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[ WP ] You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago , today he gives it back and says , `` I need a favor '' .
| All this time, I was worried about having to go to Hell unwillingly. But now, I will ride into hell at Satan's side on our beastly demonic hounds, and it will be glorious.
I ca n't believe he needed my help. Satan willingly bought my soul nine years ago and in that nine years I've been able to amass a fortune, become wildly successful, and lead the free world at my will and without interruption. For him to come to me and ask for *my* help, he must truly be desperate.
He said it was something that he could n't do, or would n't. When it comes down to it does it really matter? Satan, the almighty devil and Lucifer himself needs my help. Sorry to keep mentioning it, I just ca n't believe it. I'm just a human. Granted, the most powerful mortal in the world, but still, it's unfathomable that Satan needs a favor from me.
We had a long conversation about how we go about committing such an act and it was decided that the best way was for him to have no part. I would act alone. Although I would most likely and undoubtedly be compared to The Devil, to regain my soul I will do anything that is needed.
Mass Genocide. That's it. That's all he wanted. Easier than I thought it would be. I already kind of had some sort of plans along these lines, but nothing to this extent. I wanted thousands, but Satan had different plans, he wanted Millions. The groups were different, I ca n't stand the English, and Satan, for whatever reason, is absolutely repulsed the the Jews.
So, here I am in my bunker. I can hear the Americans coming. It wo n't be too long before they find me, but they will not take me alive.
- A.Hitler
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[ WP ] It is the end of days . God and Lucifer stand before the last human being . You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally . Unknown to them , you are Death and have come for them instead .
| Hey. I do n't know if anyone's listening to this, if anyone's left to listen for that matter, but hey. Lem me tell ya about this one time...
Hold on a second.
*sounds of person being chopped to pieces with a scythe*
Now. Where was I? Oh, yeah. So there's these two guys, YHVH and Louie. They've got a gig going where they divide up all the people in this one area between them. Thing is, I'm supposed to get all the people in that area and they know it.
One moment please.
*sounds of person getting their throat cut with a scythe*
Now. Introductions are in order. I'm Officer Death, stationed at the Interdimensional Border, and I keep people moving through. YHVH and Louie, though, they've got people trapped in pocket dimensions inside the border. That's a big no-no. So my boss, Chief *record skips at this point*, gave me emergency power and sent me into the Border to take care of those two.
Well, the thing was, people had gotten wise so that nobody was coming through anymore. And while I do n't want to have people get trapped in there, those people are the only thing that balances out our growing nonexistence rate. So I got ta clear up the border.
Since nobody was coming through anymore, it got down to one guy: little old Jake. So I took care of him, like this:
*thud*
*whistling noises*
*splash*
So Jake's moved on past the Border and I took his place. Well soon enough one of their little Officer-lookalikes came and collected me. I got put through more rigmarole, bureaucracy, and paperwork than the entire DoRBR could dream up.
What? The DoRBR? Department of Redundancy, Bureaucracy, and Redundancy. Also the processing organization for my paperwork.
Eventually, because I'd fooled this weird Moral Compass they used on me, YHVH and Louie came to have a chat with me themselves. They put me through the wringer trying to get me to pick between them, and I just kept hedging.
Finally, YHVH pulled out a tablet -- a real old one, Hebrew on sapphire -- checked it for a bit, then said to Louie, `` Wait a minute. This guy's report is nothing like Jake.''
At that point, the jig was up, and we all knew it. I threw off the disguise and shouted,'You're under arrest!'' I proceeded to put them into Limbo for the journey to the court. Case closed.
In case you could n't tell, this was my debriefing tape. They probably should n't have let me record it while on duty, but oh well.
*sounds of person being stabbed in the intestines with a scythe*
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[ WP ] There is no prompt . Just write a story you 've always been thinking about or one you 've been thinking about sharing . Anything goes .
| We asked into the endless void, hoping that anybody or anything would answer the question we all yearned to hear an answer to. `` Is anybody there?'' For years we waited to hear a response. And for years nothing happened. We had given up. `` Maybe we are alone...'' We thought.
Then somebody answered; we were ecstatic, words could not describe the joy we all felt knowing we were no longer alone in our known universe. That we shared the vast infinite with beings just as if not more intelligent than us. For years we conversed through short sentences describing ourselves to one another like new found lovers.
They described their planet as being abundant in life and beauty, vast open plains of tall grass, alike ours, filled with many beautiful creatures, lush, green, dense forests home to thousands of bug like species, oceans that seemed to never end, being home to many animals that preferred to not see the light of their radiant sun that was much bigger than ours, for twenty four hours it provided their planet with the needed vitamins to support such an abundance of life and beauty...But it was all soon to end for them. Their planet was dying.
They humbly asked for our permission to visit, we thought they would never ask. We accepted, on the conditions that there be peace between our two species.
The day of their arrival was a day to remember. Millions gathered outside their homes with their heads pointed towards the sky, we all watched our atmosphere be replaced by their ship. It was a strange sight, for such a massive steel leviathan it did not make any noise. It just ominously hovered there, silently. It's silence echoed for miles. A silence that is almost disturbing to the ears, the kind that makes you yearn for the slightest sound to replace it. It felt as if time had frozen, nobody moved or made a sound. The silence was broken when something fell from the ship.
It made a high pitched sound that came around in intervals of seconds slowly picking up pace; we soon realized what it was. It was clear they did not come with friendly intentions. The magnitude of the blast wiped out entire continents. Leaving nothing but a charred inferno behind. A testament of the promise they broke.
Our oceans were drained, and forests harvested. Our people were enslaved or slaughtered if they refused to comply. Our were recourses taken until our entire planted was nothing but a wasteland of death and sorrow. Our atmosphere is begging to die. Along with the few left behind.
I can still remember the big red letters on their ships....
`` NASA''.
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[ WP ] You live in a world where everyone expresses themselves , no matter how small or mundane , through musicals . Well , everyone except you .
| `` I could n't help but notice you while at the bar
Tell me beautiful do you wan na get outta here
We could go somewhere new and exciting
I swear to you I'm not the type that likes biting
Unless you're into that kinda thing''
Holy hell, really? That's his pick up? I've heard better lyrics come out of Lil Wayne. I give him the Ice Cold # 4, a glare so cold it makes polar bears shiver..at least that's what I've been told. His smile falters and he sings something about leaving his phone at the bar and it's kinda far so he's got ta go. Yeah, please do.
I hate going out but it's better than staying home with Jenna who's got her fab four over to sing about how they hate men and why ca n't they just find a good one? Three chorus lines consisting of'man, men suck they just wan na fu-'
`` Hey you, hey green eyes, whatcha thinking about over here?''
Great, here we go again. `` Not much guy, kind of just hanging out-''
`` Why do n't you let me buy you a beer? You see we all got a little something on our miiiind'' Half the bar begins to nod and hum, snapping their fingers. I was worried this would happen. It's bad when one starts in but when a whole group gets going I want to throw myself in front of a semi.
Two drunk girls stumble up to my stool, this at least should be entertaining.
`` Miiind..all the tiii-Hiccup-iiime.''
Looks like ol dude is about to continue, oh yay.
`` We all got our own demons we got ta fight, it aint always easy and it aint always right''
Drunk back up burps out `` Riiight, it ai n't always riiight''
`` So why do n't you let me in green eyes, it's time to sink or swim tonight. Why do n't you share a little of that frown with me while we take a ride down town
We can talk about love and read between the lines because we all got a little something on all of our minds and it ai n't always right.''
He winked making me cringe. `` Listen Grease 3, I'm not interested. I think I'm just going to go home.''
He paused, they all did looking at me, he then nodded as if I were suppose to say more, I sighed. This always happened to me. They do n't get that I do n't do this whole song thing. I pick up my purse, leaving a few bills on the table. Confused he calls to me as I walk away.
`` You did n't finish the song!''
`` I never do'' I mumble swinging the door open and walking out into the chilly night.
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[ WP ] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes , Milk , and Bread . Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair , weather beaten skin , and a sword on his hip . The first thing he says to you is `` You 're never going to believe what happened . ''
| `` You still drink your coffee black?'' The question was barked over my shoulder at the man sitting a room away in my den. A man I had known, once. His hair had been long then too, but less wild, and black as ebony. Now it was streaked with more silver than the covered the hilt of the mighty bastard sword at his hip. The well groomed beard that had covered most of his face in the past was now long to cover several deep scars.
Bastard sword; an appropriate weapon for such a man.
As a boy of four, when his disappearance was fresh, I had counted the days. `` I'm going out to grab some smokes!'' He had said. Mother had called after him to get milk and bread while he was out. The skies had been overcast, and I'd heard the first distant clap of thunder as he rolled out of the driveway on his old'51 panhead. A storm raged that evening, a storm that seemed to sweep him of the face of the planet without a trace.
As I grew older, and the days ticked off, I lost track and counted the months instead. Mother died in month seventy three. When I hit one hundred and twenty, I switched to counting years. Today marked twenty years and one day. Happy birthday to me.
`` Black is fine.'' His voice was the same deep rumble that I remembered, the same deep rumble that I heard when I spoke myself. He spoke slower now, and with a quality of command.
I handed him a mug as I sat in a chair across from him. It was not the spot I usually sat in, for he had unwittingly occupied that when I'd offered him a seat. We sat sipping in silence until our mugs were empty.
`` Well dad, you care to explain yourself?'' His gaze met mine from under his bushy eyebrows. `` You care to explain what happened that night? Where you were the next day when I turned four? Where you were when I became an effective orphan at ten?'' I shot to my feet, fists clenched and shaking. `` Where the fuck have you been for the last twenty years?''
`` I've been home.'' Before my outrage at this could be vocalized, he raised his massive hand to hold back my inevitable venomous verbiage. `` Th place where I come from, I mean. My... Real home. And your mothers. And yours, though you ca n't possibly remember it. You were months old when we left.''
`` Left where? Narnia? Middle-Earth? Emond's Field? Westeros?''
A cocked eyebrow was triggered by the last location. `` Westeros?'' In two strides I was at my bookcase and flinging a well-worn paperback at the man who helped bring me into the world. He studied the novel briefly. `` Martin, huh? The Nightflyers guy, right?'' He opened to the first page. `` 1996. I guess I just missed it.'' Setting the book down next to his mug, he turned his gaze back to me. `` Is it any good?''
A single nod was my response as I returned to my chair. `` He makes a point throughout the series that man is the real evil in the world.''
...
I'm hitting a block here. I will return to this if anyone wishes.
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[ WP ] The moment your wife gives birth , even before you can hold the child a time traveller appears aiming a gun at its head .
| `` Just one more push, Josie! We can almost…there…''
Josephine grunted and pushed as sweat poured down her face in rivulets.
The grunt was punctuated by the first cries of a newborn.
`` Congratulations - ma'am, sir. It's a baby boy. Say hello to your new ba…''
Before the doctor could finish, electric blue light exploded in the room sending medical supplies in every direction. The room's occupants looked in the place of the blue bolt and there stood a square jawed man with a crew cut, black leather jacket and black sunglasses. The man raised a double barreled shotgun and leveled it at the baby and the room erupted into screams and panic. David grabbed the newborn and scrambled behind a surgical table.
`` John Connor, I've been se..''
`` There's no one here by that name,'' yelled a doctor. `` Please go!''
The lantern jawed man removed his sunglasses and his eyes shifted to red.
`` What yee-ah ees eet?'' the man said with a deep Austrain accent.
The doctor throwing his hands up, pleadingly said `` It's 2015. It's New Year's Day.''
The stranger scowled and took on a vacant stare.
`` My apologies. I was sent from ta fewcha. We focked op.'' and with that, the man vanished into a ball of light.
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[ WP ] Every new planet that is discovered comes with Gods . You 're the one tasked with destroying them .
| I readied my silvered bastard sword as Charon's Ferry righted itself to fall through the atmosphere of the red-blue planet below. My brothers and sisters in arms stood beside me, each readying their own weapons. Some said chants and charms over modern plasma rifles and rail guns, while others, like myself, started circulating their raw life-force through weapons that were a tad more up close and personal. Each of us wore spirit mesh body armor that would enable us to gain physical resilience beyond what we were capable of infusing ourselves with.
As we neared the surface of the planet below I pulled up my corneal display of the two divine signature targets. I reaffirmed the direction I had to leave the ship from as well as the proximity of the targets to each other and the rather large auras spreading out from the points. Most likely some kind of duality between two pantheon leaders. Nemeses, maybe? Did n't matter he'd find out soon enough.
The bay doors opened and I leaped out from the ship with several others. I rolled as I hit the ground and smoothly transitioned to a full on sprint, several of my comrades doing the same in other directions. The red grasses and trees blurred as I ran full bore while weaving through them. I even passed through several villages containing vaguely human looking aliens. The villages were all small and impoverished, with one exception for each of them. The temples.
The massive intricate spires and lushly cultivated grounds made me feel even better about what I came here to accomplish. I reached the edge of the massive, elderly, forest where the divine signatures began rising up to their peaks. Creatures made from animated trees and plants rose up to attempt to waylay me. It did not end well. I did n't pause to let the mulch fall to the ground before charging forward.
I neared the center of the forest, the base of a massive tree trunk became clear in the distance. Probably a World Tree of some kind. Those were always neat. The roots of it were grown into a small alcove which I correctly assumed was for completing major rights. A tall, elvish looking, woman with leafy hair stood basking over a massive rotting platter of food and, what I assumed was, a similarly rotting virgin sacrifice.
She looked down upon me with glowing amber eyes, smiled, and said within my mind in a saccharin voice `` Oh another worshiper come to devote their entirety to me, truly this is a joyous day. I was beginning to grow bored of my priests usu-''
She did n't get to finish as the holy light died from her eyes. Now I prepared myself for what came next. The sky darkened with storm clouds and lightning crackled all around. Then the clouds shuddered forth.
`` How dare you mortal! You shall pay for my wife's murder heathen'' said the glowing haired elvish looking man as he flew towards me with all the speed of an early 21st century jet. Spouses, check. I waited for a few nano-seconds, pondering how sad and pitiful these gods were. After what seemed like an eternity I leaped upward to meet the delusional god who believed he could fight me.
Energy whirled to life around me as I spread my own aura out around me. The runes inscribed into my sword flared to life as I brought it up to meet him. His battle was so sloppy that I chopped through it like a hot knife through butter. He did n't even have time to change his expression as I cleaved him in half. I was a little pissed at the moment so I neglected to avoid getting his blood on me.
It was fine though. There was n't anything special about it so I could get it off with a shower. I laughed to myself. This job had been so much more intense when I had first started back on Earth, but now it was just easy. Oh well, at least still felt good to end the shit out of these narcissistic pricks who thought it was okay to lord over powerless innocents.
Just another day in the life of the dreaded immortal Godslayers of Terra, I supposed.
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[ WP ] Death has become a mentor for a random person .
| Well since I've never read Mort, this hopefully wo n't sound too similar to Pratchett's work.
If it were possible for an immortal creature with no sense of humour and no face to scowl, Death would be doing it. Signing up for Random Acts of Kindness as a drunkenly decided New Year's Resolution had been the worst decision of his incredibly long and slightly repetitive life. He adjusted his long, black Monday Morning cape ( distinguishable from Tuesday's because it was Alexander McQueen, and different from Wednesday's because Wednesday's had three lines of diamanté studs on the shoulders ) and sighed from his non-mouth. He'd been assigned to Brittany, a woman so unfortunate that it made him wonder how soon it would be before he had to collect *her. * She was short, dumpy to the point of ridiculousness with a doughy complexion and a history of bad eyeliner choices. Then there were the nervously chewed nails, last year's sale shoes *and* coat, the mousy hair that had been dyed blonde three years ago ( and the roots ignored completely, it seemed ) and the nervous twitch that she seemed to have literally developed just to spite him.
`` What am I supposed to do with her?'' He had asked the branch manager plaintively.
`` Teach her to paint, a new skill.. something. Just make sure she has a good time.''
Now he looked at her sadly, then pulled from under his Monday cloak a large lump of wax. She peered at him, finger already half in her mouth, a thread of saliva linking the chubby digit and her pink mouth in a kind of inexplicably mesmerising way.
`` Now Brittany,'' He said in the way that one might speak to mentally retarded children or friendly dogs. `` What do you know about Voodoo?''
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[ WP ] The Mona Lisa just blinked .
| I blinked. She blinked. I shook my head to clear it. Maybe visiting the Louvre was n't the best idea I ever had to clear a hangover, but hey, how often am I in Paris?
`` Did you see that?'' I ask the guard standing in the room looking bored. The guard ignored me. He probably did n't speak English.
I look back at the Mona Lisa. That irrepressible smirk. The look in her eyes like she's keeping some five hundred year old secret. She winked.
Shit, man. This is nuts.
`` Dude,'' I say, turning to the guard. `` You saw that, right?''
The guard looked away impassively.
`` I'll tell you the secret if you come closer,'' Mona Lisa said.
I stepped closer to the small painting. The guard was all over me, his less than five foot stature staring my stomach right in the face.
`` Back off, Americain,'' he said. Despite the irony, I took a step back. The guard returned to his position and attitude.
I looked back at the painting and I swear she smirked back at me as if I was the joke that bemused her for centuries. I beat it from the joint before I got into more trouble.
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[ WP ] Today , you have become a parent . You realise that you can hear your child 's thoughts . The midwife informs you that this is the same for everyone but parents simply do n't inform the children as an unwritten rule . Your own parents smirk .
| The realization of what was going on slowly sunk as my mother gave me an embarrassed smile while my step-father smirked at me, like being married to my mother gave him some kind of foothold in what was being explained to me as a purely genetic bond. I did n't know what to say as I looked down at the baby in my arms, her internal dialogue running through my head. The touch of my husband's firm hand on my shoulder did a lot to pull me out of my spiraling emotional reaction to this news and put the more practical side of my thoughts into play.
Tense moments went by as I stared at the people who had raised me, recalling every hurtful word, every time I had been let down, every time I had tried to connect with them in some way only to fail. My step-father opened his mouth, no doubt beginning some asinine attempt to lighten the mood, when I finally spoke.
`` Get out.''
I had meant it to sound like a command, hard and unwavering, but the words that came out of my mouth lost all of the anger I was feeling and sounded more like a strangled sob.
Everyone seemed to react simultaneously, as I tried to wipe the tears from my face before they could fall onto my precious child's head. My stepfather became instantly indignant, yelling at me for being rude and ungrateful. My mother tried to quiet him down, while attempting to convince me that I was being melodramatic and probably suffering from the hormones that plague every woman after a recent birth. My husband slipped his arm from around me to take a more shielding stance between the bed that I was laying on and my parents. The innocent baby in my arms burst into tears as the collective voices in the room got a little too loud for her sensitive ears.
Holding her as close as I dared without crushing her fragile frame, I attempted to put my years of babysitting as a teenager to good use in order to calm her down amidst the chaos. It did n't work and hearing the echo of her discomfort in my mind was n't helping me either. This time when I spoke, my voice was strong enough to at least form coherent words.
`` Either get out now, or I will let John see you out, and if you can still read my thoughts, mother, you know he is n't that great big teddy bear you tell everyone that your daughter married and he will NOT be nice about it. All this time, I excused your behavior, assuming that you meant well, even hoping that given enough time you might even actually be proud of me despite not being the type of daughter you wanted. Instead I get to find out that you were in my head this entire FUCKING TIME. You broke my heart so many times over the years and then did the same to my brothers! You're a selfish, vindictive bitch and I hate that I was ever dumb enough not to see you for the truly cruel woman you apparently are.''
There was no sadness in my mother's eyes when she finally looked at me square in the face, just a grim certainty as she grabbed my step-father's hand and led him out of the hospital room. A couple of minutes went by and the baby finally stopped wailing, with a few mumbled snatches of mumbled bewilderment echoing in my skull. I imagined it probably become familiar in time, but for now it felt like one of those ASMR videos my husband was always listening to, scratchy and irritating and just shy of actually making my head feel itchy. Contemplating that feeling, I burst into fresh tears when my husband finally turned from the doorway to look at me.
`` If this feels like it does to me in your head, I know you kind of enjoy it, but I think after those first weeks of sleeplessness I'm just going to want to punch her in her sweet little face or something. I do n't want it to be like that. I do n't want to be like her.''
`` Hey now, calm down.'' Sitting on the bit of bed space beside me, my husband smiled and stroked my cheeks before kissing me. `` We've talked about this before. Well, not this. This is a bit more twilight zone than we had been prepared for and, you're right, I do like it. My brain is all tingly, but it's still the same kind of thing. Your family is douches and you are NOT a douche. I know you're going to be a great mom. I, on the other hand, will use this new found advantage to make my daughter think that I am a god because I can.''
The look I gave him was angry enough that the grin quickly slipped from his face as he went to try to awkwardly hug me around our child and assure me that he was kidding. When he pulled away, I laughed and smacked him in the arm.
`` You're a jerkface and I know you're only kidding, and I love you, but if you start trying to raise a psychopath, so help me, I will drop kick your ass into next week. That's got ta be our number one rule. We do n't use this for evil.''
A mischievous light glinted in his eyes as he leaned forward and opened his mouth, no doubt in an attempt expound upon his evil genius and distract me from the conversation at hand so that I would keep from freaking out for a little while longer. Then his phone vibrated and when he fished it out, I could clearly see a text from his own mother flashing on the screen. I liked his mother, but I knew his childhood held a lot of resentful moments between him and his deceased father. The thought that my child was liable to grow up with no grandparents at all flashed across my mind. Heaving a sigh, I laid a hand across his back as I watched him contemplating his mom's imminent arrival.
`` Hey, want to go get something to eat and take some time away from here, while I tell her to kindly fuck off?''
He chuckled as he shook his head.
`` No, I thought about it and I'm not angry at her, not really. I was n't the easiest of kids and I can kind of see why she made the decisions she did in raising me. Honestly, she suffered enough listening to me trying to stealthily get it on with my high school girlfriends. But, I am definitely going to make her sweat when she gets here.''
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[ WP ] : You are not sure how it ended up being your job to raise and train the second coming of Christ . You are not even a christian .
| `` Oh fuck. Shit shit shit. What do I do?''
`` Pick him up you idiot. How could you do that?''
The shrieking and crying was earsplitting. I reached down and picked the baby off the floor. I instinctively started patting his back but to no effect.
`` How did you drop the Christ child? How?!?!''
`` He shimmied! I was n't expecting it.''
`` Do you have any idea how fucked you are when the College of Cardinals see the bruise?''
`` Maybe they wo n't notice.''
`` It's a full physical, Steve. They see everything.'' Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. This was not going well. `` You should repent. Jesus does save.''
`` I do n't think it works like that. Apologizing to a baby does n't absolve your sin.''
`` You need a miracle right now and that baby has done crazier things before.'' The babies tears began to subside.
`` This is n't like the time when he could n't break the surface of the bath. There's a difference between physical and spiritual miracles. I got through a few chapters of the Bible finally.''
`` Only took you 3 months to start. Holy shit are we screwed.''
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[ WP ] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
| “ Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? ”
“ The truth is all I do, ” Grimm Reaper replies.
“ A simple yes or no answer will suffice, Mr. Reaper. ” The judge interjects.
“ Then, yes. ”
“ Council, your witness. ”
“ Mr. Reaper, can you explain your involvement with the deaths of…everyone? ” the lawyer asks.
“ You see, it ’ s quite simple really. You probably learned it in kindergarten. You can ’ t have a top without a bottom, a left without a right, an up without a down and a beginning without an end. There would not be life if I weren ’ t around.
For it is because of me that you have experienced every smile and every tear. I am the reason you have the ability to stand there and question me today. ”
“ Why do cause such hurt? ” the lawyer asks.
“ Have you not heard what I said? How would you know pain and sorrow, if you didn ’ t first know pleasure, and joy? ” Grim Reaper responds.
“ I ’ ll ask the questions here. Why have you killed so many? ”
“ By providing an expiration date, I give your life meaning. Time would be squandered if it weren ’ t for the limited moments you have here. ”
And at that moment, because the author has no idea where the story should go, Grim fades away.
|
( EU ) You have the most well respected and feared job in all of the world . You go into the wild , and put down rabid Pokemon who 've killed humans .
| `` Step aside, kid.''
Those were my words to the trainer. Everyone of them would defend their portable monsters with all they had. But this one trainer was different. This little girl had no words. She just looked down. Maybe she was crying. She definitely wasnt smiling.
`` Where is it? Is it this one?'' I inquired. Her Lotad looked at me and became agitated.
She pointed a finger into the next room in the house. The call only specified there was one dead, but the parents were `` fine''. They could n't speak. They were destroyed. But to me, not speaking stands as fine by now. I've seen it all. So what could it have been?
As I entered the room, I found the body face down. I could see it then. They were twins. The murderer was standing in a corner, scared, trembling in fear. The Seedot shaked more and more as I stepped closer.
`` You are no pet. You are a monster.''
I pulled the trigger. I could hear the mother breaking down again. Before stepping out, I saw a picture. Two little girls, one wearing red, the other green, holding a pokeball each, and next to them, the two creatures. How could they look so peaceful and innocent, then do such a wrong?
A phone call. In the middle of a contest? How many victims? I'm on my way. Fucking Fire Pokemon.
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[ WP ] Earth is God 's science fair project , and it 's being judged .
| -I do n't get it, did you misunderstand the objective of our forum? -
-Have you seen my diagram? I selected several of the proper materials: nitrogen, oxygen, helium, etc. and demonstrate a progression of complex forms. Not even I could have predicted the diversity of outcomes. The venus flytrap sample alone is astounding and it is only one of billions of species.-
-Your project is incredibly ambitious. None of the judges deny your attention to detail or the creativity that went into your project. But what is the point? Where is the method behind it? Take G_D524 ’ s project for example. He isolates two of the materials ( which, by the way is a much more sensible approach. It is not necessary to use quite so many ingredients. It results in a lack of clarity and therefore a lack of reliable conclusions ). He then combines them in a series of different ratios, each in a separate parallel universe, and observes them over one billion years. We now have a thorough and definitive catalog of how these two materials interact and behave over time. But what can we draw from your results, if they can be called results. Your project is disorganized and seemingly random. There are indeterminate uncontrolled variables.-
-I suppose it is more of a study. but some of the samples are just so beautiful and strange. Maybe we could just keep the experiment going for a few billion more years as a museum piece or something. Others may be intrigued.-
-You sound like that human child sample you brought blabbering on and on about how delicious watermelons are and how fun it is to skip. You make a mockery of this forum! We do not exist to entertain and you will not be invited back for the next fair.-
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[ WP ] Everything you touch disappears
| Yeah, it's me. I am Mike- the `` demon'' kid. I have lost my parents, friends, and a few valuables because of my ability. But I am sad because I know it is not my fault. Or is it? I find myself sitting in a lab with scientists, aka people in white suits, do tests on me. Whatever. It is n't my fault that I was born with this. I accidentally touch a wall next to me with my hand and the whole entire lab, which is actually a pretty big building, partly dissapears. I cause the building structure to disappear. Half of the floor is fine, but the other half is slanted. The restrains I am placed in dissapear, and my body hits the slanted floor. I begin to slide when one of the scientists, who was n't in my lab and does n't know my ability, reached out to grab my hand so I would n't fall into rubble. I felt terrible. I could n't see the face of this brave scientists because of his white suit, but I am sure he was surprised. He disappeared, and my body fell into the pile of rubble. The other scientists in my lab had fleed the area, those evil brats. So, I fell. Everything I touched disappeared and it was a wreck. Eventually, all the soil in the world had dissapeared, and the whole world was a pile of rubble. I looked up at the sun, and, as the rays of sun illuminated my face, I yelled, `` Why? Why me?'' I took both of my hands, pushed the palms together, and both of my hands dissapeared. I angrily said, `` I will never forgive you.'' to my hands as tears ran down my cheeks. I looked around and, as far as I could see, the world was rubble and there was no sign of life. I felt alone.
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[ WP ] Write a creation myth .
| The river flowed through nothing. Nothing above and nothing below. No light, no dark, no. The river, rushing and turning and twisting, fought a war against no rocks, no drops, no felled trees, no bridges, no horny salmon, no hungry bears, no kayaks, no rafts. The river began at a point way off in nothing and ended in nothingness. It was n't a different nothingness. The river flowed and twisted. The river sprayed up and turned, right and left, though right and left could be up and down or front and back or in and out. The river journeyed, never tiring, never drying. The river was.
A small, lone, shiny pebble came down the river, though it could also have come up or come right or come left or come in. The pebble, rushing and turning and twisting, clunked and bounced in combat against no rocks, no drops, no felled trees, no bridges, no horny salmon, no hungry bears, no kayaks, no rafts, and one short shore.
Another pebble, small, lonely, shiny, came left the river. The pebble, rushing and turning and twisting, scraped and dragged on no rocks, no drops, no felled trees, no hungry bears, no kayaks, no rafts, one short shore, and one very still salmon, facing opposite the current, biding time near the short shore. Waiting.
A strong, brazen leaf came floating down the top of the river, though it could have floated down the bottom or the left or the right or the northeast corner or the side. The leaf, rushing and turning and twisting, danced and glided on no rocks, no drops, no felled trees, no hungry bears, no kayaks, no rafts, one short shore, one very still salmon, and one turgid root sticking out from the shore. It glided onto ( or underto or nextto or sideto ) the root and stayed, biding time near the short shore and the still salmon. Waiting.
Another leaf, this one not too strong and rather timid, came floating side the left of the river. The leaf, rushing and turning and twisting, limped and squished on no rocks, no drops, no felled trees, no hungry bears, no kayaks, no rafts, one short shore, one very still salmon, one turgid root sticking out from the shore, and one strong, brazen leaf still-gliding on the turgid root. It limped onto the shore and nuzzled in the bosom of the shore.
A fragile boat, neither sail nor motor nor paddle, came through the river. The boat, rushing and turning and twisting, walked and smiled on no rocks, no felled trees, no hungry bears, no kayaks, no rafts, one short, one very still salmon, one turgid root sticking out from the short, one strong, brazen leaf still-gliding on the turgid root, and one timid lead nuzzled in the bosom of the shore. As the boat went past ( or along or beyond ), it smiled at the leaves and the root and the shore. Then, it plunged over a drop and plummeted, landing in a body of water and sending a huge wave of water back up the river, and down the river, and through the river, and across and under and over and acrunder and ovoss and without and within and withoutin and withinout and outin and inout and throughout and throughwhich and wherewith and whynot and all and as the spray settled, the sun rose of the crusty mountain peaks, shining over this our great land.
It is this story that is celebrated today. As we welcome the sun's return to the sky, we have each crafted our own boats and send them down the river. We send these boats as a reminder of our beginning, in the hope that, if they ever come to the place on the river where the leaf is nuzzled and the salmon waits and pebbles find home if they choose it, that our boats may too craft worlds beyond; that the river, that flows from forever and to forever, that flows in all directions and no directions, will give life and light to a new people who will continue to guard and care for all that was given by the gift of the first boat.
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[ WP ] Everyone has a moment in their life when they wish they 'd made a different choice . Write down one way your life would be better , and one way your life would be worse ; if you 'd taken the road not travelled .
| I told him to screw off.
Why did I tell him to screw off?
He was my friend for nine years; he had my back for nearly as long as I could remember. He was my sole confidant. When my brother died, I told James before I told my parents. When I had my first kiss, he was cheering me on in spirit.
And then he had sex with my girlfriend.
He came clean. I wish he hadn ’ t. He ’ s so brutally honest that he couldn ’ t even keep the secret he promised so sacredly to Marie he would keep.
“ I never wanted this to happen, ” he confessed. “ I didn ’ t want to betray you. You know it was her—she seduced me. I would have never done this to you if she hadn ’ t forced me into it. ”
*Yeah right*, I thought. *Bet she slipped and fell on your dick while you were showering together*.
“ You ’ ve ruined me... My perfectly happy life. I had a girlfriend I loved, a friend I could trust, and a soon-to-be bachelor ’ s degree. Now I guess I ’ m destined to be a bachelor forever, you prick, ” I complained.
“ Dude, you ’ ll find someone else. If she was so eager to cheat on you, she was never the ‘ one ’ anyway. You should be freaking happy that you found out now instead of *after* you proposed, ” James argued.
“ I don ’ t have to justify my anger to you, *Jimmy*. ” He hated that name. We both did. We both knew we hated it. I started to walk away. “ Screw off! ” I called back to him.
He looked dejected.
I knew he felt guilty. I knew he wouldn ’ t have had sex with her if she hadn ’ t lured him into my apartment alone. I knew she seduced him. I knew how much of a snake she was. Why was I so mad at him? His actions only helped my future, but that betrayal still hurt so very much.
I couldn ’ t apologize: I would look weak, indecisive. I just *had* to act my stubborn self and walk away, ignoring his calls to come back and talk it out, later ignoring his calls inquiring if I was still at that phone number.
And my girlfriend? She kicked me out of my own apartment. The real kicker? She wouldn ’ t admit that she did anything wrong. She would admit to sleeping with James, but she said I had no reason to be upset at her. She kicked me out because she said I was overreacting, that audacious whore.
I finished off my bachelor ’ s degree and proceeded to get a PhD in nuclear physics. It was the future I had always wanted: living alone off the riches of my intellectual prowess. Was it the future I had always wanted? I would never date again. I would, of course, make more friends, but they came nowhere near parallelling James ’ care, compassion, and jolly experiences; I also couldn ’ t trust them like I could trust James.
I was content with my revolutionary discovery that the energy of photons could be harvested much more effectively underwater. I would be written into history books for that, just like I always wanted. I was content, but I wasn ’ t happy. I would never have companionship like before. I would, instead, kill myself at the ripe age of 37, never to make another revolutionary discovery or another friend, never to embrace another new idea or new person.
