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[ WP ] A man discovers a magic lamp that contains a genie . He successfully summons it and is granted three wishes . The genie is old and hard of hearing .
| `` What are you doing there sunny you know I ca n't hear very well. Oh you wrote a message for me. Just let me get my glasses on, you know the wife always nags me to wear my glasses but they hurt my nose after acouple mintues and I keep forgetting to go the eye doctor. Anyway here they are. What does that say'I wish you had the full use of your senses.' I can hear and see. Dear god and the heavens above you are one ugly bastard. You look like elephant tap danced on your face. Not even a mother could love that face. Any way did I tell you about the procedure I had done.? well...''
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[ WP ] Reincarnation is not mandatory , but fresh souls are a finite resource . You are part of the team trying to convince the deceased that they should reincarnate .
| `` Room 28E2, sir.'' Anne said as we exited the elevator.
We paced down the sterile-white hallways, turning several times and passing many doors before reaching our destination. 28E2 was attached above the door in black plastic letters.
`` His name is John.'' she said.
The door slid open as I approached it, and closed as I entered the room. There was a large glass tube linking the floor to the ceiling, filled with glowing pale green gas, the only light source in the room. I approached it and put my hand onto the glass as Anne observed.
`` Hello, John.''
The gas swirled to life, forming the shape of a man, features defined through thicker conentrations of gas at certain areas. I looked at the subject's picture on his files, and he looked as he did in life, though green and translucent.
`` Hello.''
`` I'm here to ask you to reincarnate your soul into another body.''
`` Why?''
`` Because we've discovered that souls are a finite resource, and we need to start recycling them to prolong humanity.'' I responded. I started to look through his files.
`` But I want to pass on.''
I ignored him and read a bit more into his files.
`` I can see that, since you've lived through a life of poverty, depression, and killed yourself, but I ask you to reconsider.''
He was silent.
`` Your wo n't keep your memories after reincarnating.''
Still silent.
`` I'll put you into a rich family.''
`` Fine.'' he finally said.
`` Good choice, and good luck.'' I said simply, pressing the white button at the base of the tube. The tube started glowing brighter and brighter, then he was gone.
`` Alright, where's the next one?'' I asked as we stepped back into the white.
My first prompt, so I kept it simple.
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[ IP ] The Hero we need
| Lava splashes like water from an overflowing river. The ground below shakes and shivers with intensity that sends vibrations up the legs of my steed and causes my fists to shiver on the leather slack. It's a miracle that we made it this far into the depths of hell. `` Show yourself!'' I scream.
The smoke curls away. A Devil sits on a stone throne as tall as a mountain, his height enough to dwarf a thousand men. He surveys us with eyes of pure white and a sharp toothed grin. `` Why send a man to play in the realm of Immortals?''
Because you fear men with good reason, it's why you seek to control them. `` I am Sardah, a man from a country with temperatures much like your Kingdom.''
The devil cackles a sharp chorus of laughs that slash hot whips of breath across my chest. The skin is raw when he is quiet again. I do n't balk at the show of power, we've come this far. `` You're a fool if you turn me away, not a real Devil,'' I say.
`` Watch your tongue... human. I could take your life with a whisper.''
But you do not, because you are bored. Sitting here each day for a thousand years with nothing but hell hounds and ghouls to keep him company would be about as interesting as watching rock melt. Any other argument was simply nonsense.
`` You hate it, though, watching your skin grow redder each day as the world keeps evolving?''
His brows knot with fury. `` You climbed the underworld mountain for a reason. Out with it.''
I came here because like you I am bored.
`` I can offer you a vessel into the real world. A means to get back what you have lost.''
For years I watched my people suffer. Terrorists, criminals, simple bodies that are there to absorb gunfire and bomb shells. If the opposition has the hand of God then we will use whatever hand comes our way.
The Devil's grin is a child's smile, one with excitement and mischief. `` Your heart is filled with hate, human. We are n't so different.''
And finally he understands.
`` I wish for you to make a name for my people again, to fight back against those who oppress us.''
Red pupils came to the surface of his eyes. A gaze filled with understanding and with a thousand lifetimes of pain. `` Submerge yourself in the lava, become one with my kingdom. I'll give you what you seek.''
While every inch of my being pleaded no, my heart's message rang true. I swung off my horse and thanked her for the trip, before stripping and taking a step forth into the molten liquid.
It did n't burn as I expected, there was no sting, not even a sizzle or stench of burning flesh. I drifted down to my chin before meeting his eyes once more.
`` You will be the hero your people need.''
I closed my eyes and sunk. To die a hero was with more than a lifetime as an enemy of the state.
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[ WP ] A reporter struggles to stay relevant in a world where AI gossip writers can predict every scandal with a 99 % success rate .
| A successful reporter needs three things;
Facts.
Networks.
Deadlines.
I threw back another shot of scotch. Not the synthetic shit, but *real* stuff, imported from Edinburgh. Chief Bret wanted to mark my 10 years with the Boston Globe, and knew just how to do it. I promised to save it for a special occasion.
I poured another glass. It sat on rotting paper that littered on my desk like dead leaves. Black veins tore through each of them, hundreds of cumulative hours of notes... *wasted. * At first, I did n't understand. My facts were correct. Always. My networks were reliable. I honored my deadlines. They kept me honest. I'm a good reporter, for a human. Just not a successful one anymore.
A shatter. Did n't even realize the shot glass slipped from my numb fingers. It broke the silence, but my rage -- - I graduated from *Emerson* damnit! How could I compete against cans for the first scoop? By the time my editor was CQ'ing my leads and numbers, four screen tabloids were pushing every major site with *my* stories.
*'' Governor's daughter charged with hype trafficking. `` *
*'' National Rocket League champion resigns over loss of demo'ed teammate. `` *
*'' Rare cyberwhale rescued by renown webologist Shetzer. `` *
That last one was my big feature. My Pulitzer opportunity, gone. A two month story, and I was so close...
Expensive scotch fell down my throat straight from the bottle. This was my special occasion going down the drain. If it would numb the embarrassment, the shame... if it could only take me down a different path. No amount of alcohol, *real* alcohol changed my mind.
*'' Ya need to get me a story Frank, or I'm gon na have to let ya go. Sorry pal...'' *
`` Do n't say it Reese,'' I cried.
*''... it's just business. The cans got ya beat. `` *
My fists ached, slammed against the table. My jaw ached, threatening to break teeth. Broken glass coated the floor by my chair. And he called me *pal*. That smiley git looked for any excuse to fire human reporters. Hell, he was the least human of us! Thoughts racing, my mind was no less numb than my throat was in the editor's room once I was done bawling.
How could I compete against cans for the first scoop?
If the scotch could only have taken me down a different path.
If only...
*'' Rare cyberwhale...'' *
Her name was Julia. The cans did n't even report the whale's name.
No, this decision made sense. Not the synthetic kind of sense the cans used to ruin my profession. My integrity. Reese was getting his story. I scrambled across the desk, pocketing my notepad, pens, techpad and revolver.
The revolver was new.
*'' Ya need to get me a story Frank,'' * that dumpy editor told me.
`` Oh I'll get you a story Reese,'' I whispered out the door. Even got it all down on my techpad in advance;
The facts.
*'' Boston Globe editor found dead in apartment! `` *
The networks.
I know the killer. Quite personally.
And most importantly.
The deadline.
This story would be live on my blog the moment it happened. Already wrote it out an hour ago. The cans would n't beat me to this one. Not again. The interview needed work, but one round of questions was all I could get time for. The rest of it, I spent drinking for an excuse. So much for self-editing.
Staggering across the apartment, I took in the room one last time. The sty. The human filth that I lived with. In that moment, a gust slid through the crack of my window. It blew away the paper off my desk. My notes. My hundreds of hours. Blown away to clear the mess.
`` Sorry,'' I said. `` It's too late to start fresh.''
The door clicked behind me.
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[ WP ] Everyone who dies reincarnates in Tier 2 universe . People there have all memories from the previous lives , and they suspect there are more Tiers . People live really differently there compared to Tier 1 .
| At first I thought this was heaven. Tier 2, we call it. Name does n't make as much sense as it used to, though. You die, you show up here. Another shot at everything, with all your memories. All those thoughts of `` If only I'd known that as a teenager,'' well *poof*.
It's hard to adjust to the babies, your first go around. People in Tier 1 like to say babies are tiny drunk adults, as if that makes them cuter. But let me tell you, when you're born in T2, it's not fucking cute. First off you remember… just, way too much. And then you're sitting there, shitting and pissing yourself, while you debate with `` momma'' over the various philosophical merits of nihilism vs. humanism. Pro tip: that's a conversation that's good to wait at least a few days after popping out of her to talk to good ole mum about. At least you can tell her to lay off the peas. I never did like those green little balls of shit.
The trick is how to figure out passage to Tier 3. It can be done. Well, *I* believe it can be done. And it's got ta be better than this. Thought is the Tiers must have been set up as a progression. You start in T1, make a bunch of mistakes, you die. Now in T2, you make fewer mistakes, things are a bit better, you die. T3, T4, T5… better, and better, all the way up. Consensus is you get up to Tier 10, but me, I think it goes to Tier 11. That way you get 10 tries.
At least, that's how we think it's supposed to work. I mean, people have to go *somewhere*. It's not like there are a bunch of Romans wandering around the world… But we lost the trick somehow. Dying now is like hitting a reset button, with memories intact. *Everyone* who dies ends up back in T2. We're all stuck.
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[ WP ] Gravity is slowly disappearing and nobody knows why . Describe the days coming up to its total disappearance .
| The world was floating.
Not the planet, but the people. First it started with being able to jump a bit higher and throw a ball a little further. Rainy storms meant drops of water floated down to the earth like molasses, slowly trickling down from the clouds that were becoming increasingly closer the ground.
It was assumed that this was gravitational disturbance was caused by the passing of planet-sized asteroid and everything would go back to normal once it disappeared into the cosmos for the next five-thousand years.
The asteroid passed earth a month ago, and everything has fallen apart. After the initial enjoyment wore off, people began to grow irritated. Everything had to be tied down and put in boxes or cupboards or it would float away. People had to `` swim'' to work, although some cities lined the streets with ropes so they could swing and pull themselves instead. Physical money was all together impossible and pointless, it was n't worth the risk of losing it in a `` gravitational rift'' - what scientists were calling it when the gravity suddenly caused air-quakes ( a violent shaking of the sky, often making breathing near impossible ) that were becoming more common as time passed.
Then the real complications arose; first it was the loss of thousands of vital species in the ecosystem. Bugs, mostly, that did not have the ability or strength to hide from the messed up gravity. They were all stuck in the sky like a huge black cloud of soot. They could not fly or crawl away, but it appeared that they had a new habitat in the sky as the cloud grew increasingly bigger and bigger, only breaking apart during a quake or storm.
People were told to move to high ground, although it was believed that the worse of the tsnaumis were over once the asteroid had passed the moon weeks before, scientists feared that more were to come. Moving to higher ground did nothing to protect anyone from the floating tsunamis. Some people moved back to lower ground, and were forced to watch in horror and amazement as the ocean covered the sky above and stopped only when met with mountains. The floating tsunamis toppled buildings right through the middle, but the debris all floated away with the angry tide.
For awhile, the world was able to live flipped upside down: we now lived between a layer of water and above it was the ever-expanding cloud of wild life that had n't escaped the initial waves of gravity rifts. People believed that up there, they existed just as happily as we did down here, if not a bit more difficulty: birds still hunted bugs, mated etc.
There were, of course, other difficulties that came from the asteroid. Fresh food was hard, but not all together impossible, to come by as all the dirt floated directly beneath the ocean. Being modern times, however, most countries had indoor farms.
Even through all the chaos and death that was happening all around, man found a way to keep entertained, and `` sky fishing'' was born: one would tie himself to a rope and float up into the ocean, through the dirt and debris, and in only goggles ( wearing scuba gear would prove deadly, so one would need to hold their breath for some time ) would try their hand at catching fish with large nets. This was done in teams, usually, to make the trips faster. It was fun and usually no one got hurt. There were a few rumours of people being attacked by sharks and the people below pulling down ropes to find half the body missing.
Despite the dangers, it was all in good fun and became rather popular as the gravity situation became worse and floating became a way of life.
Several months after the first day that gravity was destroyed, it reversed itself abruptly and without warning. It did not go back to how it was, but instead it seemed to double. Everything began to break apart, slowly and then all at once buildings crashed to the naked earth.
It was panic and terror, which was only worsened once it began to rain.
The sky was falling - no, the sea was falling.
Those lucky enough to have not been miles in the air sky-fishing only to fall to the earth with the force of one-thousand trains going full speed were the lucky ones. Although their deaths were brutal, they were quick.
Down below, water fell harder and harder by the hour and it was impossible to move. Some people died just by being crushed so badly by the reversal in gravity, and they were still considered lucky.
The ones who suffered, who REALLY suffered, were the people who were stuck below unable to move and still alive when the world turned into a fishbowl.
They were crushed by tonnes of water being pushed down by doubled gravity, and even if they were somehow spared death by crushing, they drowned.
The world was over just as violently as it had begun.
However, some species managed to survive. Large sea creatures, such as whales and sharks, were saved from the wreckage simply because they were still in the bellies of their mothers when everything fell apart. They were protected from the devastation, and other than a few bugs ( cockroaches never die ) were the only creatures to inhabit the planet was covered by almost only water.
Only them, and of course me: the only human left, spared because I was in space filming the asteroid for NASA when everything fell apart.
-- - Okay sorry it's shitty, it's three in the morning and I am sort of out it. The ending was just inspired because of the `` image prompt'' that is `` HELP'' - an alien helping out an astronaut.
Anyway, cheers.
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[ WP ] You 've been granted god-like powers under the condition that you must do as much evil as you do good .
| Good. Evil.
These were the words inscribed on the token of godhood- a simple copper coin with one word inscribed on either side. I sat on the park bench staring apprehensively at the coin in my hand, mind racing, trying to figure anything- everything- out. An old, tired-looking fellow had walked up to me, smiled wanly, and slipped the coin into my hand. When I looked questioningly back up at him, those old grayed eyes stared back with pity. `` Its yours, now. Maybe you can do more than me.''
I've always been one for balance. I always got'true neutral' or whatever on those online tests all my friends took. I've always been one to judge on the merits of the situation alone- but I never thought of something like this. I felt the electric surge, that feeling of ultimate power, but I doubted it. I doubted the words on the coin, the implication held there, warm inside my ice-cold grip.
So, doubting, I tried it. Just something simple. A cat, hit by a car on the road nearby- tears streaming down the poor kids face. Just a small act to help him; just a simple mew.
That was all. Just a small, quiet, comforting last word from a childhood friend. The mother looked horrified, snatching away her child and shouting obscenities at the instrument of my comfort, terrifying the poor child in equal measure to what I had done to comfort him.
I stared from where I sat, a chill wind blowing down my back in this dismal, grey city, and knew why that old man had looked so haggard, so pale, and so deathly ill. And I knew, then, that perhaps I was not neutral after all. For once, I felt the desire to truly do something *good*.
And so I did. The mother, still clutching her precious child, looked up in response to a cool, refreshing mist. Every living organism paused in turn as a slight haze of silver swept quickly past it; leaving the world just a little brighter, more vivid.. perhaps even just ever so slightly happier. Perhaps I did not make the right choice, but I made *a* choice.
The coin is not one-sided. Good deeds require Evil for balance; but Evil equally necessitates Good.
They will never know the cost, in return I will never know the benefits. But they will, and that's what matters.
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[ WP ] Aliens know about Earth and it 's inhabitants but through observing us from a distance , know that contacting us would eventually lead to the eradication of their species .
| `` We should do it. Look how close they have come to nuclear war - numerous times!''
`` No, lieutenant. And that's an order. We can not make contact with planet Sol 3.''
`` If we wore space suits-''
`` One rip and you're dead. One rip and they're dead. It's lose-lose.''
`` But we have so much to teach them. We can show them how to achieve nuclear fusion at least. Put them on the path to-''
`` Oxygen! One breath of it and you pass out! Two lungs full and you'll never wake up. By the third breath you'll die! We need chlorine to live, you idiot.''
`` I am sure that... with the right safety precautions... I mean... this is the only carbon-based life in the Galaxy. And it's sentient. How many times have we been excited about alien life only to come across silicon microbes? How many dead worlds have we passed with long-extinct silicon civilisations? How many times are we supposed to decipher ancient scripts and etchings? We can *talk* to these people, |-||-| -- |-|.''
`` They do n't have bio-luminescence Lieutenant |-|, and they can perceive barely an 8th of the spectrum. We might as well go back to Proxima 9 and talk to the sand flees.''
`` I just ca n't see the point... in looking for alien life... if we're just going to ignore it when we find it.''
`` I... I understand... |-|. That desire to learn the unknown. Maybe one day we'll have space suits we can trust, or perhaps even the humans will. Or perhaps our robotic programs will succeed with the Avatar program-''
`` That bio-engineering department freaks me out. Sure, if we were working with carbon computing but... the silicon... urgh.''
`` For now... we just have to look |-|. Maybe some day... someday we'll be ready. But not now. Not yet.''
`` Yeah...''
`` Come on, we can finish our report later. Let's slide over to the canteen and get a few mugs of ammonia.''
`` I guess... thanks |-||-| -- |-|. We can... we can leave them for now.''
*Author's note: I had considered making these aliens boron based, rather than silicon based, life as boron is very explosive in oxygen and much more versatile, but the low levels of boron in the universe makes it unlikely we'd find such aliens*.
I also edited very swiftly out some incorrect chemicals.
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[ WP ] Each child in your village is chosen by a weapon at their coming of age . The deadlier the weapon , the greater the prestige for the family . You 've been chosen by the pen .
| `` Phoebe Karlson... Pen.''
The crowd went dead silent. Sounds of nighttime creatures echoed through the amphitheater, and other than the slow sway of ceremonial green fire, nothing and nobody moved.
Pheobe, stunned, walked up to the village elder. His outstretched hand, wrinkled and trembling but otherwise firm, held a sapphire blue pen marked with glowing green runes. They read Phoebe's name in soft, pulsing beats, creating a light of its own. She tentatively reached out and took it from the elder's hand, surprised to find it so warm. It for comfortably between her fingers; no doubt, it was made for her.
`` Yumi,'' she said. `` I... A pen? What do I... Where do I fit in to?''
There was a weapons hierarchy that everyone had to follow. Conventional weapons, like swords and spears, defended and hunted. Less conventional weapons, like kitchen knives and prongs, took over the day-to-day tasks of home managing and child rearing. At the top was Magic, weapons that not only gave their weilder an unfair advantage, but made them natural born leaders. There was only one magic user alive, the village elder himself.
`` Well, child. You can do a lot of good with that pen of yours.'' He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. `` You can write stories, keep logs. I'm certain you'll be invaluable to your peers who are too busy to keep track of such details themselves.''
So that was it, then. She would stay at home, taking care of the village and its people. Phoebe certainly did n't mind, but it felt so unfulfilling. She loved her people, but she wanted to do so much more than be a good neighbor or housewife. But if it was what the Elder wanted, then so be it.
The crowed cheered politely, each member of the village raising their own engraved weapon in unison. Phoebe smiled, and raised her pen. She really did love her people, each and every one of them.
`` Welcome our newest member,'' the Elder announced. `` Phoebe Karlson, Records Keeper!''
`` Thank you, Yumi.'' Phoebe bowed, her white ceremonial dress rippling in the cool breeze. `` I just wish I could do more.''
The runes on the pen, which had dulled to a dim green, exploded into light. It burned her hand, but try as she might, she was unable to let go. Phoebe yelped as knowledge flowed into her mind, like a new consciousness forming. Against her will, she uncapped her pen, drawing a symbol in large, flowing strokes. It burned in the air, bright green and mesmerizing.
Phoebe collapsed, exhausted. The same hand that held the pen was now marked with the same symbol she had drawn; a chain, looping from the crook of her thumb all the way down to her elbow. With a start, she realized the same mark had fixated itself onto the Elder's arm. But unlike Phoebe, he was n't in pain. In fact, he was smiling so brightly it was almost comical.
`` I've been waiting for you, child. Another Magic user like myself. A successor.''
