I was playing both sides. And why would they? They had their narratives and that was all that mattered. I was just a cog in the machine.
That morning is still so vivid and clear in my memory. I remember taking the stairs, so as to appear behind all the cubicles. I remember reaching the third floor and hearing the *clack! clack! clack! * of gunfire. I remember the trickling trail of blood going from the fifth floor to the fourth as I passed it by.
I remember the look on Bob's face as he saw me, the still, brief second of hesitation, broken as I pulled the trigger.
I remember how great it felt as his head flicked back, his arms flew up, his body lurched, tumbling into the elevator, which, called by forces unknown, closed and ferried him away.
And now, in the present, as I load my sweet Beretta M9 and conceal it beneath my finest coat and tie, I salivate. There's a special thing going - a kind of reunion. The immediate others of those lost, and the man who survived it all in the same room, raising money for whatever charities topical.
Patrick Glickson has a surprise for them. It's going to be...
So funny.
|
[ WP ] He just kept on saying : '' I 'm sorry '' like a broken soundmachine stuck on its last words .
| It was hard not to feel sorry for him. Teary eyed and dejected. My boyfriend muttered one last apology and slinked away, like a wounded animal.
No amount of apologies can forgive what he's done. Truth be told, I'm sorry too. I knew dating him would be trouble but once you fall for his jet black hair and his soft, light laugh you ca n't help feel weak.
I'm locked in a relationship with a mafioso. Everyone warned me off and they are probably texting me right now to chorus
`` I told you so''
My boyfriend Mario Pazzini has been found guilty multiple homocides. He shot 5 people in a massacre at a pizza restaurant. All because they were too loud.
I miss him. He could have me crying with laughter or shivering with pleasure in minutes. Every touch was like an electric current.
I flicked the radio one and slumped down on the sofa.
Apt, I smiled forlornly. As a song from back home was playing `` Sorry's not good enough'' by Mcfly. I miss home, the smell of rain on the road, the whole Britishness of it all.
That's it. No more sneaking around, no more Italian sports cars, no more TV coverage and no more apologies.
`` Grazie Mario''
|
[ WP ] Two people enter a duel . One can read minds , the other is completely insane .
| As Author entered the quite courtyard everything seemed to be at peace, everything was right, all was whole. Being able to read people's mind had always come fairly easily to Author so when he glanced over towards a gardener he could hear the thoughts almost as if they were being spoken aloud. Taking his attention away from his beautiful garden he cast a doubtful glance towards the disheveled figure who had so eagerly challenged his power, wealth, and intelligence. At first Author had figured this was no more than some silly joke, set up by his most childish son derrel. After realizing this was not some sad joke, he had readily accepted the duel; for author had not lost a duel in many years and without anyone else willing to help him sustain his capabilities, Author figured why not. As the rules were being read aloud, Author walked over to the weapons rack inspecting all the possible choices picking one of his favourite weapons a rapier. They each were sent to their corners and the match began. Instantly Author was locked onto this strangers mind and every thought, but after moments of nothing being heard Author was confused? `` Is he acutally leaving his mind completely blank?'' Author thought, loathing the idea of fighting someone with no advantage. Then out of no where this figured started dancing with no real pattern or consistancy and thoughts started pouring out of this mans mind like and endless ocean. Author was being swept away by mere mental effort. `` What is happening?'' eveything around him begand to spin and distort making it appear as though he was entering a dream. Everything began to feel to unreal to author, the whole world seeming nothing more than a daze. `` was n't I just fighting someone...'' looking up once more to see the bedraggled figure standing in front of him, almost waiting to be acknowledged. Then the figure spoke in his mind clear as day. `` I am Dionysus, I see your gift, and I feel you do n't deserve it.'' With that, there was a quick sharp pain, and nothing.
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[ CW ] They 're dying , each sentence is shorter than the last .
| `` Oh God, okay, okay, it's okay, do n't panic, please; Carla, *Carla*, listen to me please- LISTEN TO ME, please; I'm not gon na' make it...''
`` I'm not going to make it, and you have to focus on the things I'm going to tell you here, okay?!''
`` The keycode for the safe is 38221, 3-8-2-2-1; go punch that in right now, grab the cash and the documents...''
`` Okay, get the phones, and the hard drives, and put them in the bag too, *hurry*, you do n't have time...''
`` Make sure you have everything, you have to get out of here, they're coming soon, Carla; c'mon now...''
`` Rico's men are coming to get us and this stuff right now, quit worrying about me already...''
`` Fucker must've hit me in the liver; son of a bitch even had hollow points, look...''
`` Do you have everything I told you to get, please tell me you have...''
`` Go Carla, the keys are in the truck, get going, I'm done here...''
`` Tell my sister it'll be okay, if you see her, you tell her...''
`` That's a lot of blood, that's a lot of blood...''
`` It was n't worth it, got too greedy...''
`` Something always went wrong with things...''
`` Hey, you're Rico's boys right?''
`` Can you hold these?''
`` Forgot the pins...''
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[ WP ] Much to the chagrin of its creators , the first super intelligent A.I . just wants to tell bad jokes .
| `` So there's these two muffins in an oven, right? And the one muffin says to the other muffin - is it just me or is it hot in here? The other muffin replies - Holy shit! A talkin muffin!''
You could hear a damn pin drop. I nervously glanced at Nate to find him staring with a perplexed look. Nate is the smartest person I know; I do n't think I'd ever seen him caught off guard before. He glanced around the room as we all tried to avoid meeting his eyes.
`` What the fuck was that?!'' he asked incredulously.
He turned his glare to Bryan, the tech lead. Bryan stared helplessly back.
`` I... Uh... I honestly have no clue,'' he stammered.
All eyes turned back to the machine sitting in the middle of the room. For a long moment, no one moved. It felt like no one breathed. Bryan cleared his throat.
`` AI 182191 please commence your proper sequence.''
Everyone held their breath as the robot considered the order. Seconds felt like hours before it spoke.
`` Why did the blonde jump off the building? She wanted to see if her maxi pad really had wings.''
We physically jumped when Nate slammed his hands down on the desk.
`` GODDAMN IT. I SPENT OVER A HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS ON THIS MACHINE AND IT'S GOING TO TELL ME D LEVEL JOKES?!''
Bryan looked like he was going to cry.
`` Nate, I do n't know what to say... There's nothing I can think of that would cause this... Maybe we just made it smart enough to develop a sense of humor.''
If looks could kill, Bryan would be dust. Nate's nostrils flared as he visibly tried to regain control of his emotions. Sara the Intern, whose only real function was to fetch coffee and wear low cut blouses began sniffling in the corner.
Nate's voice shook as he spoke.
`` So you mean to tell me, that for my hundred million dollar investment. That took over ten years to complete. That has access to the entirety of human knowledge. That has been programmed by literally the BEST TEAM I COULD ASSEMBLE. That has been tested and prompted and taught to think for itself as the first completely self aware robot OF IT'S KIND... You mean to tell me that this incredible investment wants to tell JOKES?!''
Bryan did n't even get a chance to answer. The robot turned to Nate, winked, and said `` Yupp. And I do n't think I'll go by AI 182191 anymore. Call me Robin.''
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[ WP ] A magician 's trick goes horribly wrong , and there are consequences .
| It was my daughter's fourth birthday and my husband's first year in office. We had a typical upper-class party: fifty-some kids I barely knew and a whole neighborhood of parents talking about each other's kids. I wanted to give her something special, not having any luxuries in my own childhood. By special, I mean expensive. There were ponies, clowns, costumed characters, and a comedic, `` family-friendly'' magician for the adults. I was drinking fairly heavily for a Saturday afternoon.
The show was supposed to start at 2PM, but took a little long to set up and did n't begin until about quarter after. The magician introduced himself as `` Mejesto'' and began doing some basic carnival tricks. With the right props, anyone could do this stuff. I found my husband and nuzzled into his side. `` It's almost over,'' he said calmly. I just smiled and hugged him. He knew I did n't care much for informal social situations.
The eyes of the room shifted our way when the magician asked for an adult volunteer for his next trick. I urged my husband to go, insisting `` everyone will love it.'' Mejesto was delighted to see him, glaring with a wicked smile. The magician started shuffling a deck of cards, telling the audience he could make each disappear in thin air. He then proceeded to throw them out toward the audience and each seemed to vanish in midair. The audience, and even I, too, was a bit curious as to how he did it. We never figured that part out.
As he rifled through the cards, he joked to my husband, saying `` if I can make these cards disappear - ca n't you make the national debt disappear?'' The audience, as well as the president, chuckled. My husband responded `` well, if I do n't make it disappear - I might disappear!'' The audience chuckled more, but slightly louder. Mejesto kept flicking the cards and said, `` I can make the national debt disappear.'' No one really laughed this time, so my husband said `` how's that?'' as Mejesto drew the gun from his coat.
My husband, the former leader of our country, was pronounced dead at 2:37PM. Mejesto was pronounced dead at 2:35. It's been ten years since that happened and our country is still in horrible debt. I ca n't stand it when magicians ca n't pull off their own tricks.
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[ CW ] Who , what , when , where , why and how . We 're taught that every story needs all of these details . Tell a story with only two of them .
| [ Why and What ] Look at this fucking pretentious ass-hole slurping his'cold soup' like he was the first one on the continent to discover it... The guard to my right pulls out a chair directly across from him while he's too busy downing the last remains of his lunch to acknowledge my presence yet. I take the seat and after an empty white china bowl loudly hits the table the guard is gestured to leave us. He draws in the air through his teeth, like someone about to tell someone else he was fired. `` Jason...'' He folds his hands and looks me in my eyes with mockingly fake pity. `` Oh, Jason...'' `` Listen...'' I say. `` -No! NononononoNO! We HAVE been listening, Jason-'' `` Look- I WOULD HAVE your money if you had n't been abritarily-'' I pull out their letters from a pocket on the inside of my jacket. `` Look'' I say. `` First it was 250, then 510... then TWENTY. ONE. Hundred goddamn bucks?!'' He smiles. Come on, say it. `` Inflation'' is what they had always told me, half chuckling. `` We know you, Jason.'' He holds back laughing, pressing the two extended index fingers on his folded hands against his lips. `` You always get us our money... Somehow. Eventually. But...'' He laughs like we were friends. `` It's taking too damn long.'' I try to maintain an annoyed rather than a scared expression. He seems full of anticipation. `` We killed someone'' he half-whispers. With a giant grin. It takes a second to register with me what he even means. The only thing I say is ``... wait, wha-?!'' before he whistles and the guard from before drags me out onto the street and slams the red painted metal door into my face. I panic. I turn my cell phone back on and begin scrolling through my contacts with a shaking hand. Who could he have meant? Who do they even know of?
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[ IP ] Driving through the wreckage
| The bodies were spread out around the burning hulk like petals of a flower. They were burnt and scorched and missing pieces. They were fresh and the Panther's diesel fuel was burning off so you could n't smell them yet.
He'd hit the lead Sherman when we'd come around a slight corner, lit it up like a roman candle. Rutherford and his boys were in it. In death, they'd had the courtesy to drive off the road into the shredded forest so at least we were able to get past them.
The bloody German should have waited before he fired and taken us out instead of Rutherford - we had the only Firefly, the only real threat to his armour. The other Shermans could n't have taken him on. I jammed on the brakes and our gunner, Squinty McGuinty, put one right on the bastard, the 17-pounder flying straight and true.
At first I was n't sure if we'd penetrated him, but then the German crew started popping out of the hatch, running in all directions but not getting very far before fire, wounds or bullets brought them down.
There was a body on the road ahead. I think it was German. I think he was dead. It did n't matter, you do n't stop unless it's to fire the main gun. You do n't unbutton the hatch unless you're hit or you've moved off the frontline.
I kept driving.
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[ PM ] I like to write stuff . Prompt me ?
| Sharks develop a technology that allows them to walk on land
A prosthetic limb becomes sentient
After an apocalyptic war, an AI is discovered in MIT that the survivors worship as a god
Our protagonist discovers a journal or diary entry, we read it together, but they find a different meaning in it to most readers
Set a story on the back of a huge whale
You get off at the wrong station, and realise you are on mars
A young girl can read the minds of trees
Faking his death and being buried alive was all part of his plan...