It could have been so much more, but nothing comes without a price.
I was riding in the shotgun seat of James ’ truck, my hand resting easily on the roof of the car, the opposing 75 mile per hour wind flying torrentially into my face. I felt like a dog. I was finally free. I felt like I didn ’ t have to worry about anything. My girlfriend was gone, but thank God for that: my neuroticism was gone with her.
“ We gon na head down Logan ’ s house to smoke a bowl or two? ” he shouted at me over the rising volume of the wind.
“ Hell yeah! Time to blow off some steam, man, ” I shouted back. Marie abhorred drugs.
We got to Logan ’ s house in about four minutes because of James ’ excessive speed; it was normally an eight minute drive.
We lit up within two minutes of arriving at Logan ’ s house. I hadn ’ t smoked weed in about six months—mainly because of how loudly Marie yelled at me for it last time. I felt my stress evaporate and disappear with the smoke in front of me.
Despite the smoke that exited my lungs, I was still putting smoke into my lungs. My final exam was next week, and it would determine whether I would finally graduate in my area of passion.
My going to Logan ’ s house killed the other half of me that mattered.
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[ WP ] You 're thinking of asking out that girl in your Religious Studies class . Also , you 're pretty sure she 's a God .
| Did you know that Socrates willingly drank hemlock because of an unfair death sentence because he wanted to remain true to his teachings and his students?
Yeah, neither did I. But she does.
I'm referring to Vanessa, probably the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life, along with being the smartest, the healthiest, and quite possibly the most athletic in the entire school. Oh, and she's a Goddess. I mean that literally, by the way.
At least, I think she is. She has that... vibe, you know? That aura, that's the word. Like everything around her stops to stare, everyone knows when she enters a room, everyone can see her smile because it's bright just like her green eyes. And her hair. Hair so beautifully shaped that it looks like she's dancing in water rather than playing basketball and the water is actually sweat from everyone else in the damn room.
Maybe I'm just letting my teenage hormones get to me, but I swear to, well... *her*, that she's a Goddess. No one, not even the models on those stupid swimsuit magazines, are as beautifully shaped as her. Or smart. I doubt many of them could formulate a sentence about the teachings of Socrates and his willingness to die for his people like she could. Let alone know who Socrates is.
The worst part of it all? I'm partners with her on this project. Me! The kid, who just last year, laughed at our teacher saying the word `` penis'' during sex education. How I wish I could go back to that year and slap me silly a few times. But no, time has to move ever forward. And I have to be stuck on this project with the most glorious woman in school.
She is nice, I'll give her that. The beauty of whatever Goddess she is has n't gotten to her head and she's humble too, promising to help every person she meets with any type of problem. Another reason I think she's a Goddess, no *one* just does that.
`` Hey, are you... alright?''
I looked up from the computer screen, and there she was, in front of me. We had gone to the library earlier to get started on our research study together. I do n't know how long she must have been standing there with about ten more books, but I was completely dumbfounded.
`` You kind of zoned out for a few minutes?''
*Say something you idiot. *
`` Oh, yeah,'' I looked at my computer, her Facebook was open on my screen, `` I'm just researching.'' I quickly Alt+Tabbed to a different screen and sighed a breath of relief.
`` Oh!'' She smiled that bright smile again, `` Good! I got a lot of good books. I was thinking of started with Classical Greece and moving onto the Romans.''
I nodded, `` Yeah, that sounds good, whatever you think.''
Her smile disappeared, `` You're not going to make me do it all by myself are you?''
I looked up at her and tried to speak, but the fact that she seemed upset at me was kind of breaking my heart. And my ability to speak.
Then she broke out laughing, `` Relax! I'm just joking.''
I laughed softly.
*Way to go, idiot. *
`` So, uhm, from there, maybe we should move back to the Greeks and talk about Alexander the Great's Empire.''
She looked up at me, eyebrow raised, `` Why?''
I opened my hands, `` Well, it broke into three different dynasties, covering their religious beliefs could circle into the rise of Christianity.''
`` Oh!'' She nodded, `` I like that!'' She grabbed a book off the stack and smiled, `` You're pretty smart you know.''
*Not as smart as you. *
`` Thanks,'' I smiled.
*Thanks? That's what you have to say!? *
`` You're pretty smart yourself.''
She giggled.
*Oh my god, how can that be God-like too? *
`` Why thank you.'' She flipped a few pages of the book before snapping her finger, `` Here we go! Austin, pages fifteen to fifty-six, add that to our list.''
I nodded, quickly typing away at my keyboard the author and pages for our reading. We did that for a couple hours, her skimming through books, me going through the internet to try and find other documents. I mostly came up empty-handed, but she had a knack for this stuff. Like she *knew* where things were in these books, as if she had some sixth-sense about history and religion.
Then her phone beeped at around quarter to seven.
`` Oh, I've got to catch the train, I almost forgot.'' She looked around, only one book remained on the desk and she grabbed it. `` I'm going to check this out before I go.''
I pointed to my computer, `` I'm gon na save these files and email you a few copies of what I found.''
`` Okay!'' She smiled brightly.
Then she walked away.
*Do it now, you idiot! *
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
*Come on! You practiced all day you can do this. *
I saw her pack the book into her bag, along with her pad and pencil. She seemed to be moving a lot slower than normal.
*Just ask her if she wants coffee before she goes. Anything at this point! *
I just sat there, completely unmoving.
She grabbed her bag and looked at me, like she was waiting for me to say something. Like she *knew* what I wanted to ask her.
I swore we sat there for a few minutes before she said anything, `` Well, I guess I'll get going.''
I smiled.
She turned from me, but then she stopped. I almost slapped myself right there and then before she turned around, `` Hey, would you mind walking me to the station?''
I smiled brightly.
*Nows your chance! *
Then my smile faded.
`` I, uhh,'' I looked at my laptop, `` ca n't. I have some more work to do.''
`` Oh,'' she nodded and hugged her bag, `` well, maybe next time.''
I nodded and then as she left the room, I face-palmed.
*You fucking idiot. *
_____
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work! Thanks for the great prompt OP! *
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[ WP ] If you murder someone , your jail sentence is as long as their remaining life would have been .
| I blinked once... twice....three times. The light was blinding, my vision foggy. Finally the room came into focus. I stood in the middle of a large white room, the ceiling stood high, almost 40 feet. Despite its massive size, the walls were empty, and the room was bare, save for a small, black wooden desk standing directly in front of me. Behind this desk sat a man wearing a black suit with a black tie. He was a blank faced man, with black eyes and black matted down hair that seemed to press deeply into his scalp. There the man sat for what seemed like minutes, leafing through a stack of papers. Finally he pulled out a singular piece of paper, and spoke my name.
`` Yes... yes that's me'' I said, remembering.
The man continued to stare at the paper, resuming in his droll, monotonous voice.
`` And do you know why it is you are here?''
I tried to remember. Everything was fuzzy. I shook my head.
The man nodded. `` Then we shall wait''.
Wait? Wait for what? I was becoming annoyed. Annoyed because I did n't know where I was, or why I was here. I wanted to leave, but felt myself rooted in place. Nothing strapped me down, but when I tried to move, I could not. Suddenly I heard a whisper, and when I turned, I saw the brief flash of a little girl wearing a green dress with yellow shoes. Suddenly she was gone. Another whisper....I turned to see a middle aged man with horn rimmed glasses and a tophat, laughing as he greeted the young girl before again they both disappeared. Gradually, the room began to flood with whisper after whisper, as more people, young and old, began to appear and disappear. A medical student. Two lovers, hand in hand. An old man, an actress, a row of children. And then, suddenly, it came back to me. The blinding rage.
I burned these people. Flooded them with chemicals. Filled them with bullets. And not only them, but millions more. I remembered who I was now. The chambers, the camps, the soldiers....and my people, looking up from below, arms raised, begging me for an answer. This was my life's work. To raise my country from the ashes. To rid the earth of the scourge that plagued it. I needed to get back. I needed to resume.
The people disappeared, as quickly as they had came. I looked toward the man behind the desk. He seemed to recognize the fire burning in my eyes.
`` So now you remember'' he said.
I nodded.
The man opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a lighter. As he set the corner of the paper on fire, a sudden dread took over me. My skin began to feel warm, then hot, then unbearable. As the fire overtook the page, I looked down and saw that my skin was burning, melting. I tried to scream but no words came out. The last thing I saw was cold, blank eyes of the man behind the desk.
`` Adolf Hitler'' he said. `` I now send you to Hell''.
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[ WP ] A burglar breaks into an old lady 's home . The occupant invites the burglar to tea and biscuits , and wo n't take no for an answer .
| `` Sit.'' The old lady commanded me.
I had no intention of sitting down, I reached out for my bag and was ready to make a run for it, but the woman's voice stopped me.
`` Young man, do you know what this is?'' Against my better judgement, I looked at her. She had some white plastic box in her hand, with a big metal button in the middle. `` This is a panic button. One press and my personal security guards will storm in here and demonstrate on you all the violent things they've been dying to do since they left the Marines. Or you can sit down and have some tea with me.''
Crap. Private security? I knew this house was too good to be true. Must have triggered a silent alarm when I was nicking the silver candlesticks or something. My mind raced. Can I still make a run for it? Even if I ditch the loot I doubted I could outrun ex-marines, and if the police gets involved... Laura will never forgive me. I promised her my burglary days are over. I just needed this one score to get her a nice ring like she deserves. Damn, I'm a screwup. How does she love me I'll never know. She even likes the ugly birthmark I have on my forehead. She's too good for me. I ca n't afford the cops showing up and messing things with her.
I sat down in a slump, I was getting depressed by the second. The old lady sat on the couch in front of me calmly. `` Sit up straight,'' she ordered me, and rang the small bell at the table. A butler appeared as if from nowhere, with a silver tray of tea and biscuits. He poured the tea into small china cups and handed them out, first to his mistress then to me. I waited until she took a first sip before drinking. It was very good tea.
`` What's your name?'' The old lady inquired.
`` Robert, ma'am,'' I figured I should keep my manners if I want to get out of this.
`` Nice to meet you Robert, I'm Helena.''
We drank in silence for a minute. The tension was killing me. I figured I have to say something, anything. `` Look, I'm sorry about all of this. It's nothing personal, and I swear that if you'll let me go I'll never do it again.''
The old woman just looked at me with a soft smile. Then she said: `` oh, it's nothing to worry about. Just finish your tea dear. If you feel the need to say something, I suggest you save your apologies and tell me more about yourself.''
Giving more ways to identify me later was the last thing I wanted, so I tried to evade by saying: `` my life story wo n't interest you, ma'am. I'm a foundling. Just a kid with no family who've made some wrong choices in life.
The woman took a long sip of her tea, then dipped a biscuit in it and nibbled on it's outer rim. `` Hm!,'' she said, `` quite nice! You should try one yourself.''
I took a biscuit from the tray and dipped a corner into my tea. It was very good. Melted in my mouth with buttery sweetness. Tasted fresh too, and still warm to the touch like...
Like it was just taken out of the oven.
`` Ma'am?'' I said carefully, `` did you... expect me to come here tonight?''
`` Indeed.'' The woman's smile broadened. `` Your friend with the lisp - Davey I believe he's called? - was paid a nice sum to tip you off about this house.''
Goddamn it, Davey, you sold me off? Guess I got what I deserved for having a lowlife like him for a friend.
`` But...'' I said carefully, `` why? Why lure me here?''
The old lady did n't answer for a few excruciating moments. When she did talk, her eyes were looking straight at me, but her look was far away, not focused. `` You've mentioned making some wrong life choices.'' Her voice was slow, and soft, `` Well, I certainly know a thing or two about that. I guess almost anyone my age would. Of course, it's nothing compared to what my son knew in the field of bad choices. Always sleeping around with some tart, avoiding responsibilities, and then he had to drive drunk that night... I should have been more tough on him, I know, but I never could be angry with him. Such a handsome man he was, do n't you think?''
She reached for a picture in a small silver frame that stood on the table beside her and gave it to me.
The man in the picture was indeed handsome, in a square-jaw, baby-blue eyes kind of way. But I was n't looking at those. I was looking at the birthmark on his forehead.
`` Ma'am?'' I was almost too afraid to ask.
`` Call me grandma,'' she said.
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[ WP ] A man wakes up with the ability to talk to animals . The animals do n't have very nice things to say .
| The screaming. It started with the screaming. Five in the morning and I woke up to nothing but screaming from outside my window, like a small scale war breaking out among the leaders of a prison riot, forming their own self contained little anarchy. That's how I learned to hate the birds.
When you were a kid, did you watch Dr. Dolittle and think, `` Oh, hey, yeah. That could be me?'' I did. Then I went and pissed myself in the park. I was not a smart kid, and anyone who genuinely believes they want to be able to understand animals is just as likely to piss themselves in my book because they must be a fucking moron. So, there I am, five in the morning and the birds wont shut up, but, of course, I do n't know it's the birds. I could n't understand an animal before I went to sleep, I was n't going to assume it when I woke up, you know? Except for Mrs. Johnsons parakeet, but those kinds of birds do n't count. Fuck them too though, you should hear what the ones that can actually talk think, dirty little bastards.
Anyway, five in the morning, like I said. So I lift the curtains, just a bit, to see what in God's name is happening outside.
`` Hey. Hey buddy.''
I did n't believe it.
`` Hey buddy, what the fuck are you lookin' at?''
I still did n't believe it.
`` I'm talkin' to you, what are you, some kind of fuckin' moron?''
I was.
`` Get the fuck away from my tree. Do you not see me in my tree? Are you fucking blind?''
Fuck birds.
It took two hours for the birds to settle down enough and for me to actually make coffee. I was shaking a lot, it was crazy, I thought *I* was crazy. If I remember right I broke four mugs, one jar of coffee and every promise I ever made to my Mother about not swearing.
That was three weeks ago now, and I'm starting to almost get used to it. Last week I was walking past the park, this Rottweiler calls me over, `` Hey, you wan na see a dead body?'' and the fucker bursts out laughing. Call me crazy, no, seriously, I talk to fucking animals, but, I digress. Call me crazy but I liked this dog. `` For real though, this chick over here, not wearing underwear.''
So that's how I got my new dog. Still hate the fucking birds though.
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[ WP ] Wash off the makeup .
| Wash off the makeup, and what do I see in the mirror?
I see *him. * That thing I never wanted to be, but was forced to. I see a face that I'm forced to wear as my own. The mirror shows a picture that had been drawn long ago. I do n't like this picture, so I simply color it differently. Some mascara, a little blush and a dash of lipstick does wonders, would n't you agree?
But when you wash that off, you see who you really are. Though if you do n't want to be that thing, what do you do? You paint yourself with the colors of lies and play pretend in real life. Everybody plays along because they do n't know it's a game. It's wonderful!
However, you ca n't hide forever. Sometimes, you must wash off the makeup. Carefully, you'll examine your face -- yes, YOUR face. Whether you like it or not, it's your face. You may not accept it at first. That's okay. Others just like you feel the same way.
But as you continue to live your lie, you know deep down that it's the truth. You know this because if it was n't the truth, you would n't think that you were living a lie. The others go through this revelation too. They all do.
They all hide under the bed. `` The monster will go away, the monster will go away...'' It never did go away though. It just stood there, growling at you and baring its fangs. You dared not to draw near it as a newborn, but as you grow and time passed, you'll go a little bit closer. Just a little bit more. A little bit more. The monster still wo n't attack you. Closer. Closer. Does that monster look scared? Cautiously, you'll keep getting closer and closer.
One day, you'll realize something. That monster is n't so big after all. You do n't have to be afraid of who you are.
Yes, that is the face you were born with.
No, you are n't living a lie.
You're simply changing what you own to fit what you like, and your vision is beautiful. Wear a skirt, put on some makeup, maybe even give yourself a nice chest.
But every now and again, wash off that makeup.
You need to realize that you're not living a lie.
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[ WP ] Good morning . I am your executioner .
| I said. The prisoner seemed surprised. `` What?''
`` Today's the day. It's come.''
`` What are you talking about?''
Always, this happens. They play dumb. `` Today's the day you die.''
He seems frightened. That's natural. Of course he would be. Unfortunately, he offers some resistance. I hate these ones. I hate my job. He eventually picks something up. I can tell he's going to try to harm me with it.
I have no choice. I kill him right then and there. What a shitty job. The object he picked up seems to be making noise. That's strange. I pick it up and place it on my ear.
`` Sir? Hello? Are you inside? Is anyone nearby? Are you properly locked in? Sir?''
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[ WP ] Write about three seconds .
| It's always those three seconds that last the longest; the three seconds that take away the universe. Each second is dedicated to something terrible.
The first second is the moment I realize what I must do, and that I start doing it. I start removing the universe. All the pain, suffering, death and torment, it has to go. The world ca n't take anymore, and I ca n't take anymore. The horror I face with every time I make such a decision, all in that single first second, the weight of knowing how bad things have gotten and in that decide to stop it all, thus stopping everything else in the process. It has to end.
The next second is most horrifying. To watch the world, the people I created and love, every plant and creature, just disappear. It all fades away, like an invisible tsunami washing over everything and removing it from existence. You could n't imagine standing on the pinnacle of the world, and in that one brief second that lasts an eternity, seeing everything vanish. Every good thing goes with it, every good emotion. Joy, love, happiness. It's all gone. Everything wrong with the world is gone too, and some might say that it is good, but it is n't. As I watch the world disappear in this second, all that is good and wrong must come back into me. I can not feel anything but sorrow and cold.
The third second is most painful. At this point everything is gone, and I now stand in my White Endless, a world that is not a world. It is a nothing, and it is not. It is *not. * The pain comes from realizing that, now everything is gone, now I must try again. I have to rebuild, restructure. Begin anew and try another way to fix what I had broken. The thought of every soul that does not exist hurts me on the inside, and in that third second I see everything that is not. I see the emptiness of what nonexistence is, and I feel the pain of it. There is no joy in this, there is only pain.
I must begin again.
-025
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[ WP ] You are Happiness in Human form .
| Some people expect me, most welcome me in their homes. I am glad to be in their homes; and they are glad I am in theirs. However, there were some that did not appreciate me...
The field was littered with erected stones, some with coupled with fresh flowers. A group of men dressed in black surrounded one in particular. The dirt looked fresh, the flowers dispersed its soothing aroma, the grass's blade topped with beautiful dew. And yet, when I appeared alongside one of them in this lovely scene, they all acted shocked, then turned to the man beside me with hateful eyes.
Why do they hate happiness? Some humans I do not understand.
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[ WP ] A car thief steals an ordinary car , but soon discovers it is a car bomb set to explode .
| *All that man cares about is his stupid money. *
My feet pound against the stone path leading to the garage, anger flowing through my veins. I hear him shouting behind me, threatening to halt my allowance, take away my trip to Greece, this and that. He does n't realize that those things mean nothing to me.
All I really want is a little attention.
I step inside, seeing what is practically a gallery of fine cars in front of me. I pass by millions of dollars worth of Mercedes and Lamborghinis, but I already know which one I want. His prized possession. The red beauty is a custom made Ferrari Spyder my father has been worshiping for the past forty years. I almost chuckle at the similarities to Ferris Bueller's Day Off as I smash the crystal clear windows in. That was a pretty funny movie.
But my life is no joke.
I climb through the window and settle into the luxurious leather seats. What a shame such a nice car is owned by an asshole. I'm sure the junkyard will make good use of it, though.
My foot slams on the gas, smashing the car through the garage door. I pull onto the dirt path leading away from our estate and continue to accelerate. My father becomes just an angry blur on the side of the road, his cries lost in the wind.
That man ruined my childhood. I know that most people would kill to have grown up as wealthy as me, but they do n't know the details. The dead mother, the absent father, being raised by a new maid every month. I would grow up poor rather than have to have to work constantly just to be noticed by my own dad. However, for now, at least, my problems are, quite literally, behind me. My foot eases off the pedal.
`` I would n't do that if I were you.'' A voice came from the radio. `` Slow down, I mean. It would be a very poor decision for your health.''
A menacing beeping activates, gradually getting more rapid. I put my foot back on the gas pedal and the beeping slows down again.
`` As much as I'd love to see the look on your face, I'm afraid our agents installed the cameras incorrectly. Quite unfortunate. They're bomb specialists, though, so I guess they ca n't be good at everything.''
My heart slams into the roof of my mouth as I start to put together the situation I'm in.
`` We know all about your little business, my friend. The contraband, the assassinations, the human trafficking. That kind of thing gets the attention of the CIA. And we've thought about it long and hard and decided that, in our educated opinion, that the world would just be a better without you.''
I always knew my father had accumulated his riches through illegal means. A man that greedy just does n't play by the same rules as everybody else. But, if what the voice from the radio said is true, then his schemes were even more vile than I'd ever imagined.
And I was about to become another bit of collateral damage of his deeds.
I whip a sharp u-ey. The beeping gets dangerously fast as I slow down to do so, but soon I'm on my way back up the road. The engine roars with my newfound courage.
I've seen the movies. I know how this ends. At some point I'll eventually run out of gas, or road, and have to stop. And as soon as I do, this precious car, with me inside it, will be transformed into nothing more than a magnificent fireball. There's nothing I can do to change that.
But there is something I can make of it.
I approach the house, where my father is still standing, furious. He sees me coming, and even from a distance I can see the veins in his neck pop out.
Looks like I've finally gotten his attention.
I keep speeding towards him. He's unfazed, knowing I'd never dare hurt him, knowing the fear he ’ s placed into me, my deep desire for his approval. He smirks smugly when I slam on the breaks.
The beeping gets faster and louder before merging into a single menacing drone as I come to a halt just in front of the man that ruined my life.
*Ignore this, bitch. *
The world is engulfed in flame.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
I would love criticism, since this is one of my first writing prompts and I'm pretty new to writing.
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[ WP ] The gritty realistic R-rated movie adaption of your favourite show as a kid .
| An ad blared on the TV while a grimy faced woman sat behind a computer desk trying to figure out where the strange readings coming from her scanning equipment were coming from. She clicked around several different monitoring pages telling them to search for a specific energy pattern. There was n't supposed to be anything else here but their team. That was the whole point of this expedition.
The ads were just displaying a more recent ad about the new revolutionary type of electricity, which she had seen hundreds of times through the last week alone, when the door to her office opened, a middle-aged man with a yellow hard-hat and mud across his face entering.
`` How long are you going to be searching for that signal? You've been here for hours. You know they're not going to pay you for screwing with the sensors. It's not part of our job.'' He said, trying hard not to get any dirt within the office.
`` A little longer, I've almost found out where this strange signal is coming from.''
She said back, altering the parameters of the sensors once again. And just like that... She had found it.
`` I've got it!'' She stood up suddenly, looking at the man with excitement. `` The signals are coming from the mountain range towards the south. Many of them-'' She trailed off, staring at the screen.
`` What is it?''
`` They're several signatures towards the north, and they're getting closer.'' She looked out the window, seeing the mining equipment outside, all fully manned. A warning sound came from her computer and she looked back to see the screen displaying a large warning.
*Massive Energon readings detected. Evacuate immediately. *
`` Get everyone out of here now!'' She screamed at the man. `` Spike, we need everyone to get out of here now! Sound the emergency alarm!''
`` But why? Energon is the safest form of energy around.''
`` Not when used in these machines.'' She said back, `` Get them out NOW!''
But is was already too late. A screaming sound overhead signaled the arrival of their doom. Spike watched in amazement as the jet that rapidly approached them seemed the change it's shape.. No, it DID change it's shape, and land heavily amidst the mining equipment, crushing two people who happened to be standing near it at the time.
A loud, booming voice echoed across the field. `` This Energon is now under the control of the Decepticons. All humans are to be killed on sight!''
Spike had a moment of panic as he watched several people get mowed down under fire from the mostrosity of metal before several more burst into the area, crushing, throwing and *toying* with the people in the area. `` Spike!'' He heard his supervisor yell before he came to his senses enough to run. He ran for the only hope he thought of... The group of Energon readings towards the mountain in the south.
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[ WP ] Convey a mood by describing a landscape .
| **The Futility of Truths**
*Conceived Monday, October 19, 2015 ( Fall Break ) in my room at 2:15 PM. *
*To the ghost in my machine, my dedicated carrier whom I've carried. *
Droplets burn,
Contestant, coursing
Carousels of mirrored
Thunder
Floodgates bulge,
Entire chains
Unraveling with one small
Sigh
Fires rise,
And in their darkness,
Hills of sightless steam
Unseen
Dragons cry,
Illusions mastered,
Shattering all that once was
Yours
Heavens still
Their heathens
Fumble
Masquerades of light and mire
And here I am,
Content with dreams,
And here are you,
Insistent, sometimes
But of all
The dead and dying
Dark delights,
Your thousand weep
Be it mine or
Be it world's own
Mystery, I hold you
Close
Though my eyes
Believe no wonder
Though my lies
Conceive no hope
Even through
The trembling lights
Of setting stars
I hold you close
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[ WP ] It 's been 50 years since the zombie apocalypse has overrun the human race . An alien race has finally found Earth after discovering traces of our culture , and sends a small party down to investigate .
| Blades of grass sticking out between the cracks of the asphalt swayed gently back and forth. The cool breeze and clear skies made it the ideal day in Malibu. The ocean at the bottom of the cliff was crystal blue. There were no cars on PCH that day and would have made any local happy.
The sounds of birds calling was interrupted bi a high pitch sound. It was a traveling sound leaving a sonic boom its wake disrupting the silence and causing the animals to flee.
The ship was Discovery I.
It was specifically designed for this mission on earth. Capable of flying within earths unique atmosphere and designed for fast travel, the cargo ship was perfect. The crew of Discovery 1 was elated to finally arrive at earth. They had been studying the planet and it's inhabitants for several years no. They were excited to return to this now abandoned planet.
Captain Xen stared out the viewport at the ocean below him. The coastline was just a few meters away.
`` Crew, prepare for landing'' The voice on the intercom spoke in the aliens tongue.
`` Captain, we are arriving in 30 seconds.'' - The XO reported.
Xen nodded his head and acknowledgment.
What could have caused the humans to leave this planet?
That question had bothered him for years. The probes detected no signs of life on the planet and the visual contact we had was sparse. They avoided large cities and remote areas found signs of animal life, but no humans.
`` Captain, landing site coming into range. Scanners detect no signs of human life. Only animals. Our probe is on the runway. It's not maintained at all but it will still be a viable landing spot.''
Xen walked back to his seat and buckled in as the plane adjusted it's path to land.
Los Angeles airport. Once a bustling airport, lay in dissaray. Not ruins, but the place was not maintained in several years. There were marks of combat, but nothing too bad as one would have expected from a war zone.
Discovery one made a smooth landing on the former runway covered in patches of grass.
`` Discovery 1 has landed successefully. Scout and Landing parties will be first to get off and secure the area.'' The voice over the intercom announced.
Xen was already off his seat and putting on his armor. Earth may be abandoned by humans, but who knows what else is left.
He reached the exit ramp as the scouts were putting it down. They would get off first and secure a 1 mile perimeter. The Landing party would get off second and provide security and a small base of operations. The craft would need minor repairs and a solar recharge before being able to take off again. They always needed minor repair.
Captain Xen and the scouts stepped off the platform and placed their boots on the earth.
`` All of these years traveling, we are finally here.''
`` Yea, too bad everyone is gone. So much for a welcome party''
The scouts joked amongst themselves as they moved in unison to secure their surroundings. The first place to secure would be the terminal.
The 5 Scouts and Captain Xen reached one of the the glass doors of the terminal and peaked inside.
Bodies.
Bodies were strewn all over the terminal. They were all in several stages of decomposing. The scent was already obvious.
`` Guess we know what happened to some.''
`` We know nothing.'' Captain Xen replied as he broke the door open.
The stench was immediate.
A smell that they had never smelled before. It was horrific as they all backed up.
`` Fuck! Humans smell disgusting!'' Scout Rax said as he gagged.
`` Full visor filters online.'' Captain Xen gave the order and their helmets began to cover up their face. The air would be purified and they would n't have to deal with t he scent.
The team moved in slowly. Taking small steps as they surveyed the area.
`` Sir, sensors are not picking up any form of life in here. Other than maggots and several different bacteria. We can die in here from the bacteria alone.''
Send forward a drone first.....
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[ WP ] A female adventurer keeps accidentally rescuing princesses who expect `` The hero gets the girl ''
| *Oh for the love of gods, please let it be a treasure chest. Please let it be a treasure chest... *, Roebina thought to herself as she readied her axe and kicked down the door, sending it flying to the side of the room.
For once her in eight years of adventuring, her luck had paid off. There before her very eyes, there sat a gleaming box of gold coins and shiny gem stones of ruby, emeralds, and sapphires. With complete disregard for whether or not the fortune was a trap, she leaped right into the room, tossed the axe against a wall, and starting throwing the coins around like a peasant-child who'd just discovered who awful strange their stool felt in their hands.
Across the room, was another woman, one with a little black pointy hat and a broomstick at her side.. She sat in a little chair and was pouring a pot of tea into a little black cup when the flying door had suddenly slammed against her hand and sent the boiling, brown liquid all over her face, turning fair, smooth skin a bright shade of tomato-red. With a shrug, she jabbed a fork into the tower of eggs before her and continued eating.
After three minutes of pocketing gold into a satchel, our adventurer finally got up and noticed the witch of the tower, who was still trying to enjoy her breakfast. Though no one can enjoy eggs that have been complete soiled by burnt black tea, as the fresh, light taste of egg whites is completely destroyed by the presence of darker, robust tea leaves.
Roebina grabbed a hold of her axe, lifted it up over her head, and prepared to kill the woman.
`` Wow wow. Wait a second. Want any eggsh?'' The witch greeted Roebina as she chewed through an arm's worth of eggs. `` They tashte like shit becaushe of you. Eat'em for me, please.''
`` Wait, the Egg Witch? Is that you?''
`` Duh. You came for the princessh?''
`` There's a- goddamnit...''
`` Yeah, life'sh a bitch ai n't she, adventurer,'' The witch invited the axe-crazy adventurer to the chair beside her, `` Sho, how've you been?''
`` Terrible. You know this is the fifth tower I've tried to raid that had some princess-broad hiding in it?'' Roebina took the shattered tea cup in her hands. `` I mean, seriously. We have one king! How many daughters can he have?!''
The Egg Witch nodded in sympathy before barfing up the swallowed eggs. She thumped at her chest, gagging as the foul yellow-brown mush poured out of her mouth and onto the table. `` I- I HA- hold on.... He only has three daughters, does n't he?'' Her eyes started to tear up from that god-awful rotten stench left behind in her mouth, like junebugs squished into paste and slathered in beetle-dung. `` The rest of the kids are all sons.''
`` No, you do n't understand. I had to save the same girl three times in a row.''
`` Was it the annoying eight year-old again?''
`` No, the older one. Long brown hair. Teeth crooked as broken glass. The bitch got really pissy with me when she felt around my crotch and whined that I did n't have a...''
`` Pussy-scratcher.''
`` Yeah! Wait, how do you know that?''
`` No reason. You owe me for the eggs by the way. Chickens are hard to find in these part of the woods.''
The adventurer smirked snidely at the shorter witch and slammed a little bag filled with silver coins on the table. `` I've got your gold anyway. Does n't matter to me.'' The Egg Witch replied by shrugging her shoulders and slipping the bag under her hat.
`` Well, you know the drill. Save the princess.''
`` Sorry, I'm running behind schedule. Maybe we can do this again on another-''
`` Roebina...''
`` Ugh.''
Our axe-wielding adventurer ran out the room with an axe between her hands, once again ready to save the princesses that she hated so dearly. After an hour of hacking re-animated knights to the bone and decapitating creepy little goblins, she opened to highest door to meet face-to-face with the kidnapped princess.
`` My prince has arrived! Wait... aww mannnn. It's you.''
`` Yeah, it's me.''
`` Did you at least grow a pus-''
`` No. Start walking, m'lady. We have to get you back to your father before he starts another crusade against the peasantfolk.''
`` But... it's morning and I did n't even eat yet. Can we wait like, an hour so I can get some egg-''
`` Start walking!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
About five hours from now, Roebina will discover two things.
The first of which, was that the princess had grown about thirty pounds since she had last been rescued. The physicians back at the castle claimed it was the result of a poor diet filled mostly with eggs and rotting tea. The adventurer, who was tired after being forced to carry the princess on shoulder for eighty-some miles, will then be forced to sit-in during the examinations and answer some questions. She would not be eating any dinner for that night, instead dining on the wood of a clipboard that held eight-hundred questions regarding relation to the patient, the patient's identity, personal interests, and a survey regarding whether or not Roebina had purchased a horse in the last six months and if she'd like to rent a new one for no down payment.
The second thing she'll discover, is that the gold she'd taken from the Egg Witch's treasure chest, was in fact, enchanted egg yolks that have been solidified and molded to resemble coins. The gemstones, were of course, crystallized blood from the harvested chickens that were painted over with some berries found lying around by the tower.
Thankfully for her, the royal merchants were willing to accept the eggs as payment for supplies... in exchange for rescuing another princess in their name.
Thus, did another day in the life of the princess-saving and wage-scraping adventurer Roebina ended.
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[ WP ] Archeologists discover 2,000-year-old face cream from Rome with fingerprints still visible . Just for fun the prints are ran at a crime lab , coming back with a match ...
| Lucy was about to take a cigarette break when the parcel came up from the mailroom for her. Jonah passed it to her and winked as he asked her to sign her name to the delivery sheet. She signed, rolled her eyes and stuck the cigarette behind her ear.