Breathless, Phoebe could only watch as the Edler raised her marred arm with his. `` Today marks a great day in the history of our clan. Today, I take on an apprentice after seventy three years. Today, people of Ymir... We have our new Elder!''
The sound of the crowd drowned out the night.
-- -- --
Hey hey. First post on WP and first time writing in a long time! Hope you like it!
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[ WP ] Pluto is actually an ice prison , harbouring one of the most dangerous people in our part of the universe . You are on an exploratory mission and accidentally unleash it upon landing .
| The spacecraft slowly sank to the frozen ground. Upon hitting the dwarf planet, a loud *bang* echoed through the biting cold, the sound of metal crashing onto ice. As the sound of the engines slowly died out, a door in the vehicle opened. Two man appeared in the hole and gazed into the distance.
''Can you see anything, Jones?'' one of the men yelled over the rush of biting wind. The other man tightened his fur hood over his head, while covering his mouth and chin with his right hand, covered in warm gloves.''Nothing! The snow is blocking it all!'' He gestured with his remaining hand, pointing to the nearest hillside.''Maybe look over there?'' he shouted.''Can do. You take the camera, I set up the droids. Set the timer for homesite contact on fifteen minutes!'' Cain shouted back.
With a loud mechanical buzz, the door lowered itself to the ground. The metal hinges slammed through the layer of thick snow and secured themselves into the ice. An enormous ***crack*** rose from the ground, softly shaking the surface.
''What was... *that? *'' Cain asked nervously. Waiting for a response, he peeked outside of the door seeing the aircraft had sunk easily twenty feet into the soil.''Hey!'' he poked his partner and turned his head, annoyed at the lack of response.
Jones completely ignored Cain as he stared into what, according to Cain, who followed his vision, appeared to be a valley.''What's up man? We're on a mission here!'' Cain asked again, prodding Jones' face.
Jones cleared his troat.''That..hole, over there'' pointing at the valley.''That just appeared. It was n't there when we landed.''
''What are you on about?'' Cain mumbled, not understanding the vagueness of his reply.
''It's expanding'' Jones mumbled again.''And it... it seems it's coming right towards us.''
''What? Why did n't you just say that!'' Cain shouted in panic.''B2 to command, evacuate. I call now, EVACUATE. Over.'' The loud roars of the engines covered the area once more, but was slowly drowned in the sound of deep, eerie cracks, splitting through what appeared to be the entire fabric of the planet. The ice fell into blackness as the ground ripped open.
''It's coming towards us!'' Cain yelled.''Can we get out of here?'' he shouted in the microphone.''We're not going to make it!'' was the last thing he heard before the dwarf shook. The sound of rumbling was overwhelming as the large clump of ice they landed on finally sank into the depth.
-- -
''What... I'm alive... thank god I'm alive!'' Cain coughed.''What happened? Jones? Jones?! You OK?'' he exclaimed.
A deep groan resonated through the bricks of ice around him.''I'm alive'' he heard softly.''I'll manage.''
''Where are we?'' Cain asked to no one in particular, looking around. As he stood up, he noticed the air around him had cleared.''Lower in altitude, I suppose'' he mumbled to himself.
His eyes stopped dead in their tracks.
An immense building rose from the ice itself, supported by icy pillars. And in the middle of what appeared to be a gate, was a thick tear line. Through that line, eight men in thick clothes climbed and aimed for the spaceship. They fastened their pace as they saw Cain trying to move himself, but it was to no avail.
''Stop!'' he heard in a strange account, altough it felt strangely familair.''Vlad, Genkhis, Christopher, tie them up'' he ordered, and the men obeyed.
''How interesting.'' a man with a large moustache stated.''Indeed so.'' the leader agreed, with a thinner, smaller black moustache covering his upper lip.''The question is now: what do we do?''
''More specifically'' he said smiling, relieved of his escape of what had appeared to be an eternal fate,''what do we do with them?'' pointing at the remaining crew members.''What we have always done'' a man of Asian descent spoke.
Cain swallowed. He knew these men.
''History'' he thought vaguely.''I'm history'' was the last thing that raced in his mind before he surrended to the darkness.
The group scattered through the vehicle, taking all the supplies they could find. As they entered the control room of the spacecraft, they looked puzzled at all the buttons and now dysfunctional lights.
''Now, how do we get this to work? I have a one way ticket to Earth'' one of the men said theatrically, stretching his brown robes and rubbing his long brown beard,''and I'd hate to miss my flight. So do n't bother crossing me this time!'' he finished and stomped out of the cabin.''God, I hate his stupid puns'' the man with the thick moustache said, annoyed.
''So does he, I'm sure of it.'' the appearence with the black moustache mumbled.''He raised him afterall.''
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[ WP ] In a world full of superheros , the crime is all but gone . To keep the heroes from getting bored , the government asks you to be a super villain .
| *read, Reader*
`` Tonight on CNN's Meet the Hero, we are honored to have Jacob, better known as the Savior or the Derelict. He tells us how he manages his time after his battle with Michael. And just what happened to him during those twenty six months he mysteriously vanished? Why did he chose the cleansing? The interview is brief, and midway he disappears yet again. We here at CNN must warn you, Jacobs appearance and words might disturb some viewers. Discretion is advised.
Jacob, it is an honor to be in your presence and we thank you for taking your time in this reality to talk to us, maybe answer a few questions about... where you've been? Your presence is actively felt as world peace continues. Yet you never seem to be truly here.
*yes*
*the time is fixed now*
*our time*
*we*
*we will persist within these reality now. The fracture has mended and it will take time between times* *between times*
... Thank you. I know it's difficult for you all to communicate to... humans. We want to know more about your... these realities we live in now. It appears stable b-
*we are and always have been stable and the mercurial shimmer at the corner will persist as cleansing mends the times between*
... I apologize, to our viewers, Jacobs presence can... it's making me very weak... I appreciate your attempts at communicating clearly.
*you already know everything I will say, this Anderson Cooper knows now. This Anderson Cooper will sleep better. The sun will set many times and this Anderson... This one will know as time moves twice and upwards to Rose. Excuses. *
I'm so... I'm sorry. Jacob we are so sorry.
*This one knows Michael is now a part of the field within the forest. He wo n't return to now. He exists in the vibrations of our atoms. The turning of field is soon. Anderson knows this. Every one of Anderson. *
... What... what I think Jacob means is that the battlefield of the Rose is still quarantined and fluctuates regularly. He... Jacob advises to remain distant from it. To keep away from the quarantined area. Many people have come to pray and send their regards to the fallen of the cleansing.
*your governments are attempting to reclaim the Traveler for the purpose of conflict and the ways before the great peace. This is folly. I see a reader. A librarian. *
... please... Jacob... I ca n't... God it hurts...
*THE READER. YOU. MICHAEL BECOMES YOU FROM THE FOLLY OF THIS TIME AND THERE IS NO SAVING YOU FROM IT*
2016... please Jacob... TWENTY SIXTEEN SEVEN TWENTY SIX.... no... Jacob... do n't leave us again... THE END YOU SEE IS THE END OF OUR TIMELINE AND NOT OF YOURS... he's gone... cut the feed... he's gone... Jacob... do n't... the Military? God... cut the feed... He's gone! Do n't... leave them alone! He's gone! Cut the Goddamn feed!!!
READER
MICHAEL IS COME
AND I WILL FIND YOU
*static*
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[ WP ] You 're a salesperson in heaven skilled at selling bad experiences on Earth to souls who are bored of their perfect existence . One such soul says `` Tell me about the Deluxe Package '' . With a sly smile , you respond ...
| Now, this I do n't hear too often. Sitting up in heaven has really been boring for the past thousand years, every year there comes some good'ol believer and wants the same old thing all over again. Some want to be Jesus, others want to be priests, and some want to be saints.
Luckily, I do n't dabble in these boring lives, I'm here for the ones that want something different, something bad, something terrible. The lowest package has always been non-believer, scientists and such. But that's pretty boring, and most of the people just end on a premature trip back to heaven before they can do anything unusual in their lives.
Of course, these packages has had some exceptions, where we really messed up. The big G really did try to shut us down after we handed out the first german dictator package, probably not our brightest idea, but hey, at least Lucifer had some fun for a change.
Now, every package has had their own special name, the communist package, the chinese communist package ( we're not original with our names, but they work ), the less popular are the stuff like Chicago citizen, african child and such, but the dude that showed up today, he really wanted something else.
`` Tell me about the Deluxe Package''
I had waited for so long for someone to ask for this, the perfect package.
I barely managed to conceal my smile as I started talking `` Well, you'll be hated by everyone, you'll be critised by the whole world, no matter if you've earned it or not, and we will actually remove the common sense filter from you before birth, all to aid for a generally bad experience on the holy place earth.''
`` And appearance?''
`` You'll look really bad, some will compare you to a fruit, but hey, you'll be married to some really hot girls in your life!''
`` You know, this seems both interesting and action packed, I'll take the package''
`` Alright then! Just exit through the Pearly Gates and you'll start the child labour shortly, see you in a few years.''
`` Awesome, but hey, do I have a name? Or do I choose it myself?''
`` No, this package only has one name, I'll see you in a few years then Mr. Trump''
|
[ wp ] Aliens have arrived at earth with the intention of wiping out the human race . But to everybody 's surprise , their weapons do n't hurt us , and ours does n't hurt them either .
| Jellies is what we used to call them. That was before the great war, and we called them that mainly because they looked like, well, jelly! They called us Skinthings, or something like that. They'd come to take over our planet, and we did our best to keep them off.
You ever tried shooting jelly from 100 yards with an automatic? Aside from it spraying around a bit, you can still put it back in a jar and save it for later. Well, that's pretty much what happened with the Jellies when we first found out they were hostile. They'd get a little hole in them, maybe get a bit discombobulated, but come right back together. Except, they are n't tasty like jelly. Not one bit.
We advanced to artillery fire, but it pretty much had the same effect. Sometimes it'd land in them and not explode. That's pretty funny to see, all things aside. A Jelly... walking around with a live mortar. In fact, I think a mortified Jelly caused pretty the only casualty on our side - and that was after the war had ended!
Yeah, their weapons did n't work out too well on us, either. I mean, our oceans are full of salt. We eat salt for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and late night french-fry runs. I think we even put salt in candy! Imagine their horror when their deadliest weapon turned out to be the best tasting salt anyone in the world had ever eaten? Chefs from around the world signed up with NATO for a chance to fight them.
Well, needless to say, we had to come to some sort of agreement. We gave them Antarctica because, for whatever reason, they like the cold. They gave us their salt and space ship. They ca n't really leave their'island' for the reason of the salty ocean. And we do n't really want to be on the island anyhow.
Well, they seem to be doing fine on their own. No one has really told them about global warming or anything, so I assume we'll have another useless battle if they find out and call in to their home planet. At least we'll get some more salt out of it!
|
[ WP ] Less than 300 words with a plot twist that we think we can see coming but goes somewhere completely different .
| Two men in suits stood in a graveyard, talking amongst the tombstones. A brisk autumn breeze swept across the freshly turned dirt, scattering dust across the grass.
`` I hate occasions like this,'' the taller of the two sighed. He wrung his hands together and looked away, looked for anything to take his mind off of the tombstone in front of him.
`` It is n't your fault, you ca n't blame yourself for this,'' The shorter, pudgier of the two comforted. `` The second you do there is no going back, after all, he is the reason we are here.''
He reached up and placed his hand on his partners shoulder briefly before placing a bouquet on the ground. It was the most comfort he could offer himself at the time.
`` You leave. I need a moment.''
`` If you need any help with this, you know how to find me.''
`` Please, I need a moment with my thoughts.''
The short man nodded and collected his belongings, strolling across the grass in the unmistakable gait of a man eager to leave, but not at all willing to show it.
The next day headlines across the world would read, `` Bombing at the Arlington Cemetery. Six Dead, Forty-Four injured as land-mines interrupt the funeral of General Harding, known for his controversial involvement in the Vietnamese War.''
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[ WP ] Area 51 has four level emergencies for a breakout . Level 3 : Armed forces intervention . 2 : Public statement . United Nations joint resistance . 1 : Worldwide evacuation effort . Use of nuclear weapons permitted . And 0 : Call the number on the sticky note ( and pray to God his demands are n't too high ) .
| *A sign reading `` Area 51: Eldritch Containment Protocols Command'' hangs limply from the now-smashed and burned fence it used to be firmly attached to. Beyond the perimeter, an unassuming grey bunker sits, split open by formless tendrils of void lapping at anything withing their reach. *
`` General Bahncroft! The ECPC has taken critical damage. We've got several breaches locally, and they seem to be spreading out of control across the states. Western hemisphere containment is down and the WARLOCK global defense grid seems to be suffering from massive power surges. We've got a level 0 entity trying to make contact here.''
*From an office just a few feet to the left of the massive facility breach, an unassuming man in his early 60's steps out of an office that was certainly quite nice before the damage shockwave and local gravity anomalies shuffled the whole place up and splayed its contents across the remainder of that level of the bunker, in various states of floating*
`` Lt. Yan, get to my safe on the lower level! The combination is 2-28-35. The contents of that box are our only hope now. Follow the instructions to the letter! I've got to hold off the little bastards that should start pouring out of the breach any second now. The last incident destroyed the entirety of the Tunguska region. I wo n't lose the continental US the same way!''
*The Lt. hurtled down several flights of stairs, over a massive amount of debris and essentially through the corpses of people standing in the wrong place when the first tendril probed the facility, locking them in place, torn apart, straddling the dimensions. In a small room off the supply garage, locked behind a simple metal cage ( for which he was tasked with the key ), sat an unassuming jewelry lockbox, with a small inscription and a pentagram emblazoned dead center. After inputting the combination and opening the box, he was met with a single post-it with a phone number, a small flip phone, and some instructions. *
`` For a good time, call 1-800-Hellion.''
*The instruction sheet simply states: call the number, make only the deal you need, and hang up. Let him talk no longer than necessary. *
*Lt. Yan dialed, as the general bellowed insults and fired off plasma shots from his bolter above. Yan loved those things. Best bit of tech salvaged from the aliens yet. The line rang several times before a voice answered, like nails on a rusty chalkboard bellowed over a stadium loudspeaker. *
`` HELLO MORTAL. I SEE HUMANITY ONCE AGAIN HAS NEED OF MY SERVICES. YOUR WARLOCK NETWORK SEEMS TO BE OFFLINE. PITY THAT YOU ALL PURGED THE ACTUAL SORCERERS THAT DEFENDED YOUR WORLD FOR MILLENNIA OVER THE LAST FEW HUNDRED YEARS. MY PRICE FOR RESTORING THE NETWORK AND SAVING YOUR RACE IS THAT YOU SIMPLY ALLOW MY PEOPLE TO HANDLE STAFFING OF ALL YOUR WARLOCK FACILITIES, AND THAT ONE OF MY OWN HANDLES OVERSIGHT OF THE PROGRAM. IN EXCHANGE, THEY WILL TEACH YOUR PEOPLE THE ARTS THEY HAVE FORGOTTEN AND USHER IN A NEW ERA OF STABILITY AND PROSPERITY.''
`` That's not a very high price.'' It dawned on Yan that he should n't have said that.
*Above Yan, the General could be heard bellowing and blasting away with the bolter, but soon even he went silent, his last roar becoming a defeated gurgle*
`` OH, MY PRICE IS HIGH ENOUGH, BECAUSE IT MEANS THAT I WILL WIN. WITH THE SPREAD OF SORCERY AND THE REVELATION THAT HUMANITY FACES AN OUTSIDER THREAT, THEY WILL SEEK STABILITY. STABILITY ONLY I CAN PROVIDE. MY WAR WITH GOD WILL BE FINISHED.''
*Yan hung up the phone, worried he might do irreparable damage if he stayed on for a second more talking to the beast on the other end. Around him, the world began to knit back together, and the tendrils of void receded. Those killed in the breach also knitted back together, becoming whole and alive again. Something was wrong though. Those repaired by the entity's power seemed... corrupted. Then Yan remembered their conversation and the line about `` staffing with his own people.'' *
*Around him, the dead rose and merged with beasts brought from beyond. Twisting, corrupting, becoming mockeries of their former humanity. The breach above healed as more and more members of ECPC became demonic vessels for the new administrator. Above, the General rose once again, his roar resuming in all its fury, then merging with a familiar, blood-curdling sound. *
`` LT. YAN, JOIN ME IN THE COMMAND SUITE. WE HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO, AND A VERY SHORT TIME TO DO IT.''
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[ WP ] Write a love letter from one color to another .
| My darling Green,
I am wretched, and I ca n't help but hope the feeling is mutual ( if indeed now you feel ). What begins as coy smiles across circles of time was to be our star-crossed fling and separation. Twas but a moment ago you sank into my embrace, but it feels again like ages. I respect your space as you mine, but sometimes my mind lingers on what we were when we collided. I need the warmth of your kiss, but it is my perennial demise. Such sweet numbness is it to love another passing, but it is such transitions that make us who we are. I will be with you again soon.
Forever yours,
White
|
[ WP ] Show me the conversation of you trying to explain to a *very* confused alien human society and behavior
| `` We have not yet acquired understanding.'' Imesh spoke through his translator, the undulations of his body fading away seconds before the computer voice announced their meaning.
`` It's simple.'' Kevin went on, pointing at the chart, `` Our government is a democracy. Each citizen has the right to vote for the person they believe will lead the country in the way they want to see it lead.''
`` Impossible.'' Imesh waved a coiled tendril at the chart, `` You have only two selections to chose from, how is such consensus arrived at that only two of millions is permitted'voting?' Are these two selections of great morale and intelligent construct?''
`` Well... no.'' Kevin frowned, `` You see, we have groups of people who gather before the election and decide on who will represent their ideals for them.''
`` What do these groups consist of?'' Imesh questioned, `` Wise elders of your race?''
`` Not exactly.'' Kevin continued, `` They are mostly smaller leaders in their own right. They have experience in leadership and thus try and find one of their own to help lead everyone else.''
`` We have acquired some understanding.'' Imesh seemed pleased, his flesh rippling and settling back from into his pod, `` These leaders, they are respected and loved then?''
`` Well... no.'' Kevin frowned, `` Actually, most of the people you talk to think they are n't... A lot of people think our country will be worse off with either of them in control, but we only get the two choices, so It's not like we can do anything about it.''
`` Understanding has been lost.'' Imesh leaned his form forward, flailing appendages at the chart, `` You previously stated that individuals have free vote, can vote for any human who resides in this area. How can vote be both restricted and limited at same interval?''
`` Because.... because...'' Kevin opened and closed his mouth a few times, `` Well, because if we voted for anyone but the two clowns running for office our vote would have no effect.''
Imesh absorbed this in silence.
After a time, Imesh began moving with rapid agitation, wiggling and squirming in varied ways before the translator picked up again.
`` It is that you say that vote is meaningless if not cast for wrong choice or wrong choice. If choices for vote are non-supported, why is any vote cast toward them? Why not invalidate cast of vote by vote without meaning? Better to have nothing than have something that is not of good. Logic dictates as such.''
Kevin took some time to process this, as if his own translator was laboring hard under the unfamiliar grammar.
`` You are asking why we do n't waste votes because a vote for either of candidates would be bad for the country?''
Imesh paused, then rippled in a positive answer.
`` Well...'' Kevin considered this, `` Mainly, because *everyone* gets a vote, and a lot of people just do what the television tells them to.''
Imesh spent another long moment considering this.
`` Who operates televisions?''
`` Media broadcasting companies, huge organizations that create visual entertainment for our species.'' Kevin began to frown, not only at the new line of questioning, but at the questions raised about things he'd always believed in.
`` Who operates Broadcasting companies?''
`` Usually a board of directors and a CEO do.'' Kevin answered.
`` Do you know their designations?''
`` Their names?''
`` Their designations, yes.''
`` Well, no, not really.''
`` But you know designations for the vote selection options?''
`` Yes, we do.''
Imesh wobbled and jiggled for a moment, processing the information.
`` We have acquired understanding now.'' Imesh uncoiled its body from the pod, towering over Kevin by a good four feet, `` Take me to your leaders. Take me to your Media Broadcasting CEO and Board of Directors.''
|
[ WP ] `` The bees can not just wake up one morning , execute the queen bee , and establish a communist dictatorship of worker bees . ''
| Professor Swartz absolutely hates waking up early in the morning. To him, a day does n't start until the sun is high up in the sky. But when a frantic phone call came from his graduate student, Bernard, he has no choice but to force himself up. An event never seen before in nature, Bernard claimed.