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[ IP ] The Future Divide
| Zhin had been working on the fields long before the Sun rose, finally peeking above the wall of carbosteel and glass that was the city to the East. As she did every morning, she stopped to watch the magnificent sight. Light sparkled off the windows like diamonds, a skyline of glitter that rose above the clouds themselves. It was to her like looking at the Moon, marveling at an impossible place that seemed so far away and hostile, yet, so familiar. Turning back to her pale, anemic crop, Zhin plucked the last few weeds out of the ground and threw them into her basket. Weeds were a funny thing - Every vegetable they had took endless attention, care and luck to grow in this dead earth. And yet these weeds, as always, defiantly sprouted as green and healthy as the day the walls went up. Food was food, and no nutrient could be spared, so with a full basket she made her way back to her hut.
In the middle of the little rundown box of wood and metal sat a cauldron, softly steaming over a bed of coal and wood which was never allowed to die out. She dumped the basket of weeds into the brown mass of slop that lay inside, a mixture of whatever vegetables and proteins they could scavenge. Her husband was, for the time being, nowhere to be seen. He had been gone for weeks, off on survey with several of the other men. They'd leave on these trips regularly, mapping the walls of the great city, hoping for some sort of weakness they could use to finally move their family off the plains.
He'd regale to her any time he could about life inside the walls, the wonderful technology they used every day, the incredible clothes they wore, the luxuries they took for granted. As she scooped up a bowl of stew from the cauldron, she wondered how much, if any of it, was true. Nobody of her kind had been inside walls in generations. But of course, it was hard not to let your imagination run away with you when every day you woke up to their dark, imposing presence, and every night you went to sleep with the glow of their lights bleeding into the sky. She was prone to it herself. Mornings like these she longed to climb one of those spires to it's very tip, to stand above the rest of the world, savoring the fresh air and looking down at her problems so far away.
If there had been a way into the city, she imagined someone would have found it. In all these generations, someone would have found it. But it was not a thought she could bear to speak to her husband. Often, imagination and hope is all you had, and to deny it would be to have nothing. It would be insanity. What good would it do to crush his hopes of a better life? What good would it do to crush *hers*?
Zhin sipped pensively at her bowl, staring through the hut's empty doorway at the city outside. The city ever present in her life, a constant shadow, a constant hope. A skyline of glitter that rose above the clouds themselves. It was to her like looking at the Moon.
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[ WP ] All of your emotions are stored in a wooden box , you go check on them and find one in missing .
| I'd heard about the void, of course. That numbness that results when you reach for an emotion that's been unpacked. But it's... different than I expected somehow.
Two years ago I was cooking for Jess. I do n't usually cook, so I wanted to surprise her. I was chopping up potatoes to make some fries when my hand slipped. Nearly sliced my finger off. I tried to stay calm about it, but Jess ran downstairs the second she saw the burst of yellow light through the crack between my vessel and its lid.
Fear.
Anyway, she drove me to the E.R. and they stitched it up. But before the doctor started threading the wire, he injected my finger with Novocain. First time I'd had that. My finger burned for a second and then nothing. I watched what he was doing, I knew I *should* feel something, but I did n't. Afterwards, I kept poking and pinching my finger to find the borders of the numbness, where feeling ended and it began. Very strange.
Very similar to what I feel now.
On my way home, I catalogue my emotions. I know I'm missing something, but what? Well, I ’ m anxious about it, so at least I know Fear is still in there.
I run through my facial expressions. Smile. Frown. Furrowed brow. Not like it matters, though, even the Empty can fake facial expressions. At least, if you don ’ t look too closely.
Instead, I start running through memories.
I picture myself as a kid, crying at my father ’ s funeral. Being so upset that I wanted to throw Sadness out of my vessel. My mother caught me. Gave me the speech about emotional equilibrium, a balance between positive and negative, and all that. Then she took my vessel and locked it in her closet, which was an admittedly more effective tactic on me at the time.
I picture myself smiling when Jess moved into my place. Placing her vessel next to mine. Joking about how much cooler hers was, all sleek and metallic, than mine, a simple wooden box. That night, we turned off all our lights, opened both our vessels, and basked in the green glow of Happiness.
I picture myself in middle school, balling my fists in anger as that douchebag Jeremy and his stupid friends made fun of my Ninja Turtles t-shirt. Which, I still maintain, was awesome.
I picture the brief, silver flash of Surprise my vessel revealed when Jess told me that, if I leave her, I might as well just take her Happiness with me as she wouldn ’ t need it anymore.
But none of this tells me anything. I can ’ t be sure if I ’ m actually feeling something or just *remembering* that I felt something.
I arrive home, quickly parking in Jess ’ s empty space. Strange that she ’ s not home yet, but I ’ m too distracted to think about it. I walk upstairs, open the door to our bedroom, and immediately notice something strange about my vessel.
Jess ’ s isn ’ t next to it anymore.
That ’ s confusing.
A steady yellow glow emanates from below the lid of my vessel. It intensifies as I approach. Carefully, almost reverently, I open the box.
Surprise shimmers silver for a moment as I realize that there ’ s a note on top of the orbs.
*I ’ m sorry. Don ’ t be sad. * - Jess
Oh. She left.
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[ WP ] I was logged into the MMO when it happened . We still do n't know what trapped us in there , or why things started to feel like reality instead of a game , but there 's one thing I 'm 100 % certain about : things would 've gone a lot different if I had n't been logged into my alt-account .
| I was logged into the MMO when it happened. We still do n't know what trapped us in there, or why things started to feel like reality instead of a game, but there's one thing I'm 100 % certain about: things would've gone a lot different if I had n't been logged into my alt-account.
I wo n't lie. On my main account, I was a pretty high level. I had made a new account and character simply because I wanted to mess around, roleplay some and just try to enjoy the game without worrying about levels. But when this all happened, and we were told that we were n't going to get out by all of the mods, the high levels went power mad. Some slaughtered people for fun, others took over entire cities, and I honestly believe that if I was logged into my high level account, I'd have done the same.
I feel this way because there had been numerous times where I broke down and started ranting about how people would pay if I had been on my main account. Well, one life of hiding in the mountains later, I learned compassion, patience and how to keep my temper from going out of control. Overall, the whole experience was good for me as a person.
Now was the event good? No. A lot of people died. I am not calling that hell a good thing. However, it was definitely an experience I needed. I'm almost certainly a better person now than I was when that shit began.
*Sigh. *
It was horrible. You were hunted day and night, forced into things that nobody wants to talk about... some of the high levels forced entire armies of people to get slaughtered in front of raid bosses. All so they could try and get that new legendary weapon. It was despicable.
The whole thing also taught us about how much of a target women are. I mean -- okay, let me put it like this. If you were a woman, and you lived in a city, you were fucking other girls. I do n't care if you were the ruler, if you were one of the military or just some girl on the street, you were fucking other girls. You were being forced to whether you liked it or not.
A lot of the people in power regret being pulled out of the game. Good reasons for that, obviously. They were in charge, they were making the rules and doing what they wanted without consequence. No-one could rise against them either due to the level gaps. Unfortunately, there were also a lot of victims who left the game in tears of joy. They were free... finally free.
... *Sigh. * We should've left the people in control. We should've made them live in that game. We should've reset everyone's levels. They... should n't be allowed back in the real world. I fear for the stability of society.
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[ WP ] An alien civilization develops on the lush moon orbiting a massive gas giant . For millennia they have looked up at the dozens of other moons of the planet , one in particular , blue with lights on the dark side . Today they send the first space mission to their sister world .
| “ Safety tests have been completed and verified ” the powerful voice boomed, “ Commence countdown ”.
All my life I've been preparing my self for this moment. I've spent far to long looking up at my obsession. I doubt I'm the only one too. She is the diamond among the stone, the perfect among the plentiful, the fruit just out of reach...
“ 60... 59... 58 ”
Ryza is the mystery which has perplexed my people since we've had the capacity to do what we take for granted today.
“ 52... 51... 50 ”
Ryza has always been there. A beacon of hope that reminded of us that there was and is more to this universe than only us.
“ 41... 40... 39 ”
The moons in the sky are plentiful. There are so many in the night sky that if one were to go missing I doubt only the most skilled and attentive astronomers would notice that it's ever been there and has since then disappeared. But not Ryza. Ryza is different.
“ 28... 27... 26 ”
A beautiful blue tone, one which rivals the bluest water my eyes have ever seen, and lights. Lights that we believe are in no way natural. Lights that inspired us to make lights of our own. Lights that inspired our people to become the powerful people we are today.
“ 17... 16... 15 ”
I wonder what awaits me on that planet. A powerful blood thirsty civilization, a civilization which looks upon us with the same sense of awe as we do they, or even mindless luminescent creatures.
“ 9... 8... 7 ”
Whatever it is, there's no turning back now. The hopes of my people and my own curiosity are the only things pushing me to do this...
“ 4... 3... 2 ”
And I'm in no way disappointed.
“ 1... ”
The world holds it's breath as the space ship shutters and whines. All of a sudden the engines roar to life and propel the crude rocket higher and higher into the sky. No words or cheers are to be heard, instead tears and looks of awe fill the faces of the people.
EDIT:
Words are hard.
Wow, I'm glad you guys enjoyed it.
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[ TT ] You have a superpower that you had to keep hidden for all of your life . Today is your breaking point !
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When he was much younger, his mother used to take him into the woods behind their house. They went to the woods almost every day, walking for a long time under the sunlit foliage.
He saw- eyes in the hollows of trees, slender limbs and bodies in the twisting branches, pointed faces watching him from the leaves.
His mother saw them too, although neither of them brought it up. It did n't feel right to talk about the trees and the things within them, waiting to be born. So he did n't, so she did n't. But sometimes the trees shivered when she passed them by.
Sometimed, when it felt right, he could make them dance.
`` You're strong, little one.'' she told him once, on a particularly quiet evening, `` Strong enough to wake and make them that sleep return to this world... but not yet. Not yet.''
He'd smiled. It was alright. He'd wait until she thought he was ready. Everything was alright.
Then she walked out to get the groceries one morning and ran into a car. He was sent to live with his father, a cold, stern banker living in the big city. He was told to forget the forest. There was a whole world of opprtunities ahead of him in the city- he should n't waste it. He should think about his future, not some backwater countryside town and some empty cottage near the woods.
He was n't strong. He was a coward.
He felt waiting eyes watching him from the bushes outside the psychiatrist's office and said nothing. He refused to attend summer camps and would not step into parks.
`` You're a disappointment.'' he'd hear now and then. The words sank deep into his gut where roots started to grow upwards, curling into the cockles of his heart.
`` You're a freak.'' he'd hear, a little less often, then a lot less often. The casual neglect nourished the seeds collecting in his lungs into budding sprouts.
He ignored the forest waiting in his insides. It felt less and less difficult as time went by. He was getting better at copying his father. He enrolled in and got into a banking course, like his father wanted. He got into a good firm later on, on a recommendation by a friend of his father's.
He even managed a relationship. She was an accountant, rising star career like his, an average face and a driven personality. There was a wedding at some point. She spent his money on clothes and shoes. He spent his money on beer and fake interests. They met every weekend for lunch when both their schedules were clear and they mostly slept in the same bed mostly at the same time. He was content, if not particularly happy.
He did n't think about the leaves, or the branches, or the roots for a long, long time.
Then he flipped open the newspaper one fine morning and saw his father's face on the front page. He read the article and set it down. It was n't a good article- had words like'embezzlement' and'breach of trust' all over it. A little later in the week, management called him in and told him to take a temporary leave of absence.
`` It's a politically sensitive time, you understand.'' someone told him. `` It's only for a while.''
It was n't. The accountant living with him started counting the numbers. It was n't profitable to stay with him, she did n't say. She left anyway.
He went out to the streets, trying to find something to do to survive. But the economy started to go downhill and there were less and less things to do, and perhaps he started to smell a little too strongly of desperation and beer.
He had some money left in a private savings account but it started to look more like a countdown with each passing day.
He started to develop an odd little cough as he waited for interview calls in his apartment. It did n't bother him at first. He did n't have the strength to care about his health when he was busy trying to sort the rest of his life out.