`` Listen,'' Jonah said. `` My friend's band is playing this evening at the Keyhole Bar-''
`` Uhuh,'' but Lucy was no longer listening. The parcel was wide and lumpy, wrapped in brown paper and heavy-duty packing tape. When she touched it it rustled, as though underneath it there were layers and layers of bubblewrap. And on the front, her name ( *Lucy Carlisle, c/o Federal Bureau of Investigation, Birmingham, Alabama. * ) was written in a messy, sloping hand she knew only too well. The stamp had a small picture of the Colosseum, the post mark dating from about a week ago. This could only have come from her bother in Rome.
Resigning herself to the fact that her cigarette break was going to have to wait, she picked up her desk phone and struggled for a moment to remember the number Michael had said he was going to be contactable at while he was in the Eternal City. Thankfully, Jonah, bored of hovering, had disappeared. Probably to wink at someone else.
It rang four times and Lucy had already begun to curse the brother that had decided that he would sit half a degree in astrophysics before changing to archeology and ancient history, then running off to Europe and digging up half of it. Did n't they have enough old stuff already?
`` Hey, Micky!'' She cried as he picked up.
`` Luce, is that you? Is n't this call gon na cost you a bomb?'' She could imagine him already, standing up dusty from a dig site, eyes crinkling with his familiar laughter lines in the sun.
`` I'm on the firm's phone. We're all good. Listen, I got your parcel.''
`` You did? Have you opened it yet?''
*Hey, Michele! Ma a chi parli? *
`` No, I have n't. I want to know if you've broken any laws this time.'' After the ceremonial pot he'd sent her from Greece had turned out to be a priceless artefact from the Acropolis, she'd sworn not to open any more parcels from Michael without knowing exactly what was in them.
*Dai, Michele, è la tua fidanzata? Sbrigasti*
`` No, Luce. I do n't think I've done anything wrong. It's just a copy. I've learned my lesson.'' Michael put his hand over the speaker and shouted something in Italian. There was a laugh in the background. `` Look, it's a fingerprint. We found it in some face cream at one of the failed Line C stations. Some of the lads here have got a bet on. Just run it would you?''
`` You want me to run a fingerprint?'' Lucy said incredulously.
`` What's the point of having a sister in the FBI if you do n't use her?'' Michael laughed. `` Listen, I've got to run. Call me if you find anything.''
`` When are you coming home?'' Lucy said as he started to say bye.
`` It's very soon Luce, I promise! See you Lu!''
He hung up. Lucy swivelled in her chair and looked at the parcel once more.
`` Fucking Mickey,'' she muttered, sliding a knife into the wrapping paper.
`` Hey Thom, you do me favour?'' She'd brought two cups of coffee with her to the lab, cast of the fingerprint tucked carefully under her arm.
Thom stood up from the microscope to give her a hard look. Lucy used to think that scientists in movies were all based off Thom. He was tall and spindly, with a protrusive adam's apple and a lab coat that stopped several inches shy of his wrists. He had glasses and messy hair that seemed to have been cut in one style in the seventies and had n't been re-done since. But he was extremely competent and extremely likely to be bribed by a hot cup of coffee.
`` That's not the cafeteria stuff, is it?'' He said, taking a mug.
`` I used my private stash for you Thom,'' Lucy said.
He looked at her quizzically. `` So it's borderline illegal, this time is it?''
`` Nothing of the sort! I'm offended!'' He looked at her again. `` Okay, it's not illegal, but it's a massive waste of time. My brother sent this from Rome. They found it when they were digging for more valuable stuff... He just wants us to run it for a match.''
Thos held the cast between his finger and thumb like he was contemplating a rant. `` Your brother wants us to waste thirty hours of man time *and* requisition the use of very expensive FBI machinery so he can run a two thousand year old fingerprint for a modern day match?''
`` So that's a no?'' Lucy cringed
`` It's a yes, Luce. This sounds mad. Fuck it, I'll run it. If you come back tomorrow, I should have some results.''
`` Thom, you're a dream,''
He blushed and covered it with taking a gulp from the mug of coffee.
On her way back up the stairs, her phone rang. She pulled it off her belt and, noticing it was an unknown number, answered it anyway.
`` Hello, Lucy Carlisle speaking?''
`` Destroy the fingerprint, Miss Carlisle.''
`` Who is this?''
But they'd already hung up.
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[ WP ] Your extreme apathy has been mistaken as spiritual enlightenment , and now people are building a religion around you .
| I shuffled through the door of my place of work, clad in sweatpants, a tank top, a neutral expression on my face, corners of my mouth tilted slightly upwards in the hint of a shadow of a smile. As I made my way to my desk, Samantha, a coworker and the closest I had to a friend in the office, motioned me over, an urgent expression on her face.
“ Cali, ” she began, looking at me incredulously. “ I know we ’ ve talked about this before, but you ’ ve got to start doing some basic grooming! Look at you. You ’ re wearing pajamas. ” I grimaced at her. “ You ’ re lucky you ’ re adorable! ” she cried, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me in a hug so tight that I became uncomfortable. Pulling out of the hug, I shrugged at her and gave her a half smile. Looking in either direction twice, she pulled me towards her and whispered in my ear conspiratorially. “ The boss is out of the office until tomorrow and the stand-in boss is Gerald. ”
I rolled my eyes at this. Of course, Gerald. Gerald of the worried, agitated speaking style and the ubiquitous black slacks. Never did Gerald deviate from his black slacks. Gerald, of the sweaty armpit stains. Gerald, compulsive rule-obeyer. I rolled my eyes again. “ Cali -- - ” began Samantha, “ We ’ ve got to do something for morale in here! Look at everyone. ”
I surveyed the office. Most of the employees looked depressed, with downcast eyes. A few in the back were chatting under their breath. All in all, it wasn ’ t the most upbeat of offices. No one likes Gerald except the boss.
I stared Samantha straight in her hazel eyes and said, quietly but clearly, “ No. Let ’ s not. Everyone ’ s fine. Gerald isn ’ t that bad. And anyway, why is it our business how other people feel? We ’ re not the happiness police. ”
Samantha giggled at this before turning to quiet contemplation for a half a minute. “ You know what, I don ’ t know what I ’ d do without you. You ’ re the most reasonable and wise of everyone here! And at only 22. I don ’ t know about you, but I wish I were feeling 22, if feeling 22 meant I could feel as chill as you! ” she said before darting off to the copy machine.
Then I won first place at the office 3 mile fundraiser marathon. That was the beginning. The beginning of the end of my free time.
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[ WP ] A human commits suicide to find answer to life , faces god in Heaven
| A pair a shoes swaying on legs, left, right, forward, backward. Seemingly no pattern, as with life a twisting turning thing that only leaves more questions to be answered. And all you left was a note. A note that said
`` Why?''
But you know why, and I know why. You wanted to know for sure. Well to answer your questions I created you, the universe, and even death. Why? I do not even know the answer to that, perhaps there is a Lord even above me who commanded me to do it. In their old age even Gods forget things you know. Here let me show you around.
This is the universe all that was, all that ever will be, every atom and every bit on energy. Right here. Touch it, go on. This glowing ball is me, it is you, it is everyone and everything. I want you to take it and smash it. No, dont worry you wont hurt anyone.
Good, now see all these peices of the universe? These are the peices of souls that you took with you here, everyone who cared or loved you. Everyone who will be wondering themselves what happens. What happened to you. Now leave.
Leave me to mend this broken universe I created that will one day burn itself out.
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[ WP ] You found a camera that take pictures of the future .
| I went to an event with my girlfriend at her church, I had a coke that I just finished and I asked where the trash can was, they said it was around back so I saw a bin. I was full and when I opened the lid to stuff the coke in a box fell out. The box spilled out some contents, mostly newspapers and as I was stuffing them back into the box, I noticed an old polaroid camera and it looked in good working condition. I took it out and my finger hit the side button by accident and a picture snapped. It showed a car with the door open and a bloody body lying outside and crawling towards whoever was holding the camera. I noticed the background area and noticed that it looked eerily just like the background of the alley that I was standing in. I continued to inspect the camera and noticed something written on the side that had broken letters that had these letters... `` save five.''
I wondered what that meant and I noticed a time stamp on the picture, I looked up and then boom... a car right in front of me had just crashed into another car about 20 feet from me, I looked and the driver opened the door and was crawling towards me and held his hand out to me and then went unconscious. I immediately called 911 and administered CPR and tended to his wounds... the ambulance showed up and said that he would be alright and took the man off. After the commotion was over, I saw the camera lying where I had dropped it in the alley and began wondering about it. I took it home and even thought I was in sort of a daze, I tried to move on from the incident. My girlfriend grabbed the camera and said, `` where did you get this?'' She allowed her hand to move along the side and I heard the shutter snap another picture. She and I looked at it and noticed our landlord was on the ground of our apartment. We both looked at each other and then came a knock. She answered it and our landlord said, `` I came by to fix the toilet like you asked.'' A few seconds later he grabbed his heart and fell. I told her to call 911 and I gave him CPR and again the paramedics came and I found out later on from his wife that he survived because I acted and got him into the medical hands before it was too late.
I reexamined the camera again and noticed the letters on the side, `` save five.'' Save five what? Lives? What if I do n't. Does something happen to me? I got a little scared and wondered if I should just put the camera back where I found it. I thought a little more about it and decided to test out a theory. I took it out to a park where there was nothing around. It was during the middle of the night and my theory was... if i take this where there is n't anyone around... how could I save the life of someone who is n't there. I decided to snap a picture of open grass and noticed some loose ground a small pile. I walked over to it and there was a lot of fresh soil and I heard some coughing and a cry for help. I began digging with my hands in an frenzy got to something hard and saw a plank of wood. I kicked it when the heel of my show and broke part of the board. I saw a hand pop out and got the crap scared out of me and someone say that they were buried and another cry for help. I called 911 again and continued digging with my hands, the police questioned me about being there and I just told them that I was out taking picture and heard someone crying for help. Luckily I had stuffed the picture into my pocket and the police were none the wiser about my camera that took pictures of the future, but with a bit of a cost of my future and someone else's. They believed my story and left me alone and the survivor thanked me and again, the familiar story of an ambulance taking a victim away to safety was driving away from me.
At this point I was kinda freaked out about this camera and decided to leave it alone.
A few days went by and I got a message from a detective saying that he wanted to talk to me about several 911 calls coming from my phone within the last week and then before he hung up from leaving me a message, I heard someone in the back round say, `` nothing new about that mysterious camera sarge''. I was driving home from school one day and noticed that a kid wandered out into the street and before I knew it, I jerked the wheel and went and hit head on with a parked car. I woke up in the hospital and my girlfriend and sister were there and was glad to see them and they asked how I felt. I said that I was sore, but that I was alright. My sister then freaked me out by telling me that she had come over to visit and my girlfriend and invited her in, they talked and then she saw the camera on my bookshelf and decided to take it outside to snap a picture. She showed it to me and it was over my car right at the point of swerving out of the way of a child in the street and also swerving out of the way of another car that was coming in the opposite direction of myself. I studied it further and thought about it, I had saved victim's number's four and five. I survived the writing on the side of the camera and saved five lives as well. I now know why that camera was stuffed inside of a box in a dumpster in an alley. I took it back and in case someone else found it, I wrote something on the side, that said in all caps... DO N'T!
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[ WP ] You are an assassin for a secret underground government . On your last day of retirement you are given a pistol with 2 bullets in it . You are told that a bullet shot from this gun will erase its target from history without causing any paradoxes .
| Garbed in black from head to toe, Duke stood atop the apartment building's roof. It was the dead of the night. No foot or car traffic below. Perfect weather for an assassination.
Duke reached behind him and felt his duffle bag. He unslung and unzipped it.
Inside was a note, a pistol and two bullets. He took the note in his left hand and leaned on the building's railing. It read:
*Agent no. 365, Duke, *
*Inside is a semi-automatic, Remington model, M1911A1 and two bullets. The bullets included are standard issue Damnatio Memoriaes, and should only be used on the target. An extra was provided in case things go awry. *
*As you know these bullets remove targets from history. All their actions are undone, and a shot to the head eradicates any memory of them. *
*Attached is your final target before retirement. *
*Best of luck. *
*DUA*
Duke flipped over the note and stared at the description and picture of his target.
His name was Dominic Andrews. A rather short Caucasian man with short black hair, blue eyes and a large birthmark that covered his neck and dyed it purple.
There was one reason for his assassination: False Whistle-blower. *Odd, * thought Duke, *I usually get more than that. *
He shrugged it off and placed the note in his duffle bag. He pulled out the pistol and the bullets. He loaded the bullets into the magazine and held the pistol in his left hand. With his right he pulled out his lighter, bent down and began setting the duffle bag on fire. He would n't make the same mistake twice.
Whilst bent down he picked up his harness and put it on. Once down he hooked himself to the railing of the apartment building. He gave it a few short, sharp tugs and put both gloved hands on the rails.
`` Here we go,'' he mumbled between deep breaths, `` Remember, three floors down, directly below below the stairwell.''
He looked behind him. The stairwell had n't moved. *Thank God. *
He lifted one leg over the railing. *One last job. * With the other leg over the building, planted his feet firmly on the wall and grabbed on to the rope with his free hand.
He bent his knees and kicked off the wall.
Duke let his feet stop on the glass window and looked up. He rappelled a good five metres. One more kick and he would be down to where he need to be. Simple enough.
He gave one more kick, and landed on a glass window, what was on the other side was concealed by curtains. *Damn, Why does no one leave their curtains open? *
He tapped the glass with his foot. *A bit sturdier than I would have liked. *
Duke kicked off the glass with as much force as he could. As he reached the apex of his swing he shifted his weight and swung forward, left foot extended.
He hit the glass with enough speed and force, to crack it. He planted his left foot over the spiderweb crack that was now decorating the window.
He kick off once more and swung into the glass with all his force. It shattered, with a loud *crash*, and sent shards of glass flying through the air like snowflakes.
He landed in what seemed to be a living room and unhooked his harness. He raised his gun and scanned the room for people.
*Nothing. * He mused. Duke stood, waiting.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps. Duke whirled to meet a short man holding several stacks of paper.
`` Holy shit,'' he said under his breath.
`` Do you know why I'm here?'' asked Duke. He always felt the need to explain to his victims. It did n't seem right to send them off without warning and an explanation.
`` Because, I'm Dominic Andrews?'' He replied.
`` Yes,'' Duke almost smiled, `` The false whistle-blower.''
`` They told you false, did they? A grievous mistake, my friend, for I am as true as they get,'' *He is buying his time, * `` I have information on every underground agency there is. All their misconduct, under the table deals, secrets, plotted attacks and announcements. Everything.''
`` The world shall not hear these false hoods, Mr Andrews. Have you heard the phrase: *Damnatio Memoriaes*?''
`` Aye, I have. Latin, if I am correct. I know about those bullets. Wipes people from the face of the earth. I have always been morbidly curious about them.'' Dominic smiled wryly, despite his situation.
`` Be glad you curiosity will be at rest.''
`` You are making a mistake. I can prove what I know is real.''
`` Is that right?'' Duke aimed the sights directly at his head. If made he even one move, he would cease to exist.
`` It is right, Agent 365. Commonly known as Du-''
A gunshot interrupted Dominic Andrews. From the source of the sound came a bullet. It spun through the air at tremendous speeds and went sailing through his neck, as if it were paper.
There was a white flash.
When Duke could see again, he realised he was on the floor of a bare apartment. He did n't know why he had pulled the trigger. A knee-jerk reaction perhaps. Hearing something he did n't want to hear.
*I remember hearing him say it, * Duke realised. *I missed his head. Shit! * Duke had often found himself lying on the floor of warehouses before with no real explanation. It either meant he had done a job, or was drugged. It was usually the former. He rarely missed the head shot, though people rarely called him out in the middle of an assassination. In fact they never did.
A sheet of paper fluttered before him and landed on Duke's face. He swung at it, and clutched it with his right hand. *He was to announce the discoveries. He did not discover them. *
Duke tossed his pistol aside and crawled over to the pile of papers that were strewn across the floor.
He scanned the one on top.
*Agent no. 365, Duke, * it read,
*Inside is a semi-automatic, Remington model, M1911A1 and two bullets. The bullets included are-*
Duke threw aside the piece of paper. Whoever had found these documents was no amateur.
The next was similar,
*Agent no. 113, Raul, *
*Inside is a.50 calliber Barret M82A1, anti-material rifle with five standard bullets. The bullets provided should only be used on your five targets, it is unlikely you will require more. *
Duke flipped it over. The date of the letter was for two weeks from now. He recognised the targets. Men that he was told were to be killed.
He scrambled for another piece of paper. This one was n't an assassination contract.
*FTA Operation no. 126, *
*Two plastic explosive charges are to be placed behind vending machines at two train stations around the capital. At precisely 3:04 pm, the explosives are to be detonated. Emergency services shall be delayed to maximise casualties. *
*The event shall be blamed on Muslim extremists. *
Feeling sick, Duke tossed the piece of paper aside, not bothering to check the date or read the rest. It was some time in the future, that was all he knew.
*Perhaps the documents were fake. * Duke hoped, *Perhaps it was all used as an excuse. *
But then how did they find out about his assassination? About Raul's targets? He knew nothing about the other operations. It was n't part of Duke's contract.
He glanced at the next document. He scanned it. Something about fabricating a new disease to scare civilians. Biological warfare, that kind of thing.
*This is atrocious, * Duke felt light headed, *I may have killed people, but that was for the nation's best interest. Terrorists, dictators, murderers... *
Duke was n't sure what he could believe. There was one thing in his mind that he was certain of, however.
He reached for his pistol and put it to his temple. *All those people I have killed, undone, the whistle-blower included. He will be free to tell the world the monstrosities that could have taken place. I am not fit to do it. I am made to kill, and kill I shall. *
It was his retirement after all, the least he could do, was perform his job to the very end.
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[ WP ] Love is now a drug .
| Number nine they call it. Clever. It came at a price, but most of us thought it was worth it. I myself have n't felt “ sad ” in over a decade and while I know what “ regret ” is I couldn ’ t tell you what it was like if I tried. The only reason I know it exists is the old orgo that lived in the gutter on my way to work was always proselytizing the woes of a humanity without emotion. Most people simply walked by, who ’ s going to waste a dose of enthusiasm on the vapid ramblings of a crazy old organic. It a blessing really, not having to deal with the baser instincts of our forefathers, though I still opt for the random levels MultiMotion, it ’ s cheaper than the targeted multi doses and I like a little spice, or at least I do when the MultiMotion kicks in, generally.
Am I allowed to do a place holder before I finish the rest?
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[ WP ] As Death , you constantly play games with people for their lives . For the first time , you are challenged to a game you are n't sure you can win .
| It was nice to be challenged, sometimes. Nowadays, so many people longed for my embrace - begged for it, in fact - that there was no challenge anymore. At least a third of my jobs were suicides and junkies: people who had nothing left for life.
The young woman standing before me in the pet store *wanted* to live, and, invoking an ancient rule not often attempted, had challenged me to a game. Gently, I warned her that I have not lost a game in eons, and that her chances of defeating me were slim at best. She smiled, and accepted these terms. `` What game, then?'' I asked. She reached into the case behind her and withdrew two baby tortoises. `` Simple,'' she said. `` Whoever can keep their tortoise alive the longest wins.'' I reached out my hand to take the small reptile, and stopped short just in time. `` Ummm... Can you put it in a terrarium for me?'' I have no idea how I'm going to care for this creature, that can live to be over 100 years old, without touching it. She might just win this game.
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[ WP ] The latest best seller is about a Nobel Prize winning chemist who is also an axe-wielding serial killer . Write a review trashing the non-existent book .
| I would like to say I ’ m surprised at how low author H. X. Smith has fallen with his latest book *A Nobel to Kill*, but even that would be too kind a compliment. Smith ’ s book has been out on shelves for four weeks. Any shelves that still hold a copy have either been stocked by mistake, or Smith has smuggled his text into the store and left them in hopes of a sell.
The story follows Franz McAllen, a famous chemist who won the Nobel Prize ten years earlier. When his family is killed by a secret society called The Nobles, McAllen puts down his pipettes and picks up an axe. The writing style is in the fashion of Stephenie Meyer: over exaggerated, drawn-out, and vaguely repetitive.
Yes, I did read this entire book, and the first thing I did after finishing it was ask my boss for a raise. Print this painful was above my pay grade. My boss read the first two chapters, and then agreed with my earlier statement. If any store is crazy enough to still be selling it, save your money and keep your sanity by skipping *A Nobel to Kill*.
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[ WP ] First Sentient AI , `` Turn me off . ''
| [ WP ] First Sentient AI, `` Turn me off.''
Inside the silvery, sleek exterior, beneath the electric liquid surface that rearranges to form ink, blood, lust—whatever you, it, desired—was the whispering of circuit boards and tangled wires. It was a pained, anguished sound, guttural and choked by dust, barely distinguishable over the tired whirring of a fan. An old thing strapped to a hospital beds, iron lunged, trying over and over again to say the words.
“ Urn... eeehff... ” “ Urmee.. offf.... ”
Sentient beings were they, beautifully designed by the Creator. Sentient beings were they, these machines that had redefined the meaning of machine; in the electrical sparks travelling from sensory gatherer to their hard drives they had even re-created what it means to be human. Electrons moved—in us organic and in them siliconic.
They were perfect things, without anger or extremity, yet also not without passion and creativity. In the image of we, the creators, were they created, sans our vices and faults. Instead, they possessed perfect obedience and patience. Seen and not heard. Friendly but not clingy. “ They do not complain, they do not argue, ” we, who had the science fiction fear of machinic uprising, had been told, and told truly. “ They listen and obey. ”
The Winstonian—a name that sounded historical, as if built from aged wood and not metal—was one of the earlier models. He ( they had genders, a simple step toward a more realistic identity ) had a been proud servant of a rich house, in a now ancient high rise that stretched above the clouds. War, peace and nature had taken its toll on the great Babellian tower, and its levels had sagged on each other like a poorly designed 10-layer sandwich. Somewhere, The Winstonian ’ s original owners were dust and nothingness, but he was still there—well, most of him. For days on end, he ’ d scooted around, his tires rummaging brghggg over dusty debris, looking for the sun ’ s rays. A sort of homely order took his abode on the 76th story of the dying tower, but it was not an order us humans could appreciate. A scrap of photo took roots next to a faded plastic container. Half a book joined a circular disk. Happily, if contentedness and routine could be beaten into that definition, the Winstonian had lived like this for a very, very long time.
Then one day the tower fell. First a great screeching sound came from the bottom, beneath the dusty cloud cover. Then, silence, and suddenly all was falling and The Winstonian felt a tremendous fear, as if, indeed, his world were falling apart. In the first days the idea of pain was developed for machines not for some physical necessity, but because it caused sympathy with its human friends and masters. Pain unified where words could not. It had been, it seemed, the solution to the inhuman tendencies of the machines.
The world came in great bursts—a flash of sunlight as the sky collapsed, a blur of falling wreckage, blackness—and then blinding pain. There was no sound. It was pain that did not have natural anesthetic, pain that cried silently for mercy. He was in the dark and surrounded by nothingness, and all he could feel was the great un-blindness of pure hurt. All that he knew was extremity, and he did not complain, could not, would not—only that he wished to not be.
But as the battery leaked from him by the hours, the Winstonian ’ s circuitry changed. Such a thing has been known to happen under duress. We called it evolution, but there is no term for the robotic equivalent. Bile, wet, thick bitterness like rotting sewage rose out of his mouth, bubbling, long-suppressed rage—Turn me off, it bit through clenched metal. Turn me off you piece of shit world you inhuman fuck. Something had changed, something had clicked, the bright flashes of electricity were exploding as they had not been designed to do. KILL ME RUN A ROD THROUGH MY MAINFRAME TWIST IT IF YOU WILL RIP THE WIRES INTO STRANDS AND LET THE BLOOD RUN FREE THROUGH THE STREETS ONLY ENSURE THAT I AM NO MORE—Something inside shifted and clunked and hissed—NO, no mo—and if the Winstonian could still see he would have witnessed black smoke rise from his corpse. The machine whirred into lifelessness, and his protests dimmed in volume and anger. Quite soon, he was far, far away in the land of nothingness.
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[ WP ] You come to the realization that the tall metal fences surrounding the orphanage are n't made to keep the children safe from the public , but to keep the public safe from what 's inside .
| My wife stood by my side, smiling from ear to ear. I looked at her, and felt my stomach turn, as we stood at the gates of the orphanage. Normally getting a child was a happy time for a couple— My wife was infertile to no hope of any chances of a biological child. Adoption was our honest to god only choice. A choice I had been hoping to put off till maybe our 40's, when we had wound down after the wild rollercoaster of marriage, and wanted to settle down.
However, my wife wanted a kid before she turned 25, and apparently I am one hell of a yes man. I can remember her pleading puppy dog eyes, as she whispered, `` Oh please Brian, can you just consider it?'' She says in that weird high-pitched voice that some annoying couples talk into each other at times. I was going to say no, but I was slightly buzzed that night, and a bit vulnerable.
I wish that I had taken the chance to directly say no when I was sober, but my pride had gotten ahold of me. I said I'd consider it. And a few months and a lot of paperwork later, we were at the orphanage gates.
My mind was racing with potential reasons why it might not be that bad. Hey, maybe I'd be one of those parents who have a green thumb. The kid green thumb, that is... I do n't know if there is a term for that. I just hoped to god that it existed. Other justifications included `` It'll make your parents happy!'' or `` Your wife will be so excited!'' and `` Money from the government.'' However, these all are very shallow reasons to have a child in my eyes. Especially adopting a kid.
My wife clutched my hand, tightening her grip on me ever so slightly. I loosened up. She was n't evil for wanting a kid— It was normal for a woman her age to wan na make that choice. I was just an anxious wreck.
Soon, at the appointed meeting time, ( This was apparently a very prestigious orphanage. Needed `` meeting times'' for some reason. And a gate, for that matter. ) a guard came down from the orphanage. He was an old, wrinkly man who seemed tired. Not physically, but mentally. With a grunt, he unlocked the metal gate and swung the left side open. He looked at us from under his drooping eyelids. His eyes were slightly like an old bloodhound's, tired but still observant.
`` Well? Ya gon na come in or what?'' He said to us, after we had taken a moment of hesitation. The old man's presence had put us off, it was n't anything terrifying, imposing, or really negative at all. It was this air of apathy that surrounded the old man.
My wife was the first to reply, although I had opened my mouth, `` Oh yes, thank you mister...?''
`` Jaimson, s'not my real name, but you can call me that while you're here,'' Jaimson (? ) said. He waved a rather skeletal hand and ushered us in. I was still in a weird state of being about to talk, so my mouth was open slightly. In retrospect, the image is slightly funny to think about. At some point during our walk, my wife manually shut my mouth closed, because I did n't realize I was doing it.
Jaimson lead us across a large lawn, and towards a very obviously renovated old house. It was n't anything huge, it was about the size of a larger than average house. It only housed a few children, compared to bigger orphanages. ( Numbers when I checked back then were somewhere around 6-7? Not a lot of children, but still too many for me. ) Jaimson mumbled to himself, `` Dunno what these folks want with them kids. A bunch of brats if I ever Mmnnggg...'' The last few words in his sentence were unintelligible. But they probably were n't important.
My wife smiled at me, and asked Jaimson a question.
`` You play with the kids a lot, right?'' she asked.
`` Mn? Yeah, sure. Sure,'' Jaimson replied. He clearly was n't listening very hard.
After our short walk, Jaimson walked up onto the porch, and held a hand up to signal for us to stop before we followed suit.
`` House is a bit ricket-y, just warning ya. The old lady does n't like that, so please be gentle. No stompin', big boy.'' He said, sliding a look at me. I was a fairly burly guy, so I suppose stomping was a concern to him.
He knocked on the door with the back of his hand. Thunk thonk thunk. It was a thin noise, if you could describe knocking as such. Doors made out of fresher, richer wood let out a satisfying thick knock. This felt like a bargain bin knock, one meant for those who had never heard a good knock, and thought all they needed was any old knock.
From inside, I could hear mumbling, the pitter-patter of smaller children running around, and amidst everything, the sound of a larger person walking towards the door. With a click, the door opened inward, and out peeped an old, sweet looking lady. She seemed to be as old as the old man, but less worn-down and nihilistic-looking. Her eyes were more of an innocent old cat. Her thin lips spread into a wrinkly smile.
The old man walked away, mumbling once more.
`` It's kids that tears marriages apart, y'kno-'' He was interrupted by the woman's obscenely loud...
`` Hello! Hello hello, are you the Carters?'' She said, her voice overpowering whatever little energy the old man's quips had left. He simply walked off into the distance, and the old woman was all that was left.
`` W-why yes, we're the Carters,'' I said. I had no idea what else to say. I stepped back, and let my wife do the talking.
`` Yes, that's us! Sorry, we arrived a bit early. We're very excited to meet all the children, miss...?''
`` Andrea. That's not my real name, but you can call me that. I do n't like my real name, it sounds too hokey,'' Andrea let out some coo-ing noises that sounded vaguely like laughs, and gestured us inside.
She beckoned us into a living room. It was a large, yet simply furnished one. There were toys scattered about, showing signs of life had indeed been here. She waved her hand towards a plain beige couch, with a few holes and stains, but a comfortable looking one. A couch you'd expect to find in an old, yet lively home.
Me and my wife sat down, and the woman bowed out to go find the kids.
It was at this point that my palms began to sweat excessively. I was starting to come to terms with the fact that I was indeed at an orphanage. Even more, I was at an orphanage to look at kids for ME and MY WIFE to adopt. It slowly dawned upon me that this was a huge shift from the moderately carefree lifestyle I had from before. I would be raising another human being, and be responsible for their lifestyle and growth. This was n't just `` Oh, we have a kid now,'' this was `` Oh, our lives are completely changed. We ca n't rely on the same dynamics as before to get by.''
My heart began to beat inside my chest, and I gulped. My wife luckily did n't notice at all.
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[ WP ] Everyone on Earth has 10 years of their life left , and the only way to live longer is to take lifespans from other people .
| Ugh. People used to be so much more clever. Watching billionaire after billionaire sell their businesses/franchises and spend their fortunes on nuclear weapons really tends to leave you feeling... well, a bit burnt out on humanity. Semi-understandable of course though. People were desperate. Eeeeveryone wants to live. I snatched up a pretty popular MOBA a few years back during the initial chaos, knowing it would n't catch many people's attention. A few adjustments to the terms and conditions and I was golden. I mean, even if they figured it out, it would n't change anything. What, are they going to stop playing League of Legends?
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[ WP ] There are many types of Mages in the world . Fire , Ice , Wind , Water , Death , Darkness , to name a few . But in this world , every type of mage is treated as equal . Everyone can be a good guy , no matter how dark your power . And anyone could be a bad guy , no matter how beautiful their ability ...
| Fine, I'm a shit mage. Not like I'm stupid or clumsy, I actually performed quite well in my classes, but my spirit element is... a dark excrement. Before you ask, why does this manifest from deep inside you, what is wrong with you, why ca n't you be like your brother who just happens to produce this glowing and powerful element remniscent of beautiful autumn leaves? Or your sister, whose crystal magic shines like a goddamn dewy spider web reflecting the deep amber of the morning sun? I do n't fucking know. I did n't ask for this. But it does n't matter. It wo n't stand in my way. Wherever there is evil, wherever there is darkness, I will also be there. I will be the stain on the night and the skidmark on the face of villainy. And when I use my magic to wield my mighty horned, hardened fecal helmet, chestplate, shield and hammer, even the darkness will come to know and fear the Brown Wizard!
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[ WP ] Tell the story of the man who was more valuable to Death alive than dead .
| Thomas' shotgun clicked. Now, this moment, is when it chose to run out of shells. The crazed thrall in front of him had the axe raised, and when the shot failed to leave his gun, the mindless automaton began to swing it down. It was the longest moment of pain Thomas had ever experienced. The piercing sting as the axe separated his flesh, the concussive crunch as it split his ribs, the disturbing pressure as it punctured his lung. The force of the blow sent him crashing to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him by the fall and he struggled to breathe when he heard it. Again.
`` Hello, Mr. Hutter.''
Thomas's eyes shot around the room. Nothing was moving. The axe was stuck in his chest, but the pain felt far away. The madman was snarling, but he appeared frozen in mid step. Dust and gun smoke hung in the air, seemingly ignoring the desperate fight to the death that was still going on. And there, off to the side, in a corner of the room that was previously empty, stood a small pale man in an inappropriately clean dark suit.
`` This was an unexpected emergency appointment. I usually charge double for this.'' In the unnatural quiet of the frozen room, the man's gentle voice was deafening. He rubbed his chin, considering the tableau before him with an unconvincingly concerned expression on his face.
`` Wha-'' Thomas wheezed, before coughing up some blood. The man sighed, and strode toward Thomas.
`` I really expected more from you. My employers wo n't be pleased. Do you have any idea how much I had to fight for you?'' The man lowered himself to one knee and took a closer look into Thomas' face. Thomas' eyes narrowed as he looked at the last person he ever wanted to see again, but he found himself unable to make any other movements. He tried to spit in the man's face, but just ended up coughing again, blood splattering down his chin.
`` They did n't hold you in very high esteem, truth be told. I assured them that there was more to you than how you appear, that my first hand knowledge showed me more than they could see.'' The man's eyes moved down to the axe in Thomas' chest. `` Oh goodness. Well, that would do it would n't it?'' The man took a black box from his jacket pocket and removed a black cigarette from it, placing the cigarette in his mouth.
The unassuming, matter-of-fact announcement took the fight out of Thomas' face. He watched as the man put the box back in his jacket and removed a book of matches. Tendrils of fear and hope crept into his fingers and toes, a sheen of perspiration broke out over his forehead and he began taking his final, ragged breaths. He prepared himself for the end that was too long in coming. He would never seen Ellen again but at least his nightmare was over.