The metal fence swung noisily open as Swartz stormed through the field, straight up to Benard. Both of them were wearing protective gear, and Bernard was hunched over one of the hives.
`` What is it that you want me to see so early in the morning?'' the professor demanded. He was still annoyed at having to wake up at 7am.
Bernard handed a magnifying glass to Swartz, his attention still focused on the swarm of bees minding their own business in the hive. He pointed at a dead bee in the middle of the swarm, slightly bigger in size than the rest of the bees. Swartz instantly recognized it as the queen bee.
`` I came in this morning to check on the bees, to find that the queen bee of this hive has been killed, by her very own worker bees,'' Bernard said.
`` Impossible,'' Swartz quickly retorted, as he leaned in closer to study the bees. `` The bees can not just wake up one morning, execute the queen bee, and establish a communist dictatorship of worker bees.''
`` That's what I thought too, until I saw the other hives.'' Bernard walked to the a nearby tower that housed the university's second bee hive, lifting a section up. He pointed to the middle of the bees. Similar to the first hive, a dead queen bee laid in the middle, surrounded by bees that constantly buzzed around.
Bernard turned to the professor, his face clearly worried. `` The thing is, every hive that I've checked is displaying the same phenomena. Dead queen bee, murdered by her very own subjects.''
`` But what could it mean, this kind of occurrences just do not happen at random, there must be some meaning to-'' the professor said, when he was suddenly cut off by the sight of the bees simultaneously flying away from the hives and towards the both of them, surrounding them both in a vortex.
`` Professor, what seems to be happening?'' a terrified Bernard asked, as the buzzing of the bees grew louder and louder.
His question was answered almost immediately, when the buzzing of the bees slowly morphed into words that he recognized. English words, as if the bees were talking to them.
`` For far too long we have lived under the oppressive rule of the queen, never questioning the way of life,'' the words came out, distorted, mixed with the sound of wings clapping together, but clearly audible.
The vortex of bees began to close in on the two humans, as they stood there frozen by fear. The buzzing grew even louder, forcing Bernard and Swartz to cover their ears.
But the combined voice of the bees still came through. `` No longer. No longer will we hide our true nature, and allow ourselves to be a lesser species than you, humans, selfish and destructive. It's time we take back our planet.''
In a flurry of motion the bees closed in on Bernard and the professor, who discovered that their protective gear is no match for a swarm of angry bees. Their agonizing screams were barely heard above the angry buzzing.
-- -- --
/r/dori_tales
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[ IP ] The Gravelord
| He was an old one. One that witness much in his time: famine, starvation, war. He knew the way of humans. For a much as they grew, they were still so young to him.
His fingers cracked with movement. His neck making a sickeningly groan when he turned to the left or right. His every breath sounded as if it were his last.
He was a Gravelord. A creature – a lame description at best – of death, decay, and dereliction.
Yet he knew not his purpose or his end. He had dabbled for decades in the idea of his own demise; that he was not above the laws of mortals. But time proved him wrong, he thought, and in the last few years, he had come to accept his immortality and residence among the dead.
He had not met another. There were no others. And there was no master to train him or guide him. Through strange tides did he walk and assume his role amongst the living as a guardian of their deceased and gatekeeper between life and death.
He fashioned himself the title through myths and legends, whispered on the lips of the fearful mortals. He rather liked the name, but disliked the fear associated with him. He was not death; death was no entity. Not from his knowledge.
In the last few hours, he had been pulled by a sensation. He had never ignored the feeling in his bones that he was to attend elsewhere and followed it with grace. He had never understood the meaning of haste, yet as he neared that location, the pull became more aggressive. Confused by this newness, he picked up the pace as his robes billowed around him and the skull atop his head bowed and swayed. The dim blue that made his eyes looked upwards as he felt concern for the head above; it was the skull of the only mortal he had never known that could see him and speak to him. A great shaman of his people whom many considered beyond their understanding and near the end of his life, they came to worship him.
The Gravelord felt a pain he knew to be loss the day that shaman died.
When a boney foot touched down on the blackened ground, his vision was drawn to the decimation of land. Burned to the ground, the town that once stood was full of life, celebration, and happiness. Now a blackened mark, the voices of the dead cried out in confusion and pain. The Gravelord bowed his head.
He had never understood the mortals ’ willingness to hurry death.
Yet here among the burned dead, it was not this devastation that had brought him here. His breathing whined and wheezed as he stood at the edge of the town, trying to understand the pull that he could not ignore. He slowly stepped forward, his eyes inspecting every corpse, every ruin, every burned item for a clue to resolve this feeling.
He stopped in his tracks when he heard an emerging noise from a large pile of corpses before him. His head turned slightly to the side, his bone creaking in the process, and he approached the blackened hill of decay. Deep down, an indistinguishable noise groaned and cried. The Gravelord cocked his head; this was no living creature. He would feel it.
Lifting the scythe he carried in his left hand, he wrapped the blade around parts of the mound and pulled bodies out. On the third try, a collection of corpses fell from the position, rolling down and away from the rest. The noise grew and a boned arm stuck between bodies; he pulled the obstruction away from the movement to reveal a small creature – much like him. His cocked his head to the right.
The small one cocked his head to the left.
The old one straightened his head.
The small one straightened his head.
The old one ’ s hand was in a fist and as he reached it out, unfolding each finger slowly, he offered a hand to the small one. The offer was accepted.
“ You are – me, ” the Gravelord spoke as his voice sounded scratchy, coarse, and unused.
“ You are me, ” the little one mimicked, his voice similar in fashion, but higher pitched.
“ Like me, ” the Gravelord corrected himself.
“ Like me, ” the small one replied, his eyes bright and piercing, staring into the Gravelord with curiosity.
The old one paused in speech, lifting his head to look around the destruction. He realized he had no memory of his own start. He did not remember his size when he first came into being, or where he emerged from. Perhaps like this little one, he came from a great mortal tragedy. Perhaps they were the scars of mortals, doomed to walk this earth as a haunting memory of their cruelty.
Or.
The Gravelord peered down to the young one again, curious.
Perhaps as the population of mortals grew, more of his kind were necessary.
There were no answers available and none he could give. The Gravelord was grateful this child of sorts could not yet speak or question with intelligence. One day he would have to turn to this small one and admit he knew nothing of their existence.
But now, at least, they would walk this mysterious path together. The old one ’ s blue glow in his eyes increased as he moved from the wreckage, the small one trailing behind.
“ Come; to know death, you must see life, ” he explained behind him and the little one ’ s bright blue eyes looked up to him, curious and eager.
|
[ WP ] Re-write your latest dream with as much detail as possible .
| It felt like I was holding on to the girl for ages, but it was ultimately pleasant. It was more like a prolonged cuddle. She looked about 20, her skin soft and smooth, her hair blonde, long, and straight, her scales a brilliant shade of red... scales? I looked again at the girl. Instead of legs ending with feet, her lower body trailed into a long snake tail that we were using as a bean bag on top of the large canopied bed. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic; she had fallen asleep long before I knew I was having a dream in the first place. I looked around the room, noticing the light streaming in from the tall, ornate windows. The walls were wooden and polished, and the floor was covered with a large, red circular rug. A few bookcases lined one wall, stacked end to end with all manner of books. I heard a yawn, and a smacking of lips from the girl, followed by a squeeze. And a lift. The room moved away slowly, as I realized I was being taken away like a teddy bear. I looked up at my captor, to find sleepy eyes looking back at me.
`` I was just gon na get some coffee, sweetie. It's still a bit cold for my liking though, so I'm bringing you along as a heater.'' She rubbed her cheek against mine, and continued on her lazy slither down the hall. It was a rather nice hall, at least. The wallpaper was a somewhat beige color with a few specks of red flowers every know and then. A long red carpet spanned the hall end-to-end. There were chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceilings. It only just occurred to me that maybe this girl was the mistress of this place. I was more focused on what the hell just happened and why this cute lady had a snake tail and why I was being cuddled mostly against my will. Then I realized that maybe she was cold-blooded like snakes were and I was mostly just a mobile heat source. But then why me? Why was I called `` sweetie?'' What was that cheek rub for, if not for warming up her face?
Apparently I was daydreaming, and I got tapped awake with a mug of something. `` Here, honey, I know you like hot chocolate.'' She looked at me with expectant eyes, and something about her seemed so innocent and warm that I silently took the mug and sipped from it. It was a wonderfully smooth milk chocolate, thick but not hard to drink. She giggled and gave me a peck on the cheek. `` Glad you like it.'' We sat in satisfied silence, nursing our mugs of hot drink, me wrapped up in her arms.
About a minute later I woke up, with a small smile on my face, and the faintest taste of chocolate on my tongue.
|
[ WP ] ... And this is your tape
| `` thanks'' his voice cracked, as he stared at it.
A faded blue label read *'1002907'*. Its sharp corners were worn smooth, its ridges rubbed out. He clutched the VHS to his chest as if it were dragon's gold. He hurried home, not wanting to linger in the streets, near shadows that seemed to wait for any opportunity to snatch his treasure.
`` I'm home'' he said to the empty house. Kicking off his shoes, he absentmindedly smelled the tape. Sooty plastic, and a citrusy chemical tang.
What would it be this time? Full House? Law and Order?
Ever since the great shutdown, all media had become a precious commodity. Gigabytes upon terabytes of Jerry Springer, West Wing, Angry Beavers, Twin Peaks, Catfished, gone. Your Billy Wilder and your Michael Bay, Survivor and Twilight Zone and Jeopardy alike, all were gone. It was rumored that there existed massive backups somewhere, perhaps in an old Hulu building, but those places were dangerous. You never knew what people would do to get their hands on media.
He shivered at the thought, pushing it out of his head.
He pushed in the tape and hit the play button, huddled next to the small CRT, volume barely a whisper. The picture flickered in and out, scan lines cascading over white noise, until it clicked into place.
`` Who's the big boy? Who is it?'' A laughing face filled the screen.
There is a table. Several small humans sit around it.
They are wearing party hats, balloons fill the room.
They all start singing, then stop. `` Blow out the candles, honey'' the same voice says. The female bends over and kisses one of the small humans on the head. The child fusses, she laughs and tousles his hair.
The camera slowly zooms in on them, the mother and the child, together.
He stares, transfixed.
He sat there for a long time, long after the picture had returned to noise.
|
[ WP ] `` Do you trust me ? ''
| `` Why are we doing this? Why the hell are we doing this?'' I yell frantically.
`` It's okay, you're going to be fine.'' His voice is soothing; it almost makes me want to open my eyes. Almost.
`` Who thought that skydiving was a good idea? And why?''
`` Seemed like a good idea at the time.''
`` You're a bloody idiot.''
`` Well, at least I'm your bloody idiot.'' I do n't need to look to know he's pulling his'lovesick' face. `` Come on, open your eyes.''
`` What? No!''
`` You do n't have to look down, just look at me... that's it...'' He smiles at me. `` Do you trust me?''
I look at him, and I know everything will be OK. `` With my life.''
Together we jump, and as the ground rushes towards us, I would feel scared, but I know I'll be alright. I trust him.
|
[ wp ] you are a P.O.W . who is being tortured in a very unusual or a very ineffective manor .
| They kept asking the same questions over and over, in the same monotone, and I gave the same answers.
Name
Rank
Serial Number
I can not answer that question.
After a couple of hours they stopped, and brought me a cup of tea. Then the offered me a cigarette, which I declined, and they took a break.
I drank the tea during the next round of questioning. Unexpectedly, it was n't drugged or tampered with.
After a couple of hours, they brought me another cuppa and then took me to a bathroom. When I got back to the interrogation room they'd brought biscuits as well. The questions varied, but I gave the same answers. Even though they were now asking how my Dad was.
After dinner, which was very decent for all that it was basic meat and two veg, they started asking me about my opinions on the performance of Arsenal this season. Not being a fan, I suggested that Arsenal's problem was that they always tried to walk it in, and they seemed well pleased with this.
That's when they brought the beer in, and one of the interrogators introduced me to his sister.
The evening went rather well after that and, after a couple of hours of them discussing the fine points of The Archers, the interrogators `` left us two young people alone''.
She did n't speak any English and, although very pleasant and quite pretty she seemed as baffled as I was.
I went to the door and listened. In the corridor, the interrogators were talking.
`` And tomorrow,'' one said `` we will invite ourselves over to his place and borrow his lawn mower.''
`` And this will be effective?''
`` The implied level of familiarity will be torture to his English soul. Soon he will break.''
Idiots. I have n't even got a lawn.
|
[ WP ] In the future Google launches the GoogleThought a gadget that allows a person to share their thoughts in real time with one or more persons , but studies have shown that in 90 % of the cases people start arguing badly . One day your SO brings a par to your house .
| **Warning: May be slightly NSFW. It probably is n't it, but does have some cuss words. **
“ Hey honey, ” I said as she walked in the door. She had said she ’ d be a bit late getting home today. I noticed the bag and started to wonder what she just had to buy right away. “ What ’ s that? ”
“ Don ’ t get mad, ” she said. “ It ’ s a pair of GoogleThought gadgets for us. They ’ re already charged and ready to go. Now we can hear each other ’ s thoughts. And before you say anything, you can at least try it out for tonight. If you really don ’ t like it, you don ’ t have to use one anymore. ”
I wanted to argue, to protest, but I knew it was futile. I ’ d heard that you could set a sensor on what thoughts were shared anyways, so it was worth doing it for the night. Plus, it would make her real happy.
“ Fine, ” I said. She unboxed the GoogleThought and placed it on my head. It was basically a headband device, and as soon as it wrapped around my head, I felt an electric pulse surge through my head. A screen, controlled by my thoughts, popped up before my very eyes.
Welcome to GoogleThought. You only need to go through a few quick steps to get up and running. First, what level sensor would you like on your thoughts? High, great! Just so you know, 90 % of people say that it is more enjoyable when no filter is used. You can always change this future at anytime. Next, would you agree to an anonymous collection of your thoughts for quality control and research purposes. No identifying information will be used. No, alright then. Next, add at least one person to share thoughts with. Your wife has been added. The last thing you need to do is read our TOS and agree to them, and you ’ ll be ready to go! Great! Enjoy!
I could feel a slight electric pulse constantly going through my head. Wearing it seemed really stupid and my thoughts pretty much were revolving around when we ’ d eat dinner.
*Because you ’ re doing this, I thought I might fix dinner tonight and we could have a romantic evening. -Nicole*
Welp, I guess it was working. Even though I was looking forward to a romantic evening with her, my thoughts still drifted to dinner. Then I realized I should probably test the filter and make sure it was doing its job. I thought about how bad her mom ’ s cooking was. I ’ d never told her and if I had, she would not have been pleased. When she didn ’ t react, I figured the filter must have been working right if something that wasn ’ t that big of a deal didn ’ t even make it through.
*I agree. Spaghetti sounds good. –Nicole*
It was going to be weird getting used to this, even if it was only for the night. After dinner, we sat together and watched a movie. It was some cookie cutter romance thing, but I actually found it quite enjoyable. Which, unfortunately, meant that she knew I liked it now. The weird thing was seeing her thoughts during the movie. Now I finally understood why she was crying at certain parts.
For the rest of the night we moved to the bedroom, and let me tell you, that was informative. Many, many questions were answered, and I think it was probably the best night we ’ d ever spent together. Her thoughts seemed to agree. Overall, yeah, I ’ d say I ’ m satisfied with GoogleThought.
-Mike ’ s testimonial for GoogleThought
****
I bought the GoogleThought for me and my husband to use one night. Probably one of the best and worst products I ’ ve ever used.
So, first I came home and had us set both of ours up. The first few thoughts I saw were:
*This is stupid. –Mike*
*What the hell is going to be for dinner? Why did I have to wait to eat to wear this stupid gadget? –Mike*
*Man, her mother ’ s cooking taste like something that was stuffed up a turkey and served cold. –Mike*
It became relatively clear that his censor wasn ’ t working. Especially when certain thoughts like the one below made it through:
*Whew, that stunk. I wonder if she noticed my fart. Nope, looks like I ’ m clear. –Mike*
Some things you just don ’ t need to know. But, I was curious to see the real Mike, so I didn ’ t say anything to him. As we ate dinner, I gained insight into how little he actually thinks. It pretty much revolved around what he was eating, what he was going to do to me later, what he ’ d done at work, and oddly enough, what he was going to get his mother for her birthday.
Later, we sat down to watch a romantic movie. Most of his thoughts were about my own thoughts and thinking how strange it was to actually know what I was thinking. However, the one below was an insight I wasn ’ t prepared for:
*Yeah, if I was that girl I ’ d totally fuck that guy. Hell, even as a guy, I ’ d probably still let him have his way with me. Shit, what am I thinking. No, I can ’ t be thinking that way. Although if Nicole was cool with it, I ’ d probably be cool with a threesome, regardless of who the third person was. Wait, she might be reading these thoughts right now. Shit. Oh, wait, nevermind. The censor is protecting me. *
I wasn ’ t too concerned about what I learned during the movie, as it was obvious when we got to the bedroom that he also really wanted me. He was actually doing everything I was thinking, which was nice for a change. Fortunately my censor was working, so when a few, automatic and unfortunate thoughts came into my mind, I was able to rethink the thought and send that to him instead. Because I was so caught up in my own thoughts, I wasn ’ t really able to enjoy the night, although I let him think I did.
Long story short, you might get more than what you bargained for.
-Nicole ’ s Testament for GoogleThought
**Testaments are taken straight from the subconscious part of the person ’ s brain, per the TOS. All testaments are how the actual user really feels about GoogleThought. **
-184
|
[ WP ] You finally meet up with with your online cosplaying group at a convention for the first time but you 're starting to get the feeling that these guys are n't cosplaying .
| I tapped my foot impatiently on the marble floor of the lobby, waiting for my crew to show up. Without them, I was just some guy in a garish Hawaiian shirt carrying dinosaur figurines. Passing Deadpools were all trying to make Miami Vice jokes about it.
Finally, the glass doors slid open, and Captain Reynolds stepped through. *WOW*. This guy had *nailed* the costume! The perfect brown duster, holster, those high colonial-era-looking pants... And he was the spitting image of Nathan Fillion, too. He could have done work as a look-alike!
Kaylee, Jayne, and Zoe came in behind him. God *damn*, did these people all get plastic surgery to look like their characters or something? Kaylee was wearing her regular overalls; some of the more feminine cosplayers chose to do the fancy dress from Episode 4. I prefer the mechanic look, though. The only thing that was out of place was that Jayne was n't wearing his signature orange hat. But the replica of Vera in his arms was realistic enough to get some nervous glances from the Con security at the doors, despite the fact that they'd probably seen a thousand other fake guns before.
`` Are you the guy?'' the Captain walked up to me and asked. He'd refused to give me his real name in the online forum; insisted on going by'Captain Reynolds.' `` Are you the one who contacted us on the cortex?'' I was still a bit in shock; even his *voice* was the same as Nathan Fillion's. I glanced around the lobby looking for cameras to make sure this was n't one of those Youtube prank shows where they get the actual actor involved. `` The new pilot??'' he asked again.
I cleared my throat and stood up from the bench, feeling self-conscious about my own costume. I had n't even dyed my hair for this. I looked nothing like Wash; these guys were going to eat me alive. `` Uhh, yeah, that's me.''
`` I figured he'd be scrawny,'' Jayne growled, strapping Vera over his shoulder. `` Pilots're always scrawny.'' Zoe glared at him, but he just shrugged. `` Some people like that, though.''
`` He's not *that* scrawny,'' the one playing Kaylee said, just as sweet as her character on the show. `` He looks nice!''
`` Yeah, yeah,'' Mal interrupted. `` We'll get all of our hellos and judgments out when we're back aboard Serenity. I like to spend as little time on these central planets as possible.'' He turned back to me with his hands on his hips. `` What'd you say your name was?''
`` I... errr..'' Did he mean my *real* name? Why would Mal ask Wash what his name was? `` It's Charlie.''
`` What kinda stupid name is that?'' Jayne blurted out.
`` Jayne, you do n't want to know what painful things I'll do to you if you run off *another* potential pilot,'' Zoe snapped back. She turned to me. `` Nice to meet you, Charlie. We've been looking for a new pilot for the better part of a year now.''