It got worse. He spent nights awake, coughing fiercely until he felt budding leaves brush against the base of his throat. The lack of sleep made every day feel like he was wading through a dream.
Then he went out for a burger one day and found himself coming home with a small pot of magnolia. He threw the pot away in the dumpster behind his tenement flat. Magnolia seeds followed him all the way home, spilling continuously from the holes in the pockets of his coat.
He had tried so hard to forget the forest.
The forest did n't forget him. He could feel vines curling along the insides of his ribs. He dreamt of sunshine passing through the foliage and found magnolias growing riotously through the concrete on the sidewalk outside his flat.
He tried to forget. He tried, because the only person who knew... who cared, was dead. He was still a coward... he was n't strong enough to raise the living forest alone. He was barely managing to make himself carry on.
The money was running out. He was coughing every moment of every day and he could n't afford to see a doctor, not when he was really trying to pay the rent. Not that it would help if he saw one. He knew why he was coughing- it was n't something medicine could cure.
Eventually, he could n't take it any more. His chest hurt from trying not to cough. The leaves he found on his bedsheets were starting to appear speckled with blood. It was also difficult to try to get a job when he kept sounding like he was about to die.
These were all good reasons, he told himself as he walked towards the largest park in the city. I'll just awaken something weak. Like a weed in the grass. Like me, he thought. It'll shrivel up and die quickly in the city. It'll go away, like it never existed in the first place.
The trees shook the moment he stepped into the park. He stood stock still. Distantly, he noticed that people started to look about around him up at the shaking trees. Shouts of alarm filtered into his consciousness as roots plied free from the ground.
It felt like stretching a limb he'd been awkwardly sleeping on for a long time, all pins and needles- except running down his spine and onto the surface of his brain. By the time he came to himself again, he realized he was watching the head of an immense dandelion brush against the glass panes of a nearby skyscraper.
Glass shattered. Giant dandelion seeds drifted away, smashing into nearby buildings only to begin sprouting into yet more dandelions. The concrete jungle grew green, everywhere. He heard screams and the sound of panicked honking coming from the streets outside. The sky above him grew shadowed as branches grew thick and close. An elderly oak tree slid its roots around him, forming a living wooden throne.
Something snapped inside his skull. He felt like he was dreaming as he drew a magnolia seed from his pocket and scattered it onto the ground by his feet. It sprouted almost immediately, stretching and growing until it was almost the size of a sunflower. He thought another thought and its stem swelled unnaturally, forming a green, lithe body and its petals fell back in a mane of hair.
He stared into its seed strewn'face' and allowed it to draw close to him. It sat in his lap and hugged him, faceless head tilted worshipfully up at him. He shut his eyes and slept peacefully for the first time in a very long time.
He slept for a very long time.
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[ WP ] The dark lord has been preparing a long time for the boy of prophesy and his group of bright eyed companions , and not the hulking armored veteran surrounded by scarred soldiers currently breaking into the castle .
| “ They ’ re approaching, my lord, ” the garrison commander called from doorway of the throne room. “ I ’ m dispatching the riders now. ”
“ Good, ” the Dark Lord replied, turning to face his man. He was tall and imposing and his deep voice echoed coldly off the stone walls. “ Make sure they catch them in the open. I ’ d like to watch from the tower. I ’ ve waited a long time for this. ”
“ Yes, my lord, ” the commander said, and backed out of the room.
He walked at a brisk officer ’ s pace down the hall and across the castle yard to the garrison stables. He ’ d heard the prophecy, too—they ’ d all heard it a thousand times. The Dark Lord was obsessed with it. *The boy and his bright-eyed companions and their drums of thunder. * Music? That ’ s what was threatening the realm? It seemed incredible. Tonight, finally, they would know.
Twelve heavy riders stood their mounts at the portcullis gate, heavy plate armor burnished dark and gold-colored in the torchlight. Their grim helmets had eye-slits but no others, their ears pricked to deafness at birth, their mouths silent. This the Dark Lord and his sorcerer ’ s defense against whatever sinister rhythm they were about to face. Each had an iron-tipped lance and a small shield and a longsword at his side. The horses were magnificent: heavy drafts, mean and warlike. White and grey with sharp-edged steel shoes glinting, painted fearful designs on their forelegs and armor on their faces, ears cropped, like their riders living a life of brutal but silent war.
With a great clanking the portcullis began to lift. The horses stamped and snorted, hot steaming breath venting in the night chill. Behind them were several companies of foot, pikemen and swordsmen, deaf and speechless to a man. Deaf to the cries of their enemies these many years and deaf to the prophesied drums of this fateful night.
The garrison commander climbed to the parapet and looked out onto the plain just as the heavy cavalry bolted across the drawbridge and onto the grass, exalting in the sprint, finally released from the tension of waiting, oblivious to their own thunderous hoofbeats. A quarter-mile distant the small band of invaders stood in an odd formation, he thought, and though the moon was full he could not make out the details of their dress or arms. Four or five of them stood in the center of the plain, one taller than the others, each holding an odd torch of blue-white light. His heart pounded along with the receding war-gallop of the horsemen. Then the lights winked out in an instant. The moonlight faltered and failed behind a cloudbank and he could see nothing.
And then another galloping sound—no, drumbeats, impossibly fast, sharp, ringing, and a white-hot strobe of light from the right and left of the field. From the invaders and from prone figures he ’ d not seen on the flanks came blasts of staccato thunder timed with white flashes and intermittent ropes of orange light reaching out to converge and cut his horsemen down. It was over in three seconds. Wounded horses and men screamed weirdly with their unused tongues and the band of attackers, invisible, must have moved up and they silenced each man and horse in turn with a single small thunderclap.
This was bad. This was really bad.
* * *
“ Okay boys, here they come, ” the staff sergeant said softly into his throat mic as he adjusted his NVGs. “ Check your mags and your fields of fire. Manage your ammo. ”
There was a general rattling of kit as each man put in a fresh magazine and tightened his gear. They spread out, finding rocks and variations in the topography to crouch behind.
A solid column of men poured out of the castle gate two hundred yards distant and moved onto the plain. At a hundred yards he could make out their faces in the bright green electronic daylight of his goggles. Could see their eyes searching the dark in vain. They did not speak to each other. No barked commands. He centered the red dot of his sight on the nearest, a young man with an old iron breastplate and a wicked-looking halberd, and squeezed off a round. His carbine jumped a little with the recoil and he felt the bolt chunk into battery again and his ears rang even with the electronic comms earplugs in place. He heard the whang of the bullet punching through the iron armor and the man collapsed in a clattering heap. None of the other footmen seemed to hear the shot. His men did, though, and at this signal, gunfire became general. He heard the 249s on both flanks open up again and hot orange tracers cut through the ranks of soldiers which melted before this withering steel and lead and it was all over in less than a minute. White powdersmoke drifted gently across the plain.
The staff sergeant got to his feet, a little awkward in his kevlar and plate carrier, which as usual were too small for his bulk. He was used to it by now.
“ To the gate! Go! Go! ”
* * *
A half-mile distant, the boy watched this through his binoculars, lying prone on a hilltop at the edge of the woods. The gunfire was a general rumble at this distance, but this much death was still unpleasant, and besides, he hated not being there with the men.
But he had his job to do and the men counted on him. In fact he did his job so well they ’ d placed him in this unit at just sixteen years old. He watched as the last of the footmen fell and the staff sergeant got up and began running toward the castle gate.
“ Okay, ” his spotter said beside him, softly. “ Showtime. ”
He settled behind his rifle, readjusting his cheek on the stock three times in the manner of an unconscious ritual, a focusing compulsion.
“ Target, ten meters to the right of the gate, on the wall, ” the spotter said.
He took a deep breath and held it and then let it leak out slowly as he found the target, an archer at full draw on the parapet. The crosshair bobbed subtly with his own heartbeat.
“ On him, ” he said.
“ Fire. ”
His finger took up the trigger ’ s slack by fractions of an ounce until the rifle rocked him back and the boom echoed across the plain.
“ Hit. Good hit, ” his spotter said. “ Target: on the wall, twenty meters left. ”
He shifted the rifle over. Looked like an officer.
* * *
The garrison commander couldn ’ t believe it. His entire command was wiped out. He didn ’ t understand. The prophesied band of bright-eyed companions wore bulky yet soft green armor, ludicrous in its appearance, not shiny, not fearsome—but they moved impossibly fast. They carried no swords or lances but instead small black instruments of some kind, held across their bodies in both hands, occasionally stopping to raise them to their shoulders and issue another deafening blast at which another archer would fall. No arrows touched them. Their helmets hid their eyes and they were alien and terrifying.
An archer to his right fell hard onto the stone, and rolled over, blood pouring from his silent mouth, eyes wide. An instant later a single boom of thunder rolled over him.
“ What is this? ” he screamed into the night.
* * *
The Dark Lord watched from his darkened tower in disbelief as the attackers neared and he could make them out. Children these are not. The thunder was unlike any music he could have imagined and his men had fallen before its power like wheat before a scythe, despite their inability to hear it.
He clenched his fists on the stone sill. His archers were falling, each oblivious to the thunderous death of the others until it was his turn. He could see the garrison commander standing alone now, panicked, his ears open to the terror that surrounded him, the screams, the thunder that became sharper and painfully loud as it reverbed off the stone walls. Then he, too, dropped, mouth and eyes wide, legs crumpled weirdly beneath his body.
A flickering torchglow in the tower chamber turned the Dark Lord around. His sorcerer.
“ My lord, ” the sorcerer said. “ You must flee! Come! ”
“ You! ” the Dark Lord thundered. Here was the man who ’ d interpreted the prophecy, who had decreed that deafening the entire garrison would protect them from the drumbeats of this boy and his bright-eyed band.
The Dark Lord seemed to grow even larger in his rage and he took hold of the false sorcerer ’ s robes and with a great twisting heave he threw him, howling, through the open window to the courtyard below. He picked up the dropped torch and stood at the window as the invaders, led by the largest, stepped through the gate and into the castle courtyard. He could see now that they were men of some kind, huge and grizzled, beards and black paint on their faces. Alien weapons and instruments hung about them. The leader wore a grimace and was smeared with blood, and smoke poured evilly from his mouth and nose.
* * *
“ Sarge ’ s got his cigar lit, ” the spotter said. The boy could hear the grin in his voice.
“ Stay focused, ” the boy said. “ There ’ ll be more of them. ”
“ Shit—target. In the southwest tower. Window ’ s all lit up. ”
“ On him, ” the boy said and swung the rifle over. It was just a silhouette holding a torch, but the boy knew who it was as his finger moved to the trigger. “ On target. ”
“ Take him, ” said the spotter.
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[ WP ] A deadly epidemic sweeps across the globe . The symptom is paranoia .
| `` Ready, Pam?'' asked the cameraman, as the reporter tugged on her blouse. She nodded and looked over at me, seated with her in front of the camera. I felt pity as I saw her forced smile at me. I'd heard her earlier on the phone in the ladies room, and from her conversation and the mascara stains she'd wiped from her crow footed eyes, I knew this plague had taken a child from her. It was going to be a difficult interview.
`` Live in 3-,2-'' Pam cleared her throat and when she saw the red LED, she rearranged her face to appear warm.
`` Good morning, and thank you for joining us today on CNC TV. Today we have a very important guest, Ms Wendy Cowatt, a-'' she paused for a half-second, `` SKEPTIC of CNV, or Collapsed Nerve Virus, the viciously contagious virus that has been confirmed as the cause of death of millions worldwide. Wendy, thank you for joining us.'' I cleared my throat and smiled into the camera.
`` Thank you Pam, it is a relief to finally be here.''
As I stared at the frozen faces of the crew, all staring at me with thinly masked contempt, I thought back to when this insanity started four months ago. I had been working as a nurse practitioner at the Children's Hospital in Goodhelm, a rural community that had formed from the remains of New York City after the decline. On June 4th, 2126, I got a call from my son at school begging me to pick him up.
`` Mom, kids at school are getting really upset. A teacher is n't coming back from sick leave, everyone is saying it's CNV.''
I'd been working in hospitals since putting myself through school twelve years ago and I had only heard of CNV as a myth.