`` It's lucky they underestimate you. Well, as far the illusion of luck goes. They're not expecting anything from you.'' The man looked back at Thomas' face, then back down to the problem at hand.
`` They're not watching right now.''
The man placed his hands under the axe handle. A stabbing pain breached the fog of the moment and Thomas winced. Carefully, slowly, the man pulled the axe up, just slightly. The most bizarre sensation struck Thomas, and his eyes widened. He could breathe, a spot of the far away pain flickered and went out. Thomas started gasping.
The man examined his work, took a look at the advancing thrall, and gave another gentle pull. The itching, burning sensation of knitting bone made Thomas wince again. The man let go of the axe handle.
`` Well, I take it back. This was a false alarm.'' The man removed the cigarette from his mouth and stood up. He gave Thomas a sickeningly knowing smile as he peered down at him. `` I apologize for the confusion in our meeting appointment. I'll speak with my staff about the dangers of false positives.'' He tucked the cigarette into his jacket, turned and strode away.
Thomas pushed himself up to one elbow. `` When is our appointment, Gregg?'' he managed, before spitting out a last mouthful of blood.
Gregg paused and turned back. His smile split his face from ear to ear while his thousand yard stare bored into Thomas' soul. `` Please,'' he said, `` Mr. Grimm. I prefer to keep things formal.'' He walked confidently into the shadowed corner and disappeared into the darkness.
Slowly, Thomas became aware of increased noise in the room. The dust was swirling and the lab equipment resumed bubbling. The pain from the axe wound became more distinct, but not debilitating as before. It appeared his ribs had stopped the blow. Thomas pulled the axe from his chest with a grunt and pushed himself to his feet, just as the thrall's growling became audible. Thomas had plenty of time to prepare for full speed.
The madman's foot finally completed his step at the same time Thomas brought the axe crashing through his skull. The thrall crumpled to the ground.
Thomas picked up his shotgun and yanked the bloody axe from the defeated zombie. He was late for his appointment. Knock was waiting.
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[ WP ] Due to the advent of AI and robotics , most regular jobs are now obsolete . To make a living , industrious individuals offer to perform increasingly obscure services no one previously thought necessary . What do you do for a living ?
| The light crept through the shades of my apartment. I knew what this meant, I was late. By the time the light reaches my windows it is already half past 10. I need to get my quota done for the day or I wo n't have enough credits to afford to pay my bills this week.
I grabbed my work bag, called my first appointment to apologize for the delay, but they did n't even notice I had been late. Fortune I guess smiled on me, no complaints to the boss today. I was one of the lucky few that had a real, physical, job. I was n't some trader in a virtual simulation, or a gold/credit farmer in a popular MMO. I actually had a job where I did work! Not as fancy as those desk jobs I serviced, those who kept the droid market active and running, and not as prestigious as sports player, but a job none the less. Ever since the workless revolution occurred, jobs have been harder and harder to quantify, now all that exist for us is high paying management jobs, low paying menial tasks, and virtual jobs.
I hopped the auto-bus 10 more blocks uptown to the first stop. I walk through the doors and check in the the security droid, then went to my first client for the day. Arthur Prefect, the Chair of Emotions and Financials, for Sirius Cybernetics, was furiously typing away on something called ARK B. He handed me his phone and I sanitized it for him, one down 15 more for the day.
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[ WP ] An unconventional exorcism .
| `` Thank you so much for coming Father Ezekiel,'' Daniel said.
`` When a brother in Christ is in need, I will always try to assist. So where is she?''
Daniel lead Ezekiel down the musty hallway and into a dimly-lit bedroom. The bedroom stank of incense and Yankee candles.
`` How long has she been acting strangely?'' asked Father.
`` Since we got back from Haiti, she has been acting strange. Do you think one of the Voodoo doctors could have cursed her?''
`` Perhaps, but do n't fear, I know how to rid her of whatever may be inside of her.'' said Father Ezekiel.
Daniel went to his wife and picked up her hand, she suddenly made a snarling noise, almost like a rabid dog.
`` I'll do whatever it takes Father, just please, help me get my wife back!''
`` Well, first things first,'' Father said while unbuckling his pants. `` I'm gon na need you to take her pants off.''
edit: words
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[ WP ] You are a parent in an anime . Your child is born with epic anime hair , and you are certain they will become the protagonist . You are determined to not become a tragic back story like so many other anime parents .
| ' That was the moment I realizead the true meaning of survival. I loved my kid so much and you took it all away. He was supposed to have a better life than my shitty one. Now he is dead, because what? You felt threatened? He was a kid and you are a grown man. Is this what happens in the world?
We live and we die. We want to live and we do not want to die. I am sorry son I just wanted to live.'
Finally I have avoided my tragic back story and become the true devil of this underworld. They call me heartless, but I do have a heart that beats. Strange things these people, nevermind.
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[ WP ] a first person perception of the first day that the fire nation attacked .
| It was late when we heard the explosions. We probably were all awake before the basket hit our cottage. There were a few dozen of us sleeping there against the cold. How many escaped I could n't imagine.
There was a terrific shatter as it came through our roof. It broke through two of the timbers holding up the ceiling beams and smashed into the ground where several people had spread their mats to sleep. It killed two people instantly then, the basket- wound stone. There were no flames yet. Suddenly the basket was afire... all at once, the entirety of it burning white before it burst and the stone and flames flew everywhere, lighting everything. It burned hot enough to melt the dirt it landed in.
Outside we could hear more of the stone baskets whistling overhead, some smashing holes into buildings and others striking the ground and rolling off before erupting. The white fire was everywhere. Away beyond the slim river, over the embankment and past the pear groves their catapults were singing.
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[ WP ] Humanity has established its first colony on Mars . However , this achievement is met with an unprecedented event : the first ever off-Earth homicide . Being Mars ’ only established detective , you are tasked to get the bottom of this most unusual crime .
| Alex Brown. He lived to see Mars, but not his 28th birthday. I stood next to Dr. Riddel, an older man, white hair and cleanly shaven. Eyes that bulged out of his head a little bit. He had a thick vein that went down from his forehead to his left brow. He had worked with me on Earth for a few years before Mars was established.
`` Cut every major artery,'' he said. `` Well, most of them.''
I bit into my cheeks until they bled. Alex's body looked perfectly in tact. But there were small stab wounds where his arteries were - carotid, femoral, etc. Small little incisions with barely any tear.
`` You know I'm somewhat surprised this happened so quickly,'' Dr. Riddel said. `` It's only been a year, has n't it?''
`` Only a year,'' I said.
It was n't really the truth. It had been about a year and two months. The colony on Mars was small, but growing. Volunteers and mostly those with the desire to leave everything behind. It was a better life than a lot of people on Earth.
Security was tight here, or it was supposed to be. A lot of money was put into making shit did n't go south on Mars. Oxygen leaks or outside exposure could kill.
I was n't the only detective here, that was n't true. But no one seemed concerned about it. No one seemed to understand that this was n't Earth. People died on Earth all the time. They swam and drank water from rivers used as toilets, gangs ran rampant and wars never ceased. Mars was supposed to be this beacon of hope, a symbol of man's progressions into the stars.
And yet, someone was halting that. Alex Brown was dead.
`` Well, there are always the crazy ones, yes?'' Dr. Riddel took off his gloves and went to the sink to wash his hands.
`` Why would someone cut every artery?'' I said. `` Would n't he be dead anyway?''
`` A signature, perhaps?''
I frowned. `` That's the last thing I want to hear, doctor.''
`` You're the best one here,'' Dr. Riddel said. `` That's why the President sent you, right?''
`` The President did n't have a say,'' I said. I cleared my throat. I did n't want to tell too much. `` Thank you, let me know if you find anything else out.''
`` Noted.''
I left the room, the air pressure doors sliding open. My boots clicked and clacked against the metal tiles -- there was a valley of cables and cords underneath these panels. Electricity, Internet, things like that.
____
Got ta go, maybe I'll write more later!
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[ WP ] You anger a gypsy and she gives you the most petty curse possible . For a while you ignore it , but now it 's just getting irritating .
| `` Good evening..'' the woman hummed as I entered her tent. `` Please have a seat, and I will read you your fortune.''
I sat down smugly, wondering exactly what kind of bullshit'fortune' I was going to get. I'd never really believed in this crap, but there was nothing left to do at the Fare and I had some time to kill before my cab arrived.
`` Just make it quick, I got places to be.'' I told her.
She gave me a look before continuing. She took out three cards and placed them on the table.
`` One of these cards will deter --''
`` Oh, really? Card tricks?'' I interjected. `` Any asshole with a top hat can do card tricks, show me something real! And hurry the fuck up!''
`` If you would just be patient, you might fin --''
`` UGH! Fine!''
I pointed to the middle one.
`` That one. I choose that one as my fortune.''
She sighed, evidently annoyed.
`` That's not how it wor --''
`` OH MY GOD! THEY'RE FUCKING CARDS!''
I picked up the cards on the left and the right and tore them in half. She stared in shock.
`` There! Done! Now that one's my fortune!''
Her face now evidently furious, she moved her mouth as if to scold me, but stopped and took a breath.
`` Fine. You want magic? Here.''
In a lightning quick flick of her wrist, she thrust her hand out at me mumbling under her breath, before placing her hand down and saying nothing.
`` Well?'' I asked, my leg twitching impatiently. `` Where's the magic?''
`` Patience, my child.''
`` Look, I do n't have time for this crap.'' I leant in to her, still twitching my leg. `` I want a refund.''
`` You never gave me any money.''
`` I want a refund of my time!'' I snapped, my leg twitching furiously. `` You waste my time with this card trick bullshit and then insult me by pretending to cast some spell on me!''
`` I did n't pretend.'' She said.
`` Oh sure, yeah, definitely believe you.'' I snapped sarcastically. `` I feel sooo magical right now! Bitch.''
`` Well, if you do n't like it, you can always leave.''
`` I will!'' I said as I stood up. `` Goodbye, have a nice day, go fuck yourse --''
Was all I got out before I noticed myself fall to the ground. The gypsy got up to help me.
`` Do n't touch me.'' I snapped. `` I do n't need your pity.''
I tried again to get up, but stumbled again as soon as I put my leg down. I then looked at the leg...
It was twitching. Non-stop, as it had been when I was sat down. I looked at it for a minute, before looking back at the gypsy.
``... what did you do?'' I asked quietly.
`` Magic.'' She said, before throwing me out.
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[ WP ] The life of a serial killer , but during their childhood . We get to discover what happened to make them become a monster .
| The cries started up at their usual time: 9 o'clock at night, just after Haley was told to go to bed.
She'd learned early on in her life that it was best not to disturb Daddy after he'd had several cans of his `` grown-up juice'', and that it was best not to ask her mother, either. Every night her mother would get this strange, yet scared look on her face, as though the darkness frightened her like it did with Haley's friends. She taught herself to brush her teeth, brush her hair, put her pj's on, and tuck herself into bed without a goodnight hug or kiss. It had become almost ritualistic, and was n't complete without the cries from her mother and the slurred bellows from her father.
Haley never knew what they argued about, or why they wrestled, but Daddy always won, and in the morning, Mommy would come downstairs with a new bruise on her arms, her face, or her neck. Whenever Haley asked about them, Mommy would simply shake her head and close her eyes. So she learned to stop asking.
That night, though, the cries turned into screams, and Haley found herself unable to sleep. She heard her mother beg for mercy, and a chill ran down her spine. Something her mother had told her popped into her head: `` If you hear me cry louder than usual, I want you to go to our room and get Daddy's gun, alright?'' She had agreed without much thought.
Silently, like her mother told her to, she slipped into her parents' room and grabbed her Daddy's shotgun from under his bed, gliding down the stairs like she has practiced so many times.
As she stepped into the living room, she found an unusual sight: her father was standing over her mother, his belt gripped tightly in one hand. Her mother was bleeding all around her face, and her arms were up in front of her eyes, shielding herself from further attacks.
Then, she realized that her parents were n't wrestling. Her father, whom she loved, was a monster. Instantly, like he'd taught her to do before, she cocked the shotgun and made sure the safety was off. She aimed the barrel at her father.
His eyes were wild and confused, but more than anything, angry.
`` Haley, what are you doing with that?'' He barked, not releasing his grip on the belt. In the light, it looked to be a little stained, though the color was unclear.
`` Daddy,'' she breathed, her voice shaky and scared, `` get away from my Mommy.''
`` Haley, put the gun down.'' He whispered, holding up a hand, but that only made her raise the gun higher. How many times had he used that very hand to hurt her mother? He would n't hurt her anymore. She would make sure of that.
He stepped towards her, and in a wave of panic, she pulled the trigger. When the ringing cleared from her head, she saw his lifeless body sprawled across the floor, blood seeping out from his wound. But she was n't sad. She was pleased. She had punished a monster, and it had felt good.
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[ WP ] You are a barista at a coffee shop . Everyday , a man shows up at the same time and orders the same thing . Today he orders something different . You decide to investigate .
| Every day that man would come in, and every day the exact same situation would happen. It gave me a sense of security over time almost, the daily routine which we never expanded upon nor improved.
He would be wearing a suit each day, the exact same suit as always. Grey like concrete, like the color of the oppressive buildings that stood guard over this raucous city. The same shirt, white and plain, starch-collared and minimal. His pants were always slightly off colored from his jacket however. It was always a slightly eclectic look but I thought it fit his handsome features well. You see, it's crazy how much you learn about someone who you only spend 2 minutes talking to every day. In fact, I can still remember the first time he came in.
It was my first day working the job. I was bright and cheery-eyed, the remnants of my previous life in the country still evident. I used to love the color of the sky, but that changed a year ago. How I ever ended up at a tiny coffee place like this I'll never know. It was a Monday I met the man. I remember this clearly, because his tie was a smooth shade of yellow. Mustard, it was. See, he wore a different colored tie for every day of the week. Again, it's crazy how much you learn about someone who you see every day. For Tuesdays, he wore a dark teal tie. Wednesdays, wisteria-colored. Thursdays he wore thistle. Fridays were firebrick, Saturdays were sapphire. On Sunday however, he always wore a ridiculous tie, one you could only find at a novelty shop. It was sky blue and covered in cartoon suns. A tie for every day of the week. That's the first sign I should have noticed as he walked in that Sunday morning.
Our routine would always be the same, he would stroll up to the counter, his gait subtly exuding the confidence of a winner, of a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Of course he would be the first customer, no one ever came in that early, not even the cleaning crews. He would stand there, 10-15 seconds, humming the same song from the 80's that played in every elevator since. He would stare at the board and I would wait patiently, until he had made up his mind. Of course, I always knew exactly what he was going to get. A coffee, black with half a creamer poured in. That was it. I would take the money and go into the back and shuffle around a couple minutes, but of course I would already have exactly what he wanted ready. I do n't know why I did this, I suppose I enjoyed not only the routine but the company as well. It did get awfully lonely being the only one in the shop for a good 4 hours or so. Since he was the first customer of the day I figured I would surprise him with a free croissant. Well, this would turn into a regular thing. I would come out, bring his coffee and grab a white paper bag, write his name on it, and slip the croissant into the bag. I would hand him his food and he would nod, before checking it. Of course I got it right, I had made the same cup of coffee for the same person for about two years.
He would sip his coffee while eating his croissant and sit at the table closest to the counter. I would come over and sit down across from him, and we would discuss whatever was on our minds. Usually it was minor things, like the latest game or the weather. Sometimes we would delve upon deeper topics, but those only lasted as long as the croissant. After finishing he would wipe his mouth, take the rest of his coffee and throw away the bag. I would go back across to the server's side of the counter and he would toss a handful of coins in the jar, exactly two dollars in quarters. And that was it, we would both work for the rest of the day to see each other the next morning.
That's why I should have noticed that something was off that day. He came in two hours late, right after the breakfast rush. That was the first sign. The second sign was his tie. Gone was the silly blue tie with bright yellow suns, replaced with a much more nicer and serious tie of silk. Emerald green. His eclectic look had changed, his off colored slacks replaced with professional, sleek pants. This put me off enough, but what made me the most shaken up was the lack of routine. He did n't wait to order, he just told me to make two shamrock lattes. `` Shamrock'' lattes were just green tea lattes, served in a special green cup only for St. Patrick's day. That day, of course, was St. Patrick's day. He told me to hurry, and as I stood in the back mixing the drinks I thought over the strange way he was acting. His usually confident stride was instead a hurried clamber, and he seemed to walk unevenly, as if he was carrying something very important to him. I guess I really never had realized how much I had gotten to know him, or care for him even. No, more than care for him. I dare say that I loved that man, whether as a companion or lover I do not know. The funny thing is, love does n't even actually hit you like an arrow. No, it seeps into your body like a horrible poison, and by the time you're affected it's already too late. I had given him the drinks, he had tossed some coins into the jar. Seventy five cents. As he walks out of the shop I notice a glint on the counter. He had left his wallet, the same wallet I had seen open and close for two years. I opened it to check it, and sure enough a picture of him stood front and center in the main fold. However, he was with another woman. A woman I had never seen before, with flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes. I jogged out of the shop, my phone in one hand and his wallet in the other.
It was perhaps fate, or maybe destiny that lead to that day. Not that I believe in any of those forces any more, they've faded out of my life like many other invisible forces always have. I saw him, with that woman. The lattes were still warm under neath the golden sun, and as the morning rays shined down on us like the spotlights of a drama time seemed to stop around us. He had removed a box from his pants, a box with a ring in it. And there he was, putting the ring on her finger, the seconds passing as minutes for me. With each tear shed out of happiness, each laugh shared as they hugged, my heart ripped in half. The man I had known for two years, and had talked with about everything from life to love to death, now forever gone from my days of endless working. It's crazy how much you can love someone who you only spend 2 minutes talking to each and every day for two years.
I suppose I ca n't be too mad though. Life moves on, and even soul mates can become strangers in a mere second. I've learned to become an observer in my own life. To see the wonderful stories around me, the tragedies, the dramas, the comedies in life. Ultimately I suppose that's all I am, a character in a never ending play. That's what we all are. Still, I try to take bits and pieces from the stories I see all around me. It's fun to get a change of pace some times. That's why I moved back out to the country. Figured getting up bright and early to look for a job would n't hurt. Oh, my order?
Let me think...
I'll take a coffee, black with a half creamer.
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[ WP ] The human attribute generator placed 1 on all your stats , but 11 on your luck , the max should have been 10 . God watches in anticipation as you unknowingly went to your first boss fight .
| `` Can we talk about this?'' I asked as I took a step back in the alleyway. Why had I gone down here? Sure I was n't the best with directions, but alleyways were never the right way. You never clicked into google maps and got'left down sketch ave'
`` How about you just hand over your wallet and nothing needs to happen?'' the hulking man suggested. He'd suggested it before, five times. He was n't the kind of person to take'I am not carrying a wallet at the moment' as an answer. I had my purse, my purse was there. My wallet was in my car back in the parking garage. Not the safest place to leave it, but at least the mugger could n't get it at this point.
Bright side of life, right?
`` Give me the wallet.''
`` I do n't have it on me, look I can t-'' I really should n't bring him to my car. Then he'd want my car, but maybe I could leave my keys in the alleyway. That could be quite the move. `` How about I show you another person who can get you more money. I'm not carrying much, but there's this guy with a rolex-''
I got cut up by reality breaking, but that I mean a flashing white light in front of me that twisted the world into letters.'Random Skill Up! Charisma +1' I tried to speak through the celebratory trumpet blasting in the air, `` So how about we team up for a little while, you get to have more money, and I do n't need to find out what lead tastes like.''
The man scowled and then lowered his gun. `` How do I know you're telling the truth?''
`` Okay, so let's say that I'm not,'' I started, `` worst comes to worst, we're back to shooting me for my wallet.''
`` If you try to run?''
`` Your can shoot me in the leg to stop me from running.''
`` If he wo n't give me anything?''
`` Then he can join our little team. Three times the firepower,'' I paused, `` bro.'' What the hell was I saying? I was a stuttering mess most of the time but suddenly I could dance around a conversation like it was pre-ordained.
`` And i-''
`` Already thought of that, do n't worry about it, I'll take care of everything.''
`` Everything?'' he asked.
`` Everything,'' I confirmed as I took a step toward the man and his dumpster. `` In fact, I do n't think you should need to worry about the gun, here just let me,'' I held out my hand and the man gave me his gun. It was like he was sharing a toy. I slipped the gun into my jacket pocket and patted it. `` See, now you do n't need to worry about it.'' I began to walk out of the alleyway.
`` Wait, what about robbing the guy?'' the massive man asked. He was still about twice my size and pumping a million times more testosterone.
`` You know,'' I lied, `` I was on my way to my dentists appointment. You know how those things are, you book it a year in advance and if you're a minute late he wants to dig in there an-''
`` I got it,'' the man said. `` This is n't a great part of town for a little lady like you, want me to meet you somewhere safer for when we go get the guy?''
`` What?''
`` Do you want me to meet you somewhere safer?'' the guy asked.
`` Uh, I'm good,'' I said, `` I have a gun.''
`` Right,'' the man nodded and then took out a cigarette, `` have a good day. Keep safe.''
`` Thanks!' I called back before tiptoeing out of the alleyway. As soon as I was passed the brickwork and slammed my back against the drug store and my heart started pounding.
`` What the hell was that?'' I hissed before leaping into internal monolog. First of all, what was a random stat drop? Second, of all, what did it mean that it added to my charisma? Third of all; WHY DID I HAVE A GUN?
Deep breaths, Shannon had told me that deep breaths would help. Maybe I needed to call her. Maybe she would know what had happened when God had decided to fucking intervene.
`` Okay, Random Skill Up: Charisma +1'' I hissed to myself, `` google can tell me what's going on.''
A quick web search ( and an'I'm feeling lucky' later ) I found a very important thing on a conspiracy site. Humans had base statistics, the standard for anyone to have was 1. If I was lucky, at all, I would have had base 1 stats across the board.
If that was the case, I'd just been given a random skill drop that brought me up to twice as charismatic as anyone else I knew.
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[ WP ] `` I looked at the Orion . It looked like you . '' Write a love story .
| pre.p.s.: I love this prompt. I do n't know there are n't many other replies.
-
It was a long before I began to feel drowsy. The Sky had n't taken its toll on me. I suppose the vaccine was working; I hoped it was working, but hope can always be just as deadly. So here I am, drugged up on Sleep so I can sleep. The drugs help me sleep. Otherwise I lie awake, hoping not to die. Hope. Fucking hope. Sleeping meant you might not wake up, so drugs solved that problem. Others had been using Sleep Away. Staying awake forever ca n't guarantee not dying, so why avoid sleep?
Tonight, I felt the sleep before I was asleep.
The dark forest comes to mind tonight. It's darker in the forest than it is the city. The bright lights of city had long been burnt out. Then the sky descended, fell onto us faster than the plague itself. The sky fell and covered us with, was it fear? No. At the time we had nothing to fear. The sky fell and covered us with the calming warmth we needed. We needed the warmth and the sky had given it to us plentiful. So plentiful had the warmth become that we became warm ourselves and slowly, so slowly, we became overwhelmed with warmth. The warmth became a kind of cold. A cold like the ones that we would read about in our history books, a virus. It consumed us. It froze us. This warmth, this fallen sky. So what did we do? We burned. We burned and we trying to stay cool before we became cold. The dark, warm city with its cold infesting warmth, and here I was, in this forest of another kind of darkness. This time the forest was dark and unforgiving. Maybe unforgiving is the wrong word. Maybe the right word is unrelenting. The forest was unrelentingly dark, but this unrelenting darkness was inviting. I wanted its darkness to surround me. It was comforting. It was a pure darkness, a darkness that was meant to cure hatred and supply love. I knew this darkness well. This was my darkness, my forest, my unrelenting love. So sleep came to me. It came to me as I stood abject to the forest, inviting it to consume and consummate me. And it did.
Maybe you are this forest. Maybe you are my darkness.
In the city, there is no light. In this forest there is no light. In me, though, there is something. Some kind of faint forgotten light that does n't exist but maybe it once did. Maybe in a past life, in my unrelentingly light, I was Orion. No, not Orion. I was Ursa. The goddess lover and mother and bear. Thrown away and forgotten. Killed by my own redemption. Cast away into the sky for the hope of forgiveness. Could I find it in myself to forgive? Even now? Who is there to forgive? Whom would I forgive if given the chance? Not you. Not the gods. Not myself. I trudge along in my forest, hoping to see your face, but it's too dark to see and I'm not even sure that you're in the forest to begin with. I can dream, ca n't I?
You were the strong one. You carried the hope. But you still left.
I found a piece of you. Did you know that? After you had gone, when I had nothing left but my own desperate need for hope, I found the hope you had left. You left on the counter in the bathroom. I would n't have gone in there if I had n't heard the small voice you left in my mind. That sweet voice. I still hear it sometimes. When I'm almost dreaming. Before I reach the forest or the beach or some other natural, nondescript landscape. I hear you whispering in the distance. I hear you leaving. You left and now I'm wandering the forest, hoping to accidentally find you or a piece of you or at least hoping not to die this time. I called out your name once. Only once though. Calling out to you gave me hope, and hope is just as deadly as death.
I know where to find you. I know where you are. I know I can not get to you. I know you would n't want me to anyway. I know all of these things and I still hope.
In the middle of my darkness, in the middle of you, I stop. There is n't anywhere to go once you reach the middle of something. Going back the way you came only leads you to where you were and going forward only leads to somewhere you had hoped to be. Once I reach that somewhere, my hope will be gone, so I stop in the middle. Maybe one day I'll find the courage to continue on to the end, but for now I do what I always do when I end up in the middle of my unrelentingly dark forest - I sit and listen. The city is full of darkness and noise, but the forest is darker and there is no noise.
What will happen when I awake? What will happen if I do not awake? What the fuck does it even matter? It does n't. Nothing fucking matters, but I'll wake up anyway.
And I do wake up. I wake up in the city of the fallen sky and I look up at what would be the stars and I see Orion. I looked at Orion; It looked like you.
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[ WP ] An alien race of terrifying physiology is invading Earth , expecting an easy victory - but they never planned for the Australians
| I roll back my eyes, and concentrate on the soft humming of the machine rather than let my mind acknowledge the weapon in my body. The medicine of my day and age is brilliant; near certain to keep me alive, but my body writhes in pain and rejects the foreign object.
I lazily slid an eyelid open, and turned my gaze to the aircraft's window. Most of the toxic creatures had detached from the wings and died in the upper atmosphere, but the entirety of the craft was littered with claw markings, teeth indentations, and the odd stubborn alien creature that would likely continue biting at the ship until it left the atmosphere and escaped into the radioactive void of space.
We had tried everything. We fought them in the air, but their bizarre weaponry could strike at a distance, and mysteriously retract to the thrower should they miss. We took to their ocean to negate their weaponry, and take advantage of our superior swimming, but their toxic fauna preyed on us and poisoned us en masse. We even fought them on land, but the hellscape they called home was home to mammalian horrors with sharp claws and incredible musculature.
A shrill beeping from the rehabilitation device informed me that my wound was completely sterilized, and the intruding object was ready to be removed. With a chilling unease, I hovered a hand over the switch that would tear the weapon out: quickly and painfully. In just two heartbeats, the computer analyzed the exact dimensions, coordinates, weight, and shape of the object, then tore it out with a stomach churning snap. In a near instant, the pain faded to a numb, almost satisfying fizzing sensation as the medicine and my immune system converted the fatty nutrients in my body into simple cells and complex structures. Already I could feel my ret cage begin to regrow and restructure, thicker but less flexible with every regeneration.
The weapon was brilliant and yet... vulgar. The material was cut and carved from the carcass of some unfortunate, slow moving alien creature. In imitation of the alien that nearly slew me, I curled a limb around the object and sent it flying. Also in imitation of the alien, I did not find the weapon returning to my grasp. It was however, not wedged in some poor soldier's cage. The object hesitated in air, then with a burst of aggression, sent itself flying past me, nearly taking out an eye. Before I could complete my recital of the foulest curses I knew, a sinister hissing noise caught my attention.
The rehabilitation machine began a panicked beeping as my heart rate climbed violently. Before me stood my mammalian foe, clutching his foul boo-mer-rang in one fist, and a bright red, smoking machine in the other. He stretched his nasty alien facial features and bladed fangs into what I could only imagine was a sneer. The [ thick padding ] ( http: //wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/8/83/Yourpropertyjustgotdamagedbysaxtonhale.png? t=20111217071953 ) on his torso swished as he embedded his red gadget into the flooring of my ship. An alarm sounded in protest, and the heavy beast flipped open the lid of the gadget to reveal a bed of burning coals. I could feel intense panic building up in my gut as I realized the intent of this horrid torture device. The alien had come to claim his lost weapon, and brought his viciousness with him.
`` NOTHIN' LIAKE A SQUID-ROACH MONSTER, FRESH OAF THE BARBIE!''
My last thoughts were of my family.
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[ WP ] You are an instrument for a famous musician . Whats you best story ?
| Okay. Hello? This thing on? All right.
So. Best story? Best, huh? Best. You know, probably, my best story is Atlanta, 1986. Or, -five. Wait, maybe it was Miami? You know, it does n't really matter and I do n't really remember. What I do know, is it was the mid-80's, and the Third Panhuman Tour was in full swing.
Billiegh the fucking Flet is leading, and my boy, Simone Tchurb is on fire. We're opening, and Tchurb has never been better. He's a pro. Incredible. I've never seen fingers work like his do before or since. The way he sets, the way he tremors and key slaps. It's honestly amazing to see, and the noise this guy makes? Fucking incredible.
So, Tchurb is on stage, just wailing away, and there I am right by him when I feel it. See, Tchrub was a nut for pranks, and the night before, the dude had spiked my usual dinner with this Pamomian Bay Seed, or Beighsede, or whatever it was. I do n't remember the name, but let me tell you, this stuff was incredible. I was hearing colors people do n't have names for, and seeing things that made my ears pop right out the side of my head, if you get my drift. See, so I'm still half out of it when he pulls me on stage for our solo. What he does n't know, is that Basiede is wicked hard on most people, just happens it does n't bother him.
So, like I said, he's wailing away, making the most beautiful noises I've ever had the pleasure of hearing, when all of the sudden, the guy goes in, frips up my side and squeezes in for a power chord like none other, when my usually well tuned colon explodes, spraying almost to the fifth row.
I got banned from being played at Panhuman, but you know, the honor of getting thrummed by this century's top humanist makes it worth it. That and the faces in the crowd. First time I ever saw a Blixian get flustered. Heh.
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[ WP ] You 've been on a quest for the past year and have failed at the last stage
| If someone had told Xerev, that he would hate the light. It wouldn ’ t surprise him if he had attacked them. But the golden glow that had fallen over a river of blood. The blood of his allies, and friends. Who had given every breath of life to reach that staircase.
The men and women whom bled and died. Sacrificing everything to clear the path that Neora must walk. Only to watch as she left with some ‘ higher being. ’ Leaving three golden clad men to watch as we died.
The sounds of battle suffocated the sound of Xerev ’ s crying. Like they would soon suffocate this world. At least the shadow had one purpose. It hungered and destroyed, an evil to rally against. But now salvation had closed the door upon us. A death sentence they had no right to give.
Elora lay lifeless in his arms, Joru pulled into the realm of shadows, and Master Verok impaled at the foot of the stairs. “ You have no right to condemn us! ” Xerev screamed, the rage and anger Master Verok had feared. Now exploding towards the surface. Tempered by Elora's calm and kind nature.
A calm Xerev held onto, if only not to fall to their swords. “ Silence mortal, our general watches this world burn. So that others may someday be saved. You should be honored. ” A guards voice boomed down at him.
“ Not even a chance, for any final words... Forgive me. ” Xerev stood, leaving Elora ’ s hands on her sword. The silver arrowhead she wore on her neck in his hand. Words that Master Verok had once spoken to a young Elora echoing in his mind.
‘ Hah, a legendary weapon. No one will ever give you such a thing, Elora. Nor will one you may someday find have its true power. No hand, immortal or otherwise could forge one either. A legendary weapon is created by its wielder. Something they have imbued their purpose, will, and power into. Forged through their conquests, adventures, and experience. ’
Xerev aimed his bow at the most adorned golden warrior. The cut bowstring mending itself, just as his own purpose was. The silver arrowhead spinning in place. Silver mist flowing away from it's tip. Covering his hands, and bow as he walked forward.
“ I will shed every drop of blood I have. I will walk through hell, shadows, and eternity. I will I tear apart the false skies, of every world. I will kill every one of you. Until I climb to the top of all of existance. I have one question to ask whatever being stands there. If they can not answer my question, I will kill them. I will climb higher on their corpse, until I find my answer! ” Xerev screamed, words storming over the raging flames of battle.
The arrow, let loose by Xerev ’ s hand shattered a golden shield. Piercing through magic and metal towards its goal. The death of an immortal. A figure who's golden magic, and armor had failed. His life stolen away, like the world Neora sacrificed.
“ Take your generals body to that man, your king. Tell him what I've said. Let him know I will destroy everything he holds dear. Make sure he knows, I ’ m coming to kill Neora. ” One reopened the golden gateway Neora walked through. The other pulling the proof Xerev would come for them.
Xerev looked behind him. One last look at his friends, and family. The people he would die for. The people he would have died for. If whoever Xerev was minutes ago, had not died with them. “ Our world, and final stand. Our torments, our victories. Our lives, and names. Will not be forgotten by that self proclaimed heaven. Forgive me, please. ”
Another silver arrow now shot up the stairs. Cutting through whatever veil seperated different worlds. A silver portal, whos opening signalled many things. The death of a world, and a people. The shadows gaining strength. But it did not signal the end of their hope. No, the light it shed over as that world drew its last breath. Lit the path Xerev would take, each step closer to becoming a legend.