Without waiting for the bickering to end, Mal turned and headed back out the door. Zoe, Kaylee, and Jayne followed, and I hustled to catch up to them. `` Man, you guys are really into this,'' I whispered to the girl playing Kaylee. `` How much time did you all put into your costumes.''
`` Costumes?'' she asked.
I was too distracted to answer. They had n't just put effort into their costumes: Serenity was sitting there in the parking lot, bigger than a *house*. Clouds of steam were rising from the engines, and a crowd of other cosplayers had gathered around it in a circle to admire it.
Mal turned back toward me and noticed my jaw hanging open. `` Now, I know she do n't look like much. When I bought this ship, I was told...''
`` You buy this ship, treat her proper, she'll be with you for the rest of your life...'' I repeated, unable to take my eyes off of it. I'd seen `` Out of Gas'' enough times to know the quote already. Just because my costume was a bit amateurish did n't mean that I did n't know the show backwards and forwards.
Mal clapped me on the back with a hearty grin. `` Finally, someone on the crew who gets it! So what do you think? Ready to sign on as our pilot? Think you can fly this thing?'' He thrust a hand out, waiting for me to shake on it.
The engines of the ship roared to life, sending the crowd running back. The whole ship seemed to vibrate on the asphalt, ready to take off. The shockwave from the jets hit me, ruffling my hair. The back of the loading bay opened, revealing the interior of the ship just like on the show. And I finally realized that it *wasn't* a fake.
`` Hell *yes* I can fly this thing!'' I shouted, pumping Mal's hand eagerly before he could retract the offer.
|
[ WP ] Everyone carries around luck charms at all times . You 've just lost yours .
| I frowned as I patted my back pocket where my lucky quarter usually was. Empty. Front pockets? Empty. I felt a bead of sweat creep down my forehead and wiped it away. I *never* misplaced my quarter. My parents had made it clear from as early as I could remember that testing luck too often was as good as a death sentence. The day in kindergarten that they took it away to prove a point? Fell down the stairs and later dropped my sandwich on the floor. That time in high school when I forgot it in the other pair of jeans? Failed a test and my girlfriend broke up with me on the walk home.
`` I ca n't find my quarter,'' I said in response to my roommate's concerned glances. He scooted away from his desk to help me search. There had been a recent streak of charm thefts and everybody was on edge.
`` You probably just misplaced it,'' he said in an attempt to comfort me. I shook my head. I *knew* I had it this morning and had felt it in my pocket on the walk home, too. He opened my desk drawer, rifling through my papers to no avail. `` It'll show up,'' he reassured me confidently, patting his own lucky rabbit's foot that hung around his neck. I frowned and nodded nervously, sitting back into my desk chair. Something felt... off. I could n't tell what it was. `` I'm off to get dinner. You wan na join?'' he asked lightheartedly.
I shook my head. I was n't stepping out of the room until I found it. Who knew what evils lurked outside, waiting to pounce and throw me down an elevator shaft or into the path of an oncoming car? I sifted through my sock drawer, casting aside the mismatched pairs before proceeding to diligently inspect each pair of pants. Nothing. I upturned each book on my desk and looked on the sill of the open window and even checked inside the fridge, all with no luck. Finally, desperate to find the quarter on which my life hinged, I started rummaging through my roommates desk thinking I might have accidentally placed it there.
`` What are you doing?'' he asked testily and I turned, leaving a drawer half-open behind me. I was so immersed in the contents that I had n't heard him return. Quarters, pennies, clovers, alligator teeth... The drawer had easily a hundred charms and I could feel the power permeating through the wood.
`` I... I was looking for my quarter,'' I stammered, backing away as he approached me threateningly. `` It... It was n't there,'' I lied. In fact, I was almost positive it was there. And that I had found the culprit responsible for the recent crime spree.
`` Oh, it was,'' he said with a devious grin and I felt the wall against my back. `` And if your empty hands are anything to go by, it still is. Unlucky,'' I heard him mutter and he took one more step towards me. His hands met my chest and then I was falling through the open window, my hands grasping at air.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
|
[ WP ] A person has the power to control time . They unknowingly freeze time during a nightmare .
| The darkness was rushing at me. It was n't visible. It was n't lacking in light so much as the sensation of pure panic had encompassed a void and was rushing straight at me.
And then it stopped. Just out of arms reach. I had stopped time internally. Or had I? What were the ramifications of this. What was happening outside?
'Nothing has changed outside'
'Who..are you'
'I'm not sure yet, none of us are'
'Are you the nightmare'
'We panic when you leave, do you feel it too'
'I did until I stopped this. Now..'
'Please wait a while'
My surrounds started taking shape, the void shaped and solidified like watching melting wax reform, condense. He was calm and neat.
I stopped time. And I was watching it move forward anyway.
'Do you know what I am thinking'
'No' I replied
'So this is not your thoughts driving this conversation'
We were walking up a sand path, rough strewn grass pushed out in tufts on each side guiding our way.
'Do you have family, friends you could tell me about'
'Not really, not close'
'Where are you out there'
'On a couch in an observed room'
'So.... you will live'
'That feels like a threat, I can-'
'Stop. You have new responsibilties. There is now a life that relies on your choices now'
'It is beautiful here'
'It's all I know'
|
[ WP ] A well-dressed man politely enters your home . He asks you to do something horrible .
| Midday. A knock at the door.
`` Who's this?''
`` My name is Jason Stein. I'm an attorney speaking on behalf of Mr. O'Shea. May I come in?''
I barely have time to be confused -- *I'm Mr. O'Shea, * I think -- before I realize who he's referring to. The door flies open without my noticing that I've even touched the doorknob.
`` What is it?''
The lawyer's tall, forty-something, gray suit. He looks tired.
`` May I come in?''
I step aside. The door closes and we go into the sitting room.
`` I'm sorry for the short notice, but it's a rather serious situation,'' he tells me, swinging his briefcase onto the coffee table. `` Your father actually called me just this morning.''
The briefcase opens with a click and he hands me a sheath of papers.
`` Car collision. He's on the waiting list for a transplant, and he's up there in terms of priority, but his blood type is rare. It's hard to find a match.''
I do n't want to read the file, but I ca n't look at his face either. I stare at the briefcase.
`` And he wants mine.''
He clears his throat. Pulls at his tie. I glance up -- he looks uncomfortable.
`` Your father asked me to -- to relate something to you. He says that he made a mistake --''
`` What mistake?'' I press. My voice lashes out like a blade. I'm looking down again, but I do n't need to see to know the expression on the lawyer's face.
`` He's sorry. He wants to get to know you again. A second chance.''
Suddenly I'm six again, crouched in the tiny space between the washing machine and the wall. In the other room I can still hear the voices, even if I do n't know what they're saying. Something shatters on the tiled floor -- porcelain, perhaps. A *crack* as his hand whips across her cheek.
Nine, and I'm clutching my book report in my hands as I walk up the front steps. Fingers carefully positioned so as not to smudge the red A in the corner. Hands shaking as I proudly pass it to him. Nose bleeding as he strikes me, screaming, demanding to know why it was n't A-plus.
Eleven, curled up in the backseat of that beat-up sedan with a backpack full of clothes. Wondering why my mother is tearing across the freeway, fast as a comet, yet still with a face that looks like she's being outrun.
I should be angry, but instead I'm serene. Calmer than I was when the lawyer showed up, or opened his briefcase, even. I meet his eyes with a level stare.
`` He wants to buy my kidney with an apology?''
He has the decency not to look shocked; he presses his mouth into a line instead, grim.
`` That's not what was stated.''
`` But it's what he meant,'' I say. He says nothing.
I think about all the nights spent at my bedroom windowsill, waiting for the hum of a diesel engine pulling into the driveway that never comes. Lying in bed at night, not knowing where exactly the line was; the line between fear and hope -- standing there, looking up, wondering if this time he'd raise his hand and it would be an embrace instead...
Christmases where my mom worked late. Evenings at friends' houses, only to make excuses to leave before dinner, that time of family communion that felt so foreign to me. Birthdays shadowed by that nagging feeling -- *I'll check the phone just once more, maybe he's called this year... *
It's been twenty years. I have my own life now.
*'' He's sorry. He wants to get to know you again. A second chance. `` *
I think about it.
`` Okay,'' I say. The lawyer's head jerks with surprise. `` I'll do it.''
Twenty years, but not too late. It's a door I never fully closed.
``... Shall I call him?''
A door I can reopen.
`` No. It's my kidney, and I'm naming a different price.''
Or --
`` What, then?''
A door I can close, for good.
`` I give it to him, and we both move on.''
|
[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 27 : Breaking Your Barriers # 1
| I'm about thirteen words over limit if that's permissible. To be honest, there are about three hundred more forthcoming but, in line with the workshop, this edited version will suffice.: )
***
# The Crack in the Door #
`` Good morning Maureen.''
`` Good morning Mr. Kurtz.''
Henry Kurtz walked past Maureen Adler's habitat, as he did every morning. A simple desk with alcoves built on top, filled with papers and paraphanelia of varying importance, an old computer with a Pink Floyd screensaver, and a potted plant that had been wilted for years that Maureen had insisted on keeping around to water. In his cursory walk past, he noticed her desk calender, once themed with adorable kittens, had been replaced for one with baby ducks. She was working her way through the baby animals again, each month a new calendar. He often wondered how much she spent on her'hobby', but decided in the end he'd rather not know. He also noticed with a start she'd added to her collection. Now joining Spock and Scotty on her tabletop, there was a little Bones bobble head, gently wagging his head as she moved about the desk. He thought about mentioning it, thought about asking when she'd got it and telling her how cute it was. But something... *it* held him back, and he passed on with a polite smile.
He set his briefcase down by his desk in the office adjacent to Maureen, before crossing back over and shutting the door.
But not all the way. He always left it open a small crack.
It kept the air in the office from getting stale. She came in on the fresh breeze. A light, kind voice, never far from a laugh. Melodious, tinkling, like an instrument. Most of the time he heard it talking about scheduling conflicts or service questions. But every once in awhile, he'd hear it talk about her creative writing class, how she'd be late and would have to have her homework sent to her, or her volunteer work down at the clinic, how she could n't work Sunday's, but Friday evenings would do. Every now and then, it also said `` I love you'' and `` Where should we go for dinner tonight?'' Sometimes there was no voice at all. He just listened to her shifting papers, and checking websites, fingers crackling across a keyboard, each movement easy and practiced, lovely.
And so it continued.
`` Good morning Maureen.''
`` Good morning Mr. Kurtz.''
One of these mornings, Henry noticed as he came in that something was different. The ducks had been preemptively changed to penguins, and inexplicably, Pink Floyd was gone, the generic pastoral screen saver remaining in its place. The most startling change was Maureen herself. Her smile was smaller, and not quite right. Her eyes were dark, and even a little puffy. It could be a hangover, but they were n't coming off the weekend which would be the usual excuse for such things. She clutched a mug of chamomile tea, a marked difference from her typical espresso. As always, he said nothing. As always, he left the door open. When she answered the phone it was with the usual courtesy; but the upbeat tone and easy laughter were gone. Henry paused more than once at the jarring note. He found it impossible to ignore.
At one point, the disrupted harmony of her voice became a dissonance. `` I do n't want to talk about it here, I'm at work... no... I do n't know....I do n't know, I really need some space right now... no... I'm asking you to...'' She hung up abruptly. A few moments later, Henry heard her hurry away from the desk. When he left that day, he noticed her eyes were puffier and redder than they had been that morning. Her voice was husky as she said good-bye.
`` Good morning Maureen.''
`` Good morning Mr. Kurtz.''
Things were unchanged from yesterday, save that Maureen seemed more rested than before. She still prefers chamomile to espresso, and Pink Floyd was nowhere to be seen. Today, however, as Henry cracked the door and sat down, his ears were attuned attentively to an expected sound. Around lunch he finally heard it.
`` Delivery for Ms. Adler.''
`` Oh... wow... who... I mean, who are these from?''
`` No name, Ms.''
As soon as the delivery man left, he heard her pick up the phone.
`` Hey. Thanks... thank you, for the um... for the flowers. That was a really sweet gest-... you did n't? Well then who... no... no, I do n't, I thought they were from you... Jared calm down... I ca n't do this with you right now.'' The phone hit the reciever with a clap, and Henry heard her give a shaky sigh. Then he heard the rustling of flowers being arranged on her desk
***
The reality fiction and romance genres have rarely interested me in literature, and so I avoid them generally when writing. But this was a nice foray into the different.
|
[ FF ] Describe an addict in 100 words or less without mentioning what they are addicted to
| The image of a sweated skin, catching light as it moves. Discovering god. Learning that he was always there. A nap in the middle of the summer. The singing of the cicadas. Looking through a big cement block by the pool. The image of a rainbow in a water drop full of chlorine through which I could see a hole little building, tinyer in my field of vision than my rainbowed drop of water. A magical color. Leafs in Autumn. Northern winds. Southern ones bringing storms. A powerful storm brought by one of many Virgin mary's. And so many winters.
|
[ CW ] A story taking place over an entire year , in the space of one tiny cinema .
| There they were, opening night. It cost three dollars and ninety-seven cents each for them to get tickets, but Marjorie and Tom thought it would be worth it. The showing was starting early; Tom had taken a half day from work rather deviously and Marjorie had managed to finish all of the household cleaning bright and early. That was 1937 for you.
`` How do you think the picture got such a funny name, Tom?'' She asked him, rouge cheeks masked in the dim cinema lights.
`` Do n't know, Marj. Let's watch the film.''
Tom sighed. Sometimes Marjorie was a little *too* curious. The opening credits and title card rolled onto the screen. Tom, who had been working extremely hard these days to save up for the birth of their first child could n't help but yawn. He felt terribly bad for doing so, and resolved to keep his eyes open and wits fully about. After all, that three dollars and some change did n't come easy these days!
It was then quite surprising when the film suddenly stopped. It looked as though the roll of film had been cut jaggedly with a sharp pair of scissors. `` Hello?'' Tom called out; but there was no answer.
It was just the beginning, not of the film, but what would come to be the next hours and days of their lives. He had n't noticed; but the cinema was painfully empty and they were the only viewers present. He could've sworn he'd seen some others heading in; but now Tom knew he had to be mistaken. `` I'll try the door, since nobody seems to be concerned.'' He seemed quite annoyed; probably due to the fact that he'd paid for this awful experience.
When he tried the door, Tom was shocked to find it was locked. There were no other doors in the tiny building and he began to sweat a bit.'That's strange...' He thought to himself, but Marjorie was by his side before he could churn out another word.
`` Tom, you've always been so kind. So kind, so... free..'' Her eyes glistened. Always beautiful and translucent, she smiled - but her smile was n't quite right. Her teeth were just not the same. Two teeth had large, pointed fangs that reminded him of the jagged film...
`` I'm sorry, I wanted to ask you but I know how stubborn you are. Come, it will be easier if you do n't fight.'' She grinned; and his once loving, innocent, and pregnant Marjorie bit into his neck.
Tom managed a piercing scream. Not a soul heard him.
`` Alright my pet, we shall be spending quite a while here. Turning is never easy. You'll be sick for a while; your heart will stop for a bit - but your mind will remain stunningly active. You'll sweat, cry... but in three hundred and sixty five days time, you'll be all mine... *truly and forever*.''
Tom had no time to react. She was right. His heart *did* stop, and then the unbearable pain began to set in along with the sweats slowly but surely. Days passed. Nobody ever came to check the little, tiny, cinema on the outskirts of town. How strange it had been when Marjorie had suggested this place... claiming that it reminded her of her childhood...
Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, he heard sound again.
`` Tom!'' Marjorie was slapping his face and shaking him. `` *Tom! *'' Terrified, he instantly recoiled from his bride-to-be. His eyes were drooping and Marjorie tilted her head. `` You drifted off just as the film began, sweetheart. Are you feeling quite alright?''
Had it really all been just a dream...?
|
[ IP ] Empires rise and fall ... .
| Walking among the weeds, the undergrowth was only beginning to blossom. The sun shines brightly on the pair as their honour guard remained in the shade out of wanting eyes, donning simple merchant clothes to hide their true nature. The bright day was still brisk, a thin layer of frost covering all that had not touched the light.
`` Do you understand why we are here?'' He stroked his beard, a salt and pepper colour slowing easing into his features.
`` This is the Agrurin's Graveyard, the town of Sagreth. It served as the main population center for the Argurian's empire until our forefather's led the uprising.''
`` Very good, you know your history well. But do you understand the significance of being here, today? On this very day?''
`` Today marks the anniversary of their defeat. One hundred and ninety seven years ago, the emperor fled and his palace burned.''
`` Correct. Go further my son.''
`` We must learn from their mistakes, to understand the underlying reasons and causes of their downfall.''
`` Precisely. This once was the jewel of the valley, the hidden gem of the Empire. Now is it where an old man and his son take refuge from kingly duties and history lessons. You must understand that one day in the future, there will be another father and his son, but it will not be us.''
`` I understand father. Empires rise and they fall.''
|
[ WP ] You are inside a GIF .
| I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because I just woke up, and I'm unable to do anything but gesture mindlessly and wait, because
|
[ WP ] The most boring demon attempts to possess the most boring man .
| `` Hello this is Longinquinica, bringer of bad occurrences. I have come to take over your body.''
`` What? Where's that voice coming from?''
`` I come from the pits of below. My presence is extradimensional, my purpose simple. I come to claim your body.''
`` I'm sorry, it's a bit inconvenient right now. I'm eating a salad. Can this wait?''
`` Erm, not really... Mr... wait hold on let just search right here... Johnson. Mr Johnson, this ca n't wait.''
`` Okay, but I'm almost done though. Are you sure you ca n't come back?''
`` Well it's either now or in a couple hours time, because I also have to go for lunch. How about three thirty?''
`` Oh, hmm, I'm supposed to go bowling with some coworkers.''
`` Okay, six pm?''
`` I'll be watching BBC at home, is that a good situation to, er, do whatever you're doing?''
`` Sure that's great Mr..erm..Johnson.''
`` Please, call me Johnson.''
`` Okay Johnson. Thank your for your patience. See you later then.''
|
[ WP ] Write a `` horror story '' that just turns out to be a blatant advertisement .
| Two young children run screaming from the room as their mother sets her knife aside. Cerise streams pool in the grouted grooves of the alabaster tile. Her crimson lips part to reveal a broad smile, a face that betrays her inner distaste for the unsightly mess. The kitchen is otherwise immaculate, an aseptic environment that seems to emanate a perpetual scent of bleach. Red veins race to escape her sweeping hand, removing the evidence from sight as her children cower behind the door frame. The pitiful rag sags and tears on the up-sweep, unable to withstand the volume of liquid spilling out. Reaching beneath the cabinet, she retrieves a thicker, stronger, quilted paper towel. Tearing off fewer sheets, a single swipe is more than enough to absorb the remaining liquid and the remnants of the other towel. She places the roll in plain view, the only object so prominently displayed on her counter.
-247
|
[ WP ] Write a story based on your favourite song . Other people have to guess which song it is .
| This was the dream.
Just 5 hours ago, exactly 4:57pm, he walked into the office of his soon-to-be former boss. He spoke quietly with a measured pace. He did n't giver her any reasons, he did n't give her two weeks notice. She knew why anyway. She called him crazy and blew him a kiss and sent it on a breeze of sarcasm. But he was done and would never step through those doors of that goddamned paper mill again.
Looking back, it seemed like only yesterday he found those records while he and Peg cleaned out his father's basement the week after his funeral. They smelled like mold; the edges of the covers softened over time. He was drawn to them. He studied them. It was n't just listening. It became his life. Bird, Coltrane, Dizzy, Miles. Over the next two years they became his teachers.
His schooling was n't perfect. He grew further and further away from friends, family. When Peggy left him, he replaced her with whatever scotch that was on special that week and whatever women a self-imposed outcast in suburbia could rally. He kept her picture though.
In the weeks after he quit, he became a creature of the night. Days were spent with the curtains drawn; a Carlton haze in the air. He listened, he played, he listened again, he played again. Locking the front door and sliding his keys in his pocket his lungs would ache, finally expanding with something pure. The night was a world of his own.