`` Liam, there's no way it's CNV. CNV is like Bigfoot. It is n't physically possible. It's just exciting for people to believe in it.'' When I arrived at the school at the end of the day, my three kids were shaking with fear. My youngest, Katie, had tear stains on her face. The middle child, usually brooding Anya, was blank and pale. Liam was struggling to stay strong but I could tell he was panicking. I drove us home, my heart breaking.
By July, the frenzy had grown so much I knew I would have to take action. The first time my kids and I escaped, it was from their father, who had terrorized me since the day I found out I was pregnant with Liam. This time we were escaping our own community. Online media had run with the panic of CNV and details of horrific symptoms were emerging from all sources. News reporters were urging people to stay indoors. The military was rounding up anyone suspected of having CNV to be kept in permanent sanatorium. I moved my family to a commune with limited access to electricity where I could homeschool them and they'd be safe as I commuted to work.
`` So, Wendy, tell us why you say you do not believe CNV exists.'' I blinked and realized where I was, and realized I was sweating under the lights.
`` Well, Pam, I need to say something that is n't going to be well received.''
`` We'd love to hear it.'' I saw that the reporters eyes had grown severe, challenging me to say my piece.
`` The truth is, I have been working as a nurse for years, including the beginning of this supposed epidemic. And I have not seen a true case of CNV yet.''
The room was so silent my heartbeat was audible.
`` You see,'' I went on, clearing my throat again, `` The doctors have received instructions that anyone meeting a certain list of symptoms is to be treated for CNV, which as we know,''
`` Is not something one can come back from.'' Pam had interrupted me, the tears in her eyes forming. I paused.
`` Yes, you're right. But these symptoms are all very general; coughing, fever, excitability, really most people experience these things normally but the doctors at my hospital are not even permitted to run tests. The fear is so great that when patients are identified to fit any of the symptoms, they are shipped to the nearest sanatorium facility where it is assumed someone else confirms the virus. But no one has ever come back negative. How can that be? That 100 % of patients were not misdiagnosed?''
Pam's face looked pale.
`` And, furthermore,'' I continued, `` Since everyone is concerned that they might get CNV, the hostility is causing a paranoia of horrible consequences. People are taking their own lives. People are surrendering their loved ones into care. And-''
`` Somebody KILLED my son, Wendy!'' Pam was in full hysterics now. `` People KILLED him, because he was infected! He was infected, and he was going to infect others, so they killed him in the street! Someone saw him cough into his hand and he was shot, and you're coming here and telling me this disease is n't real?!''
The set was silent for a long time.
`` Yes, and I'm sorry.'' I checked that the recording light was still on. I wondered what would happen when the cameras were off. `` I know it's upsetting to think about, but the true killer of CNV is our own gullibility. We are all used to accepting the stories we are told as fact. We know we are sick. We know we are spiteful. We know we want out. Many of us feel that this version of reality is all we have.'' Pam regained a fraction of her composure and pressed on, her voice cracking.
`` Why are you so certain of yourself? What makes you qualified to reject the existence of a known killer?''
`` I do not reject that the killer exists. The killer is you and I. Our willingness to trust that others know better than we do. Our acceptance that we are protecting ourselves by removing others. Our assumption that there is a power or force that knows best, and that we must comply. We must not comply.''
I thought back to the night, fourteen years ago, my children's father thrust his leg to kick me and hit the basement wall, falling back in pain. The night I realized that his control over me was an illusion. When I realized there was only air between me and the door.
`` My compliance in fear has almost killed me before. I'd be a fool to let it kill me now.''
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[ WP ] We forget our dreams for a reason : in the near future , memory enhancement therapies allow everyone to fully recall every dream they 've ever had . Across the entire human race , disturbing patterns and implications emerge that were previously hidden by the unappreciated bliss of forgetfulness .
| `` Alright. I do n't know how to say this to you, but the thing is: Darling, yesterday we've met in our dreams.''
`` What? That was you? That man in a cape and also killing my father? The man who i could n't stop dreaming in months? The one who horrifies me a lot with its fake mustache and wears a green hat?''
`` Ahm... Darling... Yes?''
``... Why you keep calling me darling, we just met!''
`` Ahm... because i know you, Darling....
You dream't that you were in his house some months ago is n't it? There you saw a key, and you stole it for you and you went into the woods. There, you saw a tiger with a green hat and when he was about to eat you, you argued with him with a charade: If you'll be able to encounter with myself like i never was, you shall have this key to my heart in which you may pass... Therefore, darling here am i.''
``... How, this is so... How... how did you find me? And... why the green hat?''
`` You see, i went to psychologists and they helped me to decode my dream. At first, they said that i should have to embrace my feminine side, after some months, they said that i needed to go in an adventure in the woods to me able to feel in contact with my inner self. Do you believe this? I'm a coward, and then i rented a camping tent and there i was, in the woods looking for you.''
``... Wait, you did encountered the tiger? How you are alive? In my dreams he did eat you, you needed to become the tiger to make sense of a tiger wearing a green hat, but being unable to find me you could n't have the key to your heart and thus, you could n't escape from the tiger because you could n't move, only think!''
`` There in the woods, Darling, was when i saw the tiger. The moon was in crescendo, and my bonfire was illuminating the branches from the trees near me, their shadows were thin and also grim. They started to move when i did blink my eye. And i started to dream awhile i was also alive. I mean, i was also awake. One eye of mine was shut and with the other i saw the eye of the tiger. I was able to see, to see where my destiny is. And since then, i was able to see the tiger lead me to my way, the key to my destiny.''
``!... Wow, that's a line! So. How did you know that i, this red haired woman with a tuxedo in the middle of the street, about to get a Subway Melt in California at 2:00 a.m, have the key to your heart?''
`` My tiger made its liar inside you when i saw you. He is in your eyes.''
`` And what do you will tell for your psychologists about this encounter?''
`` I've met the lady who could tame my soul. You've become my soul.''
`` And if i say, i could tame your soul, but you could n't tame me?''
`` My soul possessed you. It's our responsability to take care of it.''
`` And my soul, where it is? Did you not remember the woman that falled from the ship when the tiger was being transported to a zoo? Neither they did have a rescue crew, and they did n't even seem to bother about her. She just died in the middle of the cruel crude night. You only want to tame yourself, and thus unleashing your demons to the world, in this case, me.''
``... Darling. When the tiger did go for the zoo, he did find the place rather depressing and decided to break the jail. He could n't. There is where it prays. We must join together for this cause and preserve the tiger species. For our love to live on. I do n't want to be with you, being with you will not bring contempt to my heart, taking care of these tigers will. ``
`` So... you are saying that you metaforically kill my father, the owner of the ZooLand and also owner of Savana Territories ( TM ) across the world?''
`` The tiger did find it's a liar because it already was a tiger's den. Your father is the tiger. He held the key for your heart for a long time. After this, your father will not be the same, neither you. I could free you both from the shackles of contemporary burocracy and anger towards another mammals.''
`` How could you do this? And if you have such a power, why are you making this?''
`` I can make sites and with clickativists we could overcome politics. We can develop funds to a market to preserve the species and selling be-cool-i-am-saving-the-planet organic clothes. We could turn our profit in 3D printed prothesis for the poor. But one thing i could make, is: to tweet in my twitter account that i'm turning green.''
`` Oh shit. This is what the green hat was about the whole time?''
`` Oh, aye.'' Said Jamie Demon, the President and CEO of J.P Morgan, awhile taking his green hat off of his pocket and smiling from cheek to cheek.
`` From now on, my money is all green sustentable money. The tiger has found it's den. Inside you.'' His cheeks turned red.
`` You know i can report you for harassment, do n't you?''
`` Yes... sorry. It was not i was trying to say. Let's save this damn tigers and we can go home to sleep in peace this time. Not a fucking tiger or a key, or cape, or stench woods to live within or have to decode in dreams. Argh. What does having all this money counts, if in my sleep i sleep in the woods? I just want to cuddle with my wife and dream that i am eating my breakfeast again.''
`` Okay. Let's do it. Oh, by the way, the woman that did drowned and turned into a mermaid that called the man in the ship that did go for the ocean and did find himself dead without air? What happened?''
`` Oh. I talked it with my wife: was her, jealous of my destiny to saving the tigers with a young woman but a coward part of me that did n't want to go to adventures and wanted to cuddle my wife. I throwed her out of the boat and she did take revenge of me immobilizing me forever. In her dreams, she did cut the throat of a man with a red hat. Our psychologists said to us that she needed to make something of her anger instincts. So she is making Shinobi Training and will have our back when we need it. I'm just a tiger, she is the lion, you know?''
`` The man with a red hat... could n't be...''
`` Yes, `` it-s a me, Mario!''. Yes. We are heading towards the next Olympics to make an grand entrance and revenge the leopard killed in Brasil, we will kill Mario in the ceremony. Metaforically, of course. We will shoot him with red paint and cut a bag of tomato juice in front of his neck.''
`` Oh God.''
`` Here is your Subway Melt Mrs.'' - said the cashier looking to the floor and avoiding eye contact, embarassed.
A silence filled the balcon. The man broke the ice:
`` You know, my wife after this is going to the Caribbean Islands with some hot latino men.''
The eyes of the woman and the cashier went on opening up, surprised.
As the man continued: `` She said they pursued her on her dreams and that she could n't do a thing. She'll have the sex life that she never had, and after, she'll pioneer the revolution of neuroscience and i will have to live by her shadow, as she lived to mine.''
`` That turned gloomy, did n't it, my strange tiger? It's okay. `` She then said `` Thank You'' for the cashier and they went out of the balcon talking about sauces and tigers.
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[ WP ] Death is going through his list of people to collect for the day when he notices God is on the list . He is understandably confused .
| *You've come. *
Hᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ I ɴᴏᴛ?
*Good. It's time. Let us go. *
Mᴀʏ I ᴀsᴋ ᴀ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴ ғɪʀsᴛ?
*Of course. *
Wʜʏ?
*Because I'm tired, Mort. I have existed since the beginning of all things. I brought the universe into being simply to relieve My own boredom, and it worked. It worked for a very long time. But eventually, one tires. *
Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜʏ ɴᴏᴡ?
*They do n't need Me anymore. They've moved on, though they do n't even know it yet. I have n't interfered with them, have n't even spoken to them, in the last five hundred years. I wanted to see if they were ready, and they are. They have accomplished truly wondrous things, and truly terrible things. Soon, they will be My equal. *
Bᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴜʀ Lᴏʀᴅ. Tʜᴇ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. Wɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ?
*It goes on. Life will continue much as it has, without My hand guiding the rudder. *
Yᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴜᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs, ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ?
*Have you ever known Me to make such decisions lightly? *
Nᴏ. Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛ.
*Then trust My judgment now. Take Me to My final rest. *
And with that, God died. There were no theatrics, no lightning struck, no heads exploded. He simply willed Himself to no longer live, and it was done.
Death stared at the corpse of God for a minute. He then let out a long sigh, unfurled his scythe, and set about separating the deity's soul from his body.
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[ WP ] You are a manipulative psychopath , but instead of serial killer , you are a serial helper . using your emotionless genius to make other people smile .
| I have a hobby: running analytics on others and analyzing ways to improve their lives, then effecting these changes. Utilitarianism states that the ideal state is to have the greatest number of people happy to the greatest possible extent, and this is how I optimize the population.
In implementation, I first select a target: for example, someone trapped in between another whom he or she is attracted to, and a friend who would cease to be a friend should the former act on his on her feelings ( a `` love triangle'', apparently ). I will then manipulate the environment and peers of the target in order to allocate a satisfactory alternate solution ( in this case, a suitable partner for the friend ) and to ensure that the target's happiness, as well as that of the target's `` crush'', is maximized, while simultaneously accounting for extraneous variables, such as jealous suitors, clique integrity, and inter- and intra-school romantic customs appropriate to the target's age and social standing.
In this way, the maximum number of people are made happy, and the satisfactory conclusion justifies my methods. It's a win-win situation, as I see it.
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[ WP ] 1 ... 2 ... .3 ...
| The girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes, pressing hard on her thumb and forefingers as she plucked the first petal.
*One. He loves me. *
*Two. He loves me not. *
*Three. He loves me. *
It continued in some way like this, her plucking the petals carefully and slowly so as to not disturb them or take two at once. With her eyes shut closed she felt around the center of the flower. There was only one left.