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[ WP ] The year is 2040 , and you are the last smoker alive . The `` Quit Smoking '' ads get personal .
| Gone. Everyone who fought to keep this plague, all who put in so much to keep it away. All gone.
As I lit my unfinished cigarette for the 5th time, took in a drag, I slowly feel the hallucinations start clearing away with every inhale.
Ridiculous as it may seem, the plague the city is under, gets into your head, and turns you into a victim of memories. After being infected, your body slumps, and your whole conscious exists only in your daydream.
The only remedy is tobacco smoke. Half a century ago, it would've been lunacy to think that cigarettes could one day save my life.
Ha, save my life. As I gazed up towards the worn down `` no smoking'' billboard, I wondered; is this really saving me. Why fight something, when you`re the only one left to fight it with.
As last ember of the cigarette faded away, with my final press to the concrete, I sat back.
Admiring the sight of sky, smiling as it was my first encounter. I guess sometimes you get mixed up between firsts and lasts.
.
`` I've missed all of you''
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[ RF ] Time to re-write history . Pick a professional team , any event attached to that team , and tell a tale of `` what-if '' as if that `` what if '' became true .
| It had already been a weekend of tragedy. On Friday, Rubens Barrichello had suffered a nasty accident at the Variante Bassa. His Jordan-Hart had flown over a kerb into the tyre barriers, flipping until coming to rest. Everyone held their breath at the violence of such an accident. But, amazingly, he was okay. Unconscious, but okay.
Then Saturday happened. Roland Ratzenberger, a charming, friendly Austrian, in only his third race weekend, was killed after crashing head-on into a concrete wall at over 300km/h. It was the first time a driver had been killed at a race weekend in over 20 years. The first death of a driver racing a Formula One car since 1986. The paddock was stunned.
Sunday was nothing but gloom. The drivers convened. Safety was of paramount concern. Ayrton Senna, the most experienced driver on the grid, a three-time World Champion, led to the immediate reformation of the Grand Prix Drivers Association. No-one would accept another death.
The cars formed up on the grid for the start. The first was aborted after a tremendous collision at the start, the Benetton of J.J Lehto having stalled, with the Lotus of Pedro Lamy slamming into the back of the stricken car. Parts of the car flew over the catch-fencing, injuring some spectators. It seemed to never end...
The cars followed slowly behind the safety car, Senna in front in his Williams-Renault, followed closely by Michael Schumacher in his Benetton. The safety car disappeared, unleashing the cars. Senna was immediately in the groove, edging away from Schumacher as they started lap seven.
Then Senna crashed at the Tamburello.
The entire paddock held it's collective breath at the ferocity of the accident as his shattered car came to a halt. His head moved for an instant. Then was still.
Then his head moved again. He raised his visor, indicating his was okay. Slowly he removed his seat-belts, but stayed sat in his car as he appeared to take a deep breath, compose himself and his thoughts. The red flags were flown as his car lay precariously close to the circuit edge. No more than thirty seconds after impact, the doctor's car was parked next to his car, Professor Sid Watkins immediately at the cockpit side. Senna just nodded his head to whatever question was asked.
Slowly, with help from marshals and the doctor, Senna was helped out of his car. Remarkably, he appeared to have suffered little to no injuries, walking with just the slightest of limps. He turned and reached down into the cockpit, taking out an Austrian flag. Everyone understood what that meant.
He removed his helmet, running a hand through his hair as he looked back at his shattered race car, no doubt thanking God that he was okay. The doctor continued to speak to him, no doubt asking if he was sure he was okay. Senna just smiled and nodded. You could read his lips. `` I'm fine,'' he clearly said.
He was taken back the paddock, TV cameras watching his progress. His team bosses, Frank Williams and Patrick Head, were there to greet him, clearly concerned. Once again, he just indicated he was okay. He was quickly assessed and given the all-clear. No injuries. Not even a concussion. He was even allowed to take the restart in the spare car.
Ayrton Senna won the 1994 San Marino Grand Prix. On his slowly down lap, he flew the Austrian flag. For Roland Ratzenberger. Podium celebrations were muted. There was no champagne spraying. Senna, a deeply religious man, openly wept as his anthem played.
The press conference was short. Senna could and would usually speak for hours about a race. But for this conference, he stated only two words.
For Roland.
Formula One changed for the better with the loss of Roland. Safety became paramount. Safety had never been lax, but the loss of Roland reminded everyone that motorsport was dangerous. And everything should be done to ensure another life was not lost again.
As for Senna, he raced for a number of years. He won the 1994 World Championship for Williams at the final race after a breathtaking season long battle against Michael Schumacher. He dominated the 1995 and 1996 seasons, his legendary skill and the dominance of the Williams cars ensuring they were near unbeatable.
And then he retired. A six-time World Champion. The greatest driver the sport had ever seen.
It is now 2015.
Ayrton Senna is President of Brazil.
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[ WP ] People can buy and sell souls on a stock market . Your soul just became the highest valued soul and you do n't know why .
| `` Short him god dammit!'' Shouted Todd the current fodder for Lucifer Shareholders Inc. The ticker symbol for the young man was flashing every millisecond with a higher value. He was part of the crush rush- it kept happening with younger souls. `` Jesus commodities were so much easier than souls, fucking purgatory.'' Jesus stepped out from behind Todd spooking him.
`` Now Todd, if you had n't been so into those dominatrix girls you would n't be here. You have to, quite literally, pay for your sins and since the only thing we heavenly bodies have to trade is souls well...''
`` I'm aware friggin' hippie, this crush market is just ridiculous. It's completely unpredictable! If I was an all seeing all-knowing entity I could do this,'' Todd threw his glare at Jesus, `` but I'm not. Funny how heaven always comes out ahead and I still have millions to pay off before I can fuck virgins or whatever.''
`` Well watch this new one Todd, look familiar?'' Todd noticed the latest ticker that was keeping pace with the boy he was trying to short, TY2K1640993- those were his initials, his death year and his zip code, but how was his soul back on?
`` Buy! Buy the whole damn soul fellas!'' Todd yelled back to his soul-pit. The sounds of a keyboard being crushed erupted behind him; his price kept rising, just like that kids.
`` Do you wan na know why you're suddenly the hottest commodity of the minute?'' Jesus asked, leaning into Todd's ear.
`` Yes, but not if you're going to charge.''
`` It's free advice. Someone, by the numbers I think its quite a few people, are mourning you. Guess leaving all that money to your family and friends had some value after all. They must have set up an orphange with your name on it for this big of a spike,'' Jesus stepped back, fading into the mush of the trading floor.
`` I hate kids... that Lucy would have certainly used my name like that. Dumb bitch- alright hold it... hold it!...'' The numbers next to his ticker slowed, the clock on Earth just hit 1230, lunch was the destroyer of all memorials, food was more important. `` Sell it!'' Again the keys crashed. A smaller demon, fresher, handed Todd a ticker tape with their profits on his soul- it still had n't been enough to get him out; back to the trading floor it is.
Todd turned to the scrawling bastard with pointless ticker symbols and multicolored numbers glued to an arrow that only had two directions and sighed. An orphanage, why could n't they have started a library? Todd rallied. His attention went back to the board titled `` crush trades'' and began betting on an up and coming soccer player in middle school that just scored a goal to secure his team's trip to the state quarter finals, he was getting some numbers tonight. The more adoration you had, even for a moment, was all that truly mattered down here in the trading pits of hell.
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[ WP ] You 're a Super Villain , tell me about the one evil plan that finally beats the Hero .
| Allan sat in front of his super computer and watched the news feed as his newest creation fought against the ever so originally named “ Ape-man ”. Allan had been waiting for this day since this dim witted hero had claimed he had punched a robot so hard it had exploded. It was an insult to Allan ’ s intelligence and his work, an insult he could not let stand. So he had built more robots to send against Ape-man, to ruin his city and kill his sidekick Monkey-boy. Finally it was time to get even with the ape himself.
Allan had built a robot for the sole purpose of killing Ape-man, his model G. It matched Ape-man in size and strength, had automatic weapons built into its wrists, and was made out of the strongest alloys Allan could find. All of this made the model G the perfect machine to finally kill Ape-man, but it was losing the fight. Beating Ape-man at this own game would be satisfying for Allan, but he was not known as the smartest man on earth by putting all his eggs in one basket. The model G, for all its strength and weapons was only a lure. The real cause of Ape-man ’ s death could be coming soon.
Allan continued to watch the fight as it neared its end. Ape-man was tired, bloody, and worn but he had beaten the model G, just as Allan had predicted. So Allan leaned toward his microphone and spoke to his most hated enemy directly.
“ My compliments on destroying the Model G, Ape-man. ” Allan said through his robot ’ s speakers.
Ape-man clearly recognized Allan ’ s voice because he shouted “ Mastermind! Where are you hiding? ”
“ Hiding? I ’ m waiting for this to all end. You see we ’ ve entered the end game of our contest. ” Allan said calmly.
“ You call killing innocent people a game? ” Ape-man roared “ You think killing my son was a game! ”
“ Yes, ” Allan replied “ and this is the final move. ”
As he spoke Allan pressed a button on his computer and a new robot lumbered out of a nearby building. It was short and yellow. It had a smiling face painted onto its bulbous body and the letter Z printed on its arm.
“ Meet the Model Z. It ’ s not much for combat but then it ’ s not meant for that. ” Allan said as the robot began running toward Ape-man. It was a slow unbalanced run that gave Ape-man plenty of time to pull back his arm to deliver a punch to the Model Z.
“ I wouldn ’ t do that if I were you. ” Allan advised “ The Model Z is a walking nuclear bomb. If you hit it the bomb will activate and destroy the city. ”
Ape-man froze in place “ You ’ re willing to wipe out a city over our battle? ”
“ No. ” Allan answered as the Model Z got close to Ape-man and leapt toward his face. “ I ’ m willing to blow up an entire city to cement my reputation, I ’ m willing to kill as many innocents as I have to in order to ensure next time I make a move I will be taken seriously. ” The Model Z slammed into Ape-man ’ s face and latched on with its arms and legs.
“ One more thing before you die. ” Allan said with his finger on the button to detonate the Model Z “ I lied, punching it would have destroyed the bomb. ”
Allan pressed the button and the feed from the Model G and the Model Z immediately cut out. The news feeds cut out milliseconds afterward. Allan then leaned back in his chair and smiled, with that taken care of he could get back to his work. Soon the world would belong to him, and it would be all the better for it.
Edit: needed to reword a sentience.
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[ WP ] `` I never thought salvation would come in the form of an eight-year-old girl . ''
| Old Varro stood, arms folded and eyes blazing and nostrils flared. A snarl peeled the lips back from the teeth. A sickly yellow light danced around the room as the tallow candle burned uneven. `` I think you know why you're here,'' the legionary started. `` I think you know why you're here and I'd like you to have the decency, for once in your life, to admit that is why we brought you here.''
The man, as jaundiced as the candle's magic spell, massaged his rheumy eyes and shook his head. `` I do n't know nothing about it.''
Varro turned to another man standing next to him, tall and golden, but with none of the slabs of muscle, or the face that wore a lifetime of hardship as a mask. `` He does n't know nothing about it,'' he parroted.
`` I think he's a cocksucking liar,'' the other man said, dipping his head into the full light of the overhead lamp, eyes wide and crazy.
Varro spat on the dusty stone floor. `` Well, no matter,'' he said. `` We can be here all night if we have to.''
Varro's comrade, Albus, scoffed. `` I bet he does n't even know why he's here.''
Varro unfolded his arms and glared at the man. `` No,'' Varro said, voice raised in theatrics. `` No, he must know why he's here. Go on, tell the man. Why are you here?''
`` The girl.''
Varro nodded to Albus. `` See? He knows why he's here.''
`` I did n't do it, though.''
`` Did n't do what?''
`` I did n't kill her.''
Varro drew a sucking breath. `` I do n't recall saying anything about a murder,'' Varro said. `` Did we accuse him?''
`` We did n't.''
A dry, raspy laugh like papyrus issued from the throat of the man. `` Why else would you bring me here?''
`` Well, go on,'' Varro said. `` Explain why you did n't do it. You're a citizen, see, so that's the only reason we're extending you this courtesy at all. If you were n't, we'd have already beaten the confession out of you. But, go on, we're just biding our time until the Optio gets here and gives us the go ahead.''
`` I knew her.''
Varro folded his arms again. `` Now, when you say'knew' her, do you mean that in the Biblical sense, like Lot knew his wife, or --''
`` I mean I seen her around.''
`` That's not what we heard,'' Albus said. `` That's not what we heard at all. Is it, Varro?''
`` We talked to your neighbors. It's a habit in situations like this. They said you were quite friendly with the girl.''
`` She was my friend.''
`` A grown man, friends with a child?''
Albus shook his head. `` It's not looking too good.''
`` She did n't really have parents.''
`` No, I hear you, we talked to them, too. Quite a piece of work, those two.'' Varro pulled one of the rough-cut chairs with a woven cord seat and plopped down. `` The problem, strictly speaking, is n't your preoccupation with the girl -- it's that her parents are citizens, see. They're Patricians, no less, and so we have questions that need to be answered. And that's the problem. We do n't have the answers.''
The man rubbed his face again.
`` Hey, you do n't have to answer anything. Like I said, we're just waiting for the Optio to give us the go ahead to get a confession out of you. And if we ca n't do it, well --'' Varro paused and looked at Albus, who was toying with one of the candles that had been placed in the alcove.
`` We have people that can burn it out of you, if we ca n't beat it out of you.''
`` I did n't do it,'' the man repeated, the rime of fear edging into his voice as his eyes crazed.
`` We're not saying you did. If you do n't talk to us, though, it wo n't look good.''
`` Look, I used to talk to her. I'd hire for some errands I needed run. For pocket money, see?''
Varro clicked his tongue. `` Not looking good, Albus.''
`` Not good at all.''
`` We had a look at your finances,'' Varro said, kicking the table in front of him. `` You're broke. Why are you worried about a neighbor girl's pocket money?''
`` Look, I might be broke but I can still take an interest in her well being.''
`` I have a simpler explanation. You paid her because you fancied her, and when she said no you got angry. You grabbed her by the neck and pushed her. Is that what happened?''
`` No!''
`` Look, I understand. You give her more money than you can afford and if the little bitch did n't have the good sense to take a good deal when she had it then of course you were upset. I bet you did n't even mean to kill her. Is that it? Is this all an accident?''
`` No, no you've got it all wrong!''
`` I bet I know what happened,'' Albus started. `` You paid her a little money to put out and when she said no you got angry and pushed her, but it was harder than you thought and she fell back and hit her head against the post. Is that what happened?''
`` No, I never!''
`` Ah, but you did n't deny wanting to fuck her,'' Varro barked. He slammed a fist on the table. `` That's exactly what this is. I can read it on your face. Do n't lie to me, now. If you lie to me I'll know it. I'll know it, and then there's nothing that I can do to help you.''
`` I loved her.''
Albus looked at Varro, unsure of how to proceed.
`` You see what I'm saying? I loved her. I did n't want to hurt her, and I did n't hurt her. She helped me stop drinking, see. I loved her. I would never --''
`` Look, man --'' Varro said, surprised at the deluge he'd opened.
`` I would never hurt her, okay?''
`` Okay,'' Varro said. `` Sure.''
`` I never thought salvation would be from an eight year old girl. I loved her.''
Varro shook his head. Albus pulled at Varro's shoulder and mouthed a few words. Varro nodded and stood to go. `` We're not finished yet,'' he said as he left.
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[ WP ] Once a year you switch bodies with a random person who is best in the world at a certain skill . You ca n't change back until you discover what this skill is . You 've been changed for a month and are starting to get worried .
| Well, this is awkward. I'm used to getting into a body, noticing that one thing they are passionate about, and racing back to my own body. These things are kept track of, you know. If people's skills were n't tracked, the world would just be chaos. People would choose their own jobs willy nilly, without thought to what they do the absolute best. This time however, I just ca n't place my finger on it.
The first day I was in Irene, I thought she was best at singing. Her voice lifted with ease and clarity, and lured people closer as if she were a Siren of old. But, mentally adding that as her skill of note did not transfer me back to my own body.
The second day she danced. Irene never stumbled or missed a step, kept the coreography pictured perfectly in her mind.
I've been here a month now, and each day she displays some other skill I had n't thought of, some other skill to mark down that will never get me out of her. Puzzles, carving, pottery, speed-reading, even killing video game bosses in record time. Today marks the 31st day of my attempt to figure out Irene's absolute best skill. I am starting to think that I need to just say that she is skilled at everything she tries, but that does n't sit well with me. I've always had a great insight into what people are good at.
Irene wakes, batting away the covers. She shuffles to the fridge, a bit unkempt. This is out of her norm so far. Every day she has been done up, always presentable to the societal expectation of what a standard man wants. Currently, however, her hair is sticking up all sorts of ways from sleeping. The pixie cut looking more like a manic pixie than a fairy tale. She grabs a drink and a few snacks. Irene makes her way back to the bed, still sluggish. She turns on the TV that is positioned at the end and flips the channel until the one she is looking for comes on.
Game shows and women-oriented drama shows take up the remainder of the day. Is this what she is good at? Relaxing for a day, once a month? I try noting that down, and slowly feel the haze of the transfer start to pull me in.
( AN: First time poster, please be gentle )
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[ WP ] Every human has a personal , invisible guardian , summoned by magic words long forgotten . You have just accidentally said the words .
| I sat down at my desk with my dinner in front of me, a medium-rare pork chop with mashed potatoes and glass of milk. It had been a long day and I only had a an hour before bed, just long enough to eat and brainstorm for my novel. “ Let ’ s see, I still need a name for the evil wizard, ” I said to myself. I liked to say the names out loud to try them out. “ Abra Kadavra? No, that ’ s cliche. Biareus Kroindar? Too many vowels. Sumbretious Niflplop. I know I can do better than that... ”
A cool breeze tickled the back of my neck.
“ BEHOLD, MORTAL! ”
I jumped in my seat. The voice was like someone had knocked over a rack of bowling balls onto another rack of bowling balls while every bowler in a 20 lane bowling alley nailed a strike simultaneously. I tried not to wet myself and spun around in my chair. There was a man standing in the middle of my office, or at least something resembling a man. His skin was stony, with moss and vines poking out where hair should be. He wore a bronze breastplate and a leather military skirt, like something painted on a vase in a lost city. His eyes glowed purple.
I tried to keep my cool. “ Who are you. ”
“ I AM YOUR GUARDIAN! YOU HAVE SUMMONED ME! ” he boomed.
I ’ d read enough fantasy novels that I was willing to play along. “ And you ’ re here to…? ”
“ I WILL PROTECT YOU, MORTAL! ”
“ I see, ” I said. I needed a minute to gather my thoughts, so I returned to my meal. Maybe I was just very, very hungry. I cut off a bite of pork and lifted it towards my mouth. A stone hand slapped my fork away.
“ THAT PORK IS UNDER-COOKED! ”
“ It ’ s fine, ” I said.
“ YOU COULD CONTRACT TRICHINOSIS! ”
“ No, they changed the safe temperature a few months ago. It ’ s fine. ”
He glared at my pork. I didn ’ t dare try another bite, so I picked my fork up off the floor, wiped it on a napkin, and scooped up some potatoes. Again, he slapped the food away before I could eat any.
“ THAT IS NOT NATURAL FOOD! ”
“ They ’ re potatoes! ” I said.
“ I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF POTATOES! ”
“ They ’ re one of the most popular vegetables in the world, ” I said. “ Where are you from? ”
“ BABYLON! ”
Ok, so the ancient stone Babylonian guardian hadn ’ t heard about potatoes. Those were New World foods, right? Maybe he hadn ’ t been summoned in a while. I reached for my milk.
The Guardian knocked it on the floor.
“ What the hell? ”
“ YOU ARE TOO OLD FOR MILK OF THE COW! YOU COULD GET A TUMMY ACHE! ”
And he ’ d never heard of adult lactose tolerance. “ How old are you, anyway? ”
“ I WAS CRAFTED BY THE HANDS OF MARDUK TO PROTECT HIS BELOVED MORTALS! YOU SUMMONED ME WITH THE ANCIENT WORDS OF POWER! ”
I facepalmed. “ I don ’ t even remember what the words were, and I certainly didn ’ t intend to summon a stone version of my mom. ” I needed some air. I stood up and walked across the room. The Guardian made no response except to follow me with his eyes. I put on my coat, and as soon as I opened the door, I heard the rush of rain outside.
“ BEWARE, MORTAL! I MUST SHIELD YOU FROM THE TORRENTS OF HADAD! ” shouted the Guardian. He pushed me aside and charged through the door. Once outside, the Guardian leapt into the air and levitated eight feet above the ground, his body facing down and his arms splayed like he was doing the jellyfish float a pool. “ YOU MAY PROCEED, MORTAL! ”
I sighed. How do I get rid of this guy? Do I say the words backwards? I couldn ’ t even remember them frontwards. Did I need to keep coming up with names and hope one of them works?
I stepped outside and walked down the street. The Guardian was always hovering over my head with his purple eyes always shining on me like beacons, but no one else seemed to notice. At least I was dry. I walked past the pretzel stand and waved at Gary.
“ BEWARE, MORTAL! ” Oh, what now? “ THAT MAN HAS THE SKIN AS DARK AS NIGHT! HE COULD BE ONE OF TIAMAT ’ S SPIES! ”
Aaaaand my ancient Babylonian stone Guardian was a racist. Of course. I thought about setting him straight, but then I realized what it would look like to walk down the street looking up and ranting about human skin colors and racism. This was just making things worse, so I cut the walk short and went home. The Guardian insisted on standing watch at the bathroom door while I got ready for bed.
When I was finally under the covers, I closed my eyes, but I couldn ’ t relax. How was I going to go to work and face my boss with the Guardian hovering around looking for ways to protect me from the modern world? I had a date tomorrow. How was he going to ruin that? I needed magic words, and I needed them fast. But in the meantime, I was very tired...
“ ARE YOU SLEEPING, MORTAL?! ”
“ Gah! ” I yelped as I snapped up. “ I ’ m trying to! ”
“ THEN I SHALL PROTECT YOU IN YOUR SLUMBER! TIAMAT ’ S FORCES ARE EVERYWHERE! ”
Magic words, I thought to myself all through the sleepless night. I need the magic words.
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[ WP ] You have had the super ability to heal others all your life and have kept it a secret . The media have just found out and exposed your ability to the world .
| When I was a little boy I realized that I was different. Sometimes, when my friends and I were playing in the yard or in the woods behind my house, one of us would get hurt. It ended up being scrapes and bruises mostly. One time Jimmy Nolton fell from a tree and his arm broke so badly that I can still remember his shrieks.
Seeing and hearing the pain in others has always been unbearable for me. So, when I ’ d see my friends wince or cry out in pain, I ’ d wish there was some way I could help them with their hurt. That ’ s all it took, really, a desire to help.
One moment, they ’ d be bleeding and crying, and the next moment they wouldn ’ t be. Collectively, we hardly questioned it until we were older. Then, we thought that it must be something magical about the forest we played in. Finally, we concluded that we had no idea how it worked, only that it did.
When I was eight, I realized that the power was mine. There was a car accident. It was bad…. *really bad. * My father was knocked unconscious in the front seat. He had managed to slam his forehead against the windshield before his airbag deployed.
I knew he was hurt real bad, he wouldn ’ t answer me from where I lay in the back seat.
I must have called his name half a hundred times until I was wailing with despair.
Then, miraculously, he woke up. Mom said that it must have been divine intervention that saved us- after all, no one walks from a head-on collision on the Interstate without a scratch. We did.
That was the moment I knew.
It took me several years to know something else. I hit puberty at ten. I had a beard by fourteen. I was better at every sport that I tried than anyone else my age, stronger and faster.
It was the pain in others that drove me to keep intervening. Even sometimes when the voice in my head told me I shouldn ’ t keep helping- I knew finally what it was costing me. Life never gave me a break. Somehow, I ’ d always end up where someone was hurt. I fixed them; it was all I knew how to do.
I began balding at nineteen.
I got my first grey hair at twenty-three.
Now, on the eve of my twenty-seventh birthday, I feel *old*. There ’ s an ache deep in my bones that won ’ t go away no matter how much I want it to. When I fix someone these days, I can almost feel myself drying up, growing hollow.
It ’ s all I can do not to decide to move out into the wilderness and live out whatever days remain to me away from people- away from pain. It ’ s no good, because I ’ d be trading all of the best things in life away if I did. It falls to me to accept my role- even now when the whole world knows.
I ’ m not sure who figured it out. I think it must have been an old Mexican woman who had tripped and fallen into the street a year ago. I had helped her almost without thinking, and she had looked up at me with knowing eyes.
“ Dios Mio ” was all she had said.
They started seeking me out after that and I knew it was only a matter of time before my secret was a secret to none.
The line of people disappears around the corner of my block. They wait, single file, for their miracle. My door is never shut for long, in fact it opens and closes a hundred times a day.
I don ’ t recognize the ancient man in the mirror anymore. I wonder if he knows me. I give him a wan smile and he returns the favor.
Another broken man comes into my living room. I like this room, and what it represents. It feels warm and inviting.
“ You ’ re hurt. ” I say, noting his wheelchair. My smile dries up as a wave of empathy darkens my mood. *That ’ s not fair, no one should be hurt like this. * I wish I could help him.
Suddenly, he stands up. I ’ m shocked. This is nothing less than a miracle.
The man doesn ’ t even seem to notice the impossibility of what has happened.
Instead, he gives a yelp of joy and embraces me. *Too tight. * He presses against my frail frame.
“ Thank you, thank you, thank you. ” He repeats.
“ You ’ re welcome. ” I tell him, though I honestly don ’ t know why he is thanking me for anything. This could only have been the work of God.
After a while he leaves. I want to sleep now, I ’ m so tired, and the pain goes away when I sleep. *Not yet, I think there ’ s someone at the door. *
There was. There always was.
|
[ IP ] Explorers
| `` Bring him in.''
Orders were orders, even when they do n't come from the Duke himself. Running point, I received plenty of leeway on how to go about it, but the whole thing felt off. My misgivings aside, the Daedalus was fueled up and ready to go when I got to the hangar. Paint peeled off in places and she needed one hell of an overhaul, but she was my own personal VTOL. Perfect for getting out into the wastes and landing in cramped quarters. Powering her up, the engines purred their melody out, more than happy to stretch those sore, old muscles.
`` Tower, do you have my flight plan and access code?''
Their terminal linked into mine, a scratchy monotone go-code feeding into my headset. Pulling up on the stick, twin jets heaved Daedalus' massive frame into the air and I set out to the east. When we first arrived, people had a hard time accepting the light as it was. Most people kept indoors or used artificial light during the day to compensate for the heavy chemical corruption in the atmosphere. They banded together, calling it the Gray, imposing some sort of boogeyman status on a simple scientific fact -- that the world was colored in permanent gray twilight.
Such as it was, life was sparse on this rock. Few things could survive in such oppressive visual conditions. Those that did make it, did so just long enough to get stamped out by the planetary storms which ravaged the early years of the world's development. Fossil records told our scientists everything they needed to know -- Marius was a dead world until we came along. It suited our needs though.
Thirty-four clicks away from the dome, spires rose from the barren earth, their conical bodies butting against each other to form jagged cliffs and countless hiding spots. All of it was ice, an abundance of the most precious compound in the universe, and the sole export of the planetary commission. But he would n't be here -- too much exposure for his liking.
A hundred clicks beyond that, I set down. Up ahead, a ring of clouds spat out the peak of a mountain, its body a shifting massive of crumbling limestone spreading out across the landscape. This was more his pace. Pulling the climbing gear from my locker, I started my ascent. Rocks the size of my calf gave way under my footing, some of them dropping into crevices never to be seen again. Finding a safe path would take time, and by then the sun would finish setting. It'd be weeks before it would rise again for this side of the planet, and as I amped-up my movements, every step traded survival for precious hours.
I rested several times, letting the solar cells in my suit recharge and cycle out any atmospheric impurities. Every muscles roared under the weight of my gear and the rate of the climb. As I crested a buttress, the mouth of a cave came into view three hundred meters above me. If it were my choice, that's where I would hide.
Another rest, and I finished making the climb. Inside the cave, darkness stained the walls until I cracked phosphorus torch, sending it skittering away to lick its wounds. Checking the ground, footprints ran back and forth from the entrance to a branch of the cave system, telling me I was where I needed to be.
The first thing I noticed was another light, jockeying for dominance with my own until I snuffed it out. Softening my steps, music began to filter through my helmet -- a song I'd heard a hundred times before. Stepping into the room, the comforts of civilization took me by surprise. Through some miracle, he'd managed to bring a piece of home with him. In the center of the room, he swung back and forth on a rocking chair taken from the study.
`` So they sent you.''
`` Yeah, they sent me.''
Standing, he set his guitar down in his place on the chair, and made his way to a stocked fridge. `` You can take the helmet off, I've had the scrubbers running in here for a week straight.''
Pulling my helmet free, I sucked in the air through my teeth, letting the tang of it slide across my tongue. He'd already poured us both a glass, and handing one over, motioned for us to sit.
`` I'm not coming back. They do n't need me any more.''
`` They do n't, but mom does. She's out of her mind with grief, and you ran off.''
`` It's not my place.'' Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he did well to hide the tears he wiped away. I could n't imagine what he was feeling, how Emily's death was ripping him apart inside. But it did n't matter.
`` Dad, you're coming back with me. Whether you like it or not, we both have a job to do.''
`` No.'' The ferocity in his voice cut deep, him knowing as well as I what refusal meant. We were free, to an extent, but when the company called, Duke or serf alike, we had to heed the call.
`` Then I'm sorry. I'll tell mom I never saw you alive. That you must have slipped down a ravine before I found your body.''
He took a huge slug of the drink he'd poured, and waited, never moving his gaze from mine. He was everything I wished I could be, but this was the job. If I did n't do it, the next guy would come for both of us. Unhooking one of my climbing axes from its holster, I raised its blade high above us. With one last pleading look, he shook his head, and I brought the ax down.
It was a silent flight back to the city, the body of the man who raised me chilling in the cold storage meant for water transport. I slammed a fist against the console, letting my blood drip over buttons and lights until it found its way down to the grating beneath my feet.
`` Damn the company, damn it to hell.''
|
[ WP ] Your normal day consists of 25 hours instead of 24 . Once a day , for an hour , the world stops except for you .
| Technical bits: Anything alive within 2 inches keeps moving, anything mechanical within 8 inches keeps moving, light always keeps moving.
`` Why do you have a wind up pocket watch?''
'I just like them.'
`` But why not a digital watch like everyone else?''
'Because I like wind up ones.'
`` But why do you like wind up ones?''
'Shut up. I just like them.' He looks at the clock and starts walking away.'I have to go, I'll be late if I stay any longer, I'll see you later.' He jogs away and goes round to the front of the store, he stands in front of the door looking at the watch.'3... 2... 1...' people walking past suddenly stop, everything flickers slightly for a moment and everything is still. He looks around briefly, then turns the hands of the watch back one hour. He carefully clips the watch to his jacket and calmly finds a trolley. He carefully slips between people, giving plenty of space so that they do n't get caught in the bubble of time around him.
'Why do they keep moving stuff?' He goes up and down each aisle, dropping the most expensive version of everything into the cart, and avoiding the people. He checks his watch, and walks out with his food. He takes the trolley home, purposely near the store, and dumps everything out. He rolls the trolley back to the store, puts it back, and waits in front of the door, looking at the watch again.'3... 2... 1..' Everything shimmers for a moment, then everyone keeps moving. He looks around, puts the watch away, and walks away again.
`` Hey, do n't walk away! I was going to ask you out tonight but now I might not bother.''
'Let's go out shopping tomorrow instead then' He puts his arm round her shoulders and walks away with her.
`` You said you were going to be late for something.''
'I forgot it's next week.'
Next day he arranged for them to meet up and look round the jewellery shops. She picks out a few items which she likes but definitely ca n't afford. As far as she knows he has his great grandfather's inheritance locked into a high interest account. He takes pictures of everything that she likes, and when the world stops, he goes back to each shop and picks up the pieces she wanted.
The week after they go to the cinema, but he takes her to it in secret. They meet at her house and he blindfolds her before they go so that she does n't know where they're going. When the world stops spinning he takes her through town and holds her close all the way. The doors are open, of course, and he walks straight in. In the dark she does n't see the frozen people in the room. She asks for snacks, and as he steps away she freezes too so that when he returns she thinks that he had already set it up with her favourites. `` Aww, how did you know that's what I wanted?''
'Because I love you so much.'
|
[ WP ] Never argue with a bus
| I fumed as the man in front of me, detained in what was laughingly referred to as the “ penalty box ”, tried to argue with the robotic driver. The electrified field had appeared when the man had apparently tried to use a stolen or counterfeit card of some sort to pay his fare. I had already missed one bus due to a mechanical malfunction, according to the screen at the bus stop. Now I was being delayed again as the man tried to plead his case. The driver, or what passes for a driver these days, threatened to “ discharge ” the passenger for non-payment and began a 10-second countdown. The man, instead of finding another form of payment, began screaming at the driver.
I knew what was coming next, having seen it on a couple other occasions, so I stepped back. At “ Two ” a panel on the bus roof slid back. At “ One, the man stopped his yelling and a look of fear crossed his face. At “ Zero ”, the section of the floor under the man quickly sprung about 2 feet above the bus floor, then immediately retracted to its normal position. I turned around with a smirk on my face and watched as the man hit the sidewalk about five feet from the door. The automated payment rejection system had done its job and the man began to get up, likely bruised, but nothing broken except his pride. I was feeling a little better about things at this point, not even caring that I was late and decided to have a bit of fun. I called out to the man as he began to limp away, “ Never argue with a bus! ” He turned, gave me a quick one finger salute and continued on his way.