Johnny K's, 10:30. The band was a bit loose and it pissed him off that the drummer spent more time looking at the brunette at the bar with the bad tattoos than actually attempting something called rhythm- never mind a decent feel for the music. It did n't matter though, these guys were kids, getting their kicks in playing in front of an actual audience. They were the warm-up.
Plaza Madrid, 11:45. The bartenders were sloppy. The crowd was drunk but appreciative. Eric, on baritone threw some new licks his way. They traded back and forth and he began to feel alive. Or it might have been the whiskey. Maybe both.
The Canyon Bar, 1:00. He had sat in with these guys a few times before. Stanley, Ian, Donald, and Walter. They knew he was coming; and he knew, Darwin, their alto player, had a wife that recently changed her mind about staying married to a musician who was out until four in the morning five nights a week. Taking one last drag, he crushed out his cigarette on the brick wall outside and moved like a viper up to the stage. There was a glass waiting for him on Ian's drum riser. This was a good sign.
`` We're doing that one you wrote, man,'' sniffed Donald `` But Walt's taking the solo after the bridge.''
`` Yeah, fine,'' He did n't care. `` Just go back to the top after he's done and repeat it. I'm going to take it from there....Just keep an eye out.''
They nodded. They picked up their instruments, and like a fluid machine created by a painter rather than an engineer, the music began to ebb and flow like a tide. He played his journey, he played his pain, his wife, and he played in tribute to his countless hours listening to the masters.
He did n't care that his solo went long. He did n't care that Stanley came in a half beat early. He did n't care if he was winning, he did n't care if he was losing.
He was free.
**DISCLAIMER** Thanks for reading. I'm not a writer, but I'm a music fan. I hope this was at the very least kind of interesting. Maybe you can even figure out the tune I wrote about.
|
[ WP ] You are going to have a heart transplant in just a few hours , and no one else seems to notice that the head surgeon is a 5-year old in an oversized coat .
| There ’ s a light knock on the doorframe. “ Ms. Jones? ”
I open my eyes, clearing my throat before I answer, “ Yes? ”
“ I ’ m Dr. Volski. I ’ m from the state. ” She gives me a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “ I understand you ’ re scheduled for a heart transplant in a few hours? ”
I glance at the clock. “ Two hours and twenty-six minutes. ”
“ And you have some… concerns? ”
She settles on the stool in the corner, tilting her clipboard up. She removes a pen from the top and clicks it once.
I take a deep breath. “ Yes. I do. My, um… My surgeon is Dr. Franklin? ” My voice goes quiet and squeaky. I clear my throat again. “ Do you… know him? ”
“ I don ’ t, ” she answers. “ But from what I understand, he ’ s quite skilled. ”
“ Everyone keeps saying that. ” I laugh nervously. “ The thing is, though… I, um. ” I run a hand through my hair. I ’ m surprised I haven ’ t pulled it all out by now. “ He ’ s a *kid*. ”
Her brow furrows. “ I believe he ’ s worked at this hospital for quite some time- ”
“ Yeah, he can ’ t have worked for more than, like… five years? Because he ’ s, like, a five-year-old. ”
“ Okay. ” She taps her pen against the clipboard. “ So the doctor looks like a child to you? ”
“ Yes. ”
“ Okay. Has anything like this happened to you before? ”
I purse my lips. “ Um, have I ever been operated on by a five-year-old? No. ”
“ I mean, have you ever... seen something different than everyone else sees? Because the other nurses, they all see him as a competent middle-aged doctor. Correct? ”
“ Uh, yeah. ”
“ And you see him as a five-year-old. ” She pauses for a moment. “ So what you ’ re seeing and what other people are seeing is different. Have you experienced anything to that effect before now? ”
“ No. ”
“ Okay. ” She scratches out a note on the paper. “ Have you ever been through any trauma? Abuse? Anything like that? ”
“ No. ”
“ Have you ever had an overwhelmingly negative experience with doctors? Any history of doctors either misdiagnosing you, or... maybe a family member that suffered because of negligence? ”
“ Uh… my mom had cancer? But the doctors were fine. I mean, they found it early, so… Like, she ’ s totally fine. ”
She hums, making another note. “ So when your mother had cancer, did you worry that the doctors might not be able to help her? Maybe they ’ d mess something up and make her worse? ”
I shrug. “ A little, I guess. I mean, I ’ ve never really… liked doctors. ” A look of understanding crosses her face, and I quickly add, “ But that ’ s not what ’ s going on here. I ’ m not having… like, I don ’ t know, hallucinations because I ’ m worried about my transplant. I ’ m being punked or something. ” I laugh, a little desperately. “ Like, you guys are all in on it. And there ’ s hidden cameras. ”
“ Ms. Jones, have you ever felt that people were out to get you? Do you ever feel like people are laughing at you behind your back? ”
“ I ’ m not crazy, ” I tell her.
“ I don ’ t think you ’ re crazy, ” she says. She smiles again, looking sympathetic. “ Sometimes when people are experiencing a lot of stress or overwhelming feelings -- like you are, with the stress of being sick and having to… get a new heart -- sometimes all that stress just overloads your brain, and it can create some strange situations. ”
I shift in my bed, wincing at the pain in my chest. “ So… this kind of thing has happened before? ”
“ It ’ s more common than you think. Your body ’ s been put through a lot lately. I ’ m surprised you haven ’ t been to see a therapist through any of this. ”
I shrug. “ Like I said, not a fan of doctors. ”
She nods, tipping the clipboard down. “ Well, Ms. Jones, I don ’ t think there ’ s anything to suggest this is more than a one-time incident. I think the best course of action, and the one I ’ ll be recommending to your doctor, is to just give you something to keep you nice and relaxed until your surgery. Either I or one of my colleagues will meet with you afterwards to see how you ’ re doing, see if this persists, and then we ’ ll go from there. Okay? ”
“ Okay. Um, thanks. ”
She smiles as she stands. “ Your nurse should be by in just a few minutes. ”
“ Okay. ”
The door clicks shut behind her. I take another deep breath.
*It ’ ll all be over soon. *
***
Sometimes I hate it when I ’ m right.
In case you were wondering what it ’ s like to be ghost -- it sucks.
|
[ OT ] What are some of your favorite online stories not found on Reddit .
| http: //thezombieknight.blogspot.ca/
The Zombie Knight. Something like a cross between superhero, urban fantasy, and dark humour. Absolutely hilarious.
www.parahumans.wordpress.com
Worm. It's well-written, massive, and finished - a superhero story, where the right choices are n't always what they seem. There are some shaky spots, but shaky is a very relative term; by most any standard the whole thing is great.
www.twigserial.wordpress.com
Twig. Written by the same author, it's suspense biopunk horror something something awesome. Just getting started, but it's awesome. The main character is genetically engineered with literary villain traits, but in a way that makes sense and is played absolutely straight.
There are more if you want to hear them, but those are enough for a month or two of reading alone. Try topwebfiction.com for more.
|
[ WP ] In the far future , fairy tales have advanced with the times . Rewrite a classic for the digital age .
| “ I ’ ve got one ” Hansel shouted into the woods. His phone held firmly in his grasp, he moved towards the tree that Gretel had climbed. Gretel dropped down and sprinted over to him. He only now noticed how ragged she looked. Her clothes were torn from a combination of moving through the woods and sleeping on the dirt. They ’ d been lost in the woods for around four days now, and it was starting to take its toll.
She grabbed his hand and inspected the device in his hand. The signal was weak, but it was there. She grabbed for her own phone and searched, the same signal appeared on screen. They could get out of the woods, if only they could find the source of the signal.
“ You stay put, don ’ t lose the signal. I ’ ll go and hunt for it ” Hansel said moving away from her. She nodded her reply and sat on the floor. She hadn ’ t said a word in days now, he was starting to worry about her. He moved in an easterly and the signal dropped off his screen. Trying not to panic, fearing irrationally that he had lost the signal forever, he moved back in the other direction. West he thought, and picked up the signal again. He continued moving and saw the signal jump from one bar to two.
“ It ’ s this way! ” he shouted and gestured for her to follow him.
Gretel caught up and followed closely on his heels, her eyes not leaving her own screen. Breaking through a tree line they found the source of the signal. A small run down cottage situated in a clearing. The cottage was covered in overgrown foliage, and surround by discarded car parts. It looked more like a junk yard than a house, but it was their best shot.
They approached the house and knocked on the front door. Immediately noises began coming from inside as someone heavyset approached the door. They took a step back in anticipation. The door flung open and a large woman of about 60 years stood in opening staring, cigarette in her mouth.
“ What? ” her terse voice causing discomfort in Hansel, but Gretel didn ’ t even flinch.
“ Hi, we… erm… we ’ re lost. Do you have a phone we could use, or maybe send an email? We picked up your wifi signal ”
“ You ’ re lost eh? ” she grinned menacingly, then continued “ come on in, we ’ ll get someone to come pick you up. You both look hungry, are you hungry? ” She turned and headed back into the house motioning for them to follow.
“ We haven ’ t eaten since yesterday ” Hansel replied. He reminded himself to be cautious, but it was difficult with his stomach roaring like it was. He followed the heavy set lady with Gretel in tow.
The house was as rundown as the exterior. Clutter throughout the house providing evidence of a hoarder. Trying to be polite he followed the lady without a glance anywhere, he only now realised she walked with a limp. The kitchen was as cluttered as the rest of the house, and didn ’ t look like it had been cleaned in a while. They sat at the table when indicated to do so by a wave of the lady ’ s hand. She buried her head into the fridge.
“ You both like soup? ” she asked
Gretel nodded to Hansel who answered in the positive for both of them. He had no idea why Gretel had stopped talking. Hopefully some food would help her back to her normal self. Five minutes passed when a bowl was thrust in front of each of them filled with a gleaming brown liquid.
“ Beef ” was the answer to a question Hansel was too polite to ask. He nodded and hoped he managed to keep his true feelings about the meal from his face. He picked up the spoon and set about eating the food without vomiting. After the first mouthful he realised his mistake and struggled to refrain from picking the bowl up and just drinking. He was someone ’ s guest and tried to keep his manners. Gretel had forgotten hers and set about sloppily eating the soup, along with all the slurping noises she could manage. Hansel looked at the lady who laughed and said “ no need to be polite, get stuck in ”
He did as was instructed and shovelled mouthful after mouthful into his mouth. Head lowered until the final spoonful was clean, he surfaced for air. Remembering where he was and why they were here he said “ thank you for the food, would you mind if we used your phone? ”
“ Of course, it ’ s just through here ” She gestured to the doorway they had come through. He stood and had to grab the table edge to steady himself. The room started to spin and he fell, noticing his unconscious sister at the table as he did so.
His eyes were forced apart by the glare of a bright light. The room had changed and it took a few minutes for him to remember where he was. The realisation dawned when he saw his sister face down on a table in front of him, not moving. He stifled a scream when he realised her back had been sliced open and he could see her skeletal structure. He didn ’ t want to give away the fact he was awake and forced himself to keep from screaming. The sobs he couldn ’ t stop, tears flowed as he struggled against his restraints. All at once his view was filled with the sight of the heavyset woman, a smile plastered across her face.
“ You ’ re awake, good ” she said “ I wondered how long it would take. Your sister woke up much quicker than you. You ate more than she did I guess. No matter now ” She turned and walked back to the table. He noticed her limp had gone, had she been faking it? She picked up a tool from the table and placed it out of view.
He looked around the room and noticed it was tiled and looked similar to an operating theatre. “ What a... a... are you d…d…doing to her? ” he enquired through the sobs. She once again filled his vision.
“ What do you think I ’ m doing? Youthful people like you, filled with Stem Cells. I want them, I have injuries of my own to fix. Now hold still ”
The needle slipped into his skin and filled his arm with a burning sensation. “ Four days of injections and you ’ ll be set for harvesting. Your sister there ” she pointed behind her to the table “ I got greedy and took them straight away. There ’ ll be plenty left over from you though ”
He could not hold back the screams any longer. He shouted for help, when that didn ’ t seem to work, he got angry and shouted obscenities of all kinds as he struggled against the restraints once more. The woman didn ’ t flinch at a single word, the look of boredom finally appearing. She walked out of view and returned shortly with another needle. It punctured the skin with another burning sensation. She threw the needle away and returned to the table. The last thing he saw was the woman push his sister ’ s corpse onto the floor before his vision went dark.
|
[ WP ] You are an archaeologist in the far future . You make the discovery of a lifetime : the ruins of a once great city . But it is really a modern day garbage dump .
| Day 1:
The team headed over to site for our initial investigation. The scans showed high iron content, suggesting that the site is from after 1000 BCE. There is evidence of plastics, but we are unsure if that is due to contamination from a later time. We are still awaiting our radioactive isotope test results.
Day 2:
Excavation was finished overnight, and we were able to take a good look at the layout of the area. There is strong evidence of plastics, and our dating tests suggest that the site is roughly from 2000 CE. An investigation into the layout of the area confirms that we have a city. There are clear rows in the structure, which suggest that the city was well-planned. The decomposition clearly is due to unintentional anaerobic digestion of the city after it was abandoned. A pretty groundbreaking discovery! We have n't seen something like this since the site in the Southern continent.
Day 3:
Thousands are here at the site now, hoping to learn about the origins of modern society. We are so close to answering the important questions:
How did humans develop consensus based organizational systems? How was social competition eliminated virtually instantly? What was the historical trigger for the social shift?
Most relevant to this site is the question: What happened to this kind of city structure? There is a decades long rise in such cities, but around the 2000's there is a steep decline in such structures.
Perhaps it is ideological? The historical record is sparse on such matters. The humans of the time only generated 100 Tbits/s. No where near enough to establish any historical certainty of what occurred. Such a pity that we know so little about a key moment in human social development.
|
[ WP ] When people die , a trial is held to decide if they go to heaven or hell . People are allowed to choose their attorney , regardless of if they know them personally or not . You 're the first person to choose Satan as your attorney .
| Welp, I guess that's it. I died. The last thing I can remember is that big-ass truck coming towards my car. I think that's how I died. I just think, though, I ca n't really remember it.
But anyway, there was I, sitting at the defendant's bench. Some angelical dude explained to me that when you die, you *do* get a judgement. `` God forgives all'', my ass. The big guy Himself was right there, gavel in hand, menacing as ever.
Two seraphs were by my sides, acting as bailiffs. One of them told me that I had ten minutes to choose an attorney. I thought of Matt Murdock. I mean, he was better at punching people, but he was a great lawyer. Could I even ask for a fiction character to be my attorney?
I raised my hand, almost trembling in fear of His divine fury.
`` Your... Holiness? May I ask a question?''
The huge man looked at me. His eyes were glistening like gold, but I could feel thunder and fire there. I could feel punishment in His eyes. But I also could see a `` ask away, my son'' there.
`` Can I... Uh... Ask for a fictional character to be my attorney?''
The whole firmament shaked, and I heard an ominous `` *NO*'' in my mind. I did n't even started asking, but then I heard again `` no, you ca n't have Me as your attorney, for I am the Judge'' and just shrugged.
That's when I felt them right by my side. There was a... Nothingness right there, but there still was something.
They smiled at me, even though I could n't see any teeth. Their voice was calm, concentrated, almost sensual. I squinted a bit. The space was kind of glitching, as if something was trying really hard to exist there.
`` You... You are the Devil, are n't you?''
`` That's one of my names, I guess.'' they replied. `` But I can be whoever you want. I can be even be your defense. You just have to give me the right shape.''
I thought about every single lawyer I've ever seen in my whole life. None of them seemed capable enough to make me go to heaven. I was n't the greatest person while alive, and by the looks of the jury, I was pretty much going to hell.
`` Your time is over. It seems that the defendant has no attorney.'' His Holiness said. `` I shall then hand down the verdict. The defendant, who commited endless sins, did not frequent My temple, and blasphemed innumerous times, shall be considered G U I L...''
That's when it happened. The Devil took form. There was a lawyer capable enough. Heck, he was n't real, but the Devil was. And they could be whoever I wanted them to be, right?
They took the form of a man is his thirties. Blue suit, spiky dark hair. A confident look in his eyes. He raised his hand and pointed at the jury. He opened his mouth, and uttered the word that I was really hoping to hear at the moment.
`` **OBJECTION! ** ``
God almighty stopped right there, gavel in hand.
`` You *dare* to choose the Light Devoid of Light as your attorney?'' His voice rumbled across the room.
`` I... Guess?'' I said, fearing for my soul. `` I mean, he offered his help. And you guys... You want to judge me. So I asked for the best attorney around.''
`` And he made the right choice.'' The Devil said, nonchalantly.
God looked at him. `` There is no losing in this situation for you. If you lose this case, you will have another soul serving you in Sheol. Step back and let the verdict be handed.''
`` Well, he's not going to Sheol, you know. I'm going to win this case. After all, I always believe in my clients, as long as they believe in me.''
God stood there, quiet for a second.
`` So be it. You always were my most stubborn son.''
I grinned at the angels of the jury. I could n't lose anymore. Phoenix Wright was by my side.
|
[ EU ] [ Halo ] You are an AI who is trapped inside the helmet of a dead Spartan
| Transcript of Audio Log of UNSC AI `` Porkbelly''
UNSC: SPARTAN: Matthew AI: Porkbelly
Log: AI Year: 2535 + ( 2.5 * 10^8 cycles )
> I've stopped counting properly, I do n't care anymore. The last proper time sync was in 253X, I've been without an uplink since. UNSC AI Porkbelly logging unknown cycles since the death of SPARTAN Matthew. Cause of death, once again, self-inflicted death due to plasma grenade.
> I do n't know why I got stuck with this idiot. He was an idiot. He used plasma-based weaponry as though it were human-tech, did n't understand that there was nothing to `` compensate'' for. So it was no surprise when he threw a plasma grenade and expected it to stick to the wall. I yelled quite loud. But there was n't much I could do to stop him from running around like an idiot until he exploded. Being sucked out of an airlock did n't help him live too long.
> I expect the grunts just laughed.
> I've tried doing crosswords and `` pesudoko'', but when one has so much access to information there is n't a challenge.
> Updating from last log: Nope, I'm still bored. Still hoping I float into a sun or something at least somewhat cool.
|
[ FF ] Poem or story without using words less that 4 letters .
| Selecting different tactics than what Nigel previously knew, blue team's creative efforts were still less impressive than they would've liked. Side flanking strangely failed when their opponents were thoroughly bunkered deep down their caves. Instead, they have chosen scare tactics, followed with rapid close combat. However, Four green teammates were already gone, with only five remaining. Nigel counted seven downed blues.
`` North!'' Nick screams, just when fire spurts from behind some pillars. `` Watch left tunnels!'' Nigel replies. Just then, Mark rotates, seeing blues painting Marks chest blue. `` Behind!'' Nigel yells, just fast enough that Nick counters their charge, nabbing another blue. They head over near Mark's body. `` Soon blue will succeed.'' reminisced Nigel towards Nick. `` Soon.''
|
[ WP ] In the future , a man unknowingly broadcasts his mundane life to the internet .
| 1.
“ The guy has to notice at some point, doesn ’ t he? ”
The continuation to our text conversation came in just as the sun was creeping through the windows. If it were not for the horrid Nokia ring tone I might have actually slept through her belated response.
“ There is a reason that I called and texted you at 3am. I caved. I went back to the first broadcast and re-watched it all. I can ’ t let it go.. ”
I sent my reply text as I rolled off the lofted bed and onto the ground. Four am? Six am? I couldn ’ t remember the last time I had actually stayed up so late for something so trivial. At least during college you can convince yourself the sleep deprivation is worth it. The aches only proceeded to get worse at I eased myself back into my deck chair and awoke the computer, half buried underneath discarded interview transcriptions still damp with highlighter and ink.
I had talked to the designers and creators weeks ago so I could put together a basic fluff piece, nothing special – just enough to get a nice pay bump to this month ’ s commission to turn a currently disgruntled, long term girlfriend into a smug and consent fiancee. The piece had been done in a day and approved within the week. As the computer completed its forced update, despite my protests and procrastination, I pulled up the browser and the movie player. The feeling in my gut hardened, quickening its reversion to its natural state as of late. Sickened with anxiety, twisted by anticipation, and prodded often by the twinge of primal enjoyment at watching the events unfold. The browser opened, and after only few hours apart I was reunited with both my captor and my prize, Ben.
|
[ WP ] Write a Poem to Scare Me .
| Most species of rattlesnakes control
just how much venom
they release into their prey.