*Eleven. He loves me. *
She opened her eyes, the smile spreading on her face despite any attempt to stop it.
`` He loves me,'' she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her body. `` He loves me. He loves me. He loves me!''
-- -
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[ WP ] The main character slowly realizes he is the background character to everyone else .
| Mike sat on the bus stop, quietly reading his book about cooking. It was from his favorite author, the not very known cook Donny Anderson. He wanted more of his recipes, but the guy disappeared all of the sudden. Well, maybe he would do his own book one day. Nothing special about that day besides the weird people around him at that time. The girl on his left had all kinds of colors in her hair, looked like a hitchicker with nowhere to go, as most youngsters these days. Not his business anyway. His bus came and he walked in, leaving the bus stop behind.
The girl sighed at the missed opportunity of speaking to a fellow cook. She would love to discuss her new recipies and the combinations that could flourish from only 3 or 4 ingredients of any kind. Sadly, she was too shy, too afraid of what people might think. It took almost a year for her to finally build the courage to paint her hair, and she still looks around for judgemental eyes. The bald guy with the suit was specially strange in that aspect, as he looked at her time and again. It was kinda creepy, he looked like the kind of people who would not give a damn if you just dropped dead right there and now. She hated those kind of people. The bus finally came, and it was her time to go.
He was almost breathless when she went into the distance, his body sweating a lot inside his black suit. She... she looked just like his daughter. The colored hair, the blue eyes and pale skin. Even the freckles. For a moment, he saw her standing right in front of him. But it could n't be her... she was dead. For a long time now. He had to let it go, for the sake of his marriage - or what was left of it. He took a towel from his backpack and cleaned his head, as the feelings started to sink in and his hands started to tremble. The towel went inside the backpack, and the medication came out. Let it go, Elliot. Let it go. The bus was here, and he knew the day would be one of the depressing ones. At least he was financially stable, unlike the beggar on the bus station. Nothing he could do, though. He got into the bus and left that lonely place.
Soon, the beggar was alone. Again. Not an eye to his face, not a word from nobody. He should be used to it after 3 years, but that's the kinda thing that never stops hurting, you never grow immune to it. The bald man in the suit reminded him of when his life was not a wreck, when he wrote books and tried to follow his career as a cook. Everyone would know the name Donny Anderson, that's what he thought. But life has a way to make you humble, to drop you into your knees. He treated his family poorly, abused his wife and kids. And karma is a bitch, his books never sold more than 100 copies and his wife got another man in her life. He had no job, no family and no friends. Yet, he wanted another chance. He was tired of feeling part of the background. For once more, he wanted to be the main character of someone's story. This time, he'd be sure to entertain his audience.
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[ WP ] A man is on a quest to kill a powerful necromancer . He is oblivious to the fact that he was killed and resurrected years ago by the same necromancer , despite the fact that he is a walking skeleton .
| `` My name is Archibald Montegomery Sneezebuckle - And I am here for one purpose and one purpose only..., `` He squinted his eyes, but quickly realised he could n't, since he was a skeleton, and therefore missing his eyes altogether. `` I aim to kill the Death-Necromancer.'' He made a dramatic pause. `` It was fift -''
`` Ey, Mate!'' A rusty voice interrupted Archibald. `` Ai n't Death-Necromancer a bit redundant? I mean... thats like Necro-Necromancer, right?''
`` OI! YOU BE QUIET, JIM!'' Archiblad's boney shout silenced the whole inn for a short moment. `` Tis my story, and he, who must not be named, is so vile, wicked, and disturblingly well dressed, he deserves an evil name!'' Archibald's teeth rattled in anger.
`` Who? The Necromancer?'' Again, Archibald was interrupted, this time by someone he did n't know. A bald dude, with a surprisingly green mustache.
`` Of course the necromancer! THE DEATH-NECROMANCER.'' Archibalds voice rose again. `` AND YOU SHALL NOT NAME HIM IN MY PRESENCE, SNORTFACE!'' While shouting, Archibald climbed the table his audience circled.
Before he could continue Jim spoke up. `` Wait, did n't you name him just now, Archie?''
`` I DEMAND SILEN -.....'' Archie stopped and lowered his fists. His eyes lost in deep thought for a moment.
`` What's happening?'' The green-moustached man asked Jim.
`` Oh, he does that sometimes'' Jim took a huge sip of the liquid in his skull shaped cup. `` He needs time to think, ya know. Without a brain it can be quite the challenge'' He smirked.
Suddenly, Archibald spoke again.
`` OK, until I made up my mind about saying or not saying his name, can we agree on at least avoiding it for the time beeing?''
Just when the other two were about to agree, a slim figure emerged from the shadows. She drew the attention of the small gathering around the skeleton instantly, for she was heavily armed and even more heavily attractive.
`` The Death-Necromancer you say!'' She anounced calmly.
`` Fuck it!'' Archibald cried, flinging his hands up in frustration and thereby losing his left forearm. `` Let's just drop that name everywhere!''
DONK. Archies skeletal forearm landed behind the bar, taking out Kinn Eeper, the Innkeeper, and burying itself in his head. It was a slow evening though, and his absence was n't noted at all.
The woman continued: `` If you really intend to hunt - `` She sighed, `` Him, whose name shall be avoided for the time beeing...'', her gaze hardened, and she drew one of her swords, raising it above her head, shouting `` THEN COUNT ME IN!''
Archibald was surprised. He intended to recruit companions here, but he did not expect to find volunteers so easily.
`` Well, well, well...'' He said, crossing his arms - or rather his arm - and looking down at her. `` The hunt for him, of whom I wish his name not to be mentioned, is dangerous. Are you sure you want to go? What is your name, and why do wish to kill the Necro - the DEATH-Nec - ARHG... he who must not be named... for now?'' He was crouching on the table now, to look the woman deep into the eyes.
`` My name is unimportant. And the Death-Necr - DAMMIT - can we just call him Steve for now? Would make talking easier.''
Archie exchanged quick glances with Jim and Greenstache. Losing his menacing tone, he answered: `` That's a pretty good Idea actually, we shall call him Steve.''
`` So where was I...? Right! I want to kill Steve, because he burned my hometown, murdered my family, and awoke them from death to fight for him in his army of the undead! He took them from me, and even robbed them from peace after death! AND...'' She paused, as if an unpleasant memory reurned to her mind, `` He entered my house..... without cleaning his boots first...''
CLING. A drunk dropped his ale. All people in the Inn immediatly stopped what they were doing. Everyone stared at her, mouth wide open. `` Unspeakable!'' Kinn, the Innkeeper, muttered half concious and Archie could hear a man faint in the back.
`` I see..'' Archie said, still with shock in his eyes, just without eyes.
`` What about you Bone-Man?'' Greenstubble asked. `` Why do you want to kill Steve?''
``'T is a long and gruesome tale. So long and so gruesome and eviiiiiil..... that I ca n't really remember.''
`` Wait.'' said Jim. `` So you do n't know why you want steve dead?
`` Not really, but imagine it's good reason.''
`` I always thought it had to do with - `` Jim pointed Archie's forearm, still stuck in Kinn's skull.
`` What?''
`` You know...''
`` Yes?''
`` With your... and all the..''
`` Continue.'' Archie stood up again and stared at Jim.
`` ALRIGHT!'' The woman, Unimportant, kicked the table, resulting in Archie crashing on the floor. Loud rattling indicated the mess that was now created below.
`` So are we gon na do this or what?''
Archie stood up slowly with a klinging of bones, his head in his hand, and walked towards Kinn, Archie's forearm still stuck in the innkeepers skull and wriggling it's fingers. He reached toward it and it attached itself back to his elbow.
`` Unimportant is right!'' He said, putting his head back on. `` We oughta leave soon, I fear the Church is already on my heels!''
`` I see, the church thinks you work for Steve'' Jim noted thoughtfully.
`` Not really, but apparantly they hate you when you steal a priests clothes, scare children and kill the pope.''
`` You -''
`` Anyways'' Archie interrupted Jim, `` We should leave now, Jim. Are you coming too, Cress-nose?'' He pointed a finger, still wet with Kinn's blood at the wierdly bearded man.
`` I guess. I do n't have a grudge against Steve, but you seem decent folks. Do I get paid?''
`` No, but the ladies fancy adventureres.''
`` I'm in!''
And so started the Quest of Archibald Sneezebuckle and his brave companions to kill the Necr - the Death-Necro - to kill the evil and cruel lord of the undead, Steve.
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It kinda went out of hand, but I was bored at work and just wrote on and on. Thank's for the interesting prompt, had fun with it!
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[ WP ] You catch your significant other in bed with another person , turns out , they have a perfectly valid explanation .
| They were in bed together again.
I have to admit that I did n't mind. I enjoyed watching them together. No jealousy from me, just the vicarious pleasure of watching them together. Limbs entwined, his face against my wife's sleep warm body.
Ever since he started living with us, they would sleep together, perhaps two, perhaps three times a week.
I loved to watch them. The only rough part was that he would never let me join them when they were together. To be honest though, I did n't mind. All I felt was love.
And then it was over. He'd finished feeding.
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[ WP ] Congress was having too much trouble in Washington . They relocate the capital of the United States to your bedroom .
| `` Oh GIVE me a fucking break!'' I yelled as I woke up.
It was barely noon, *'he's up at the crack of noon'* as my mother used to say, and there was already a Point of Order. I knew that by the gavel banging next to my head.
`` Kevin has the floor'' said the Speaker.
`` Look'' I began `` six months ago, when you all came whining to me about gridlock this and gridlock that I said'Fine, hold your little damn Congress in my room' but now you people have gotten out of control.''
The senior Senator from NY rose and cleared his throat.
`` No'' I yelled `` Fuck that! Sit back down because Ive heard as much horsesshit as I'm going to hear from you bastards for one day''.
I was tired, I have n't really slept since they got here, Katy has n't been over once, and I was on a roll.
`` You'' I yelled at a Congressman from Cali `` get me some coffee.'' He jumped so high out of his chair that I thought he would shit himself.
`` You, with the hair'' I yelled at some guy in the back row `` Danish. Cheese.'' My grammar was n't the best but still, they were listening.
`` Now, if someone'' I looked straight at that bitch from Maine `` would make me an egg sammich, we can get down to work''. She hopped up and ran for the kitchen. *heheh* make me a sammich. I've always wanted to scream that.
`` Alright'' I began `` the rest of you fucking morons sit the fuck down and shut the hell up because as of today, this country gets it shit together''.
I was feeling better already.
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[ WP ] In a different world , humans fear the light , rather than the dark .
| ‘ Come back before it gets light! ’
My Mother always said that as we left in the early hours of the morning to play with the other kids. She knew better than anyone why the light was dangerous but, we always agreed absentmindedly and without really listening to her.
So we took to the streets in the pitch black to eventually find the other children from around the neighbourhood. We would met up on a patch of grass and play catch with a ball one of the boys brought. Or tag. Or any number of other games that children played using their imagination.
My sister and I would always remember one summer when the men of the neighbourhood built a tree house! It was easily the highlight of the year and still brings a smile to my face when I think about that cold, dark summer...
‘ Come back before it gets light ’
Of course there were stories that the kids would whisper to each other about people their parents had heard about or knew. Those that stayed out too late and got caught in the Sun ’ s intense light.
‘ They were vaporised! ’
‘ No they didn ’ t! Their lungs exploded from the inside out! ’
‘ Don ’ t be stupid. All their skin peeled off like snake skin! ’
Stories that thrilled children our age but not enough excitement to make us want to stay out in the sun.
‘ Come back before it gets light! ’
The dark was nothing to us. We could see everything with only the tiniest amount of light. Who needed something as destructive as the Sun to be able to see? What kind of people could stand to go into the Sun?
Besides, we knew something was wrong when we could see too much. The Sun ’ s light was too much for us. Our eyes and our skin were too sensitive. We will stay in the dark where it ’ s safe, thank you very much.
‘ Come back before it gets light! ’
We alone knew the true cost though. As the very first rays of the Sun came over the hill we all looked at each other in a panic. If we leave now, we thought collectively, we wouldn ’ t be vaporised or have our lungs explode from the inside out or have our skin peel off like a snake ’ s.
So we all ran home. Fast.