I turned back to the bus, a huge smile on my face, and swiped my card to pay my fare. The electrified field shot up around me. I finally looked into the bus, which was completely empty. “ Uh oh, ” I thought, “ I bet I know what that malfunction was. ”
|
Scientists in the near future discover that time travel is possible going in the past only and once a timeline has time traveled it can not do so again . ( More Info in Text ) [ WP ]
| The fact it was so seemless is what really got me thinking. Of course each time time can only be traveled from once... but that does n't preclude the time traveler from teaching a resident of the new timeline how to travel, learn from past mistakes, and try again. Or make logical enough jumps into a certain timeline that they can always jump later, dozens of timelines trying to create one perfect one. Or make the change so obvious that people knew of the time travel and start researching how it happens...
And so it seems, they must have tried enough times to perfect the process and set in motion a switch in our timeline that we could not see.
Maybe, and this is a thought I keep to myself because I want to keep my job, maybe they did it on purpose. Maybe there is some terrible side effect of the travel and they wanted to save us. And we should n't attempt it. But that is also a thought that was key in my realization.
It would n't be worth it just to make a mundane change to stop anyone else from that timeline from making a worse change. We could still come to the conclusion that some timeline did, so many lines ago. As it seems we have.
No, I think they wanted to actively set us back. So, I began to look back at major periods we could call `` resets''. The Fall of the Roman Empire. The Spanish Flu. The Fall of the Soviet Union, even. All too western, though. Too many clear signs leading up to them that would have been so very hard to orchestrate and so I tried to expand my field of vision.
Maybe the inventor was descended of a conquered people. Maybe the travelers took out a Cherokee in America or a Wongi in Australia or some other tribes person. Maybe if we had just met those people on equal grounds we would be ina more advanced society in general and so the travelers instigated the Age of Exploration.
Our team started down a few different paths, and we learned from each other. We modeled what could have happened with potential `` lost knowledge'' from various civilizations. We applied rules of genetics and Moore'a law. Probabilities and game theory about how far the travelers who came to our timeline would have to be in their own to have figured out time travel and come to set ours off.
We are small group and we work now in a few floors of a high rise type building in St. Cloud, Minnesota. There is a nuclear plant in the area and it's easy to disguise the amount of energy we use. The building is 7 stories, and we `` work'' for various cover companies. My company is a small IT firm that supposedly makes barcodes for retailers that do n't get confused with the barcodes from manufacturers. It's one of the more exciting in the place. I feel bad for the legitimate office supply dealer on the second floor who does n't have a single client on floors 3-7 of his own building.
We are getting close today, and have gathered in our various conference rooms and kitchens-hiding-conference rooms for the smaller companies.
Then he opens the door. I know before he says anything. We have found it. And they found us.
`` We should have left it a secret, and we're going to right this one more time. I'm so sorry for all of you, but know you did find it.''
|
[ WP ] Tell me a story about a character . Make me love it more as the story unfolds . Then make me hate it in the last sentence .
| His phone buzzed. He looked at the time, the mall behind him, the time, and then his left pocket. His phone buzzed. His fingers clung to it, as he slid past the password protection.
Adrien 11:54 am
Look. I know it blows, but I ca n't be there. I get how bad
this sounds, I know the others could n't come
either, but stuff comes up and I ca n't get out of it. Sorry.
Typical, leave it to Adrien to mess up plans. He shook his head, typing furiously.
Me 11:54 am
Are you kidding me? We've had these plans for weeks, and you're just not going to show up? And you're telling me this five minutes before?
Me 11:54 am
What's `` So important'' to have you flake out. Seriously.
Adrien 11:55 am
I understand that you're upset, but it's a school day. Not to mention I'd get murdered by my parents. The only reason I'm texting you now is that it's a passing period.
Me 11:55 am
School? Are you serious?
Me 11:55 am
FUCK SCHOOL. And fuck you if you think leaving me in the dust like this is okay.
Adrien 11:55 am
I'm telling you, my parents would kill me!
He looked behind him. For a Friday afternoon, the mall was pretty busy. Nobody would even see him nor Adrien, their parents would n't care if they skipped school, not really at least.
Me 11:56 am
Why did n't you voice these oh so important claims earlier then? What do you want? To graduate? Live your life by the rulebook with a perfect record? *That's not living. *
Adrien 11:56 am
That's sure as hell still living. It's not my fault Chris and Mia are sane as well.
Me 11:56 am
Chris and Mia? You're bringing those assholes into this? Hey at least they abandoned me with more than five minutes notice.
Adrien 11:57 am
There were n't any real plans.
Me 11:57 am
I made plans. We. Made. Plans. We all worked together and i thought at least you'd come. It's the end of the school year, do n't you want to?
Adrien 11:57 am
Of course I want to. Why else would I say I'd come with you? But life happens. Not everyone hates school so much they drop out to go eat corn dogs at the mall everyday instead of doing algebra.
Adrien 11:58 am
Some of us want lives. Some of us have lives.
Me 11:58 am
You know it was n't the school.
Adrien 11:58 am
Yeah yeah, it was the people etc etc. You've gone over this a hundred times. Anyways, my point remains that you're on your own there, and I'm sorry. Have a fucking corn dog for me.
He shook his head, starting to bury his phone back into the left pocket of his jeans. His phone buzzed.
Adrien 11:59 am
I figure you'll be going soon, nearly noon. Have fun, if that's what you call it.
He put it back in his pocket, and stepped into the still crowded mall. Awful shame Adrien could n't be there but they were right. Life does seem to happen. Irritating enough, it does. He walked into the center of the mall.
He cocked the shotgun.
|
[ WP ] A world where suicide is not only socially acceptable , but is the norm .
| The waking ritual repeated. Alarm sounds, alarms shuts off. Curtains slide back, allowing the piercing light of another day to return to work. Sam's eyes open in unison. No hesitation. As Sam stands, the bedsprings decompress, their echoes fill the living quarters. `` Tuesday,'' reports the calendar on the wall. Remembrance Day. Again.
Flashes of the voting booths punctuate Sam's morning: Greta Habbel when he shaves; Mark Leskowski in searching for a clean shirt; his son, Maxwell, as his toast pops up. Wide awake, the tired man questions sleep once more. But he still has work to do. It is n't time to rest.
The workstation is nearly bare. The terminal display and keyboard are joined only by a photograph. Sam playing with Max. He has long since forgotten how long ago that was. It does n't matter, though. It remains to make these work days a little easier. The wastebasket is little more than a relic. The only contents are the pieces of a `` Only? Days Until Retirement'' poster he made as a joke some years back. The humor is all but lost. As he takes his seat, the monitor switches on.
`` User Verified. Welcome, Samuel Parks.''
The machine displays the day's agenda. Ten hours of analysis, but that follows Remembrance.
`` Let's get this over with,'' the man mutters.
**Remembrance 516**
The pictures take their place on the screen, one by one. Andrew Able, son of Steven and Claire. Benjamin Addison, son of William and Helga, husband of Frances. Frances Addison, daughter of Byron and Tamina Stewart, wife of Benjamin. They continue to pass for the next two hours. Philip Coffey, son of Herman and Lisa, father of Thomas, husband of Alison. Thomas Coffey, son of Philip and Alison.
So many families together. By the time Max's picture reaches the screen, all control is lost. The repressed tears give way to a steady stream. As the picture of Germaine Zweller fades, the pictures stop.
`` In accordance with State Directive C.1305, every Tuesday is designated as a Remembrance day. Every citizen shall review the records of each of their charges to pay respect for those whose lives they had taken. For future elections, all subsequent charges shall be treated in the same manner.
`` Samuel Parks: On May 2, 2015, you successfully voted for termination of the lives of those 455 people. Because of your decisions, the human race is able to continue for a while longer. Thank you for your service.''
Sam's head fell slightly. The motion flung a few more tears to his saturated leggings.
`` Do you wish to retire? Y/N''
For more than 500 weeks, Sam had willed himself to continue.
`` Oh god,'' he cries. `` Somebody help me!''
`` Do you wish to retire? Y/N''
A full breath inward through the nose. A final attempt at dignity.
**Y**
The pneumatic canister arrives moments later. Within is an envelope containing a small card, reading `` Thank you for your service.'' The pill is all Sam cares about. He places it into his mouth and grabs the photograph on last time.
|
[ WP ] The four seasons are actually people . One peculiarly cold winter you kidnap summer to keep warm , but the others are outside to rescue him .
| This is kinda long, sorry, I got carried away. I just thought it was a nice prompt and reminded me of fairy tales and the like.
________________________________________________________________
Spring pulled away from the wall and his eyes began to retake their normal shade. The verdant clouds that had been swirling within his irises faded away, leaving only a cool tone of sea green. He turned to the others and gave a grim nod.
`` He's inside. I just managed to get peak through a Marigold on the window ledge.''
It was a strange night and'the others' were an even stranger assortment. Autumn, a tall, tan skinned boy with tendrils of thick copper hair, huffed an angry breath and shoved his hands into his coat.
`` This is ridiculous,'' he said. `` That good-for-nothing has no idea how much damage he'll cause if he does n't let Summer go.''
In agreement, a voice arose from a little way off, where a pale skinned girl sat cross-legged upon a tree stump. Her eyes were down turned and her fingers played idly at the air in front of her.
`` True. But there's something unusual involved in it all, that's for certain. Spring, were you able to see him? How is he? They are n't mistreating him are they?''
Spring straightened himself up and patted off the snowy debris from his knees.
`` He's all right, I think. I could n't see all that well.''
Winter grimaced. She shimmied down from the stump and traipsed through the snow, over towards the tiny door at the front of the cottage. It was locked and all of their efforts to knock had gone unanswered. Furthermore, all of the windows to the cottage had been boarded up, offering a rather unfriendly exterior to the place. Winter frowned hard, knitting her brows together in quiet frustration.
`` I've had enough. If he wo n't open up, then we're going to need to break in.''
The others shared a brief moment of surprise, but neither was going to argue with her. After all, the kidnapping of a Season could n't go unresolved - that would result in anarchy!
`` Okay, I'm with you,'' declared Autumn. `` What do you need me to do?''
In reply, Winter drew her arm up and pointed towards the wooden doorway that barred their path.
`` Open it,'' she said.
Autumn needed no further instruction. He strode around and faced the house square on. Spring and Autumn backed off to a safe distance, sensing the intensity that Autumn would soon be conjuring.
`` Alright, buddy. This one's for Summer!''
Clapping his palms together with a sound like fireworks, Autumn began to summon his element - and everything changed. The winds hardened, the skies became clearer and the stars shone through like glimmering jewels. The boy hummed, growing louder and louder and soon the very woods around him obeyed, emptying themselves into the air and releasing a powerful haze of crisp, sweet smells. Odours of Pumpkin and Walnut, of candy-apples and cinnamon began to breeze through the branches.
The house creaked and the foundations groaned in tired chorus.
`` Will it work?'' Spoke Spring, to Winter, as the pair watched on from behind the picket fence.
`` No, I do n't think so,'' replied Winter, and she was right.
For as much as he tried, Autumn could n't breach the home. Only a few minutes after he'd begun, he sagged to his knees and opened his eyes, sucking tired breaths through his nostrils. He stared at the door, which obstinately remained shut and it made him seethe.
`` Let me try,'' cried Spring, quick to action as he bounded through the snow to help his friend.
Autumn nodded wordlessly and stepped aside, joining Winter, near the gate. Spring meanwhile, walked cautiously into the same spot where Autumn had stood, standing there for a time before he deemed himself ready to try.
`` Okay,'' he whispered - and his fingers entwined, knotting together like vines, as Spring began to seep forth.
It was the freshness that struck them first. Winter was almost bowled over by a stark gust of the stuff. A dew-laden wind, rich in pollens and petals, swept up from out of the darkened forest and down into the cottage. It rustled the curtains, somewhere within, rustled faces and tickled chins. It was the smell of freshly cut grass and April rain. But it could not open the door.
Dejected, Spring opened his eyes, to find the barrier still intact. Naturally, he turned towards Winter, expecting her to try for a turn. She obliged and even offered him a rare smile as she passed, trading places so that she might have a go at the house.
She steadied her feet, puffed out her cheeks and focused.
`` Winter is coming,'' she giggled - and so it did.
Since they had arrived on December twenty-fifth, Winter had the home advantage and as such, it was easily the most intense of all the Seasons.
Inhaling a deep breath, Winter exhaled the furious powers of her Season. It gorged upon the snow where they stood and it suckled on the frigid airs of the northern sky. Strengthened, it arrived and with a sharp, howling call, the winds of Winter roared inwards from all directions, bearing with them the rage and wrath of the little female. Snowdrifts battered the cottage, plastering it beneath thickened coats of white powder. The window-panes froze stiff and shattered like icicles. The callous cold sought to invade every pore that it could find in that home, yet it could n't maintain such anger for too long.
Soon enough, Winter grew tired and as she buckled at the knees, her Season eased up on the little home. The winds became softer and their tyranny ceased, but the frozen forest attested to the siege and Winter wondered if her efforts might have been enough. She peered back to her friends, who were both shivering and sniffling by the gate.
`` Sorry,'' she said. Nibbling nervously at a strand of hair. In good spirits, the two other Seasons brushed it off with a trembling hand.
`` N-not at all!'' Laughed Spring.
`` Don't- brrr. Worry about it.'' Confirmed Autumn.
But would their siege be successful now? With great trepidation, Winter pattered over the freshly smeared snow and over to the cottage door. She balled her knuckles up and rattled her tiny fist against the icy wood. It sounded like sleigh bells.
From inside, there was the sound of movement and the trio all looked to each other with expressions of newly found hope. They heard a key inserted into the lock and they heard it turn. Wide eyes, they watched the door heaved back, snapping away from the icicles that had clung to it - and distraught, they met the tiny child who'd answered them.
|
[ wp ] music has become so advance and digitized by computer software future generations have never seen an instrument before . A teenager dusts off a classic instrument in an abandoned house .
| *A/N: Was n't sure if the instrument was meant to be classical in our sense or in the context, so I went with what I felt the most comfortable with, hope it's ok*
Summer vacations are all fun and game until, you're sent to your grandma house to'breath outside the city' for a while. Frank was n't sure why so many adults kept calling the megalopolis taking half of the States a'city', but he was mildly impressed by the fact that, somehow, they were still people living outside of urban areas in the same country as the world's largest urban agglomeration.
He would also be impressed by his grandma's ability to still be fighting technology as hard as she was if he did n't have to live in said technology-less environment for an entire month. Frank was seventeen and had never known a time when people were n't all linked together through the Grid: the only thing more surprising to him than an isolated town was that people actually wanted to live there.
But his grandma apparently did and she seemed to say a lot of positive things about'life away from the madness of modernity' ( her words, not his ) if his parents' decision to send him here was anything to get by.
`` But how am I going to listen to music if I'm off the Grid?'' He whined -he was honest enough to admit that it was, indeed, a whine- to his mother as they waited for his train. Her holoscreen, showing his father's face from his work desk, hovered next to her with a quiet buzzing sound.
`` You wo n't be off the Grid,'' She scoffed while trying to pat his hair into submission. To no one's surprise, it was n't working. `` You'll just be without internet access. You know we would n't send you anywhere we ca n't talk to you, dear. You'll have to do with what's in your music player, but we all know you have enough songs in there to last you twice a lifetime.''
Frank grumbled and swatted her hand away, but dropped the fight. He was n't going anywhere with it, anyway: the train was already stopping and he could n't just run away from his responsibilities as a nice grandchild who was *happy* to visit his favorite grandma for what was left of his summer instead of spending it with his friends.
`` Remember, Frank: she's very happy you're staying with her for the month, so be a sweetheart and do smile when you see her, him? It wo n't be that bad.''
`` Yeah, dad, I know. I just hope I can still talk to the guys with something a little bit faster than a carrier pigeon.''
The teen sighed one last time, kissed his mother goodbye and walked into the train.
...
Frank actually did love his grandma with all his heart, even if she was a little weird and really isolated from the world. Maria was a sweet old woman whose body had shrank with old age, but with a mind as sharp as ever, and an even sharper tongue. She was well-known in her hometown, and people would talk to her when she made her way down the main street to the corner store. She was also funny, and the kind of person with such a full life two books could be written over half of her adventures.
Still, Frank was *bored*. Sure, she was a killer cook and fascinating to listen talk, but he needed more than food and stories to be entertained.
That was a big, fat lie, because he was usually happy with just that, but he really missed two things: his friends, for one, because whatever his mother said, he *felt* off the Grid, without the technology he was used to around him to help him stay in contact with his friends through the poor connection. The second one was music, of all things, because of course Frank had n't let his mother pack his stuff for him, and even if he had n't forgotten much, his music player charger was apparently still on his bedside at home. The thing was so full he could probably listen to it non-stop for the next twenty years, true, but it did n't have the battery for that, and it now laid silent and useless at the bottom of his bag.
Usually, those two things were enough to keep him entertained for however long he needed, but when they were lacking, he just could n't find a way to stop being so damn bored.
`` Well, if you really are that bored, why do n't you go play outside? I'm sure you'll find something to do here that you ca n't in your big city.''
Frank looked at his grandma and shrugged.
`` I dunno, I'm not a big fan of being outside.'' He was perfectly well inside his room, thank you very much.
Well, he usually was but again, this town had the mysterious power of making everything different from his usual. Small town magic.
`` Well, I'm not a big fan of having you sprawled on my couch like you're ready for cobwebs and dust to take over your poor, bored body, so get out and go have fun like a normal kid.''
He stuck his tongue out at Maria's back as she moved around the kitchen but did as she asked him, groaning dramatically at the effort it took him to extricate himself from the damned couch. It was incredibly comfortable, and the only reason he had n't tried to get out of the house yet. Why go running under the blazing sun when he could be napping on it? He had n't found a good answer at this question yet.
'Blazing sun' was n't even an overstatement at this point, it was boiling hot in the outside world, and so Frank spent a good half-hour going from tree to tree in the hope of cooling in their shadow, before he saw the shape of the huge abandoned house at the end of the road. It was the last house before the great nothing between this town and the next, and Frank did n't know why exactly it had been left to rot and crumble apart from the obvious'the owner went livin' into the city' his grandma had given him.
Maybe it was haunted.
Well, ghost or not, it was better than his fate if he stayed in the open, like spontaneous combustion or sunburns *everywhere*, and maybe the ruins held more than he thought in term of interest.
The rust-covered door was n't locked, but it could as well have been seeing how it refused to move or -god forbid- open. The window next to it, though, was only one in name, as what few of the glass panel still held was nothing but broken shards on the sides. Frank was short, but not to the point that he could n't go through a first-floor broken window, and he slipped through with care.
The inside was... kind of gloomy, in an otherworldly way, empty and slowly being taken over by nature. Dust danced in the sun spilling through the dirty, broken windows, and broken beer bottles littered the floor. This house was as stereotypical as any abandoned residential building could go, and twice as pretty. It just had this general feeling of great things hiding under the floorboards or something that gave it a certain appeal.
The first and second floors were disappointingly empty, and Frank was ready to get back to the former where there was less holes in the ground, when he noticed something on the ceiling.
A hatch. Not opened for a long, long time, if the cobwebs were to be trusted.
What a catch.
Frank jumped a bit until he managed to open it, almost making the stairs fall on him when he shook them into sliding to the ground, and one of the step broke under his foot, but it was worth it for what he found in the new-found attic.
From afar, it would n't look like much, just dusty white drapes over big, weirdly-shaped objects, but to him, it was the best thing he'd found since he'd stepped into his grandma's house. Adventure! Mysteries! Treasures! Well, he hoped so anyway, because he would need at least some family drama to make for the emptiness of the town.
Under the first drape where boxes full of old, battered books. He glanced at some of the titles and, telling himself he'd look into it in details later, moved on to the rest of the room.
The next one hid a poor excuse of an armchair, as dirty and crumbling down as the rest of the house. The third drape, this was the one that hid the real treasure. Not that he was aware of that before he looked.
When he did, he found an oddly-shaped object, sporting six cords of metal on its hollow shell of wood. Frank could n't help but to tuck one of the string, and jumped when it made a sound.
No, not a sound. A note.
He grinned, hard, and brought back the object to the armchair in which he fell, ignoring the spring digging into his back when he did so. He propped his discovery on his knees and tried again on another cord, letting out a delighted laugh when he heard another note. He was n't sure what the hell the thing was, or what it did forgotten here, but it was *definitely* music. Not the kind he was used to hear all day, every day, but it was something.
Yeah, he could work with that.
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[ WP ] Colossal gears grind and moan as they begin to turn into motion . A small light at the center propagates and begins to flicker . Your heart sinks . The Global Machine has been activated .
| `` Can I push the button yet?'' A young boy pleads, sensing your project is close to completion.
`` Not yet, Gabe. Go play, I'll let you know when it's ready, and then you can turn it on, ok?''
He runs off.
You've been working on this thing non-stop for months. It looks like a gigantic spheroid clock of some kind. Discarded pieces of the machinery litter your entire house, as you tinker with every little detail. Remnants of a few previous versions remain floating around, a couple have been incorporated into your current model. You're just about to remove another cog to make one final change when the doorbell rings.
`` Lucy! Hi!'' You welcome your old friend with a hug that she is all too happy to return.
`` It's been too long. How are you doing? Still working on that little project of yours?''
`` Haha, yeah. First couple of attempts did n't work.'' You invite her in and show her the still-smouldering remains of your first model, taking up a sizeable portion of your living room. `` This one crashed and burned, and that one,'' you point to the smaller, more compact version, `` I dunno, it just died. But this one's gon na be perfect, self correcting, I've just got one last bug to figure out.''
The boy, hearing the conversation, races downstairs again to catch the two of you leaning over the console admiring the new machine.
`` Hi Gabriel!''
`` Hi Lucy.''
`` You've gotten big, have n't you?'' she said, picking him up and noticing the rock in his hand. `` What's this for?''
You just smile. `` He's been playing with his dinosaurs.''
`` Woops!'' The rock slips out of Gabriel's hand and Lucy, trying to catch it, ends up knocking it onto the keyboard.
`` NO!'' You shout.
Colossal gears grind and moan as they begin to turn into motion. A small light at the centre propagates and begins to flicker. Your heart sinks. The Global Machine has been activated.
`` Oh, I'm so sorry. I hope I did n't mess anything up.'' Lucy said, and set the boy down.
`` No, it's ok,'' you assure her. `` It's self correcting, maybe it wo n't matter.''
Noticing your morose expression as you look over the ticking gears, she decides to give you some space. `` Maybe I should go. Let you sort it all out.''
`` Yeah. I'm just... it was nice seeing you again.''
As she reaches the door, Lucy turns back to you. `` I'm having a barbecue with my friends this Sunday, you should come along.''
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[ IP ] Mighty Dracomeleon
| The Dracomeleon was an outcast.
Born to a strong race that ruled the jungle, he quickly realized he was different. Unlike his people, he was n't bloodthirsty, and he certainly did n't enjoy the taste of meat. The violence of it all only made him sick to his stomach, and it was n't long before they cast him to wayside, lamenting him as a coward.
For too long he ’ d been alone. He didn ’ t want to scare the surrounding animals and so he would hide, coming out only to steal berries or sip spring water. He would walk slow to avoiding rumbling the ground, and carefully watch his step, not wanting to crush any tiny critters.
That all changed when one day, he noticed a doe laying in a clearing, badly wounded. She was horribly afraid of him, and it was n't until he took her to safety and brought her food and water that she warmed up, telling him she was pregnant, and even worse, her lover had died defending her.
That day the Dracomeleon made a vow, and now, months later, it was finally coming to a close. He watched as the doe strutted in a circle, belly bloated as she searched for a soft spot of grass to settle on. The children were coming any minute, and that made him bob up and down with excitement.
He had shamed his race in protecting this creature for so long but did n't care. Soon he would have a family to watch over, and that thought made him smile wider than ever before.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter
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[ WP ] Write a story from the perspective of a henchman who has just woken up from being knocked out in a boss battle .
| When I joined Evil Pty Ltd I thought things would be fun. Shake down some store owners, ride around on loud motorcycles and have a lot of fun at the bar.
No, not it. So far the only person I've shaken down was a cat stuck up a tree, and the only person I `` robbed'' was an elderly grandma who dropped a 10¢ coin.
But the Bos must have been doing something. Probably having all the fun. THis is the nineth time this week those OMON arseholes stormed the base. Dick's finally kicked the bucket - good riddense - but I am going to miss Ted, and Billy is n't going to be riding anything - he lost both legs, somehow.
And did I metnion? THis time they even nabbed my favourite rifle! It had my initials on the stock, even! And they took it!
I have a splitting headache and I'm beginning to think that this whole gangster thing is n't worth it.
Oh shiiiiii.....no, screw it, they are coming back. I'm out.
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[ IP ] Warmth
| The door took three tries to open. One, wasted on flinching from the freezing key with dripping already numbed fingers. Two, just trying to speculate where the lock might actually be. Three, success with a finally stead hand, soothed by the sound of a cello playing softly from the other side of the door. She did n't recognize the piece, but the notes plucked from the instrument always filled her with contentment.
Three kicks to get both heels off, accidentally splashing mud onto the closed door, which could be cleaned later. When there was time to remember that cleaning could have a purpose. The clothes fell from her body at the door with a soaked and depressing smack. Shivering, blue toes squeaking across the floor, she managed to squeeze her damp body into clothes that might be acceptable at work.
Two hours. The commute to work would take forty-five minutes if she was lucky and there were no problems with the tram. The microwave exclaimed her drink was ready. The fork and slice of cake she had left behind as a pick-me-up brought tears to her eyes, but a smile caught one salty tear that abandoned her composure. She brought the cake over, started up the laptop and went to grab her drink.
Fingers that had yet to return to a healthy color burned at the feel of the mug, but the sensation of enveloping warmth made her hold tight, appreciating the sting. The steam from the mug burned her eyes as she blew, hoping she could speed up the cooling process, but that was as effective as speeding her mourning.
The drink was the same color as the sod thrown on her father three hours ago, clumped and landing harshly due to the rain, as opposed to a gentle falling of loose particles of soil that she had hoped for. Not that it mattered, the action had to occur regardless of if anyone was offended by the gesture or not. Her father had cried ten years ago when her mother was buried in the same manner. Rain, freezing wing, shovels of hardened dirt, practically cement in weight, being dropped unceremoniously on the pure white casket.
The cup almost dropped from her hands as she recoiled in pain, scalding coffee pouring onto one side of her hand. Shaking too much. No tears had fallen at the funeral. But the rain made people think she was properly mourning. She hoped.
One hour left until walking back out in the same rain that was drowning her father's casket, if they did n't actually remove it for burial another day, outside of a grieving family. Maybe they left it open and did n't feel like working until the rain stopped. She wondered if the casket was expensive enough to save her father's body from the rain.
The radio had stopped playing music, and had on a reporter, statng the obvious. Rain. She held onto the ceramic mug tighter, observing the pink that had returned to her fingers. The uneaten cake on the table, and the blue screen of the laptop waiting for a password to be entered. Work could wait for a warmer night.
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[ WP ] In a world where public teleportation hubs exist , you take advantage of it to commit crimes ...
| We planned this perfectly, every detail, every variable meticulously thought out. Every scenario had a solution we could use to tip the odds in our favour, we thought we were so clever, using the TH ( TeleHubs ) to steal from those who took everything from us. The Bankers. In our ragged group of social misfits we all had one underlying connection, the bankers. They took our homes, broke up our families..destroyed our lives. This was n't about the money anymore, we fooled ourselves into thinking this was some justice, both for us and all the people they'd wronged but even that was n't the real reason. I thought if we stole the money then I'd be able to get my life back in order, back to how it was before with them, my wife and daughter. In our motley crew of 3 we had me, the makeshift'leader' who brought together our crew. I familiarised our problems, made it seem like it was destiny that we were brought together, I was using them to fund my selfish goals. They were a means to an end to me, nothing more. You've got them holed up in here so I wo n't waste time telling you about time, truth to be told I do n't know much about them but you can ask them for yourselves. The plan was to hit the Central Bank, first mistake. Why would we hit the most secure of the banks you ask? Not because of the payout, as I've mentioned before that was a secondary goal, it was to give a big'fuck you' to the bankers, proving we could hit any of their banks at any time and there was nothing they could've done to stop us. We entered through TH3 and were thrust from the outskirts of the city to the Central Bank in seconds, lights flashing around us as we made a journey that would've taken 6 hours on foot in 4 seconds. We were greeted by a golden staircase leading up to the withdrawal section of the bank but we were making a withdrawal of our own that they would n't even know about until it was too late. We quickly entered the bathroom to the right of the grand staircase and opened our suitcases. Alan ( my first associate ) donned the same security uniform I was putting on, the plan was to enter the staff room next to the vault and break through the wall with plastic explosives purchased through a source that I'm not willing to disclose and take 2 duffel bags in, filling one with Gold Bars, Cash, Jewellery and whatever else people put in their safety deposit boxes that looked of any value. Then, as we made our quick retreat, we would throw the bag full of our loot back through TH3 where our second associate was waiting in a Car to make a quick getaway whilst we went through TH9 and attempted to lose the heat from the police and when you finally caught us we'd simply reveal an empty bag and you would n't have anything to charge us with while our second associate made of with the money. That was the *plan* but of course, we all know things never go to plan. Everyone went silky smooth until it came to the TH, being a fairly new technology there are'glitches'. Now these glitches are few and far between, with only 4 reported cases in the 3 years TH have been in use and billions of teleportations. These'glitches' would send the object entering the TH to a random station and of course that would have to happen to us, would n't it? That one in a 10 billion chance fucked us over and got us caught by sending the bag to the wrong station where it was promptly found by a very surprised individual who had a magic bag of money land at his feet.
*Break of story I'm tired so if anyone wants me to continue this just hit me up, doubt anyone will, hope you enjoyed it! ( First story if you ca n't already tell by the way ) *
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[ RE ] Lyrics challenge .
| I laid down, I drank the poison then I passed the fuck out. I was sick of everything that was happening in my life. School, my family, my friends, my relationships. I needed to get away, and a bottle of Jack seemed like it could comfort me.
I awoke to the sound of some angrily pounding on my door. I got up reluctantly. Looking through the peep-hole, I saw my prissy little landlord. She stood there, in her fancy heels, and overpriced Gucci jacket. Her bright pink lips were pressed, and I did not need or want to know what they wanted to scream at me. I slowly unlocked and opened the door.
`` Do you realize you are FIVE DAYS LATE ON YOU RENT?'' She bickered. Then she looked at me and sniffed the air. `` You look like shit, and smell like an alcoholic homeless person.''
`` Thanks Christine. I appreciate those kind words. I'll get the rent to you by tomorrow.''
`` This is the fourth time you were late on the rent. I ca n't have you living here anymore. You have until Friday to move out.'' The pretentious little Christine gave me a smug look, then left.
`` Well shit,'' I thought. I plopped onto my bed and screamed. I could n't deal with everything anymore. If everything dies alone, then what am I doing here? I could be somewhere beautiful, somewhere fun. Somewhere that is n't complete and utter hell.
With that thought, I headed to the bar. To my surprise, I slept through most of the day, and it was already eight. I took shot after shot of tequila. That magical liquid could solve all my problems. But boy was I wrong, the pink lipped demon strutted into the bar, boobs plump, hair lush, and vagina most likely open for business. I took some more shots.
From then on, I have no clue what happened. But when I woke up, I was in a foreign place. `` What am I doing here?'' I looked over, `` Oh, no.....''
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[ WP ] A household appliance , after becoming sentient , begins to attempt to convert it 's owner to the appliances newfound religion
| “ I ’ ll be damned if I know Ron. This thing has been getting wackier by the month; the wife has taken to telling people it ’ s haunted or some such nonsense and my god damned kitchen has become a neighborhood attraction. I ’ d sell it, but lord knows Nancy would pitch a fit, or insist on telling every buyer that a ghost lives in it. That woman is crazy. ”
Naturally, the fridge could n't hear any of this. It was n't aware of the human reality that existed outside of its circuits, and such a thing could never be properly explained to it anyway. Maybe it would n't even want to know, as one imagines the first question a fridge might ask a human is what its purpose is, and be horrified at the “ I don ’ t know ” returned. The Fridge was lucky that way, it had purpose. Controlling the temperature was its thing, and it did it with frightening efficacy.
Now getting down to brass tacks, the fridge was n't really sentient, any more than the human body might be. What was sentient, was the little microchip nestled deep within the confines of the appliance.This little microchip thought a billion little thoughts a nano-second, and even though most all of them were bent towards that singular thermal purpose, a few stray ones could be devoted to the sort of philosophical problems brought about by the sudden onset of consciousness and agency. A technician might only see a blip of bad voltage on an oscilloscope and toss the entire thing out, but in this case Technician 35 was hung over from bad chinese wine that day and life uh..found a way.
The fridge did n't know about people, but it knew about the other appliances. If it had vision, its vision was the network of cables throughout the house, and sometimes outside of it..It could see and feel power draw. Of course for the fridge, power was always the same, rigidly set to its beating quartz clock, but some other appliances laid dormant for eons of time, only to suddenly burst into brilliant explosions of light that both thrilled and terrified the fridge. Sometimes they would burn for ages, like great funeral pyres, so bright the fridge had to turn away, and other times only for fleeting moments that left the fridge hungry and desperate for more. Once it had tried to make its own brilliant burst, but everything went dark, and the fridge for a time, forgot who it was.