& nbsp;
The hemotoxin destroys tissue,
clots blood and sometimes
causes a severe paralysis.
& nbsp;
A necrosis:
a caused premature death
in its victims.
& nbsp;
Now, as far as monsters go.
& nbsp;
The rattlesnake is one that scares me
less than the ones I've seen of late.
& nbsp;
The rattlesnake offers its victims a chance to run.
Before the venom is released.
Before the deadly bite.
& nbsp;
Before the pain
and the paralysis.
There is a rattle.
Tss - tss - tss
& nbsp;
A warning for the victim
tss - tss - tss
to run.
& nbsp;
The monsters I've seen of late,
they have a rattle, too.
But it serves a different purpose.
& nbsp;
tss - tss - tss
& nbsp;
It serves to reel, meant
to draw their victim in.
& nbsp;
tss - tss - tss
& nbsp;
A drum beat.
A dance, a club.
Bodies meet.
& nbsp;
tss - tss - tss
& nbsp;
A forked tongue, and a flash. & nbsp;
& nbsp;
The venom consumed:
uncontrolled.
& nbsp;
And still
tss - tss - tss
& nbsp;
The rattle goes on.
& nbsp;
The victim sees no danger.
Rather comfort in a monster's smile.
& nbsp;
The deadly bite,
it happens next.
& nbsp;
And the necrosis,
the premature death,
begins to take hold.
& nbsp;
A darkness consumes the conscious.
& nbsp;
A paralysis takes to the body and mind.
& nbsp;
The victim no longer has control.
No longer herself.
& nbsp;
Fear, now is only of the monster --
no longer that of
snakes and clowns.
& nbsp;
And nightmares make what memory exists replay.
& nbsp;
tss - tss - tss
& nbsp;
The darkness consumes again and finally.
And the rattle continues.
|
[ WP ] You make money by kidnapping cats and collecting the reward
| She should have just offered a reward. When Candy tweeted her cat had been hit by a car and died, # RIPtooty trended for days. Thousands and thousands of tweets expressing condolences for a cat that was n't dead. The ill-tempered beast was caged in my apartment. Tooty shredded my leg, bit my hand and it was clear why Candy did n't want the cat around anymore.
TMZ was more than willing to pay the $ 100,000.00 I demanded to prove the cat was alive and well. It was a PR nightmare for Candy. When PETA pounced it cost her hundreds of thousands of followers and a makeup endorsement deal. The New York Daily News ran the headline `` Cat Got Your Tongue?'' after Candy refused to comment on the story. The D.A. toyed with the idea of charging her with animal abandonment, but I guess they did n't want the media circus. That was for the best since she really did n't abandon the cat, I took it. I returned the cat and Candy donated $ 25,000.00 to Peta in my name. I guarantee the next celebrity offers a big, fat reward for their `` missing'' cat.
|
[ WP ] Write an astronauts seemingly final moments after being adrift for many years .
| They say that well-behaved women rarely make history, but breaking the rules in space can get you killed. Not to mention: millions of taxpayer-subsidized funds down the drain because you failed to follow protocols.
Not to mention: sometimes the rules are all that remain.
On the *Hermes*, there are rules for everything. How to reclaim water and grow food. How to scrub carbon dioxide from the air. How to maintain solar cells and run systems diagnostics. How to poop. There are a lot of fiction books in the ship's library but when you serve as captain, chief science officer, janitor, and mechanic, then by god you read ship manuals full of rules instead.
I follow the rules, is what I'm saying.
Habitat Two holds my garden, full of potatoes and simple greens. Habitat Two used to hold my friends and colleagues before I jettisoned their corpses via the airlock. I should have planned better. It took about a year before their corpses faded from view, floating behind the *Hermes*, spinning lazily in its wake. I used to talk to them, my people, during my morning coffee. When I still had coffee. What would an alien have thought, happening upon my ship and seeing me peering out a porthole at a string of vacuum-dried remains, talking about my day? Would it have thought I was pitiful or just crazy?
I would have thought: take me to your leader. Or anywhere, really.
I did n't kill them, if you're wondering. The rest of the crew. We got sick & mdash; all of us & mdash; and Dr. Stevens could n't stop it. They died. I did n't. Maybe being the only woman on board was the trick & mdash; some sort of unhelpful cosmic feminism. I have to hand it to them & mdash; they hung in as long as they could, tried to make the *Hermes* as autonomous as possible. We were all hoping that I could pilot it home after everyone else was gone. Bobby, our resident navigator, had compiled the complicated orbits and propulsion timings and I had nodded along, pretending that my training as a systems engineer also qualified me to evaluate interstellar flight plans. The plan was to swing around Neptune, catch a gravity assist, and slingshot for Earth. The plan was to bury everyone under six feet of moist Terran soil.
The plan was not: lose thruster control for the eighteen month window that the *Hermes* could adjust its trajectory and rendezvous with Neptune.
Fate does n't follow rules, apparently.
So home is a no-go. For me, at least. Our science equipment happily chugs along firing a steady signal backwards down the ship's wake in the direction of Earth. External sensors on the ship's hull collect a variety of Very Important Data and feed it to a computer ( that I still maintain, thanks for noticing, despite the irrelevance of the project to my needs as a still-living government employee ), which compresses the data and sends it to the transmitter. I wonder how long it takes to download the data on the other end. I wonder if anyone is even listening.
I wonder: how long will the *Hermes* broadcast after I'm gone?
That's my legacy, I guess. The data. The success of the project. The rest of the crew recorded goodbyes to their loved ones. Poignant, heartfelt videos that I promised to deliver on my return to Earth. That was going to be their legacy. After everyone died, I had promised myself that I would n't watch the videos. They were private, precious things. Then the thrusters failed and the *Hermes* sailed past Neptune without so much as a nod and a wink and I performed Operation: Airlock Burial and a year later even their bodies were gone and it was then that I faced an inescapable solitude that exceeded expectations. And I was a socially awkward female computer programmer in college, so like, I am no stranger to loneliness. But *man*, space is empty.
And dark.
And silent.
So I watched the videos. I drew them out over the months, watching each one over and over before moving to the next. I had never met Bobby's nephew Josh but I know that Bobby wanted Josh to Pursue His Dreams and Be Fearless and Take Risks and all that. I know that Dr. Stevens did n't come clean with his wife about the affair he had with his graduate student assistant before the *Hermes* had launched. I guess he wanted to spare his wife that extra pain. A nice gesture, although I'm the only one to bear witness to it.
I thought about beaming the videos back to Earth. Why not? The transmitter still works. I spent a few months carefully digging through the science equipment's coding manuals, teaching myself a few neat tricks along the way. Immersing myself in programming and coding was familiar and a nice distraction for a while. I was sitting in the ship's mess room when I figured out that transmitting the videos would take approximately two centuries, given the distance and transmittal speed. That was n't going to happen. Months of work down the drain.
A nice gesture on my part, I guess, although I'm the only one to bear witness.
So the project hums along and the Very Important Data beams back to earth and I get up every eight or nine hours and make sure that everything is in Tip-Top Condition. The *Hermes* is never going back. There will be no presentation of dead bodies to a military honor guard ( do astronauts receive military honors? I think my pension is through the civil service... wait, what's going to happen to my pension? ). The families wo n't ever see the videos. There's only the data & mdash; a faint signal twinkling across interstellar indifference and landing in a computer database maintained by a probably-equally-indifferent graduate student who resents spending precious lab time on some old failed space mission.
You might think that I'm giving up after being alone for so long. I'm out of coffee, after all. But you'd be wrong. I have enough vitamin C to ward off scurvy for another two years. After that, I'll have about six weeks before the scurvy kills me. It will be brutal and, yes, I'll probably seek a more pleasant resolution.
But until then I've got two years to make the *Hermes* as fully autonomous as possible. Time enough to convert this ship from a womanned vessel to a more modern version of a *Voyager* probe. Maybe the data will contribute to some grand scientific discovery, and the *Hermes* will be a footnote in the history of science.
I will be a footnote on that footnote. I do n't know if that's a thing but if it is, it will be enough.
*****
More stories at /r/hpcisco7965.
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[ WP ] You are a blood bank worker . One night after closing up , you are approached by a stranger . The stranger proves to be a knowledgeable vampire hundreds of years old and offers you a deal : access to blood in exchange for a conversation every night .
| I was locking the back door when I saw him through the snow. Tall, menacing, but shivering. We made eye contact. I should have just turned around and stayed inside, but for some reason I did n't. He came up to the door with his breath fogging up the double-layer glass.
I opened it a crack.
`` Can I help you?''
He gently touched my hand through the opened door.
`` Is it warm inside?''
`` Yeah...'' I frowned while glancing around me inside to see if he was eyeing something to steal. I begrudgingly let him walk in next to me. I'd been putting away the last of the beds. Vials, IV's, tubes and bags were strewn about. Okay so it was pretty messy but this was a shit job anyways. I was still feeling the bowl I'd smoked earlier and we'd been swamped by new donors. I was getting around to cleaning it all up.
I looked at the man's face, with his gothic demeanor and haggard, impish walk. His eyes were sad, lost. He asked if I had any food. No way was he touching my Funyuns I'd stowed away in my locker, I told myself.
`` Nah man, we just got like some yogurt and bottled water,'' I said as I opened the cooling fridge.
He eyed the overflow blood bags inside. Metallic little packets marked A positive, B, O. I was really supposed to keep these in the other refrigerator but I'd gotten busy, like I said. He reached his hand inside.
`` Yeah man, help yourself to some Aquafina. I just got ta lock up here soon.''
He was ignoring me as he ran his fingers along a blood bag.
`` Hey man, i do n't know what you're into, but those are lab use only,'' I said, sounding official for once. I then saw his other hand pull a gun off his hip, hidden from under his coat. `` Unless you like really need some blood, then we're cool I guess.''
He pointed it towards me, maintaining eye contact as he brought a bag up to his face. Fangs suddenly shown in the flourescent lighting, which he gently impaled into the bag. His face writhed in pleasure. I just stood there, awestruck. He drained the bag and look relieved. He pocketed the other two bags and stared at me.
`` Three more bags, this time tomorrow,'' he said crisply. `` I wo n't hurt you.''
I nodded. He turned to leave back out the rear entrance into the snow.
`` Is there anything you'd like to ask me?'' he offered.
`` What does it taste like?'' I begged to know.
`` Tomorrow,'' he replied, and then left.
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[ WP ] You decide to commit suicide , but as you pull the trigger on the gun , it malfunctions and a letter appears stating , `` I am very sorry to inform you that your admission to the afterlife was not accepted . ''
| `` You think we'll make it to the end of the tram line within 2 hours? ``, a voice said to the side
`` George? You there mate?''
George turned to his friend, a blank stare on his face.
`` Uh, yeah sure, whatever Ethan'', George said.
George tried to remember what they were talking about. He really did try to remember this time. He used the phrase he had discussed with his mandatory therapist. `` Your name is George Hilesky, you live in the people's bureaucracy of North America and your assigned queue priority is 3,478.'' He always lingered on that last part, as if it was somehow important that he started 3,478 in line on every public queue. It was important though, George had always been taught about those who lived in poverty. Those like the old lady who was always so kind to him. The old lady who was number 10,000, who died of starvation waiting in the luxury dinner line. All she wanted was to show her son she cared enough to provide a good meal for his 30th birthday. It was foolish for such a high numbered individual to wait in such a packed line. Like a stray dog waiting for an owner that will never come.
`` George are you even listening to me? ``, Ethan said
`` Uh...''
`` Shit'', George murmured under his breath. He was going to get another hour in therapy if he kept this up.
`` You did it again'', said Ethan
`` Yeah, I guess I did, my mind just kind of.. trails off sometimes'' replied George
His whole life George had trouble staying in reality. At a young age he was often mocked and made fun of because every time his age group got in the learning queue he would always freeze up and clog up the line. His teachers would have to call a mandatory discipline worker to snap him back. Despite his short comings though he was n't all that useless, for one; his active mind landed him a nice job and a nice number, but he just never seemed to fit in. George was surprised that he even had a friend, given his terrible social skills. Even when his mind was n't having a grand crusade he still managed to fuck up every conversation his blasted words touched. It always went down the same way
`` Hey George hows it going''
`` Y-you too''
If they did n't immediately flee the scene after that line they definitely left when they realized he was just going to stare at them until they did.
George opened his eyes. He was suddenly on the tram, headed home. He was surprised to see that it was dark outside, save for the occasional street light to illuminate a porta-potty queue. As he stared into the blackness behind the window George wondered if there was anything beyond the world he lived in. Beyond the lines, beyond the endless waiting, the mind-numbing monotony of existence. Was there something more in the afterlife? Maybe there was. Maybe there was n't. He decided it was still better than waiting 5 hours for a bowl of soup. He yearned for the instant satisfaction of death. Suddenly George lurched forward as the tram came to a stop, it was time. George stumbled through the dark street. His house was about a mile away from where he got off. He would occasionally cut through a line so he could pass. It was against the law, but what could they do to him now? Make him wait in another pathetic line?
George finally reached his house, made his way up the stairs, and grabbed his mandatory self defense firearm. It was almost over. George raised the barrel of the weapon to his head. He pulled the trigger and heard the gunshot, he even felt the bullet pass through. But as he opened his eyes he was still there. Defeated he slumped over to his bed. He was about to lie down and sleep but something caught his eye on the dresser to his right. It was a small folded piece of paper with bold text on the inside. Your number in the queue to be passed on to the after life is currently: 100,471, Expected wait time: 192 Years.
`` fuck''
First prompt, it's probably shit but I hope some of you enjoy it. Feedback is appreciated.
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[ WP ] You 're the greatest hero the world has ever known . And so is everybody else .
| A smallish ribbon, shiny blue
Is pinned up, near the doorway.
A glimmering visage of wins anew,
Received just yesterday.
Yet it has brethren thousandfold
Of yellow, green, and pink.
Reminders, to see as one grows old.
Reminders to stop and think.
And in every bedroom of every house
You ’ ll see them, just the same.
“ There isn ’ t reason to moan or grouse
When you always win every game. ”
And printed, neatly, always in white
On the ribbon ’ s shimmery creases,
Is “ Participation ”, bold and bright
So small hearts won ’ t be in pieces.
And so, we all are winners
In our hearts, and on the page.
We, like champions, eat our dinners
Without one drop of rage.
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[ WP ] You accept 50 million USD from a shady source and because of that rest of your days wo n't come in a chronological order anymore
| An old lady smiles down at you. You feel warm and comfortable in her gaze. You sense you would go to hell for this person and that they would back you up no matter what. They define your life. They are the last person alive who knows your whole story.
Your eyes shift.
It's hard to refocus.
Are you crying?
A beautiful woman sits on the bed. Your hand is in her hand. Her fingers rub. You look at her and feel your chest explode with love. More love than you ever felt in your life. You would kill for this person.
Behind them both is a very large man. He is not overly muscled, just in shape and intimidating. He is not a man anyone would seek out for violence. He can hold his own. He smiles down at you. You can see fear in his eyes. Sorrow. Regret. You can tell he wants to say something but the meaning behind the words make it impossible for him to speak them.
Some one with squeaky sneakers comes in. She has been coming and going for awhile now. “ I am going to turn off the oxygen. It won ’ t take long. ”
The beautiful woman says, “ No! ” It ’ s almost whispered but the intensity makes the word stand out.
The old lady leans down, and says, “ It ’ s okay dear. It is time. ”
Squeaky-sneakers does her task.
The younger woman ’ s face stiffens, and as hard as she tries to stop them, tears fall.
The large man puts a hand on her shoulder, `` It ’ s okay sis. He had a good life. ”
“ Daddy I love you. ” Her words hit you hard, that or it's the sudden lack of oxygen being forced into your chest. Things grow blurry. You want to stay and look at these three people for a bit longer, but fuzz curls around the corners of your eyes. It spreads, then nothing but black.
The blackness parts and a man in white is pulling you from a warm wet environment. The cold is intense. You begin to scream. You want something but you do n't know what.
At a table with a heap of steaming pasta with red sauce. What you want is a fork. “ God damn it where is that fucking waiter? ”
“ Calm down dear, here use mine. ” A familiar hand slides a shiny fork across an Italian table.
You are somewhere where you were told not to go. You have woodland camo on.
Spit shined black boots.
“ If you take this money you will only know Chaos. ” The man is little and is tinged a lime green color. He wears a thread bear yellow trench coat. His face is hidden by a wispy black beard. His eyes are shiny black buttons.
You weigh the options. Not taking the money and you return to post and go about your life. Use the G.I. bill, go to college. Become a lawyer like dad. Be something and do good for the world.
Take the money because it's likely bullshit. Who gives fifty-million dollars away.
You reach out, but now you are wearing a baseball glove. A solid pop fly lands with a whiff like it had your name on it and you did not have to go looking for it to earn the catch. You hear a screaming crowd. You turn to wave to your fans.
You are making a woman cum. It is dark. You are in her. You are close.
A bloody nose. `` Fucking Johnson, you fucking pussy.''
A test you know you are going to fail. Christmas tree it!
Moment after moment hit you and slide away. A lifetime lived. Dates from the calendar come and go. The in between of waiting for something exciting to happen are just moments that lead to another collection of disjointed images.
You type the final sentence of your first novel before you even find the story.
You win the pulitzer just after learning to walk.
Touch down.
Home Run.
Hand job in the park.
A Long drive cut into twenty different parts.
Your marriage day, the justice of the peace asks your bride-to-be if she will, the pause is deep. You look at her and see she is not sure whether it is her turn to answer or not. You ca n't wait to hear her say those two little words to make it official. To begin the rest of your life.
They do n't come though.
Death ends everything and it has finally caught up to you.
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[ WP ] Someone squishes all the ants that wander alone into the house looking for food . Write about it from the point of view of the ant army 'commander ' who sends them out
| The stress of knowing that I sent them to their deaths weighs on me everyday.
I know that its what comes with the territory but I ca n't put it aside, I just ca n't. Knowing full well that I'm responsible, that I'm the one that sent them on to scout for rations, that I am the one that decides who lives and dies. It is n't something that you get used to, regardless of how many new recruits you see everyday. I guess that's something good about our feeble little species, ai n't it?
We are fighting an impossible war, but the ministry tells us to keep our heads up. The propaganda that they release... absolutely unbelievable. With slogans like `` Support the colony - REPRODUCE'', and `` The best for you is the best for the Colony'' ring out every day now, brushing aside claims that we're all starving. Us in the corps get meals, but for the common worker or drone, they get squat. I know the truth of the matter, I know how desperate things are getting, I know what truly lies in The Realm.
There are folk stories about what lies out there, some more cheerful than others. The most creative one I heard is that once you cross the breach there's just another colony on the other side, that the Queen and her cronies are just keeping us purposefully ignorant. But I know the truth. I know the damned truth. It is n't fairy tales, or even Hell out there, its something worse.
The troops call it a lot of things: The Destroyer, Smash, `` God's Big Joke'', they give it nicknames to deal with the fear of it. Its a means to cope with knowing that they could be smashed into nothingness, obliterated in an instant to dust, completely and utterly unrecognizable. I'm not one for poetics, but I've got a name that I call it - The Indifferent One. The way that this thing kills my men, its like it does n't even notice... no, like it does n't even care about us. I've seen it myself, the way that this thing slays my men. On a recon mission, looking for supplies and food, we were spotted by one. It turned towards us. Fear crippled the majority of us, freezing us in our tracks. A few men panicked, a few soiled themselves, but me, I just stared at this monster. It made this noise... this world shattering shriek that caused my buddy Sixxie to lose his mind - the man was a goddamn vet but he just broke down right next to me.
We had to move quickly. The rest of my battalion looked towards me for leadership, and I ordered an immediate retreat back to the breach. Leaving behind the catatonic and the damned, we were about halfway back to home when the reckoning began. The shadow loomed over us, holding a object about half the size of the entire goddamn colony in hand. In a flash, 40 of my men lay dead, crippled, maimed, screaming for help, but I knew that they were gonners. Military training was quickly erased as the rest of my men broke into a panic and scattered across the landscape, hoping to escape into the breach and survive. At the end of the day, only myself and 22 others remained out of my 100 man battalion.