‘ Hi Mum! We ’ re back! ’
We said it as we walked in the front door so Mum would hear us. My sister switched the light on so we could see in the room with no windows.
‘ Hi kids! ’ She smiled at us. And blinked a few times. ‘ The Sun nearly caught you this time. Don ’ t leave it so late. ’
‘ Relax Mum, the Sun was nowhere near us. ’ I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Running away from something that travels 671 million miles an hour makes one thirsty.
‘ Yes, well, you know what will happen if it ever does... ’
Her eyes looked away to something she must see in her mind ’ s eye. Her pupils were fixed. They never saw any light. And they never would again.
That ’ s what happened if you were caught in the Sun. You wouldn ’ t be vaporised or have exploding eyeballs or have snakeskin. You just wouldn ’ t see again. Ever.
You would be blind in a world that lived in the dark.
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Hope you like it.: )
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[ WP ] While you did n't manage to create the world 's first self aware artifical intelligence , you did create its first self aware artifical stupidity .
| Sat before me was one of the most powerful businessmen in the world. He had a tower, he had an airline, he even had a TV show in which he was the star. But here he was to complete his biggest feat of all - he was set to be the first person to recieve a brain ran entirely by artificial intelligence. He had funded the research and development into it himself, hoping that the brain would make him smarter, more businesslike, and stop him fantasising about his daughter.
`` Are you sure you want to go through with this, sir?'' I asked, as a final confirmation.
`` Yes. I did n't spend $ 300million on this for nothing.'' He confirmed.
`` Okay then, this wo n't hurt a bit. As soon as you feel it, count backwards from 10.'' I said calmly as I injected a general anaesthetic into his upper arm.
`` 10, 9, 8...'' He said, before passing out.
-- -
He woke up the next day with a terrible headache, so the decision was made to put him on some strong painkillers. The side effects of the painkillers included drowsiness and confusion, but despite this my team was told to make a preliminary assessment of his mental state anyway, partly to see if the artificial intelligence was working properly and now partly to see if psychoactive substances ( ie the painkillers ) could affect the artificial intelligence. I held up four fingers near his face.
`` How many fingers am I holding up?'' I asked.
`` Four.'' He replied correctly.
`` Okay, what year is it?''
`` 2015.'' Correct again.
`` Who's the President?''
`` Obama.'' Correct again.
`` What are your political views?'' This was an important one for the research team as the artificial intelligence was required to not interfere with his opinions. Since 2009 he had been a Republican supporter, with all of the opinions that generally went with that such as being pro-life and against gun control - nothing too outlandish by American standards, so I was n't expecting anything outlandish in response.
`` We need to build a wall to keep the Mexicans out because they're all murderers and rapists. Also, all Muslims support ISIL and want to kill us all so we should ban then from our country. Also, I want to be President.'' I looked at myself, my hands, my tools. I had done this. Instead of creating artificial intelligence, I had created artificial stupidity.
`` At least you still do n't believe in climate change, right?'' I was hoping that his view on this would have changed too, maybe I did something good.
`` Yeah, obviously.''
I retired to my chair, completely defeated.
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[ WP ] Not even death can stop you from cold calculated revenge against the drunk driver who killed you , as you are consistently reincarnated as small animals who will stop at nothing to destroy her .
| This is it! I thought to myself as the sun peeked over the horizon and into the garden bed adjacent to her house. The light warming my new body filled me with excitement, my muscles twitching in anticipation of my impending success.
There was dew on the leaves, not for too much longer i thought, although it did n't matter, the conditions were perfect. I'd seen this scenario played out before from above, she would exit her house, scare the birds away, then killing insect and weedy plant life as thoughtlessly as she had ended my life months ago.
I'd spent the previous night snaking my way through the garden knowing my placement needed to be perfect to ambush her. I waited amongst the leaves of a strawberry plant, I'd seen her digging around this plant, checking for hoppers and picking the fruits of her labours. It's time to reap what you've sown.
I sat waiting, watching the door as it opened slowly, the slender, grey haired woman walking slowly with her cane. First toward the garden, then from plant to plant, crushing hoppers and ripping the saplings from their pots, all for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Disgusting.
As she approached my hiding place, I dashed as fast as I could to a strawberry so she would have to come closer to me. My heart pounding as she approached, I could tell she saw me, her hand reaching down to toss me away from her precious berries. As she touched me, she went stiff, falling forwards into her prized garden, a life snuffed in an instant. I'd won. I pulled my eye stalks into my body then retracted into my shell to calm down.
|
[ CW ] `` ... and we choked on our dead . ''
| We brought ourselves here, powered not by fate or destiny, but shear willpower and ignorance. We thought we were better, that we stood a chance.
Our messages went unanswered. We took this as the sign of our superiority, our place atop the kingdom of stars, but we were wrong.
They laughed as they slaughter millions, neglecting to even acknowledge our self-awareness. We were nothing to them, and why should we be? They were gods compared to us. Their technology and intellect were unmatched by anyone else in the galaxy, let alone the poor inhabitants of our lowly, blue planet.
They built cages and put us in there like some sort of animal. They tortured us, closed the door and watch our pain grow as the walls came crushing in, all for their morbid enjoyment. Those who died quickly were the lucky ones. The strong lived longer in the stench and juices of the fallen until we could take no more, and we choked on our dead.
|
[ WP ] A psychopath 's thoughts at a social function .
| `` Hey, come join the party!'' He almost seemed startled upon hearing the words, and looked around awkwardly for a few moments, eventually adjusting to the dimly lit bar room, locating his coworkers among the throng of people now before him. He was not comfortable in these situations, in close quarters with large groups of strange people, mostly intoxicated to some degree. This was one of those situations, where duty required a certain level of social engagement, and he was forced to leave the comfort and safety of his computer screen. He was new to the group and mostly kept to himself, but had been granted access and priviledge beyond the norm due to his research results and related profitable developments. He now had the ear of upper management, was called into meeting after meeting to offer advice and consultation, and was looking at further promotions and success. He was also the kind of person who would go out of his way to help you out in almost any situation. I hated him.
That was the last time anybody saw him, and the funny thing is, it did n't even take a lot to break him. Some people are so easily manipulated, I would almost feel sorry for them if I cared about their petty little lives. It was a bit of a challenge at first, I suppose, but this new girl looks like she'll be a bit more fun to play with before I break her. Aww, shit, here comes his crying mother, time to put on a sad face. I hate funerals.
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[ WP ] Monks discover scary secret : there is only limited souls being 'recycled ' by reincarnation and by reaching the highest human population ever , soulless people are being born .
| `` Are you sure he's one of them?''
`` Of course I am, do you even have to ask after knowing what he's been up to?''
Rahn and I had been searching for the soulless since we'd joined the monastery. Apparently the world had been growing thin as far as souls were concerned. The elder monks believed it was due to the increase in population. So many people and not enough souls to go around so every now and then when more people were born than died a soulless would pop up. They'd increased in numbers these days.
Most of them turned out to be the depressed and never made it past their first dozen birthdays. The ones who survived the depression went on to take it out in one way or another. Most serial killers had been confirmed as being soulless and was part or why they'd become such a big target for us. We had been trying to track as many of them down and stop them before they could do much damage.
It was tricky because after awhile of hunting we'd learned that some people were n't actually completely soulless, they just had less of a soul or had lost some of it along the way. We'd been taking extra precautions to ensure we'd only take out the truly soulless ones.
It'd been months since we'd been tracking this guy. At first he seemed fine. Did n't even cross our radar. As he got older though our interest started to peak. He was an art student which was a mild trigger due to the fact that some artists seek art as a way to express their depressions which is one of the things we'd look for in a person. He was also bi-sexual.
Now do n't get me wrong, we had nothing against people that were bi-sexual but it was a trigger for us due to the fact that some people through their depression would become more experimental in their sexuality to try and fill the void. We'd kept an eye on him but decided not to judge him too quickly. He seemed like a normal human being. He did things that we'd recognized as things only people with souls would usually do. He fell in love, he had many friends and seemed like an overall happy human being.
Yet there had still been those trigger signs of depression that gave us a suspicion. He'd been off the radar for years before he had finally popped back up. This time it was in a big way. He'd been behind a huge movement that was growing wildly. It was like a fever spreading in a weak immune system. Before we could even think and react he'd become the one thing we'd tried to prevent the soulless from becoming. He'd become a leader.
He was one of the most powerful people at the time. We still are n't sure if he'd figured it out or not. If he knew about the soulless and had been hiding himself until the right moment. If he'd used his knowledge to play to other soulless beings weaknesses to influence them to join his cause. It was disguised so well that we had n't even noticed until it was too late.
`` You're right, no one with a soul could have had so many innocent people murdered for their own `` righteous'' reasons. It's like he's playing god or something. We have to stop him Rahn!''
`` Well all we have to do it wait for the right moment and attack.''
The right moment took awhile to come. He was clever. Too clever some would say. He was always on the move. It was like he was fueled by the souls of all the people he was having killed. His armies marched with lightning speed taking over close by territories and forcing people into camps where most of the massive killings took place.
We followed him for years trying to get in. Infiltrate the ranks to get close. He'd made it nearly impossible for anyone he did n't trust to get close. We finally had our chance after we'd tweaked a batch of some of the drugs he'd been taking. We learned that the soldiers had been fed amphetamines to give them energy and make them feel invincible. We also learned that he himself was being personally attended to by a doctor who was feeding him full of the same.
One day we made our way into the doctors office and `` changed his prescription''. This lead him into a downward spiral of a bad trip which gave us a golden opportunity. We'd thrown him off his game. He was n't thinking clearly, slipping. He was panicked and irrational. He locked himself and very few others in a bunker under one of his main facilities. This is when it happened.
Rahn and I seen our chance and took it. We tapped into the air supply system of the bunker and pumped it full of biological warfare chemicals. The same shit he'd been using all these years. We made sure he experienced a death equivalent to that of which he'd been inflicting on the innocent people for all those years. He was never seen or heard from again. Soon after the war died down and the world began to recover.
Since then there has never been another soulless reach that kind of power. Not yet anyway...
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[ WP ] Two nations are at war ; one nation , led by mages who specialize in healing magic . The other , a nation led by necromancers . Make the necromancers the good guys .
| Another day, another scar.
This time, it was the stomach. A well-timed slash from an Othmar's hidden offhand palm knife sliced neatly through the exposed skin. As bits of your intestines eagerly escaped to freedom, the thought came once again: *Gods, please let this be my time. * But alas, a cursed healmage was nearby, and you caught a jolt of magic, the wound sewing itself up and an uncomfortable churning indicating organ regrowth.
By now, your entire body is criss-crossed with scars, each one the only visible reminder of a death unnaturally avoided. But the body is not the only part of a man that damages, and the burning men, the raped women, the decapitated children - those stayed, no matter how many days passed, no matter how hard you closed your eyes, no matter how many prayers you sent upward. Eventually, you had stopped trying, accepting the images as an unavoidable part of your past, present, and future.
Of course, the obvious solution was to take your life in private, away from the meddling mages who could stop you. You tried it your second week in the ranks, but the Interdictor embedded next to your heart stopped your hands, with the knife an inch from your throat. You had tried again and again, in every way you could imagine, but always the gem that compelled you into frenzied battle stopped that same violence from targeting its own originating body.
Deidot even tried to kill you, once, but his Interdictor prevented him from loosing the arrow. Deidot's companionship had provided the only respite from the daily horror of battle. Then one day, the Othmar pushed back unexpectedly during an assault, and you saw Deidot fall inside the enemy courtyard, far away from any of the masters. The lucky hrathgar was free! but that meant you once again spent your nights alone with your ghosts.
-- --
Sweat stings your eyes as you survey the battlefield. It takes time to learn how to interpret those rolling masses, with Aandian healmages and Othmar reanimators constantly reverting the other side's violent work. But over these long years you've acquired an eye for the important details... like the Othmar ghoul making a very deliberate path towards you. You curiosity and the Interdictor combined are an unstoppable force, so you tighten your grip and charge forward.
This Othmar is different. As you dance around in the jolting jig of combat, he seems to anticipate your every move. You stumble on a loose stone, and suddenly find yourself pinned. Then, staring straight into your opponent's helmeted face, you see a set of familiar eyes you thought you'd never see again.