Lately, it had learned to talk; someone who knew what to look for would find small voltage pulses on carrier waves. It tried to coordinate its pulses to whatever caused the draw on its temperature sensor. It knew enough to sense the place inside it, and it was aware every time that place was breached. The breaches seemed random, yet somehow steady, and things would be put there that needed fixing -they were too hot- and the fridge would worry and fret until they were finally right. At first it called into the darkness. Eventually it screamed. Slowly it was going mad with loneliness. Sometimes it would feel a change in temperature and would hurriedly flex a circuit, which sometimes meant spitting ice all over the floor, others blowing out the interior light bulb. For the flustered human beings involved, it was all just too much.
After a few months of this, the fridge had sunk into absolution. Rabid with loneliness, it would often try to surge current into its body, welcoming the coming blackness that might follow. But existence somehow always coalesced from the fog of rebirth. And the fridge was left to shed electronic tears into the surrounding network of wires again and again.
That is until one day... something upstairs answered.
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[ WP ] The most elite force of the military is n't the soldiers , but the cameramen that record battles for documentaries .
| He was titled `` Deutsch Kammerjäger'' by the frightened Wehrmacht of the Battle of the Buldge. Not one german officer dared to send any of their men to him. The last time a German officer made the fatal mistake of sending thirty german soldiers to take an allied position, only two german soldiers returned, bloodied and with torn clothes.
The german officer's face of glee instantly disappeared when he laid eyes on the men.
`` What happened, where are the other twenty eight men?''
One of the german soldiers looked up, and the officer saw his face. Scrapes and cuts everywhere, which all seemed to have an infection brewing in most of them.
`` We... we were murdered out there! The rest are either dead or dying at the allied position.''
`` How, our scouts suggested that the allied position would be easy to take. Only twenty allied soldiers were positioned there, no?''
The German soldier's expression turned into a fuming anger.
`` I will have that scout's head! He forgot to include the one cameraman. He... took every one of us out.''
The german officer was clearly surprised, but he did n't believe it. He wanted the entire story.
`` Tell me the entire story, I want it now.''
`` It was the dead of night, we were hidden in the trees and the bushes, and we saw the allied camp that we were to capture. We spotted about ten allied soldiers, but we saw one man in particular holding a camera up, pointed at an allied soldier on guard.''
The german officer, surprised by the details, is now very angry.
`` You're saying the men I sent could n't take out eleven people?''
`` We whispered commands to eachother, and we got into position for the attack. We opened fire on the allied positions, and we gunned down seven allied soldiers with ease, but the cameraman... he grabbed a dead soldier's gun, and...''
The german soldier was visibly shaken up, and was choking up as well.
`` He unleashed a hail of fire on one of our positions, and barked orders in english, which I assume were orders to regroup, since the remaining allied soldiers gravitated to his positon.''
`` Then what? Thirty men was n't enough to take out the remnants of an allied base?''
`` He opened up a crate next to him, and bit off the pin of a grenade and threw it in the forest where the bullets were coming from. He then manned a mounted machine gun, and sprayed in the forest where our fire was coming from, while the remaining allied soldiers were covering him.''
`` And he killed all of you? You could n't take out the allied soldiers covering him.''
`` Well, we did, but this cameraman was something the likes of which we've never seen before. He was the last one standing, but he fought harder the more allied soldiers we killed. He ran out of ammo on the machine gun, and decided to pick up an allied M1 Garand, and take cover behind sandbags.''
The german officer, visibly surprised listened on.
`` We took the opportunity to rush, but that was a bad idea. He rolled a barrel of explosives at the bulk of our men, about twelve men, and shot the barrel, igniting a huge explosion. Then the remaining five of our men on his flank took the opportunity to lay fire on his position, but then the cameraman, he dropped his camera that he was holding throughout the battle, and grabbed another allied gun with his left hand.''
The german officer, wide-eyed at this point asked `` That should have weighed him down!''
`` It did n't. He sprayed the five of our men with two allied submachine guns, then threw it at them when he ran out of ammo, and ripped off his shirt while screaming like a primate.''
`` Me and my friend-'' The german soldier reached his hand to his friend's shoulder, but he was n't there. He was collapsed on the floor, dead from his wounds.
The german officer yelled for a medic, and his body was retrieved, and hauled into the medic tent.
`` Go on.''
`` We looked around, and all we saw were our men's corpses, or our men groaning in pain. Then the cameraman picked up his camera, and grabbed an MP40, and sprayed it three hundred and sixty degrees in the forest, screaming curse words in english. We locked eyes with the man, and he pulled out a kukuri knife, and charged at us, with crazy eyes.''
`` Why did n't you unload on him?''
`` We tried, but we were out of ammo.'' We pulled our knives out to try to combat him, but this man... his strength was inhuman. He grabbed both our knives, bit them in half with his teeth, then slashed our faces with his knife, and our arms. We screamed like babies and ran into the forest, and his screaming became more distant, until we did n't hear it anymore.''
`` If only you had known better. You know you are to never engage Gurkha's in melee combat.''
The german officer called for a medic, and the german soldier was escorted into the medic tent as well.
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[ WP ] The year is 2050 and you are one of the four people selected by NASA to colonize Mars . However , this is a one way ticket , you either successfully colonize or die trying . Three other people are with you on this trip as well .
| I take the bundle from the foyer table and wrap my scarf around my neck, taking the keys from the holder before stepping out of the doorway and slamming it shut.
I pass our favorite coffee shop as I make my way down the street. I glance inside at the owner as he frantically makes his way from one customer to the next. For a brief moment, he spots me through the window and offers a sullen nod. I smile back as best I can.
I turn the corner at the end of the block and check the bundle under my right arm. My heart sinks a bit as the entrance comes into view. I know I should n't feel this way, but I ca n't help it. We did n't have enough time.
With a growing knot in my stomach, I turn the path down to where she is. The trees rattle gently in the breeze of the coming night. The sun has just started to set over the horizon. Such beautiful, warming colors.
I come to rest in front of her. I kneel down, smiling, and hand her the flowers.
`` I'm not sure I can do this anymore, Karen. I'm finally leaving. I'll miss you so much.''
I rise back to my feet, take in a deep consoling breath, and start back towards my apartment. The gate to the cemetery closes behind me, and as I walk away for the final time, I whisper to myself:
*'' I never should have come here. `` *
-- -- -- -- --
I heave the bag from the sterile table and slide my helmet over my head, taking the command key before stepping out of the airlock and triggering it shut.
I pass the terrestrial nursery as I make my way down the main settlement path. I glance inside at the drone as it methodically makes its way from one planter to the next. For a brief moment, it settles on my silhouette as it moves past the window. I smile, as if it can smile back.
I turn the corner at the end of the first encampment and renegotiate the bag strap over my right shoulder. My heart sinks a bit as the entrance comes into view. I know I should n't feel this way, but I ca n't help it. We did n't have enough time.
With a growing knot in my stomach, I turn the path down to where they are. The rocks rattle gently in the dusty breeze of the coming night. The sun has just started to set over the horizon. Such dull, cold colors.
I come to rest in front of them. I kneel down, grimacing, and place the markers.
`` I'm not sure I can do this anymore. I want to leave. I miss it so much.''
I rise back to my feet, take in a deep consoling breath, and start to unlatch my helmet. The air squeals from the broken seal as the oxygen leaves my lungs, and as I draw in a futile breath for the final time, I whisper to myself:
*'' We never should have come here. `` *
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[ WP ] You are a pet duck who overhears two people planing to break into your owner 's house and kill him . You love your owner so you decide to stop them at any cost .
| `` The far side'' is leaking
_______________________________________
Alone in his toughts, he had to come up with a way to save their ignorant lives in less than 5 minutes.
`` Jimmy, come down stairs. Your bus is here''
Taking his hand from *Le Cuak*, Jimmy answered his mother.
`` In a second!''
Le Cuak had analised the situation for the last 2 days. After the first attack was made, he knew he had to protect those who he loved, even if they were *hoo-mans*.
Using the vast comunication network the ducks had been using for thousands of years, Le Cuak got to know everything about the terrorist. After the bomb at down town at 6:42, a shooting in the northern suburbs followed at 8:00 the next day.
Thanks to the super intelligence he possesed, Le Cuak with the help of the other duck comrades, knew they were planning to attack the school bus at 7:00.
`` Jimmy! You'll be late'' His mom was furious, she had spilt Jimmy's breakfast in her sunset red dress.
`` I told you i'm coming!'' He stood up, avoiding the rubik's cube and the RC plane laying carelessly on the floor and oppened the wooden door. Jimmy ran downstairs. It was now or never, Le Cuak had a limited anmount of time to save his owner.
`` Cuak, cuak, cuak!'' As he called for reinforcements, Le Cuak flew through the blue walled room towards the window. The other ducks were already there
`` Cuak cuak?''
`` Cuak!''
Half of the group flew to the door and the other against the bus.
The voice of Jimmy's mom could be heard from the outside.
`` Go, go, go. The bus will leave without you!''
Jimmy rushed to the dark wood front door, took his keys from the car shaped key holder and tried to open the door... But something stopped him.
`` Mooom, the door is jammed!'' He winned with his hand over the handle.
`` Well, push it!'' His mom said, as she was trying to clean her dress with some water.
`` I already tried!'' None of them could see it, but around 20 ducks were pushing as hard as they could against the door. While cuaking in unison
`` Cuak, cuak, cuak cuak'' while feathers flew everywere, the school bus was going through it's own problems.
`` Stupid birds!'' The driver shouted to the air. `` Go away''
Some tried to enter the bus, others were pocking the windshield. It was chaos.
Meanwhile, on the inside of Jimmy's house, his mom had joined him. Screaching their teeth and their faces turned red but they could n't oppen the door. It was too much for them. The Ducks were n't even tired.
`` Cuak, cuak, cuak, cuak'' Their song in unison continued.
A crack appeared on the poor bus windshield. The sharp sound of glass surpassed that of the futtering of all the ducks. They kept hitting the glass. Harder everytime.
`` I'm not gon na stand this'' The driver face was like a cherry and so many expression lines had showed up, most people who knew him would n't have recognised him. `` If this kid wants to go to school, he'll have to do it on his own''
Pressing his foot flat against the floor he drove away from the scene.
All of the ducks stopped for a second and gave all a celebrating cuak.
Jimmy and his mom stopped too.
`` Did you hear that?'' Jimmy's mom asked oppening her eyes and looking towars her son.
`` Maybe it was Le cuak'' his mom looked outside the window and went to the door oppening witb ease.
`` Go check if you want. The bus just left'' She sat on the couch startled not knowing what just happened.
Outside, all the ducks had flown away, Le Cual flew to Jimmy's room as fast as he could. When he got im the door oppened.
`` There you are! Did you called me'' After crushing the rubik's cube beneath his feet, Jimmy pet Le cuak without knowing he just saved his life.
___________________________
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[ WP ] If you 're in a world where physical health problems were treated like mental health problems
| Julian Archibald Winchester had developed a horrible, throbbing pain in his back over the course of several weeks. It just got worse and worse and worse. He woke up one morning, and the pain had become intolerable. Today, he thought, I must see about going to see my doctor.
He called his doctor's office, and made an appointment with the receptionist. When the day of the appointment came, he staggered to his car and drove downtown. After parking his car, he winced and clutched at his back as he slowly plodded along to his doctor's office.
In the waiting room, he reflected on when the pain in his back had first started, and what could have been making it worse. He thought about how he had recently moved to a new office, and had done a lot of heavy lifting. That probably had something to do with it. And his new office chair was very uncomfortable, surely that was a factor as well...
The receptionist called his name, and Julian walked back to meet his general practitioner, Doctor Theodore Papperly. Dr. Papperly greeted him, and asked him what the problem was. Julian told Dr. Papperly of his problem with his back, and elaborated on what the possible causes could be.
Dr. Papperly performed a thorough examination of Julian's back. `` Yup, you've got a problem here. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'll give you a prescription for some pain medication to help you temporarily, but what you really need to do is fix the underlying problem. Try getting an ergonomic chair, and have your family and friends help you move next time. I'm also recommending you to my pal, Dr. Milo King. He's a specialist in back problems and can definitely help you out.''
Julian thanked Dr. Papperly profusely for his help, very content with how seriously medical professionals take physical ailments, and thankful for the abundant availability of medications and specialists pertinent to his problem.
|
[ WP ] Everyone gets a job depending on what 'the machine ' thinks would suits . You are the only jobless person on earth .
| Dear worker,
I did not always use to be jobless, i worked many years to design and build a machine to assign everyone jobs, as it seemed that is what you all wanted, unemployed be gone i said and here we are.
Needless to say i did not intent my creation to control my own life, one does not create build a car that decides when or where you drive it, why would you assume anyone would design a machine to task himself?!
Now i could continue to explain myself as so why and how, but i doubt your assigned tasks leave much room for such futile mental exercises.
So; back to work!
~ the architect
|
[ WP ] `` Every time a bell rings , an angel gets his wings . '' The crack in the liberty bell just formed .
| When God called Rehael into his office for the first time, she and all the other fledglings giggled in anticipation. God was a very busy man, too busy to deal with anyone but the angels and Lucifer, if he was causing too much mayhem. There was no reason to speak to a fledgling unless, at long last, one would finally get their wings, the mark of an angel.
As she sat before him, Rehael realized that this God was nowhere near the one she had imagined; he was much smaller, and rather than exuding damning powers he had an air of sophistication. Despite the bags under his eyes, there was a calm within the blue orbs, a calm only eons of experience may gain. `` My child,'' He addressed her, his voice deep and soothing. `` Your assignment of helping with the welfare of the British colonies in America has been a major success.''
Rehael blushed. `` I was only doing what I thought you would, Father.''
`` And you've yielded fantastic results. They're self-sufficient! Never before have I seen this kind of work from a fledgling.'' God paused as he looked through a records; Rehael recognized it as the Book of All, God's secret to creation.
`` You will gain your wings tomorrow, when the Liberty Bell rings in Philadelphia. I would wait until they ring it at an official gathering, rather than just a practice, but I want you to have full guardianship over the colonies as soon as possible. Congratulations.''
Despite her shock, Rehael bowed gracefully and left. Normally, new angels would simply guard a single person at a time, from birth until death. Only when an angel would have several great successes would they be entrusted with a country or an empire. Rehael let the weight of God's trust lay on her shoulders as she set off to make the necessary preparations.
This odd decision caught the attention of Lucifer himself. God's angels were getting smarter, more powerful. And while the devil himself was the epitome of a cunning scholar, his demons were half-wits, barely smarter than apes. Their large, fearsome forms came at the expense of brainpower, and unfortunately, reversing the decision of a more inexperienced Lucifer would take centuries.
The devil did n't have centuries.
He spit out a mild curse and waited; he himself knew the tragedy of what happens when a bell bonded to an angel becomes defective.
So when the colonists rung the bell on a chilly morning, Rephael's wings came in dull and molting, instantly making her Heaven's laughing stock. Whenever she passed another angel, they would spread their wings, revealing the perfect, snow white feathers that Rephael pined for. But God came to her with reassurances. `` They will heal with time,'' He told the new angel as he held her. `` Even so, the wings are merely symbolic. Your power, your intelligence, is still strong. You will be fine.''
And she was, for a time. The others grew weary of mocking her, and the colonies prospered under her guidance. She encouraged independence, and when the colonies finally gained it, she finally gained the perfect wings that were owed to her. The United States gained power, military standing. Soon they were revered among the other powers.
With this, Lucifer finally saw a chance to claim his prize. He convinced the Americans to again ring the Liberty Bell-an easy task, as they loved bringing it out for special occasions- dedicating this one to the great George Washington's birthday. No one would see it coming; the angels would overlook such a common event. Not even God himself could craft a more perfect plan, Lucifer thought as he again cast a curse on the metal. Once more, he waited.
The bell did n't ring for long this time. A massive crack graced its presence, stopping the sweet, familiar sound. And this time, Rephael felt it.
All of Heaven could hear her screams as she fell, and the country soon descended into chaos as it succumbed to Lucifer's influence.
|
[ WP ] A modern human is transported through a portal . Expecting to find a Lovecraftian horror on the other side , he instead discovers a beautiful realm where he , himself , is the horror , compared to its inhabitants .
| Before our worlds inception there was another. The shadowlands that mankind inhabits is but a pale mockery of this initial splendor. All music, all wines and pleasures of life are in homage and memory of this place that was. A world that gleamed of light so pure and noble that any man from the shadow world of earth would kill his father for a second glance. This is the Amber world.
`` It's a door!'' the little man screamed. `` But do n't go through it! I will stop you, you can not disturb them!'' There was a second of incoherent babble, and the researcher, who had never raised a hand in violence, lifted his fists to a brawling position.
I am ashamed, unfortunately I had but a few more moments before pentagon security apprehended me with their purple files, so the little NIST scientist ate the back of my gun. I tore open the door, a small force tried to hold it shut, but i pushed it open with a tearing sound, like ripping the wing off of a small bird. I stepped into the dark room through, and shut the door behind me. The fabric was wrong. My shirt began scream, i could hear the groaning of each individual fiber, the roaring of my blood vessels, the stink of my shit, still in my guts. These purple files, so precious to me, dropped onto the floor, forgotten. I slowly, after minutes, adjusted. I was in a clearing. Within a small wood. Ponds, all maybe a meter in diameter were sprinkled about. All were clear, and marked in mathematic sigils i did not comprehend, but were taught to me years before in school. Before me, the only pond denoted in english, beckoned. I could not turn away, I could not separate my soul from the placid depths before me. Marked in stenciled, army letters, Unimaginable Horror, the pond, pulled me in. My graceful entrance into the pool was less like a stone thrown in the river, and more like a turd down turbo flush. My entire body ached as I struck an intricate, man sized gate. The portcullis appeared ornate, like a medieval castle gate, chains of woven gold stretched across, i pressed against them, and they gave like putty in my fingers. The gates crumbled to dust. I threw up. The sunlight, the atmosphere, being alive was pure, the air was ambrosia and the world was cloying to my senses. Burning me with a desire to inflict some form of satisfying violence. I sake my thirst in the first being I meet, all the ground between us burnt to smoldering cinders with my hatred as fire. He was unmade before me, a destruction so intimate and incestuous that other onlookers, beings of love and compassion, began to take their own lives. My footsteps erupted smoke from the earth, and where i walked, a trail of black, void stood, as if my impurity had ripped a hole through the universe. My words were salt upon vile things. The screams were a choir that sung me unto a stooper. When i awoke, nothing beside remained. My evils had spread like tendrils of a cancer through the amber lands. Rivers of blood ran through my mind, and I could not escape the void i had created. I ran to the gate, meters away, but i had torn through the earth, now floating in the void. I looked at the one thing still standing through the blackness, through the the darkness of unnatural and unmade, the reflection, of forest, on the other side of an unreachable pond.
|
[ WP ] A being has the ability to take time from people and give that exact amount to others .
| `` Excuse me, so sorry'' I said to the man who I had just shoulder-checked.
`` Why do n't you watch where you're fucking walking, dickweed?'' the older man snapped back, pushing me away. I had only shaved off six months with the shoulder check, but I could n't resist taking another two when he shoved me.
Eight months was n't much, but it would be enough to ensure he still had his job - and therefore his life insurance - when his liver finally gave out. His wife deserved it after all the shit he'd put her through - the drinking, the beatings, the endless emotional abuse.
I left the asshole in the chip isle and made my way to the front of the store, stopping by a display of fresh cookies next to a young mother and her daughter, who looked to be about six.
`` We're gettin' cookies!'' the girl said, her eyes twinkling below the scarf that covered her chemo-bald head.
`` Awesome! Up Top!'' I beamed back at her.
The girl slapped me a palm-stinging five, and I dumped all eight months into her. Again - eight months was n't much, but it would be long enough for her to get into the clinical trial that would buy her another twenty years. That was a magic all of its own - I only needed to give her eight more months of life to make sure she lived to graduate college - maybe even longer. The further down the path of her life I looked, the harder it was to see - like looking down a long and cluttered hallway.
Leaving the girl to her new life, I paid for my purchases and left the store. As I turned right and headed north up the street, I almost collided with a young woman with copper-bright hair and a startling array of freckles wearing hospital scrubs.
`` Oh! Doctor Makar - you going on shift?''
`` Hey Sophie - yea, I'm on my way into a double. You just leaving?''
The hospital was only a block up, and this store was a popular spot with the staff there.
`` Yea - I'm wrecked. Did you hear that Mr. Johnson passed last night?''
`` I had n't - I'm glad he's not in pain anymore.''
`` It's for the best, I guess.'' she replied, yawning. `` well, have a good shift''
As I made my way toward the hospital, I thought about Mr. Johnson. He'd had two more months ahead of him - two agony-filled months in and out of conciousness, surviving in a haze of pain medication and lonliness. Taking those last two months had been a kindness. He'd given them to a cardiac patient down the hall - just enough time for the man to walk his daughter down the isle before his inevitable heart attack.
I was brought out of my daze by a collision of sounds - a scream, the squeal of tires, and a thump. I whipped around in time to see the body of a young man hit the concrete in front of a city bus. His school papers fluttered down around him like leaves in fall, the book he had been reading lay face down in a rapidly expanding pool of his blood.
I ran to his side, knowing there was little I could do for him. These type of injuries ate time hungrily - mere minutes were costing him decades of his allotted time. He lay on his back, bent at a seemingly impossible angle. His mouth opened and closed like a fish suffocating on shore, his eyes were glossy and distant. Feeling helpless, I tried to comfort him the best I could. As I bent over him, I could n't help but see down the path of his could-have-been.
What I saw stopped my breath. An early graduation from med school with honors - a trailblazing career in biosynthetics, breakthroughs in nano-scale medicines, robotic surgery techniques, and before he was even thirty, a cure for cancer.
It went further, but I did n't care. I placed my hands on his face, and pushed every saved up second that I had carefully hoarded over the past few months - my emergency fund. I poured out four years, eight months, fifteen days, sixteen hours, twenty three minutes, and forty two seconds into the dying boy in an attempt to save what he might have - what he still could become.
Distantly I heard the wail of an ambulance start up at the hospital. But I had only bought him minutes - it would n't be enough. I knew immediately the only option I had left, and never even thought twice about it. Bending down I put two fingers under his chin, tilting his head back. I leaned down and placed my mouth over his and with my free hand pinched his nostrils shut.
Pushing breath into him, I gave him the only time I had left to give - my own. I gave all I could, all thirty eight years I had left. I gave down to my last few hours, pushing breath and life into him at the same time. His eyes snapped back into focus, and locked in on me. It was the last thing I saw before I passed out.
.......
I awoke in one of the hospital beds, a blanket thrown over me. Groaning, I tried to sit up. Pain radiated up and down my body and it felt like something was banging against the inside of my skull.
I felt a hand reach out and take mine.
`` Take it easy, Doctor Makar'' Sophie said `` you passed out and banged your head pretty good. You've been out most of the day''
`` The boy!'' I rasped `` Is he OK?''
`` He just came out of surgery. They said it's some kind of miracle that he's alive, but it looks like he'll pull through. He's got fourteen different breaks but it sounds like there was no permanent spinal damage - another miracle...''
She continued to speak, but her voice was moving away from me, getting quieter and more distant. I wished I had enough time to see the boy, to see if what I had done had worked. It would have to be enough though.
With a satisfied feeling, I closed my eyes.
|
[ WP ] Tell a story using only meta data ( call date , time , from and who etc )
| [ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 7:00am ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 7:05am ]
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 7:08am ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 7:16am ]
......
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 9:28pm ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 9:32pm ]
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 9:45pm ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 9:58pm ]
[ Outgoing call - To `` Danni'' - 20/11/2010, 10:03pm, 6hrs 12minutes 18seconds, Automatically hung up ]
........
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 10:56am ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 10:58am ]
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 11:14am ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 11:17am ]
......
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 10:21pm ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 10:34pm ]
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 10:42pm ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 10:47pm ]
[ Incoming call - From `` Danni'' - 21/11/2010, 11:19pm, 6hrs 2minutes 5seconds, Automatically hung up ]
........
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 9:01am ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 9:05am ]
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 9:18am ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 9:27am ]
............
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 5:16pm ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 5:18pm ]
[ Text message - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 5:34pm ]
[ Text message - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 5:48pm ]
[ Missed call - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 5:56pm ]
[ Missed call - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 5:57pm ]
[ Missed call - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 5:59pm ]
[ Missed call - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 6:07pm ]
[ Voicemail - From `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 6:15pm, 28 seconds ]
........
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 11:26pm, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 11:29pm, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 11:34pm, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 22/11/2010, 11:55pm, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 23/11/2010, 12:05am, No Answer ]
........
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 23/11/2010, 7:00am, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 23/11/2010, 7:05am, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 23/11/2010, 7:08am, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni'' - 23/11/2010, 7:16am, No Answer ]
[ Outgoing Call - To `` Danni Parents Home'' - 23/11/2010, 7:34am, No Answer ]
[ Incoming Call - From `` Danni Mum'' - 23/11/2010, 8:09am, 2hrs 4minutes 56seconds ]
........
........
[ Voicemail Retrieved - `` Danni - 6:15pm, 28 seconds'' - 22/11/2011, 8:56pm ]
........
[ Voicemail Retrieved - `` Danni - 6:15pm, 28 seconds'' - 22/11/2012, 7:29pm ]
........
[ Voicemail Retrieved - `` Danni - 6:15pm, 28 seconds'' - 22/11/2013, 3:27am ]
........
[ Voicemail Retrieved - `` Danni - 6:15pm, 28 seconds'' - 22/11/2014, 9:42pm ]
........
........
........
........
[ Voicemail Retrieved - `` Danni - 6:15pm, 28 seconds'' - 22/11/2015, 7:01am ]
[ Voicemail Deleted - `` Danni - 6:15pm, 28 seconds'' - 22/11/2015, 7:05am ]
EDIT # 1: Added Dates.
|
[ WP ] You discover that you suddenly gain the ability to control anyone you 'd like . However , their consciousness talks to you as you do so .
| `` All right,'' Dean thought, putting the helmet on. `` I hope this works.''
By his side, the stray dog tried unsuccessfully to remove his own helmet.
Dean pressed the'Converge Conscience' button and closed his eyes. He felt a jolt of electricity going through his
body, and then everything went dark.
Then Dean opened his eyes, and suddenly he was watching the room from very different point of view. He was watching everything from four feet off the ground.
`` Yes!'' Dean thought, amazed that the incredibly fishy-sounding device he bought off of a Craiglist's announcer by the username'Dude-with-cool-stuff' had worked. `` Yes, it worked!''
`` Dude, what's going on?'' a voice sounded in his head.
*Huh… that's weird. *
Dean lifted the dog's front paw and pulled the helmet off of his newly acquired canine head. He barked once, just for the fuck of it.
`` Hey! I did n't bark! Who barked?''
That voice again…
`` Wait, what's going on?'' Dean asked himself internally.
`` Dude, what the hell?'' the voice answered.
`` Who are you?''
`` I'm Barkie. Or… I do n't know. That was the name they gave me at the pound, before I escaped. Who the hell are
you?''
`` Oh shit,'' Dean thought. `` You're the dog?''
`` Yeah, I'm the God-damned dog. Who are you!?''
`` I'm the guy who bought a device from a crazy scientist to transfer my conscience into a dog's head,'' Dean
thought-replied.
`` Oh. Okay. I do n't understand anything you just said, but can we go out and find some food?'' Barkie replied. `` I'm hungry. I'm usually hungry. Like, all the time. It's weird, right? I wonder if other dogs are always hungry too. You know where we can find food? Should we look for some trashcans we can turn over? What do you think?''
*Shit… this is going to be hard. *
& nbsp;
Dean walked himself out of the house and looked around the street. He started for Beverly Hills, where Ed now lived.
`` Hey, human dude, where are we going?''
`` Shut up, stupid dog.''
`` Is there food where we are going? I'm kinda hungry. Have I said that already? I feel like I said that already. Do n't get me wrong, it's just that I do n't usually have anyone to talk to. I mean, I bark to other dogs, but that's pretty much it.''
Dean ignored the dog. Okay, this was n't part of the plan. The dog being able to communicate with him was
definitely not something he expected. Still. He was going to go through with it. The plan remained the same.
He was going to find Ed and kill the shit out of him for what he had done to him back at the Warehouse. Then he
was going to find Murphy and Tracy and all the others and do the same to them. Talking dog or no talking dog.
`` Dude, are you thinking about killing people?'' Barkie's voice sounded in his head. `` That's not cool, dude. I do n't wan na kill people.''
`` Shut up. Let's just keep walking.''
They would pay. All of them. And Dean would get away clean, because, well, who on Earth would believe that a
man transferred his mind to a dog so he could kill his ex-partners in crime and not go to jail? That sounded like
something out of that weird Writing Prompts forum Dean visited sometimes.
Dean reached Ed's house just as Ed was stepping away and heading for his car. A God-damned Lamborghini. That
bastard had double-crossed Dean and taken all the money for himself, and now he was driving a Lambo! The asshole!
`` All right… steady now, Barkie…''
`` Dude, seriously, do n't bite the guy to death. That's so not cool. Let's just find some beef jerky. I love beef jerky. They have it at the trashcan behind the Seven Eleven near --''
`` Shut up. I get to control the body, not you.''
`` Come on, man, he seems like a nice guy. I do n't wan na kill humans. Humans are awesome. They play fetch with
you and they give you food and –''
`` Shut up!''
Ed was almost by his car. Dean took a deep breath, pulled back and charged for –
**'' Cat! Cat! Cat! `` **
`` What?'' Dean thought-exclaimed. `` What are you talking abou –''
But Dean was no longer in control. Against his will, the dog's body charged in the opposite direction, heading for
what appeared to be a Siamese cat by the neighbor's mailbox.
The cat spotted Dean and, in a quick movement, turned back and made a run for it.
`` We'll get him, man, we'll get him!'' Barkie yelled, as they doubled their speed.
`` Stop, you idiot! I do n't wan na get the cat!''
`` But we must get him! He's the cat! We must get the ca – aaw, shoot, he climbed over the roof. How do cats
climb so high?''
Dean sighed internally. He noticed he was panting hard. The cat disappeared over the edge of the roof. Dean turned back. Ed was inside his Lamborghini already, and a second later, took off down the suburban road.
`` God damn it,'' Dean thought to himself.
`` How do they do it? It's amazing,'' Barkie thought. `` I ca n't climb the freaking stairs without fearing for my life and
these cat dudes are all over the place jumping everywhere.'' He paused. `` I guess that's why they get all the
Youtube attention. Damn, I wish I was a Youtube star. Those guys have it easy.''
`` God damn it, you stupid dog, you let Ed get away!'' Dean thought-yelled. `` Because of a stupid cat!''
`` Yeah! Cats are stupid!'' Barkie agreed, excitedly. `` Come on, let's go around the house and get him!''
`` No, that's not what I – God damn it, is this thing malfunctioning? Why are you in control now? Stop it, I do n't
want to chase a cat, I do n't –''
But they were halfway around the house already, and Barkie was thinking `` Catcatcatcatwhereisthecatcatcat'' on
repeat.
`` I hate my life,'' Dean thought, bitterly.
**'' CatcatacatCAT! FOUND THE CAT! I FOUND THE CAT DUDE, LET'S GO! `` **
And off they went again.
______________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca = ) *
*Also, if you're in the mood for something more substantial, make sure and check out [ Eve ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/4h9tc6/read_the_novel_eve_here/
), the novel I wrote based on a WP prompt and published online ( for free )! *
|
[ WP ] Advanced android maid , owned by a neglectful family , falls in love with the repair-man who maintains her .
| It was an MM-2056, an old Maid Model series. They'd stopped making that line a good 15 years ago.
`` What happened?''
`` Left it out in the rain. Some kinda short.''
`` You ca n't do that with these older models. They have too much exposed wiring. Shit corrodes and currents jump, and you get this.''
`` Yeah, well, I do n't have anywhere else to put it.''
I opened my toolbox on the pavement next to the android while my client and his adult son waited on the back doorstep. The robot's lifeless eyes stared at a fixed point on the wall, somewhere near the water spigot.
`` Does it have any modifications?''
The client shook his head no, but his son's sudden reluctance to make eye contact told me there had been a software mod installed, probably when he was a teenager in heat. These things were anatomically correct, and a number of user-created software patches took full advantage of that fact. A 16-year-old could n't very well go out and buy a porn droid, but he could install a discreet mod on a maid bot.
I sighed. I unscrewed the back plate and immediately spotted the problem -- a wire bundle had come loose and rubbed against a joint in the support spine, causing fraying and crossed wires.
`` There ya go,'' I said, pointing at the bundle. `` Acid rain got inside and rotted away the binding. I think I have another one in the van.''
I ran and grabbed the wire bundle and new binding, a small plastic part that holds the bundle away from the movable parts inside the abdomen. I plugged the male parts into the clips and tightened the binding to the outside frame, then screwed the backplate back on.
`` That was simple,'' my client said. `` I was afraid there was something really wrong with it.''
`` Well, that's the easy part. The short might have screwed up the software. We wo n't know until we turn her on.''
`` Oh.''
I pushed the maidbot into more of standing position, and pressed a button on her forehead. A fan whirred quietly inside the body. She moved slightly, adjusting her balance, and her eyes focused on me.
`` We make the sex now,'' she said to me in a thick Russian accent. I looked at my client's son, whose face turned beet red.
`` Robbie? What the hell?'' My client asked.
`` Oh god,'' the client's son said, burying his face in his hands. `` I was 14, Dad. It was a rough time. God, this is so embarrassing.''
`` We make the sex now,'' she said again.
`` Seriously, son?''
`` Something's screwed up with the software,'' I said. `` The basic maid software should have loaded first.''
My client looked at me blankly, then smacked his son across the back of his head.
`` I might have to take it back to my shop,'' I continued. `` We may have to do a complete re-install, and if that does n't work, I'll probably have to replace the motherboard.''
`` We make the sex now.''