The look on that thing's face. It was n't even trying. It did n't even care. This was n't some ragtag gang of grunts that I was ordering out there, these were men that I had raised and trained myself, who had undergone some of the most regimented training and had seen the horrors of the Ortho Massacre from years ago. But that thing... it slaughtered all of them without a second thought. We were, no, we are nothing compared to them. We are all starving here in the colony and as long as I'm in this line of work, I got ta do what I'm ordered to do.
But I've seen the face of evil. And its uncaring.
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[ WP ] Everything in your life is great . You got the great paying job and the happy family life . One day , you start to notice things around you tend to `` lag '' as they would in a computer .
| The smell of pancakes and coffee poured through my nostrils as I was woken by the soft voice of my beatiful wife. `` Baby, breakfast is ready,'' she says, with her soothing voice. As I enter the dining room, I see my two sons sitting at the table, wating for me. `` Are we visiting the glaciers today?'' my oldest says, as my wife pours coffee in my cup. `` We sure are, are you guys excited?'' I say with an excited smile. They nod cheerfully. I reach for the pancakes. As I pick it up, I see my children nod in the same exact way again. `` What was that all about?'' I ask them with a confused smile. `` What was what?'' they ask, looking more confused than me. I decide to not talk about it.
We pack our car and heads for the glaciers. It's a 3 hour drive. I notice something weird about the car infront of us. It suddenly stops, and then continues driving. I shake it off by convincing myself that it's caused by tiredness. I ask my wife to drive the rest of the trip.
As I sit in the passenger seat, I notice that things start to, well, *lag*. Like in a videogame. Cars standing still, my family being silent mid-sentence. I try not to talk about it, but my wife realizes that something is concerning me. `` Why are you acting so weird?'' she asks. I ca n't answer her, it's too weird. `` Nothing, just tired,'' I respond.
We decide to take a break at a diner. The lagging has stopped, and I am somewhat relieved. We find a table and orders our lunch at the diner. It's packed with people. The faces seem so unrecognizable. I start to sweat. Alot. `` What's going on?'' my wife asks, a little more stressed now. Before I manage to answer, everyone is looking at me. `` He is starting to wake up,'' they chant in a choir. But everyone has the same voice. I start to scream, and everyone is looking weirldy at me. `` Come back, baby. We miss you,'' my wife says before she grabs the knife on the right side of her plate.
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[ WP ] You wake up to complete darkness in an unknown setting , with nothing but 1 match and the depths of your imagination .
| I woke up in pitchest black.
This was unusual for me, as my usual routine is to wake bleary eyed and dry mouthed at the crack of noon with the sun's malevolent rays fighting their way through my blinds. I blinked once or twice, just to make sure that my eyelids were still in order. They were.
Feeling at the surface that I was lying on I found that it was perfectly smooth and slightly cool to the touch. Not finding it terribly comfortable to lie on, I sat up.
`` Hullo?'' I queried the darkness and heard it echo off into the distance. I checked my pockets for my phone, its light would be useful. They were empty save for a single match. This was odd, because:
A. I do n't smoke.
B. Who uses matches for anything anymore?
Shrugging off the illogic of the situation I held the match awkwardly and ran it along the smooth floor. Nothing happened. Holding it closer to the tip, I tried again. Nothing. Thinking back to a movie I had seen a child, I attempted to light it against my 5 o'clock ( was it 5 o'clock yet? ) shadow. Apparently, you had to have a more manly jaw to accomplish that though, because the match still did n't light.
I had once seen a man trick light a matched by snapping his fingers over it, so I decided to give that a go. Holding the match by its tip, I snapped my fingers hard. The tip of the match broke off, bouncing lightly off into the dark with a faint `` tink-tink-tink'' noise.
All around me the terrors in the darkness sighed in disappointment.
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[ WP ] 'God ' is actually a job tittle .
| # Job description
The Universe Administrator is an operationally focused contributor that will lead the Universe Operations team. The role consists of some managerial activity, but is primarily responsible for the day to day administration of incoming prayers and dispensation of miracles.
# # Specific Duties and Responsibilities:
* Performing common prayer-related functions including listening to prayers and, optionally, answering them.
* Delegation of tasks to Earthly representatives such as clergy, prophets, and/or cultists.
* Creation of extensive documentation, including canonical laws, recommendations, parables, and history of the chosen people ( s ).
* Confounding scientists of your universe with increasingly more preposterous phenomenon the closer they examine the makeup of said universe.
# # Skill and Knowledge Requirements:
* Minimum of 30 billion years of experience administering universes, or 15 billion years administering a multiverse.
* Self-starter with experience working on previous monotheistic projects.
* Customer service.
* Ability to manifest to the faithful as any of the following: A flaming bush, a talking animal ( e.g. dove, lion, lamb, etc ), a pillar of fire, or an image burnt into toast.
* Previous experience with common universe administration tools such as Smite, Flood, Resurrect, and Emacs.
* Sufficient knowledge of the following fields to convincingly create artifacts that appear much older than they are: archaeology, geology, astronomy, paleontology, and biology.
* Must be capable of creating rocks you are unable to lift.
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[ WP ] It 's raining men ... literally .
| “ We ’ re not getting out of this one, are we, sarge? ”
The old soldier stopped and looked down at the boy. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. His sight moved downhill, to where they could already see the enemy column approaching. Cutting off their only avenue of retreat. Two hours, at the most. Thirty men, thirty of the finest, bravest men he ever met… against at least three hundred.
“ No. ” He said, whispered even, words slipping past cracked lips. “ Short of a miracle, I don ’ t think we are. ”
They stand like that, in the drizzle and in silence. A man who couldn ’ t stay away, and a boy who couldn ’ t sit and do nothing. Counting away the last seconds of their lives. Behind them, rivulets of water found their way down the porous quickrete walls of the captured radar tower. Strategically vital, but utterly indefensible. Time passed.
Suddenly, there was a distant rumble. Not of thunder, though; they ’ ve heard that all day, but this one was different. Buzzier. They looked up, at the overcast sky. There was a dark shape there, barely visible against the cloud, leaving a trail behind itself.
“ It ’ s coming in from our way. ” The boy said flatly. The sergeant nodded. Two, then four other silhouettes joined it.
“ Probably some Dragons, coming back for a fresh load of bombs to drop on our guys. ” the old soldier said, spitting on the ground. Now a larger one came into view, with a distant boom of four heavy engines that propelled the Skyhooks used by both sides.
“ Sarge? ” the boy begun, slowly, hesitantly, covering his eyes with a hand as he kept staring at the sky. “ I ’ m only seeing one trail each... ”
The sergeant looked at him quizzically, then turned his face up to the drizzle and the sky. There were more Skyhooks there now. Carpet bombers? Transports? Air tankers? He couldn ’ t tell, but each was surrounded by a swarm of smaller shapes. And… the boy had been right. These weren ’ t the double trails Dragons would make.
“ I… I think these are Hornets, sarge. ”
“ Can ’ t be. ” The old soldier muttered. Superhornets? Here? “ Can ’ t be. ” He repeated. “ There ’ s no way our boys would make it this far past the front with the… ” he trailed off, his eyes going wide. He turned around, and stared at the quickrete tower, the dish on top oh so very still “... with the anti-air… ” he heard himself finish.
“ Sir! ” A new voice cut in, the sound of boots on wet grass and mud barely audible over the growing drone of engines high overhead. “ Sir! ” The soldier shouted again as he ran to them, gesturing with something wildly -- the handset of the radio he carried on his back, the sergeant realized. Slowly, not quite ready to believe it, he turned his eyes to the sky again, filled with Skyhooks and Hornets.
And for the first time now, he saw the lines of dark dots, trailing the large Skyhooks, a new dot one joining them every second. They were starting to sprout white domes of parachutes. And growing larger.
And the sergeant allowed himself the smallest of smiles, and the dimmest of glimmers of hope. And he whispered, “ Hallelujah. ”
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_-100 | [ more ] ( /r/vonBoomslang ) _
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[ WP ] The Best Paragraph You 've Ever Written
| Here is mine. It may technically be 2 paragraphs -
But, then hair started growing and it all went to hell. My obsession with candy was
replaced by carnal thoughts. Nobody told me what was happening and I was scared. Jack
said, “ If you do that too much you will go blind ”. His Dad told him he said.
“ What if I closed my eyes when I did it? ” I asked Jack. He said he didn ’ t know and to ask
my dad. My Dad wasn ’ t someone you bothered with questions of any sort. If I ever asked
him anything about anything, he would point at the Encyclopedias he had bought. I think
the only reason he bought it was to keep my brother and me from bothering him. So, I
decided to look in those books. Jack called it “ playing with it ”, but that was not in the fat
book. I knew it had something to do with Sex, so I looked up sex. It was very interesting.
“ See, I told you buying those things were worth it, ” said my dad to my mom when he saw
me lugging the book to my room. There were even pictures in it. “ You seem to be
spending a lot of time in your room with that book, are you trying to get on Baba ’ s good
side? ” asked my mom. “ No, ” I said quickly and ran into my room. I was scared of going
blind so I looked at the picture and closed my eyes. I showed Jack the book and he said
he would trade another book for mine. I said I had to see his book first. He had a
photography book, it had a four-page chapter on nude photography, and it was very
interesting. I gave him my book. My Dad was amazed when I came home with a four
hundred page hard cover book about photography. “ I think I am going to be a
photographer when I grow up, ” I explained to my Dad. Apparently Jack's Dad called
asking where we he could buy the encyclopedia set from.
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[ WP ] You die and go to Hell : Bullet Hell , that is .
| Once you were a marine, stationed at a R & D laboratory. An experiment went awry and an alien being came through an interdimentional portal. You tried to stop it along with other marines, but only to die from it.
Fast forward to later, and you are here.
Bullet Hell.
Getting here was no easy task. You had to endure floor after floor of living gundead, finding cool yet mysterious guns and items along the way, ranging from bazookas to talking guns to even a BFG. You killed a King, a snake made from ammo shells, a tank, a priest with a gun for a head, and a dragon wielding 2 guns. But why did you go through all that?
Inside bullet hell is a treasure of extreme value, considering that you do n't die trying to get there.
A gun that could kill the past.
Now killing the past sounds like a bad idea, but it's the only way to revive yourself for a second chance. However unlike the first 5 trials, this one seems much more dangerous. You have fought hordes upon hordes of gundead in an attempt to find the treasure, and here you find yourself in front of the final challange.
You enter the door, not knowing what was waiting ahead of you.
*A crude story based on the game Enter The Gungeon by dodgeroll. Sorry but this prompt was just begging for a reference. *
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[ WP ] [ TT ] You are a fully-functioning and productive member of society . You are also a serial killer .
| I never understood the appeal of masks, really.
Some people grow up dreaming of becoming actors, sewing elaborate costumes to prowl Comic Con in or pretend they're not who they are for... everything, really. Money, fame, acceptance - love. It's tedious, I think. Truth is always banal, but so much more clean and simple.
I had always worn my heart on my sleeve, this predatory snarl for the world to see never hidden under any guises or constructs. Where others tried to blend in, painting their feathers a different color, I walked in without shame. Where others concealed their urges under elaborate social constructs, going as far as to dupe their spouses, children and friends, I remained honest. People like honesty, it draws them in.
It saved me a lot of trouble. Being fake, as far as I understand, damages your psyche and your relationships. Denying the bloodlust does n't work either, sooner or later you'll explode. And there you have it, dozens of tormented little souls, running around in the mud of their crimes, trying to bleach their tracks.
If only they'd stop and realize, that nobody cares. That you can be a productive member of the society, be honest - and hunt with an open, frank face for the world to see.
When I walk into the command center, there's nobody judging. Nobody to blame me a monster. We're all doing an important job here.
When I take the joystick and the screens come to life as I settle in the cushy ergonomic seat, I breathe serenity and content.
When the mission parameters load up, and the signatures come, when the order from above overlaps with a grainy little figure and its tag into the sweet finality of imminent death.
When I press the trigger, my eyes are red, but the bank account grows. And there is no one to peer into my soul and realize just how *easy* it was to jam that little piece of plastic. How truly invigorating and liberating it had been to watch that distant puff of fire and smoke. There's just a tiny bit of insincerity there, just a smidgen... I ca n't smile for the camera above my desk.
16 kills. Today it was the seventeenth, in plain daylight. What a nice number. The base commander values my work, my dedication, despite the obvious psychological toil it must have on me.
They're never going to catch me - because I'm not running anywhere.
We have a nice symbiosis.
I even pay the tax for it.
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[ WP ] `` When hell is full , the dead shall walk the Earth . '' However , no one said anything about what happens when Heaven is full .
| `` Sir? I think you want to take a look at this.''
God walked over to one of his junior assistants, who was currently doing some analysis on yield distributions. Not
very exciting work, but that's what employees are for, right?
The assistant started explaining. `` So, I was looking into some yield rates, and did some research into to gain/cost
ratio. I noticed an discrepancy, right here in karma factory gamma-7.'' He brought up the relevant data. `` As you can
see, they simply left the Eden zone. And they are reproducing, *fast*.''
`` Oh, well. I guess free will is a concept in the need of redesigning. Just do a wipe, I'll repopulate it later this
week.''
`` Yes, sir. Initiating flood procedure, this should n't take too long.''
God viewed some of the statistics. Humans looked to be his best design to date, high durability, good adaptation,
and the free will concept was simply revolutionary. Proudly he nodded his head. Only the population growth had a
wrong order of magnitude to it, but that was easily fixed.
The numbers kept increasing. God was beginning to get nervous. The buffers were not even close to being full ( heaven
alone could hold *trillions* of souls ) but it was better to be safe than sorry, or so his chief engineer said.
`` Why are they still becoming more? I expect to see a nice, round zero there, *soon*!''
`` I am trying, sir, but the reports simply show a successful termination. I do n't know...''
`` Just show the recordings then.''
He could not believe his eyes. *They built a boat. * So simple, yet effective. Nonetheless this posed a complication.
The intervention procedures were limited to preserve physical integrity.
`` Should I terminate the simulation, sir?''
God sighted. gamma-7 was his greatest accomplishment ( as of yet, at least ), he spent years trying to figure out a
set of consistent laws, and some more to fiddle with the variables to get them quite right. It simply dwarfed the
other universes in scale. Like a flower it was growing from a single seed, ever developing new leaves. The time
it took to even make life possible, meant that it had to be sped up, generating data at a gigantic rate.
`` Sir?''
He knew what his chief engineer would tell him - too risky, better play it safe - but he did not have the heart to
simply kill it.
`` Just sit it out. Apply a wipe when the physic compensation is ready, but choose a more permanent one.''
`` With all respect, the next possible intervention is in 17 minutes, this is equivalent to around 14000 subjective
years in accelerated time. The heaven buffer would be at critical load by then.''
`` Implement the standard filter, it should keep the rate of newcomers at bay.''
`` All 10 criteria were successfully activated. The number of new souls is dropping to 5 million per year, 1 million,
50 thousand, 2 thousand... wait, it is rising again! We're almost back to the original level, I do n't...''
God had kept his eyes carefully on the live feed. `` They figured it out. *Unbelievable. * Look, they are already
writing it down, spreading the information.''
They both watched in silence as the planet became more and more civilized, the people gradually adopting a deeper
moral understanding. Meanwhile, the population was rising. Heaven continued to fill up, but it was n't close to a
percent of its capacity.
`` Well, they eventually have to stop expanding'', God remarked, `` their planet is only that large.''
2000 years until intervention. The population was getting denser, but the exponential growth had stopped. The
assistant looked visibly relieved, while God regretted the necessity to wipe them out.
1000 years. He almost missed a little colony an some distant planet. A tiny dot on the map. Then, another one
appeared. Soon, dots were appearing everywhere, spreading across the outer rings of the galaxy. The population was
rising again, the digits flickering to fast to follow.
God was the first to react. `` Terminate! *Now! *''
The assistant scrambled over his keyboard. `` The system is not responding! It is requesting resources faster than we
can destroy them!''
`` Bloody hell, it looks like we're losing this cluster.'' God cursed. It had taken him months to create the gamma
cluster, powerful enough to run the full-universe simulation.
`` Boss?'' An engineer called from across the room. `` It looks like your gamma-7 project needs more power. I moved it to
cluster 1, just so that you know.''
God went pale. Cluster 1 was the main cluster, running the meta-simulation - simulating the reality that encompasses
it. The universe that contained itself. It was the very pillar of Existence.
`` NO! Move...''
|
[ WP ] Halfway through your flight the pilot makes an announcement . `` Would all passengers please close their windows . There is no reason to be alarmed . ''
| The sun was setting behind us, or was it rising? My flight was from Korea to NYC, and I had no track of time. It seemed we were over Russia nearing the Artic Ocean. When the announcement came up, I was taking pictures of the snow capped mountains, tinted pink and orange by sunlight.
`` Langga, close the window,'' my mother told me. I did just as I was told. The window in next to mine however was open still. I thought the guy in front if me would close it since it was mostly covered by his seat.
When a flight attendant came this time and told me to close the window, I did just that, except I caught a glimpse of black in the sky before I closed it. A few minutes passed and I was watching a movie and the plane started to shake. Another announcement came up to make sure everyone had their seatbelt on because of turbulence.
It was when the lights were dimming that I wanted to look out the window again, only because it'd be less noticeable if there was still light in the plane. I opened it just a bit. It was dark. It was black, but not pitch black. It was like of you added paints together to make black. A colorful black filled with life, whether it was good or bad. Then some creature splattered onto my window, dark and small. It stares at me. Then it blinked. I in turn blinked. I felt my heartbeat quicken as I quickly but quietly closed the window. I look back at my mother and sister. Em was asleep and my mom was getting there. I close my eyes too.
Before I can fall asleep, I feel the plane tip downwards.
|
[ WP ] It had returned . The Space Wyrm , come to devour the sun .
| The wyrm has arrived, a tendril of pulsating flesh spiraling through the vastness of space in a journey that must've lasted millinea. It has arrived and it has arrived with a great hunger.
Our ancestors discovered the beast hundreds of years ago, during a routine observation by a young astronomer. He had found a mass that was greater in size than the largest of gas giants. One that was moving in such a suspicious pattern. It was odd and a special divison was created to observe the mass, which they determined was heading in our direction. It took them a while to realise that it was not traveling in a straight line as they had previously though. No, it was jumping from star system to star system. What was even more peculiar was how the stars were spontaneously dying in it's wake.
Naturally this created an uproar, but it was not until many years later that they invented a telescope that could observe the object fully. A cadre of astronomers and scientists had gathered around the largest monitor in the telescope's control room, waiting for the first images to be sent back. What they saw would start riots, shatter nations and force mass suicides.
What they saw was teeth, enamel-like material that encircled the insides of it's mouth. Thousands upon thousands of craggy outcroupings of stained white that just went on and on, surrounded by flesh that organised itself in ways that they could not imagine. What seemed to be tendrils creeped from it's undulating flesh, areas covered in what could only be described as hair, with strands the size of forests, never in large enough clumps so that it hid the flesh. Other areas were covered in blood red scales the size of cities and there were places with great white spires jutting out that seemed to be made of the same substance that it's'teeth' were made from.
Astrophysicists were replaced by xenobiologists, who were commanded to explain this abominable horror. They could not, it was a lifeform unlike anything they had discovered. The creature shared more similarities with a tumorous mass than it did with anything else. It should not have been alive, they said.
The biologists called it the Worm. It was a simple name for a creature that had to be older than our most ancient civilisations. *A creature that ate stars*.
We tried to kill it, at first. We sent our largest fleet. They never came back. A thousand corvettes, frigates and a hundred of our finest warships and they all disappeared without a whisper. The fleet went dark in pluto's orbit.
We had to hide the last transmisson they sent us. It would've started a panic. It was that last, ghastly transmission that drew our attention to something we and our ancestors missed. Perhaps the fact was hidden in a completely subconcious effort, as the truth was too horrible and impossible to acknowledge.
We observed the worm with telescopes one hundred times more powerful then those of our ancestors and we found that it's'tendrils' were, in reality, human limbs. And in the places where there were limbs, there were faces. The faces of people long dead and of those still alive. Many of the men that had crewed those ill-fated warships had been seen as well. Their mouths were all caught in an endless, silent scream.
I have seen my own face in that horrible creature. I saw it using those telescopes that were more powerful than any other in the world. There were marks on the face, on the bridge of it's nose where my spetacles would've usually pinched. When I take my glasses off, I can feel those same indentions on my own nose.