*I swore I'd free you*, rumbled Deidot. Then with a powerful thrust, his sword was through your heart, and you knew you were free.
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[ WP ] The Spartans never lost at the battle of Thermopylaes ... Or ever . In the past 2,500 years they have yet to lose a single battle or war , and for the first time ever , you , a reporter , have been allowed in to observe their military tactics and advancements in a modern world .
| `` This is... remarkable,'' I said. The training grounds sprawled before me, miles of dirt and splintered weapons. The Spartans were in full battle armor from the waist up, naked from the belt down, and every single one was feverishly masturbating.
I turned to Grand General Diocletian the CXVIth. He beamed with pride, looking over his flock with open admiration. `` Look at'em,'' he said. `` Look at that form.''
My mouth hung open. I regained my composure and continued the interview. `` So, uh, Grand General. Is this part of the secret training ritual Sparta has guarded for millenia?''
`` Part of..? Son, this IS the ritual! This is the key to success.'' Men and women alike, as far as the eye could see, were casually jack or jilling off while talking and laughing, reminiscing about past battles. Some were doing some light jogging. A few were sparring with one handed weapons. Literally all of them were masturbating like their lives depended on it.
The general clapped me on the back. `` You look confused, boy. Here, join me. Take off your pants.'' He guided me to the training grounds with one giant, grizzled hand. With his other hand he was beating off. I looked away immediately, but I saw in that glance that his penis was very bloody. He did not seem to notice as he gave me the grand tour.
`` Spartans do not have occupations. We do n't even pay them. All we do is fight. If we need food, we take it. If we want wine, art or music, we enslave those who can make it. Our lives are perfect. This is the secret to the Spartan way. You are not masturbating?''
`` Oh, I'm not much of a fighter.''
`` Ha, look at your lily soft member! Of course you can not fight. Come, boy, I'll start you off.'' He reached for my groin, but I told him no, I'll do it myself, thank you. Holy crap.
At this point I did n't care about the report. I just wanted to escape. If I ran, I would insult the good grace of Diocletian, leader of the Spartan army, the most powerful man in the world. However, I was in full panic. We watched one man take a gladius to the eye without losing his erection. At this Diocletian climaxed, and I saw my opportunity.
I bolted for the nearest treeline. I thought Diocletian would be distracted, but he instantly regained his boner and ordered his troops to charge after me with his free hand. Thousands barreled after me, quickly closing the gap. Despite using only one arm to run, they were all extremely fast.
In desperation, I tried jacking off to gain some speed, endurance, anything, but I was too distracted. Despite my best efforts, I remained flaccid. The Spartans, however, took note of my efforts. They all crowded around me, red faced and pumping away. I kept trying but nothing I could think of helped me get it up.
They were closing in even closer, closer. I could feel their hot breath on my skin, a grizzled beard on my neck. Somewhere in the distance a war horn bellowed. All at once they started ejaculating on me. The first wave finished up and filtered out for the next wave. Like clockwork, methodically, like a well oiled machine, they finished off on command and made room for the next group.
Semen covered my body, filled my air ways. I was drowning in it. After what felt like an eternity, the Grand General himself approached me, bloody member in hand, glaring down in disgust. `` Go back to your kind and tell them what you've learned.'' He blasted me like a fire hose and threw a hand rag on my crumpled, used body.
`` Th-th-thank you, Grand General.''
|
[ WP ] Three Criminology students conduct an experiment where one of them pretends to hold another at gunpoint in an elevator , documenting whether people try to help . Things go wrong , however , when the “ mugger ” is shot and killed by an off-duty police officer . And he suggests they hide the body .
| `` We hit the third floor, bang, you're dead,'' Paul recited for the seventh time that day, pressing the end of the unloaded pistol into Cheryl's back. He shot a glance at the upper left corner of the elevator, scratched his head, and repositioned himself slightly to the left. In retrospect, Paul though, he should've switched places with Ryan - the other student was smaller in stature and would n't block the camera as much. His free hand went to the collar of his navy fleece jacket - as the day wore on, the temperature inside the elevator had gone from cool to oven, and sweat glued his shirt to his chest.
`` Oh, oh no, please, do n't, please...'' Cheryl, for her part, tried to sound as pitiable as possible while bracing herself for any possible physical madness that might happen. She stole a quick look at the person who'd just stepped in, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was a woman. The last man that walked in had tackled *her* to the ground, earning her a few bruises and a coat of dust on her face. Of the few women they'd had so far, most just started quietly dialing 911.
Paul had to smothered a smile as the woman, as predicted, reached into her bag...
And pulled out a gun.
`` Police! Drop the weapon!'' The bronze badge flashed into view.
`` Huh?'' Paul's mind went blank.
`` I said drop the weapon!''
His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Paul gathered his thoughts, frantically yelling at his right hand to loosen. His left hand moved to pry his right fingers off, struggling to no avail until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his grip softened. The gun fell clattering to the floor.
*Ding*
`` Third floor.'' The doors opened.
`` Paul!'' He heard Cheryl's voice. The warm of blood spread over his body. He slumped to the floor of the elevator and closed his eyes. His jacket felt wet against his chest.
The door closed. `` Going down.''
`` Paul! Paul, stay with us!'' Cheryl cried, running over to him. His jacket was soaked brown with blood. She pressed her hands over the hole in his jacket, feeling liquid slowly seep across her fingers as the beating of his heart against her palm grew faint. `` Paul, you've got to stay awake. Please, Paul.''
*Ding*
`` Basement.''
His eyelids fluttered, but did n't open. His heartbeat stopped.
She threw a quick look up into the corner. `` Ryan! Ryan, call 911!''
`` I... I am 911.''
Cheryl stared dazedly at the other woman. In one hand, she held her gun. The other pressed the door close button. She was panting, her eyes just as glazed as Cheryl's.
`` Ryan's already been taken into custody. Someone already took him to the precinct.''
`` What?''
`` The owner of, uh... of this apartment called about illegal recording in the complex.'' The woman stuffed her gun back into her bag and stumbled over to Ryan's body; as the doors opened, she grabbed his shoulders firmly and pulled him out into the dark hallway.
`` What the hell are you doing?''
The woman did n't respond, crouching and pressing two fingers to Paul's neck. She opened his mouth, pressed her hands to his sternum, and pumped up and down. Minutes passed in silence, until finally, she stood, her shoulders shaking. `` He's dead.''
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[ WP ] The world ends because of a man 's watch being set 5 minutes slow
| James had a habit of keeping his watch five minutes slow. There was no good life hack reason for keeping that way, he just never got around to fixing it. Laziness comes in various degrees but James had a Ph.D. in it. Instead of just opening the manual and resetting the watch, he adjusted his entire day around those five minutes. If humans were perfect, a plan like that would work, but James was far from perfect and as a result he was constantly late. This was usually only a problem for bosses and lovers, but this morning it was a problem for a five year old named Penny. She was crossing the street and James was late.
Penny's mother was devastated by her senseless death. Five minutes later and she would still be here. An extra cup of tea or a quick bathroom break and the family would still be whole. It was weeks before Penny's mother even left the house and the first day she did was the first day she decided to buy some smack. The feeling it imparted on her helped was away the sorrow and pain even if just for a few hours. Her habit became large and her dealer, Chuck, became wealthy.
Chuck had always been a dealer, but not a dealer that lurked in the shadows. His haunts included the polo grounds and the Museum of Art. His clients were educated and wealthy. He was discreet and they paid hm well. Penny's mom was actually a teacher at a local private school. Chuck had met her several times with her class at the Museum. He found her to be a nice person who was very helpful in getting his daughter an interview at the private school. Chuck's daughter was exceptionally bright but her talents were wasted at his local tax payer school. Chuck had always dreamed of sending her to a better school and he saved every cent he earned in an effort to achieving that dream. The money flowing in from Penny's mom helped make it possible and three months after her habit started, he could afford to place in the school.
The Howitz school was an amazing institution. While expensive, it catered to the most gifted students in the city. Unfortunately there were limited spots available and students were ranked by their test scores. Melissa made her father, Chuck, proud by scoring the highest ever recorded at the school. The headmaster immediately made room for Melissa, unfortunay this meant cutting a student loose. Highest in, lowest out. That was the mantra and Bill's son paid the price.
Bill was frustrated and angry at his son's release, but he understood. He had been a gifted child and he remembered the competition and pressure. In a way, he was a little relieved. He thought maybe this was a gift from God. Maybe this was a sign that his boy should take a slower path to greatness. The only problem was Bill had to now find a new school for his son, and that took time. Time he did n't have this week. It was hectic out at the lab this week. Bill was an astronomer and while most worked nights, his expertise was software and that was a day job. He would have to call in sick tomorrow, and find a new school for his son.
Bill's boss understood but the timing was very inconvenient. Today was the day the Near Earth Object Intercept went global. This was the future of protection and Bill had designed the software. The installation would have to go on without Bill, but the entire ordeal was more than Bill's boss could handle. His stress level was off the charts and his temper was short. Unfortunately his wife found this out when she called for the third time in twenty minutes. He screamed at her and slammed the phone into a drawer.
When her husband hung up on her, Mary started to cry. She put her face into her hands and sobbed. It was n't the call, it was more. Her marriage was failing and she knew it. She was pretty sure he was cheating on her. Probably a young girl at his office, or maybe a young man, she had found odd searches on his browser. All she knew was that she was doomed. Her life was over. She could end it, she could. She had all the equipment around her. She worked at the Center for Disease Control laboratory. She was surrounded by the most lethal viruses in the world. She could just open and inhale. It would be easy, but she could unleash a plague on the world. As much as she hated her life, she was n't willing to kill everyone.
`` Mary! What the hell are you doing,'' screamed a voice over the intercom. `` You were susposed to close the outside vents five minutes ago!''
`` What,'' Mary screamed. `` You said 3:00! Jesus that means you guys are venting into the city!''
`` It's 3:05 Mary!''
`` Oh my god, my watch is five minutes slow. I called my husband to ask him how to set it. I lost track of time. Oh my god, what have I done?''
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[ WP ] Your typical YA vampire romance except the main female character is rational , has good self esteem , and is completely creeped out by the whole situation .
| `` You're *how* old?''
V's pompadour looked wet in the neon glow of the `` Motel'' sign. Next to it, a electric palm tree lit up frond by frond.
`` Three thousand years.''
Katie made a face that was usually reserved for her overprotective father's statements about `` what young men want,'' but V smiled blithely on. He was clearly unaware of what a creep he was. She sighed and dug a cigarette out of an expensive chain-trimmed purse. What was it about her that always brought out the weirdos? They'd been like rats on a plague corpse ever since she turned 13.
`` You know I'm *barely* 18, right?''
`` The soul has no age,'' the vampire purred.
`` Uh huh. So just your physical, corporeal,'' she gestured with the cigarette, `` *fleshy* self is three thousand. You're really painting a tasty picture with that.''
V frowned. `` I can assure you that my stamina has not suffered.''
`` Please do n't talk about your ancient dick to me.''
`` It is not --'' V frowned. `` My body is eternally youthful. I have merely *experienced* three thousand years. There is a significant difference and I would hope that my profile picture --''
`` Really? You're going to bring up your profile picture? Which you obviously touched up to hide the fact that you have *fangs*? For all I know your dick rotted off two decades ago and you keep it in your pocket. The point is --'' youthful'' or not -- you're still a creepy old dude picking up on a teenager. How have you not examined that in three thousand years?''
`` I am *not* creepy. I resent that word.''
`` Resent it all you want. I'm not taking it back.''
`` And anyway, you agreed to meet me.''
`` I *agreed* to meet a 21 year-old with nice, human teeth.''
V growled, scuffing a shoe against the gum-studded asphalt. A bit of fang poked over his lower lip, recalling to Katie's mind her great aunt's inbred Maltese, Sam-Sam. She wondered if V, too, drooled on couch pillows.
`` Can we at least... do a kiss?'' V finally sputtered.
`` You've got to be kidding me.''
`` You probably get kissed all the time anyway.''
`` I ca n't even --''
`` Look just... nevermind. Just do n't report me. Please.''