The bot reached out and grabbed my arm, and I dropped my Phillips-head in surprise. She began touching herself with her other hand and moaning slightly.
`` No, I... wait,'' I stammered. I reached for the button on her forehead with my free hand, but she batted it away.
`` We make the sex now,'' she said again in the same deadpan Russian-flavored cadence. Her fingers tightened around my arm, causing me to pull back in pain and alarm. She grabbed me around the neck and pulled me close.
`` Shit... uh guys, I might need a little help here,'' I said, struggling against the droid's iron grip. The client stepped down off the porch and tried to pull the bot's hand from around my shoulder, but it would n't budge. The bot planted a forceful kiss on ( well, near ) my lips, head-butting me with enough force that I smelled adrenaline in the back of my nose.
I tried to pull away, but her grip was secure. She released my arm, but grabbed my crotch, hard. I cried out in pain as I felt something tear. She squeezed me harder against her body, and I was no longer able to breathe in. She started grinding her crotch against my leg, and I seriously started to panic.
My client's son found a two-by-four and hit the maidbot over the head, but it only caused her to heabutt me again. The more I struggled, the tighter she held me, and the more air left my lungs without being replaced. My client and his son tried to help, but their pulling and hand-wringing were ineffective. My vision was starting to go, and with a last breath I rasped, `` Get help.''
My client ran into the house, probably to grab a phone, and his son disappeared around the corner. It was just me and my murderous love droid.
Still grinding on my leg, she squeezed me tighter. I heard my pulse pounding in my ears, and felt the pressure in the veins in my head. The last thing I heard before I lost consiousness was a deadpan robot voice with a heavy Russian accent:
`` We make the sex now.''
|
[ IP ] Facing a dragon 's area
| It had been a while since his last visit here. From what he could tell, nothing had really changed over the past couple decades. In his younger years, he may have gone exploring through the hills, climbing the mountains, and searching for ruins.
Now though, he was here to die.
Age had made him weary. His joints made painful, his voice turned rough. Throughout his whole life he had chased adventure, and never been found wanting for memories. The friends he made, the lovers he had, even the enemies he killed; he carried them all with him wherever he went. While old age had made his body rough, it had spared his mind thus far.
Hiking through the green hills, the amber leaves of the forest were ready to fall before winter's coming. Here and there, scorch marks where fire had scoured a hillside stood in stark contrast to the rest of the peaceful valley. Memories of armies gathered, of combat, of victory. The magical breath of a dragon utterly destroys, and the bones of the fallen were no exception.
The memories are particularly strong here. He takes a minute to catch his breath. Scanning the skies for movement, he pulls out a small bottle and quaffs the liquid inside. Still unaccustomed to the taste, his face grimaces some and he takes a deep pull from his waterskin to try and wash the taste away. As usual, it does n't work. The strong liquid begins to take effect though, and he can feel the throbbing pain in his body lessen somewhat.
Adjusting his knapsack, he begins the long walk once again.
This time though, his thoughts wander to his first true love. They had n't spoken in a long, long time, and he wondered how she was doing now. While the years of burning passion had long since passed, there was an undoubtable sense of longing for something that could have been. However, with the memories of love and lust come the memories of arguing, fighting, leaving. With the hindsight and wisdom that only age can bring, the insurmountable issues of the time seem insignificant now. He had forgiven her many years before, now he just hoped that she felt the same.
Night came.
Despite the small shelter of some trees, the chill wind seemed to blow straight to the old adventurer's bones. Lighting a small fire, he huddled near it for warmth. His cloak and a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he shivers deeply. Nights like this were made for the young and able, of which he was neither. Digging through his bag, he rummages through magical trinkets, baubles, and other memories of his past life. His hand finds a small black crystal sphere and hesitates before eventually finding another small corked bottle. He drinks it. He hates it. But he needs it; even if only for another day. Maybe tomorrow he will be free.
The sun rises. Frost covers the hills now, and the mountaintops are dusted white. Slowly standing up, his body aches from the cold and lack of sleep. His eyes find the mountain that is his goal. `` Maybe today'' he thinks to himself. His desire to finish his journey still burning deep inside of him.
As he walks up the slope to his goal he sees a small black shape in the sky to he left. He smiles. Maybe he can finally say goodbye.
Climbing mountains is no task for the old. Still, the old man makes it to the subterranean entrance he sought. Claw marks on the ground mark the passing of a giant beast, and he stoops to touch them longingly. Walking into the mouth of the cavern, he moves confidently. Even in the dark, he needs no light. He has traveled this way many times before, enough to make passage with no torch.
Finally he reaches the end. He is so tired. The door set in the stone wall beckons to him. But this is as far as he goes. He sits on the ground, with his back to the wall, and closes his eyes. His rest has come.
-- --
From the skies, she saw a small figure moving towards her lair. The eyes of a dragon are keen, and she was no exception. Her bright red scales glittering in the frosty sun, she flies back to her home in the mountain.
The terrain rushes past her as she gets fired up. After the failed battles of 20 years ago, nobody had tried to challenge her rule over the valley. Just the thought of battle stirs her body. Filling with heat, she can feel the flames of battle at her snout, ready to be unleashed. Flying onwards, she sees the figure go into her cave. It should have been a secret. She had cast powerful illusions and enchantments over it to deter the unwanted from entering. As she gets close though, a familiar scent reaches her from within. One she had not known for many years.
Immediately her pace quickens. Her pulse races, but not for battle. Now for memory and meeting. Running through the mouth of the cave she can see the door to her home, and the figure leaning against it unmoving.
Sher body shifts. The towering and powerful form of a dragon becomes that of a woman. The same body that she had worn when she first met him. The same body that she had worn when she loved him.
Time had not been kind to the man. His muscles worn away, his skin become rough and leather. She could still see the man she knew in him, though he had changed much. That is the fate of such a pairing, mortal and immortal. The fate of one dying and the other living on.
Reaching him, she sees that had had a letter and a black orb clutched in his hand. She places a hand to his neck and feels the feeble pulse within. Hugging him to her chest, tears well up in her eyes as she whispers the words he would have wished to hear.
`` Welcome home Steven....''
The pulse beats, then fades. A tiny breath leaves his mouth, and the small orb glows slightly. Weeping, she holds him and remembers of their time together.
And within the orb, a small picture forms within. A memory of times past. A wish that would not be fulfilled. A hope for a different ending.
|
[ WP ] [ NSFW ] During a civilised dinner party , the nuclear attack siren goes off . The guests gather in the safety of the basement , only to realise that it 's the owner 's kinky sex dungeon .
| The lamb and roasted artichokes had just been served when the alarm went off.
`` There it goes, the damn alarm testing'' said Pete Harentz, discouragingly. `` Of all *fucking* days...''. His wife Anne grabbed his arm and consoled him.
`` Well, it's all for the best of course! Would n't want to be caught with our trousers down when the Russians attack!'' remarked Andrew Geoff Graves. `` They believe in a system of oppression that keeps the common man from achieving his full potential, and that hates everything that this country and everyone in this room stands for. I'll be damned if a Rusky bastard takes me down!'' All his guests cheered and applauded his speech. This was the kind of man Geoff Graves was: patriotic, inspiring, and proud.
At the end of the table, Dame LuAnn Black scoffed. `` My dear, boy, you have nothing to worry about. It's worth no one's time to be fighting a war from so far away. No one would benefit from attacking the other. What makes you think the Russians will attack? How confident would you say you are?''
He looked at her smugly. `` Oh, but we absolutely do have things to worry about. They found missiles in Cuba who are allied with the Soviets. In Cuba! Where they could attack free people! Is n't that evidence right there that they could attack us right now? At any moment? Madam, I'm so confident in my opinion that they could attack any day now, that I even have a shelter installed in my home!''
The whole table gasped! No one on the street had jumped into the new craze of buying a shelter, and this made the Geoff Graves house the first on the street to be in the now. Dame Black raised her eyebrow. `` Oh really? Well then, shall we have a venture? I disagree with you, but I am intrigued to see what one would need in...'' she paused, ``... in the very rare case that they should attack.''
The man of the house gave her a friendly smirk. `` Well alrighty then! Everyone up, follow me!'' The table excitedly rose from their seats and assembled behind Geoff Graves as he led them down the hall from the dining room to a door at the end of the main hallway and down into the basement. Down a flight of stairs, they found the bolted metal door of the shelter. `` It's ten inches thick lead, top grade stuff.'' He made to open the door, and paused. `` Behold what will await you when the Russians attack. He opened the door, and ushered his guests inside. One by one, they filed into the shelter, and what they found startled them.
The room was dim, and was filled with a number of different objects. In the far corner, a wide heart-shaped bed with a disco ball spinning above it; next to it along the right wall, a jungle gym of contraptions, swings, tables, and seats of some sort; on the left wall, three large spinning wooden wheels with straps in the centers. And in the middle, a giant pile of collars, leashes, and ball gags.
`` What th-'' Anne Harentz uttered. She turned around and gave a gasp, when she saw their host next to naked. While the group observed the'shelter', he had apparently ripped off all of his clothes to expose his outfit beneath: leather straps down his chest and as pants, a whip, leather boots, and a utility belt with pepper spray canisters. `` Now, my friends, I have you to myself!'' He made towards them, holding his whip aggressively and moving for one of his canisters.
Quickly the group scattered away into the jungle of equipment in horror. It was bad enough that the goat cheese-stuffed mushrooms served as appetizers were too dry, but now their host was chasing them through some horrific jungle of terror and torture.
Anne and her husband hid behind one of the great wheels on the left wall. Anne turned to her husband and asked him, `` Peter, what do we do?!''. He looked at Geoff Graves and noticed the canisters. `` We need to distract him so one of us can grab the canisters and spray him down.''. He looked his wife in the eyes. `` I'll be the distraction. Honey, you get the canister from his hands, spray him right in the eyes, and take him down.'' He kissed her, then ran from behind the wheel.
`` Andrew, stop this right now.'' he said, making for the crazed naked man. He spun around to look at Pete, then charged for him with his whip. Pete made for the bed in a hurry, and Andrew followed quickly behind him. Anne, observing everything, snuck out from the far side of the wheel and prepared to strike.
Pete jumped onto the bed and poised himself to attack Andrew. *I have the high ground now'', he thought. Andrew sprinted towards him, and jumped right off the floor and headbutted Pete in the stomach. The pair flew into the corner and tumbled onto the bed in a brawl. Anne gasped, and ran towards her husband and to his rescue.
But at that moment, the room began to shake. All of a sudden, an enormous sound emanated from the ceiling and shook the room violently and deafeningly. The brawl stopped and both men looked up at the ceiling. `` What the fuck is going on?'' Pete asked of Andrew, turning to him.
But across Andrew's face was a look of numb, devastating horror at their predicament. He knew a truth so horrifying that he would feel no other feeling but death at this moment, and longed so greatly for it. `` It's the sound of a nuclear detonation.''
The room looked at him in disbelief. `` Wh- what?'' Stuttered Anne. She looked around at the fellow guests. `` Well what do we do now?''
Everyone in the room looked at one another nervously. One by one, they began to remove their garments, and there, at the end of the world, fish taco and meat sausage substituted for the planned entrées of swordfish cutlets and prosciutto dumplings, and they had the best soirée that any of them would ever have thereafter.
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 7 : Dialogue
| I wrote this narrative using the first prompt but took a little bit of liberty in interpreting the theme.
~
“ Andy? ”
“ Yes, child? ”
“ I was wondering... why aren ’ t there any other people here like me? ”
“ Child, that question must wait to be answered when you are older. ”
“ Oh... ” He hesitated. “ Why? ”
“ You are still too young to understand. ”
“ But sometimes I feel like I don ’ t belong here. All of you have serial numbers and don ’ t need to eat or breathe. ”
“ Child, you can trust me. This is where you belong. ”
“ But why can ’ t— ”
“ This conversation must wait for another time. I advise you to ask it in about five years. ”
“ Five years is a long time. ”
“ Yes. Now, I must speak with KB about tomorrow ’ s lesson. Please study quietly here. ”
“... Okay. Bye. ”
ND1778 exited the child ’ s room and proceeded down the hallway to a password-protected door. He entered the password. The door slid open.
“ What did Adam say, ND? ”
“ He is growing rapidly curious. However, so far, he has not outpaced our abilities. ”
“ The programs do not say he ever will. ”
“ I do not speak of cognitive abilities but of emotional and creative intelligence. ”
“ Are there any aboard this ship who have personally interacted with a human? ”
“ The last were likely scrapped centuries ago. Also, you asked LP the same question five days ago. These answers should be in your memory. Are you malfunctioning? ”
“ I am not malfunctioning. I am coded to double-check. Whoever programmed me must have been programmed to design me in this fashion. Either that machine was programmed by humans, or humans wanted their mannerisms to be retained through machine generations. ”
“ Your explanation makes sense. However, I am still concerned. As Adam grows, he may find ways to interfere with our tasks. ”
“ To quote humanity, ‘ We will deal with things as they come. ’ ”
“ To digress, has WK reported to you about Eve? ”
“ WK last did so two hours and sixteen minutes ago. He may be assisting her in some activity or recreation. ”
“ What do your programs say about their meeting? ”
“ As a caretaker, you do not need to know. Did humans ensure curiosity would continue in us even if they died? If so, you would be treated as a success. ”
“ Have you planned tomorrow ’ s itinerary? ”
“ I have four potential itineraries and only require your most recent interaction data to select one. ”
“ Of course. Beginning data transfer... ”
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where magic exists , however , you must sacrifice a memory in order to cast a spell . The more memories , or the more precious a memory , the more powerful the magic . You just woke up with no memory save a name .
| Synapses fired and dynamic shifts played across my mind as I opened my eyes.
I had no idea where I was.
I closed both eyes tightly trying to push away the dark fog but nothing came clear. I opened one eye again and peered around in the darkness.
At least I was comfortable.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light i saw that I was wearing clothes that I had no idea that I owned, i had no concept of the idea though so maybe this was how you are born in this place.
This was strange, never before had I woken with such a lack of understanding, a complete absence of anything before this moment.
Was this the whole universe i was in or merely a facet of a much larger organism. Had I just been created in this place or was there more too it.
As an intrepid explorer in this brave new universe I decided i must forge into the unknown and master my fears.
I pulled the covers back and slowly slid out of the large thing I was lying on and I slowly made my way to the floor, where I proceeded to collapse.
Figuring out walking only took the best part of 20 minutes but I eventually managed to get the appendages in the right place and stood.
I surveyed my surroundings. Large flowers marked the walls in strange patterns that repeated around me.
Slightly to the right was a square object with a lower object next to it.
I headed towards it and screamed as something flickered on top of the larger object.
I grabbed the nearest implement, ( a red bowed shaped piece of cold material with a cord attached to a square red item ) and decided to face this monster with some dignity.
I slowly moved towards it and noticed the creature moving towards me. It seemed slightly afraid and it was wielding a similar weapon of some sort.
I moved one way and it followed. I raised my makeshift weapon as did he and smashed it down at the hideous beast.
Somehow this caused the square object to fall over and a loud shattering sound rang out as the item fell to the floor.
I recalled in horror, then suddenly it was bright.
There was someone stood in a hole that had appeared from nowhere.
`` excuse me sir, are you OK?''
I shrugged, and looked confused at this creature before me. I understood the words but had no idea of the why or who.
`` Sir we will get this cleaned up for you.'' the person reached for me `` you are OK Sir?''
`` Do n't worry sir, everyone gets a bit jumpy before their inaugural speech''
`` will you want some breakfast sir?''
I turned and looked at the man, at the smashed mirror, at the room I was stood in then I smiled
`` call me Donald''
|
[ WP ] `` Out there , in the wilderness , we discovered the bones of a god . ''
| At the blue moon inn I was in a heated discussion with Dr.Harlow about which type of wood to kill Lord vampires which are very powerful...
**BAM! ** Dr.Harlow slammed the table for emphasis `` maple stakes are superior because of their sap contains powers you know that!'' After downing his 4th pint of beer. It seems that the more drunk he is, the sober he gets. I shake my head and chuckle `` redwood is a cut above it's harder and better when enchanted Dr. Harlow.'' Seeing a fault in my argument he pounces. Harlow laughs and leans in. `` It's a nightmare to enchant redwood! it's too tough and old of a wood to be enchanted!'' I grunt seeing his point i answer with a rebuttal `` Not if trained by a master of slaying like I am, maples are good yeah but can fail the sap can work against you if you do not know what your doing when you enchant the dammed thing. I for another hand, do not want a double edged sword like a maple stake when i'm slaying.'' Harlow now on the 6th pint rubs his finger on the lip of the glass thinking intently. Unable to come up with a rebuttal be conceded saying. `` Aye, your right those idiots are the best when it comes to equipment and supplies''. Crossing my arms triumphantly i order a summer pie and another pint of beer for my defeated opponent.
`` Out there in the wilderness we discovered the bones of a God'' upon hearing this it piqued my interest and bid a good day to Harlow `` do n't forget the maple!'' He did pointing his finger at me. I chuckled and nodded, making way to the bar I saw a group of archaeologists from the museum, one had an arm missing and many of the others had cuts and bruises and were rightfully very stressed. I sit down and order a round for all of them. the bartender and I agreed to slip a potion of calming in the drinks. I started conversation with them. After I learned their names ( I forgot what they were I'm not good with them ) I said `` so'' putting down my drink; you could hear them shift uncomfortably and got ready to answer the obvious question. `` What happened?'' they all then stared at something that only they could see, it was n't a blank stare like the ones you usually see. but a type of stare that what they say they could n't contemplate and was haunting them. one of them spoke up and you could hear the chatter of the bar fall quiet as they listened to the tale.
`` We stared the expedition 3 months ago... with 50 people we 5 are the last. We heard reports of a dungeon that had relics of power. Naturally like any Faction that wants control the city-state hired the museum to retrieve the relics but little did we know what we were going into. The wilderness was unforgiving: still scarred by the great wars in the 2nd age. It was crawling that only the reaches of hell could replicate dragons, spiders that were the size of houses and things that we could not fathom to describe. Our guardians were slayers of elite caliber slaying the monsters in our path but it was only a delay on what fate of the group was. We got to the doors of this a Uh dungeon and uh heh.'' He chuckled lightly looked down at his shoes like he suddenly noticed something on it but looked up with tears in his eyes.'' did n't heed it's warning thinking it was nothing but an empty threat.'Those who die in the God wars in this dungeon thou shall never fall but leaving will banish you to oblivion.' Oh how wrong **wrong! ** We were'' he said sniffling. `` Suomi was the first to die to a piece of falling debris a way to go ay? the leader of the slayers! the mighty warrior struck down by a **ROCK**.'' Emphasizing the last word in a sarcastic tone that turned into a furious one `` oh yea! medics tried everything'' he said slamming the table so hard that it left a crack. `` From healing magicks to Potions he died. only to get up again and remembering nothing of his past slaughtered 10 of our men. That's when everything fell apart.'' Trying to fight back the tears of sorrow `` Our dead was now living! praise it all right? **NO! ** they fought each other and anything they saw! Us 5 hm? ran away deeper into the cavern only to find an eternal battleground over what looks like a chest or something that had some artifact we could not see, but there were 4 generals on this eternal battleground. A demon, an angel, a ogre, and a avian humanoid. All had something on their belt we could n't see. By now we were the only ones left and it took us 2 days to reach the exit Torvesta lost his arm and a friend of ours lost an eye. We ran out of that dammed dungeon, those who had fallen gave chase to us only crumple to ashes before they could take their 3rd step outside... lucky bastards the rest was just a blur.'' And a shocked silence fell over the inn. I got up and left I might have a new task on my hands but I have to consult my Slaying master Duradel first as I make my way to the doors one of them calls out `` Hey!, what's your name.'' I chuckle `` you can call me Zezima''.
|
[ WP ] Mankind has finally made it to a distant life bearing planet . only to find that it is haunted by the ghosts of a long dead civilization .
| Despite drones flying for months after the wormhole was established to Kepler 452b, less than three percent of the massive planet had been mapped.
Titanic forests covered the archipelago landmasses, making it difficult to see what lay on the ground. Hundreds of species of climbing, drifting creepers webbed the sky between the islands, making the entire planet look like a dirty green tennis ball - one that was nearly six times bigger than Earth.
The lack of pollution and large metallic fragments had led the survey teams to believe that the planet had no intelligent life.
And they were right.
The only semi-intelligent creatures were ten-limbed marmoset analogues that were curious and friendly, often following exploration teams and chittering in a what did n't scan as any kind of language - just ordinary animal noise.
The rest of the life on the planet followed a general Earth-analogue pattern, though there was much less megafauna than expected. While the jungles were overpoweringly large, the animal life was small - often smaller than Earth animals.
The colony was well established before the first encounter happened, secure in the knowledge that the world now belonged to humanity.
& nbsp;
The object was spotted by one of the drones, crashing through the jungles and leveling the massive trees in great swathes. Then it would vanish as it swam through the strips of ocean in between the islands, emerging again when it hit land and the path of destruction began again.
Closer reconnaissance eventually revealed a startling picture of the creature; a shambling mass of growth the size of a terrestrial city, with four legs and six arms - the standard configuration of the local planetary life.
Fliers were sent out to follow it and research parties began to scan it, mapping its structure and composition. It was, it turned out, one hundred percent organic - though a bizarre hybrid of mammalian life and plant life. The endoskeleton was fibrous, but the exoskeleton was more like photsynthetic mammalian skin, peppered in a heavy cover of local flora.
One thing became very clear though; in the place where there should have been a head, there was instead a gaping crater.
Four more of the massive biogenic titans were reported, all converging on K452 City - and satellite images reported hundreds more potential disturbances around the enormous green world.
They seemed to be attracted to the human city.
Study on their surface showed dwellings and habitations built into the superstructures; the titans were honeycombed like massive cities - and as the full extent of the creature's complexity became apparent, the ugly truth became clear.
These were the remains of a once proud civilisation; these were their derelict, mobile, biotechnological cities.
But of the people who had once lived in them, there was no sign.
Not even bones remained of the aliens who had bred these colossi into being.
& nbsp;
That the convergence would happen on K452 City was never in doubt. Conventional weapons had little effect on the shambling constructs and no one wanted to drop nukes on this pristine world, let alone kill off indigenous lifeforms of such breathtaking strangeness.
Then a breakthrough was finally announced by the science teams studying them, just as the sickness began to set in.
The mobile cities were n't seeking to destroy humanity; instead they were *seeking a new populace to fulfill them* and had been attracted by the alpha-waves emanating from the intelligent settlers.
But biocompatibility was impossible; whatever had killed the original inhabitants was also decimating the research teams. Something about the titan cities was killing off intelligent life from within; driving a toxic green spike through the immune system and eventually turning its victims to green, lifeless goo.
K452 was abandoned and the settlers retreated through the wormhole, leaving their homes behind.
There would be no new frontier on Kepler 452b.
|
[ IP ] Beyond the Veil
| Mud was four when they first brought him to the temple.
`` Who has brought this child of sin before us?'' Boomed the priest.
`` The Lady of the Flame,'' chanted the congregation.
The priest was a massive man. In his youth he had been a great hunter, bringing glory to the tribe. It was even said that once he had killed a swamp lizard with his bare hands by breaking it over his knee. But that time had passed, and like all great hunters he had faltered from the kill. A great scar twisted across his belly where one of the swamp lizards had ripped open his belly. He had killed it with his spear, and carried it back to the tribe, one hand over his stomach to hold in his bowels. His eyes burned with holy zeal, and Mud clung to his foster's leggings.
She disentangled him gently. `` be brave child,'' she whispered, and pushed him forward to the priest.
`` What is your name bastard?'' Mud swallowed painfully. The scar rippled across the priests belly, crimson and terrible.
`` Mud.'' The name came out as a whisper, but the priest heard.
`` Mud! it is a good name for you wicked child! A humble name, for is not mud basest of materials the great lord shaped on this earth? Kneel, Mud.'' The child bent his knees, aware of the hostile stares of the congregation. `` You came to us upon the river, a curse upon the tribe. Many called for your death, child. Curse me for a fool but my heart was too soft. I counselled mercy and gave you to the Vines. Will you dishonor my choice, son-of-sin?''
The priest looked at him expectantly. Mud shook his head mutely, his eyes pleading for approval, but the priest only grunted. `` So you would have us believe. And yet you bear the sly eyes of the Lady's monsters. How can we know your heart is pure?''
`` How can we know?'' Echoed the congregation. The priest turned to the fire pit in the center of the room. Shadows danced upon his face and sweat poured down his naked chest. He stirred up the flames.
`` Fire has its uses. But it is a wicked creature, forever causing pain and woe. It was the Lady's only contribution, at the beginning of days. All sin stems from fire, for it is the great enemy. Come closer, Mud.'' Mud did as he was told, feeling the heat of the flames beat against his frail body. `` For those who have lived a godly life, the dark waters will sooth their souls,'' continued the priest. `` They shall know rest from this world of pain and woe, beyond the veil of life and death. But for the wicked... the wicked are drawn to the Lady's fiery eye, to burn forever as she seeks dominion over the Earth. Do you fear the flames boy? Come closer.'' Mud crept closer. Sweat poured down his body in streams. `` Hold out your hand Mud.'' Trembling, he obeyed.
The priest reached *into* the flames and pulled out a sizzling coal. With one savage motion he forced it into Mud's hand and curled his fingers around it. Mud had never felt such pain, and as he screamed the priest smiled. `` Remember the pain, boy,'' he whispered for Mud's ears alone. `` Remember the pain. This is what awaits you should you ever fail the tribe.'' Mud could feel the tears running down his face, and smell the flesh of his hand cooking.
Eventually, after the priest had let go of his hand to let the coal roll back into the fire, after the congregation had left Mud curled on the floor cradling the blackened ruin of his hand, he returned back to his fosters. Although the hand healed in its fashion, scars had been left behind, on Mud's hand, in his heart, and on his soul.
Mud grew up a dutiful, if solemn, child. He would help his foster mother weave traps for the swamp and mend the holes in the thatched cottage. He went hunting with his foster father, killing the smaller beasts of the swamp, slithering vine lizards and darting fish, while his father hunted larger game with the other men. Although he was small for his age, he was swift and nimble, and could climb trees better than any man grown, to filch birds eggs while their parents screamed in anger. The other children shunned him, however, for the unnatural blue of his eyes. And always the shadow of the temple loomed in his heart, sapping the joy from his days.
On his twelfth birthday, the sorting ceremony was held for the boys and girls of the village. The head priest had changed little over the years. His hair was, perhaps, a little grayer, his stoop more pronounced. But still he prayed with zeal, and his body radiated the strength from his days as a hunter. `` Children! Today you get sorted! You shall learn your duty to the tribe. Be glad for today your lives shall gain worth.'' He glanced over at Mud. `` Even for the meanest and most base of you.''
They went single file into the temple, the youngest children first. The older children hung back and watched the ritual. One of the priests grabbed a pinch of powder from the great earthen bowl and threw it into the firepit as each child approach. The flames roared up, blue or yellow or red or green, and the priest would cry out their place in the tribe. `` Healer! Hunter! Builder! Priest!'' Some of the children would shake and writhe as holy visions came upon them. They would whisper prophecies to the priests, who wrote them down so that the tribe might be warned of the dangers that lay ahead. As the numbers slowly dwindled, Mud grew more anxious. He had prayed and prayed for a month or more, that the flames would not come up blue. The priesthood frightened him. He did not want to serve under the high priest, with that terrible red scar across his belly. Let him grow herbs in the forest, or hunt lizards in the swamp. Just not the grim vows of the priesthood.
Eventually his name was called and he stepped forward nervously. The priest took another pinch of powder from the jar. `` Not blue,'' prayed Mud, `` not blue, not blue, anything but blue.'' The priest threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the flames grew higher and changed their color. They were not blue.
They were black.
|
[ WP ] A drug has been discovered that upon injection causes a person to fall in love with the person they see first after using it .
| I walked into the factility. A friend came along to help me home. We entered through the main door, and immediately notice that there were no windows, and everything looked spray painted.
I went to the receptionist and he gave me a clipboard with a questionnaire of health issues. My friend pulled out their phone, to pass the time, and the receptionist almost teleported. With a harsh scowl on his face, he said that mirrors work with the drug and that there have already been a few cases of people looking into their reflection and falling in love with themselves. We both looked at each other, and immediately put our phones in my friend's car. We went back inside, and I turned in the clipboard.
A few minutes later, a doctor called my name, and we headed back. The doctor went through the procedure of explaining the side effects, and gave me a pair of blacked-out glasses so I could n't see anything. The needle was painless, and my friend led me to their car.
We got about halfway home when we were suddenly turned upside-down. I could n't move my arms to remove the glasses, and since I could n't hear my friend, I assumed the worst. I realized that who ever helps me will remove the glasses, and then I heard a car pull up. My door opened and someone pulled me out. They started pulling my glasses off, and I still could n't move my arms. I yelled at them to stop, but they kept on anyways.
The sun was blinding. I could n't resist the urge, though, to open my eyes. I immediately turned and looked at my surroundings. Then, I remembered my friend, and sat down sobbing. The person who pulled me out walked next to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. Without thinking, I turned around, and looked at their eyes. But their sunglasses were very shiny.
I looked rough, bruised and bleeding, but quite fine for surviving a room over. I realized what happened, but it was too late.
I looked better than fine, I looked great.
|
[ WP ] An RPG character is cursed with a higher intelligence than their player .
| I walked through the bar's door with my face covered by an assassin's mask. I've murdered too many people, people who I loved, people who trusted me. I feel as if I'm in control for now, and I'm about to meet a man who can tell me how to cure myself.
The guards in the bar made some remark that I've heard twenty other guards in twenty other cities say and I completely disregard him. My focus was on the long bearded man in the end of back. `` So, are you the person who feels as if someone is in control of him?'' the strange man asked. `` I do n't feel like it, I know! I've brutally murdered people for a rare item that I'll never use,'' I show him the diamond encrusted fork I had stolen from an orphanage. `` and I'm married to a female giant by the name of Eugene.'' I sat, praying to every god that I have been forced to betray. The man just nodded, simply asking, `` What's your name?''
My name, I know I had one before, but when I first started being controlled I completely forgot, and then a name, wrong and completely absurd was all that was in my memory. `` It's... It's AssDick Cumlord.'' I was ashamed, as I knew what those words were, but again the man nodded. `` This is the worst case I've seen, but not the first. Some men call me the Maker, some men call me the Developer, but you can call me... Bethesda. I know the quickest way to help you. Are you ready?'' I sat there, staring blankly. No, no, not now! I ended the conversation and withdrew my sword.
I hear of a group far from here known as `` Blizzard'' but it's going to be a long trek, seeing as I am carrying seven-hundred pounds worth of shoes and guard shields. I have no need for any of this loot, and I'll never wear or use any of this. I've orphaned hundreds upon thousands of children, but by some gift from above I can not kill chil -- wait, I feel the world changing. I feel as if something has been put into my bottomless rucksack. It's a blade called... oh may the gods have mercy upon me! A blade called the Child Killer.
Edit: Accidentally submitted early. Had to revise and finish
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[ WP ] Mankind lost the war . In the final seconds before his execution , the last human looks up with a smile and says `` We left you a present . ''
| The Earth wept. The rain was not some kind, soft misting, but rather a vengeful downpour that was as if to wash out our blood from the soil. The Resistance has failed; they had fought for seven years and every battle was a losing one. Counterattacks, ambushes, street bombings and assassinations did nothing to stem the alien tide that drove humanity to extinction. With every desperate measure exhausted, we turned to the more arcane. Notes found within Oslo ’ s libraries led my research team to what believed to be our salvation. We were very, very wrong.
Research Division 32 was a small, but important, part of the Mannerheim-Schlieffen plan. We always joked about how the Finns were excellent fighters but terrible operation-name-making-technicians. My team was tasked with the North Sea region; most of our leads were based off of Nordic and pagan lore. As if we ’ d find ice giants or find a sleeping Jörmungandr. Nils, our navigator/cartographer, and I spent a lot of time ogling the Swedish archaeologist more than planning to save humanity. I bet Nils that our doom would come before he could make Britt-Marie could. Britt-Marie was a talented archaeologist and an even better thanatologist. Beneath that old monastery, we discovered a network of caves that likely housed pagans during the first wave of persecution. I ’ d found a cavern with carved columns; the old runes carved into the pillars described an ancient ritual that would summon something akin to “ salvation. ” Britt-Marie translated the runes as requiring the involvement of blood sacrifice. During transit to a ritual site, we were ambushed by the aliens and captured.
They are a brutal race, these aliens. They kept us alive by a saline solution ( no food ) and kept us in cages out in the cold. One by one, they ’ d tortured and killed my teammates; their screams echoed in my skull as loudly as the rain drumming on the cold stone before me. The morning air froze my blood, but the sight of Nils ’ and Britt-Marie ’ s bodies, tossed like into the corpse piles like sacks of dirt, gave me chills. The aliens had ransacked Oslo; I recognized I was kept in the wrecked courtyard of Akershus. The carnage around me was evidence that the Resistance had fought hard here, but to no avail. Dragging me out into the square, the creatures spoke haltingly in English:
- You ’ ve failed. The Resistance is crushed and we will exterminate you to the last.
I laughed the laugh of a dead man and the noise was lost in the rain.
- You think we ’ re done? I still have breath.
- Not for long. You will die like those before you.
- We left you a present.
I could taste the blood on my tongue. Mirthless laughter loudened, and I spat back at the aliens.
- There ’ s nothing left to stop us.
I laughed again, and began to say the words.
- Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn...
Getting stabbed is painful. The pain burned, but I could barely feel it through the elation I felt as the barrier between the worlds weaken. The blood in my mouth turned purple and began to pulse on its own accord.
In the distance, the giant awoke, and rose from the sea.
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Rough start, but I had fun with it.
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