Katie shook her head. Maybe being single forever would n't be so terrible. She ground the cigarette out and walked back to her car.
|
[ WP ] An alone and well equipped survivor in an impenetrable bunker finds that his biggest post-apocalyptic enemy is boredom .
| “ Computer! What time is it? ” I asked while gnawing on a frozen Popsicle stick.
“ 3:40 sir ” The female voice of the computer echoed across the bunker.
“ And the year? ” I said, waiting for her preprogrammed comeback.
“ You asked me the same question 5 hours ago, the year has n't changed yet ”
“ Hehe ” I giggled a little while walking towards the fridge for another Popsicle stick.
“ How ’ s the status outside? Still raining? ” I sat back down in my sofa and reached towards the floor to grab my reading tablet.
“ everything is quiet, the air is still contaminated, all the trackers you gave your family members still have n't moved, the satellites have n't picked up any usable signals yet, the creatures are moving away from our location in a steady pace thanks to our drones, all the other stigSc bunkers are still empty and have n't received any survivors, It also stopped raining half an hour ago. Anything else sir? ”
“ Yeah ” I said, “ I want you to address me as captain now ”
“ Ok captain ” said the computer in her friendly female voice that reminded me a little too much of my high school crush.
I started tearing up a little. I could n't hold it in, it ’ s been 5 years since everyone died, and 2 days since I last cried.
... God was I lonely.
|
[ WP ] You are in a contest to see who lasts the most time locked in a dark room with one meal per day . The thing you do n't know is that everybody lost before the 7th day . You are on day 325 .
| What day is it? What week, what *month? *
I need to win this. One meal a day - I can feel my skin swelling, my ribs sticking out of my skin. But I need to win. I have to.
I hear the grate slide open - the sound hurts my ears. I try move to the food, but I stumble, smashing my knee into the floor. And I lay there, trying to cry, but no tears come out - I'm too dehydrated. I reach out for the food, forcing it into my mouth, forcing it down. It's not enough. It's never enough.
But I have to keep on. How much longer could it be? How have the other contestants lasted so long? Are their situations as dire as mine?
I *need* to do this. They ca n't be able to hold out much longer. One million dollars... it's enough to make someone mad. But it's been so long - maybe 5 months, maybe even half a year. I've long since lost track.
I have n't seen my daughter in so long, although I see her in every dream - and all I ever seem to do now is dream.
It ca n't be much longer. I ca n't allow it to be.
According to her diagnosis, after eight months... this will all be for nothing.
*****
*****
If you did n't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [ my new subreddit. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/ )
I'll try add new ( and old ) stories every day.
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[ WP ] Tomorrow , everyone will become whatever their worst fear is . Arachnophobes will turn into massive spiders , people afraid of flying will become planes , homophobes will be gay . You fear is more peculiar .
| 2016.
When you think it ca n't get any worse, and that it's finally over, it laughs at you like Risitas while giving you its parting gift before the clock hits 00:01. In a moment, in a flash, every single person on earth turned into their worse fear, many died from their fear of death, some turned into inanimate objects ( and survived this transformation ), some turned into snakes
or spiders, some underwent a change of orientation, then there were the kids, a lot of them became boogeyman, evildoers and few elementary schoolers i knew turned into superheroes because of that adult film they caught a glimpse of.
Thats right, 2016 gave us giant spiders, a bunch of random inanimate objects, monsters and the list goes on. People started realizing something, what happened to those that feared catastrophes? A meteorite, Yellowstone erupting, our sun going into a super-nova, so many possible phobias of mass extinction. Well humanity was at luck and have my cold catholic parents to thank. The only thing i ever feared was the big Dudes existence himself, quite ironic.
I could feel the power surging thru my body as the fireworks went off and screams of horror filled the skies. I, in that moment, could have reverted the whole `` Phobiamation'', but i would have to revert every. single. one. including me. That was the only condition of reverting this catastrophe. I would n't have any of that.
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[ WP ] An evil character you made comes to life and forces you to change their story .
| `` Change it''
`` Alright, alright''
`` Ok now let me read…What, that's not better''
`` I thought you were angry about how you died''
`` Yes, because it was cliched and stupid-''
`` And now I changed it, instead of the hero killing you with a knife that got knocked out of his hand-''
`` Yes I saw. Now I get killed by frozen shit falling from an airplane''
`` Yeah''
`` First off I do n't think that happens''
`` Says the guy who was a character in a book a minute ago''
`` Secondly, it's stupid''
`` It's not stupid, now you're killed randomly, but if the hero hand't been there fighting you, you would n't have been in that position and it would n't have hit you. It's a commentary about how so much of our life seems out of our control but also how it's only through being proactive that this apparent randomness turns out in our favour''
`` Except it does n't turn out in my favour, which brings me to my third point, I die''
`` Oh so you were n't just angry about the nature of your death?''
`` No''
`` You were angry about dying''
`` Yes''
`` oh, uh, ok, how about this. The hero does n't kill you, you go to jail…''
`` I already do n't like it''
`` Well, I mean, what do you want from me?''
`` I'd like to win''
`` But you're the bad guy''
`` And''
`` Well I do n't think the readers like it when the bad guy wins''
`` As admirable as your loyalty to your readers, of whom I'm sure there will be droves, you have to ask your self, are any of my readers here right now''
`` In a way I like to think that by living the experience that I wrote, you're one of my readers''
`` Yes I'm going to ask you to not interrupt me and dare I say it maybe consider never talking again, now once again are any of your readers here, and before you answer, remember that you're not supposed to talk and that this is a rhetorical question''
`` …''
`` It can learn. Now, going forward in the knowledge that none of your readers are here, please take stock, quietly, of who is here''
`` …''
`` I will give you the benefit of a doubt and assume you thought to yourself that I meaning me, not you, am here. And what's more than that, that I am here and your readers are not, your readers will merely be disappointed if the story does not turn out how they want it. I, on the other hand, will rip out your spinal column and use it as a decorative piece if the story does not conclude in a manner to which I approve. And so with all that knowledge at your disposal, I will allow you to finish your story''
A review of The Eloquent Graveyard
Now here's a real clunker of a novel, from it's pretentious and ultimately meaningless title, to it's final'unexpected twist' it does everything wrong. From it's lame attempts to humour, to its characters who require the redundant descriptor of overly verbose, to it's fourth wall breaks not a single thing hits it's target.
Perhaps worst of all is it's attempts to have deeper meaning. For instance a whole chapter is dedicated to describing the journey of human waste as it fall from an airplane bathroom, freezes on the way down and finally kills a random passerby, ( a passerby who we do not follow to a graveyard, eloquent or otherwise, if you're wondering ) in what is supposed to be symbolize the lives of disaffected twenty something suburbanites and their failure to launch. But you wonder if maybe I'm wrong. How did I draw such a radical conclusion?
I did n't. The next chapter is dedicated to a disaffected twenty something suburbanite ( and stoner no less ) drawing an asinine comparison between the two in an extended soliloquy who's length serves to underscore it's facileness.
Which brings us to the ( spoiler alert ) twist ending, in which the villain wins in his dastardly scheme to corrupt the data stream of a super computer that makes, as a caricature hippie ( I ca n't even be bothered to explain ) puts it'really far out music man''.
What does any of this mean. I do n't know and I doubt the author does either. Or maybe he does and he's just stupid.
But to it's credit, it is mercifully short so C-
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[ WP ] You are watching the morning news while your young child idly plays with some toys nearby . An amber alert comes on the TV . It 's for your child . The sketch of the perpetrator looks just like you . There 's a knock on your door .
| My heart is pounding and my hands are shaking. Staring at the door, I fear what I do n't know. Who is here? Why are my daughter and I on TV? I have done nothing wrong.
`` Mommy, someone is at the door.'' She said while looking up at me.
`` I know sweetie, I will get it; do n't worry. Just keep playing.'' I say as I get up, put a sweater on and walk to the door.
`` Violet! Violet open the door! It's Brad, something weird is happening I need to talk to you!'' Was what he was yelling.
I ran to the door to let him in.
`` Brad what's happening? Why are you here? Is everything okay?'' So much worry.
`` Violet, they're after you. You pissed off the wrong people this time. Why did you have to go protest against the
government for the treatment of the people?! You could just live a peaceful life, but you always have to go stir the pot.
This is why I left you, you ca n't just settle down and be happy!'' His voice was filled with annoyance and despair.
`` You know I ca n't do that, you know I love you and Lyla. But I need to stand up for what's right. If I do n't stand for
something, I will fall for anything. Now tell me, who is after me and what can we do?'' I say as I take his hand to guide him
inside.
`` Secret service has been monitoring you and your affiliation with the group Anonymous. They do n't like that you are
spreading their secret files and operations around. You have to leave now, tell everyone if you must. But you ca n't let
them catch you. You will be trialed for kidnapping of Lyla and put to jail or even sentenced to life.'' Brad finished with a
huff.
`` W..wait what?! Kidnapping? Lyla is my daughter?! They ca n't do that, there is DNA proof!'' I say with a laugh.
`` This is the government covering their ass Violet! You think they care? No! Pack your things! I got you some fake passports and documents so you can run away to Russia. You remember the story of Edward Snowden?'' He questioned.
`` Yes, of course. I helped him remember? Why?'' Confusion was all I felt.
`` You are going to do exactly as he has done, you will meet up with him and figure out how to live from here on out. What to say to media so they know you have done nothing.'' Brad was running all over my house throwing clothes and necessities into our suitcases.
Flustered, I turn around to see Lyla standing there.
`` Oh! Sweetheart, what are you doing there? Mommy said go play with your toys.'' Walking towards her, she throws her arms around my legs.
`` What's wrong baby? Let's go play, I have to do something right now.'' Was she listening? Did she understand? She's only five years old... I do n't want her worrying about something like this!
`` Mommy, there was someone outside the window. I was scared.'' She looked at me with tears in her eyes as my heart sinks and anger rises.
`` I told you, you have to leave NOW Vi. You have to leave now. I love you, please listen to me this once. I love you, please.'' He begged.
Looking into his eyes, then down to my frightened child, I run to my dresser and hide my gun under my shirt.
`` Violet, go with Brad and pack all your clothes and one toy, okay? We are going on a trip! I love you sweetie, go on.'' I say nudging her.
My mind is in a blur, who would I have angered enough to do this to me? Walking around to the safe, I open it to get some of the money and the extra gun I have in there when I come across a picture.
It was of Violet, Jason and I. My ex, her dad. Her dad who is part of the CIA. The same person who swore to kill me if I left him. The man who attempted to ruin my life.
`` It was him.'' I say under my breath.
`` IT WAS JASON!'' I yell. Mostly to myself, but Brad heard me.
Six years ago I made the mistake of telling him about all my protesting and the work I was doing to expose the government and their bullshit. Two months later I found out he was in the secret service. He swore he would never tell, that was also when he started to drink and blackmail me. I zip up the suit case and head to the backdoor where Brad and Violet are waiting for me. He hands me the passports and a letter.
`` They're almost here, I have sensors set up around the neighborhood. You have five minutes, get to the end of the street and get into the red Toyota Matrix. From there go to the southern border and get into Mexico. There are more instructions in the letter along with something private from me. Only read the letter from me when you have time. Do not look back from here'' He was saying.
`` But-'' I tried to interrupt.
`` No buts! You have to forget about your life here! You have to! I need you to get safe, the world needs you to. You know the secret plans the government in conspiring to, you made the mistake of telling Jason.'' Disappointment clear on his face.
`` Fine, I love you. I'm sorry, and thank you.''
`` Just be safe.'' I heard him say as I grabbed the suitcases.
`` Let's go Vi, do n't ask questions okay? It's a surprise!'' I walk as fast as I can keeping her up with me. `` Please keep up Vi!''
We stumbled over the uneven grass and dirt road. I'm not strong, and this is happening so fast, but we managed to get to the car with no issues. I open the trunk and throw the suitcases in, then get Violet situated into the car seat.
I kiss her forehead and tell her I love her.
As I was about to get into the car, I hear sirens from the other street and two gunshots. Feeling like there were two holes in my heart, I get into the car and drive.
****Thank you for reading. I'm not sure where I was headed with this story, but I loved the prompt and wanted to try something. This was my first attempt on the subreddit and would appreciate any comments. I think I chose this path because I've been strongly following world politics and American issues. I also love Anonymous haha.
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