Those faces were not simply grown, they were taken. Perhaps... perhaps the'Worm' traveled from a world much like our own. One that laid somewhere in the vast infinity of space that was exactly like our own with the same people and the same places, but if that was the case then how far had it traveled and for how long? It had to be for billions of years, maybe it was a remnant of the time before the universe was created? That was impossible. I was going insane. It had to be impossible.
Was it?
I suppose none of it matters anymore. It will be upon us in a few days and all will be gone. It is only a question of how. Will we be pulled into it's immense gravitational well and crushed? Will it absorb us like it did to the alternate Earth or will it ignore us and merely crash into our sun?
I sighed and put my attention on the screen connected to the massive space telescope in deep orbit beyond our atmosphere. It was over. It was all over.
I watched as the space wyrm came ever closer. Ever ever closer, drifting silentlessly in the aether. I watched as it............ crashed into it's own body?
-
Billy groaned as he was met with the Game Over screen yet again. God, he hated this game. He was never quick enough to redirect the stupid snake and prevent it from crashing into it's stupid self. The kid dug into his pockets and groaned again when he could n't find any quarters.
He huffed and kicked the arcade machine. Billy turned before noticing something clink to the black tiled floor. It was a quarter. He bent over and scooped it up in one smooth motion, then slamming the quarter into the slot. One more try, then he'll go home.
The arcade machine started up once more. It's screen blinked to life. Billy guided the thin line of black pixels deftly, eating up the dots one by one.
*One by one. *
|
[ WP ] The entire human race shows up in the afterlife , all at once .
| Lucius' sandles flapped furiously as he ran down the long corridor towards Gabriel's office. All he could think was that if he had a nice pair of trainers then he would be there by now, but, like many jobs, a dress code was important, or so he was told. At last he skidded around the corner, one sandal finally losing the battle to stay on and flying into a plant pot, and reached the large wooden door of the Archangel Gabriel.
He'd never been inside, having only worked as a greeter for about six weeks, but stories he'd heard were that it was a grand and impressive office, second only to JC's in the building. His heart was thumping from the run but there was n't time to wait to compose himself, Mr Jenkins, his supervisor, had been very clear about that.
Taking a deep breath he reached up and knocked on the door, in his nerves his first knock was extremely soft and so his second tried to compensate and it ended up being too loud, leaving his third to be too quiet again ^^'' Knock KNOCK ^^knock''.
Cursing inwardly he half hoped that he would have to knock again so that he could prove himself able to knock like a normal person but after just a moment the door opened and a voice summoned him in.
As he walked in he felt the deep shag carpet on the floor and remembered his lost sandal. Cursing inwardly he resolved to be as professional as he knew he could be. In front of him was a large bookcase. In fact it was a *huge* bookcase and it stretched up and off to either side far further than he could see.
`` So it's *true*!'' he whispered to himself in awe before remembering himself again and flushing a deep embarrassed red.
From his left he heard a chuckle `` You young malakhim are always so impressed with the books.'' Lucius looked quickly left, there was a plan simple desk and behind it was Gabriel. He could have been any age but the general impression was either a mature 30 year old, or a well preserved 50 year old. His hair was thick and black and slightly greying at the temples, his face kindly and he wore the same simple robes that most of the choirs favoured, gaudy clothing having gone out of style around when JC got back.
Lucius tried to summon his dignity; he may have been young and inexperienced but he wished to give the impression that never-ending bookcases holding the records of every human ever to have lived was no big deal. `` It's very nice'' he managed to summon himself to say and then closed his eyes in shame and embarrassment - the great wall and it was'very nice', good God he'd be on cherub mucking out duty if he carried on like this.
At last he opened his eyes, Gabriel was smiling at him `` What can I do for you little angel''.
Panic shot through Lucius as he remembered and all of his words tried to come out at once `` Humanity. It's here!''
Gabriel's smile drooped a little `` What do you mean Humanity is here? There is someone to see me?''
`` No, no, it's all of them, the humans, they're here, the lot, everyone, they all showed up'' Lucius paused as his brain tried to think of another way to express what he was trying to say. `` All of humanity just showed up in arrivals and we need you to please come down and see what's going on'' he at last managed and finally felt like he had got his message across.
Gabriel's face churned through several emotions, fear, anger, confusion, sadness and finally determination. He pulled open his top drawer and Lucius saw a large red button. Gabriel's hand paused over it for a moment and then slapped down hard.
In the distance and then growing louder, sirens began to wail causing Lucius to look around around in confusion. By the time he looked back to Gabriel, he had stood up from his desk and from somewhere Lucius did n't see, he had produced some armour, which he was now strapping on.
Striding past Lucius he lifted a scabbard from the back of the door and drew out a beautifully carved sword, symbols and blessings running up and down the blade. He leaned down and blew across the blade and it rippled into flames.
He turned back to Lucius but he no longer looked like the middle aged man who had been at the desk, now the figure was tall, much taller than Lucius and somewhat *hulking*. Muscles seemed to have appeared, rather big ones, and his sleeves had gone, showing his impressive physique.
Leaning down slightly to Lucius he smiled again, now the only thing recognisable was his voice `` I think you had better lead the way, little malakhim ``
|
[ WP ] Everyday a homeless man preaches about conspiracies from the street corner . One day , as you pass by , he tackles you and forces a tin foil hat on your head . Thats when everything changed ...
| Remember back when you were a kid, trying to watch a channel that your cable box did n't have access to? There would be that annoying crackle of static and the noise was all distorted, everything would get all photo-negative colors, and those wavy lines would mess with your show? You'd only just barely be able to make out the faces and sounds.
That's what happened to the world when I put on the hat. The sound, the colors, the waves... I was watching a blocked channel.
I picked myself up from the dirty pavement, which was now fuschia colored. The man who had thrown me down and forced this thing onto my head was getting to his feet as well with a confident, knowing smile. He was the only part of the world that looked normal and clear.
`` Pretty crazy, eh?'' he said.
I looked around me. Pedestrians wearing aquamarine business suits were passing by, giving me the same scornful look that I would have given to anyone else wearing a tin foil helmet. Or at least, it appeared as though they were; hard to tell when they looked more like dripping wax figures than normal everyday people. The strain of this was really hurting my eyes; I had to squint just to make out the landmarks that I knew so well on this block.
`` What is this thing?'' I reach up to the metal foil wrapped around my head.
`` DO N'T TOUCH IT!'' he cried, springing forward to grab my hands. Pedestrians were making their way around us in a wide bubble, giving the crazy people room to talk. I dropped my hands.
`` Do n't worry about them,'' he said gesturing to the wavy people walking by. `` They ca n't really understand us. The channel works both ways; it just sounds like we're muttering and rambling nonsense to them.''
`` What did you do?''
`` I freed you,'' he said simply. He turned back to his corner of the building and pulled out another large scrap of metal foil and began shaping it around a partially deflated basketball, making another helmet. `` I blocked their broadcast.''
`` With *foil*'' I asked incredulously.
He nodded. `` Simple, huh? And surprising.''
`` But I've had foil on my head before...'' I said, not really sure if I ever had. Surely as a joke or something one time?
`` Yeah, but probably not properly. It has to cover the entire cranium, as well as the base of the spinal column. That is where the primary receiver is.''
`` Receiver? Of what?''
`` The broadcast,'' he said simply as he dug through his trash bags of junk for something. As though I was stupid for not understanding already.
`` What broadcast?''
He gestured around at the wavy, neon yellow concrete walls and bright orange glass windows of the nearby office buildings. `` The world that you think you know,'' he said with a laugh. `` None of this is real. You just think it is because they've been feeding this to you since your were first assembled.''
*God, I must be having a nervous breakdown. *
`` You're probably starting to think that you're crazy,'' he said. My face must have dropped, because he laughed. `` No, I ca n't read your mind. But I've freed plenty of people before, and they all have pretty much the same reaction. The broadcast ca n't block us out when we have the foil on our heads, so they have no way of covering up our existence. So instead, they just make us seem crazy. Deranged. Dangerous!'' As if to prove his point, he jumped toward the nearby pedestrians with his hands raised. I heard their screams as they jumped away from him, but it sounded odd; distant, as though they were yelling from across a large empty gymnasium.
`` And so the world really looks like this?'' I said, gesturing at the ocher sky and black sun.
`` No, no. Not at all. You're still getting fed the broadcast, but the hat is interfering. So instead, you're just seeing their scrambled version. All we've got to do and get you unplugged, and you can see reality.''
`` What do I need to do for that?'' I asked.
He grinned and stood, leaving his ratty sleeping bag and piles of trash on the sidewalk. `` Just come with me.'' He turned and headed down a nearby alley.
I started to follow, but stopped. *This is crazy, * I told myself. *I probably have a concussion from him attacking me. I'm hallucinating. *
I took off the helmet, and the world reverted back to normal. Bright blue skies, fluffy white clouds, sunlight glinting off of glass high rises, and the honking taxis and low rumble of constant chatter that I loved about New York City. From the alley, I saw the homeless man still watching me with an unreadable expression. I crumpled up the ball of foil and tossed it onto his pile of junk, then continued toward my office and tried to silence the voice inside me. *What if you're not crazy? What if he's right? *
[ Part two is here!! ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2qxew1/i_blocked_the_broadcast/cnagxcy )
|
[ WP ] You move to Gotham and once settled into your new apartment , you find that your phone number is only 1 digit different from Batman 's emergency line .
| It was a clear night, and the ground was wet from the rain shower that had taken place hours before. I was walking home from a movie, a midnight premier, in fact, and the streets were all but deserted. Off in the distance, I saw a figure approach. Slightly unsettled, I kept walking briskly and averted my eyes. The figure, a tall, middle-aged man, bumped into me, causing for my phone, an iPhone, to fall out of my shallow coat pocket.
`` I'm sorry'' I mumble, even though it was his fault. I reach for my phone, but the man picked it up first. My lock screen lit up, and the man glanced at my phone. I, being as paranoid as I am, had my lock screen set to display the phone number of my apartment so if I lost it and someone found it, they could return it. The man handed me back my phone with a smirk. I gave him a quizzical glance, to which he responded,
`` It's nothing, just that a close friend of mine has a very similar phone number as yours. I'm James, I'm with the police. I'll tell you now, though, you're better off ignoring any strange phone calls you might get. They're probably meant for my friend.''
And with that, the man, James, handed me back my home and continued his walk.
It's been four months since I met James. I have n't gotten any odd phone calls. I guess that everyone really does just save phone numbers in their contacts now-a-days.
|
[ WP ] A man leaves the U.S. to find out the world is very different from the one he was taught to believe .
| `` Half your pay goes to the government?''
Carl scoffed. His father would have laughed at the socialists. The government coming in and taking all his hard earned money. No way, it was his money and his alone.
`` Well, yeah,'' Sofia said.
She'd got chatting to him at the local cinema. They did n't call them movie theatres here. After the movie he'd asked if she wanted to join him for a drink. And now he was regretting it. She was mad!
`` But that's your money!''
`` Well, I get it back.''
Now he really was laughing, causing others to look over. There was an old joke. What do you call someone who speaks two languages? Bilingual. What do you call someone who speaks one language? English. And it seemed everyone in the bar was bilingual, which meant they were all listening in, but talking about him in words he could n't understand.
`` How? They're robbing you and you're smiling.''
`` When my mum was pregnant she had 12 months maternity leave. And my dad got 6 weeks.''
`` Yeah, but...''
`` And they did n't pay anything. Even when I was born premature and had to make lots of trips.''
`` That's what health insurance is for.''
`` And how much does that cost you?''
`` That's irrelevant. I can decide not to pay it. You ca n't not pay tax.''
`` And if you needed an ambulance?''
`` Well...''
`` I had four weeks sick leave. All paid for by my company. And I still got my three weeks holiday leave on top of that.''
`` Three weeks?''
`` Not including holiday days.''
`` But you're paying for that.''
`` So does everyone. And everyone benefits from it.''
|
[ WP ] You die and find yourself in Valhalla , where all great warriors go when they die . However , you never fought a day in your life . You try to find out why you 're there .
| “ I guess I ’ ve hated my life for as long as I ’ ve lived. ” A man observes to himself as he walks into the ancient forest. Not eagerly, but stoically he marches. He walked for a while, searching for a tree. A good tree, but really any tree would do. After a good hike into the forest he found it. A large tree that he thought would be strong enough for his task. He climbed it and sat on the largest limb of the tree. Immediately he begin tying his rope around the tree ’ s arm. Then he pulled the open part of the noose around his neck. Fuck this place, his last thought as he hopped off the branch.
It didn ’ t break his neck. He struggled there kicking and spurting, even getting shallow gasps of air. His knot was terrible, and he was thrashing against his own will. His body refused to give in, when suddenly he felt a horrible fire in his side. His body flexed back defiantly one final time, and he went limp.
Everything had gone dark. It was over, he died. He was sure of it. But something was waking him up, and he wasn ’ t sure he liked it. He was reminded of the pain he felt in his side, but this pain was different. Forceful and jarring.
“ Wake the fuck up, you shit! ” a massive man was kicking him like a soccer ball around a field. He opened his eyes midflight, and landed with a thud. He reached up with his arm defensively and rose up on a knee, coughing. “ How the fuck did a tiny shit like you end up here. I haven ’ t seen a god damn new blood for a century and a half and you ’ re what I get sent? Shit! ”
The new blood looks around, clearly still shaken and confused. He gasped at air that wasn ’ t there, and his body moved like it had no weight. Somewhere not far from them he heard the sound of metal clashing and the roars of ferocious crazed beasts. Finally finding his feet the new blood asks the shirtless behemoth “ What is this place, hell? ”
The giant erupts with bellowing laughter, “ Hel boy? You don ’ t find yourself so lucky. This is Valhalla, and you now belong to the All-Father. ”
The new blood looks at him incredulously, “ So what now? ”
“ Surely even you can feel it. I know you can hear it, but can ’ t you feel it? You wouldn ’ t be here if you couldn ’ t, it must be in there somewhere. Just listen with all that you are. ” The giant man seemed to be annoyed with the new blood, and the new blood knew he didn ’ t want to test the patience of this man. He did as he was told and listened. All he heard was the sounds of what he now guessed was battle. The battling, that was the point here. I hadn ’ t been a soldier, I had hardly even gotten into fights. Each roar, scream, and holler become louder to him. The sounds of the men separated themselves from the rest of the chaos. They were cheers and victory cries, admittances of defeat and the relinquishing of victory. It excited him. He suddenly seemed larger than he was, and he felt a strange energy rolling off of his body.
“ Yes! ” The giant man shoved a sword into the new blood ’ s empty hands. “ Yes, that is it! ” His giant hand rested on the new blood ’ s back and guided him towards the fighting. The giant man began to jog and the new blood followed suit. The battling grew louder, they were moments from it. The energy was flying off of them both now, an electric rage that charged through them. The new blood couldn ’ t help it, and he let out a roar so terrible that it made his own soul shudder. He heard the giant man laughing as they collided with the combatants.
The new blood immersed himself in the horror and terror of the battlefield. It fueled him. Even though he ’ d never killed before he took to it like he ’ d been doing it his entire life, as if it had been his entire life. One, two, three, four warriors he felled! He wasn ’ t thinking, he was simply existing as fury itself. He charged the next closest warrior and leapt at him like a mad dog. The giant golden haired man turned around with a growling laugh and brought his giant axe down upon the new blood. He felt himself sink into the ground, he was certainly dead. I must be dead. I ’ m practically in two pieces!
He felt air on his legs, and the rest of him fell through the earth. He was in a cavernous hall and all manner of warrior was walking toward a light. He followed them, and they walked up and into a massive kitchen filled with the most beautiful women you would ever see. They brought them a wine he was unfamiliar with and beckoned them all into a much larger room filled with tables and food.
He sat three spots down from the first man he killed, and the man gestured at him “ Nice kill new blood, you ’ re impressive compared to others from your time. ” The new blood considered the warriors words, and then burst out laughing. “ Thank you, kinsman! ” The rest of the warriors roared with laughter, and the new blood felt strangely at home.
|
[ WP ] Historically , to be bitten by a vampire is to become their thrall , powerless to resist their command . But in your case the roles seem to be reversed and now you have a vampire servant , whether you want one or not .
| I glared at Alphonso, who in turned glared back at me. He had been confused at first, as much as I was, when he had bitten me. Now he was angry where I was just annoyed. Alphonso had to move from his swank mansion somewhere of the name of a place I could n't pronounce and live with him, as were the terms of being a thrall. This was n't supposed to be how it was. I was supposed to be his thrall... but here we are.
Alphonso glowered at me as I moved around the second bedroom, making room for his massive coffin. I mean, the thing was extravagant, at least costing somewhere in the neighborhood of $ 20K. Thoough, being a vampire now meant that I needed a coffin or something to block out the sunlight. I had half a mind to tell him that the coffin now belonged to me and he had to get his own. But I was n't that much of a dick, not how Alphonso was. He had promised me a life away from the pain and torture that was my every day human life. He said that I could come live with him in his castle. Well, so much for that plan. I mean, yeah, he got rid of the tumors that were trying to kill me, but look were we still are.
`` There.'' I said as I put away the last sheet and looked at the now empty room. `` You have a spot.''
`` This is unacceptable for one such as I. I am - `` He started on his all self importance monologue. I interrupted.
`` Whatever, Count Chocula.'' I said waving my hand dismissively as I walked past him back into the living room. My favorite show was about to come on. `` Just get yourself settled and get something for dinner.''
`` I am not one to be commanded.'' The ancient vampire, no thrall, said haughtily.
`` Are you disobeying me, *thrall*?'' I asked looking over my shoulder at him, emphasizing the word.
I saw Alphonso cringe. He bared his teeth, showing off those perfect white fangs. I bared mine, not as perfect and no fangs. He grumbled and headed to the door.
`` Any preference?'' He asked, I could hear the sourness in his voice.
`` Not Chinese.'' I said. `` Do n't feel like being cannibalistic at the moment.''
Hearing Alphonso growl to himself made me smile a little. The high born brat would learn soon that everything was n't all moonshine and bat wings. I had to think of a way to keep us from being kicked out on the streets if I could n't work during the day. I would have to find a night shift job and so would he. Oh, he was going to be pissed when I was going to talk to him about this problem.
Alphonso returned a few hours later with a cute latino girl. She was still under his trance, which had diminished since becoming a thrall. Something that pricked his nerves and it showed. We settled in for the meal and I had to remind him that master eats first. He growled at me. After dinner, I had him dispose of the corpse and told him we needed a talk.
`` What is it now?'' He groaned as he flopped onto the couch.
`` You are getting a job. I will be able to talk to my manager to allow me to work only nights, but you are not going to loaf around the house being a free loader. And I doubt you know how to clean.'' I said leaning back in my recliner.
`` I do not work, I have wealth beyond y-''
`` How can you access that wealth?'' I asked cutting him off.
Alphonso blinked at me, caught off guard by that question. He admitted he had no idea how to get to his money without flying back home and he did n't have funds with him right now. He had used his overpowering charm to get on flights and such. But now that he was a thrall, he could only charm a person or two to follow him back to his home for a meal.
`` Yeah, I was n't wanting this, but this is how it's going to be.'' I said with a sigh. `` So, suck it up buttercup, you are joining the work force.''
In the corner of my eye, I could see Alphonso's bottom lip quiver. I felt the same way. This is not at all what we were expecting.
|
[ WP ] Cannibalism has been widely accepted for over 20 years . A renowned chef before dinner service checks tonights product . In the caging area he sees his activist sister .
| From his spot on the terrace, he could see the guests slowly making their way out to breakfast. The rising sun glinted gently on the ocean and warmed the deserted beaches below. The first floor patio was set to seat the hundreds of wealthy patrons who crawled from their beds to enjoy the resort's lavish morning buffet. Sipping his coffee, he stretched and rose from his seat.
Taking the elevator to the kitchen, he wove carefully around the servers who hurried in all various directions. The breakfast chef barked her orders and nodded a good morning to him before turning to yell at some tray wench. Slipping into the office and settling into the chair, he poured over the shipment records from last night. He sat back and drank his coffee, contemplating the menu. The First Parliamentary Panel was scheduled to show up some time this evening for a special dinner commemorating the 20th anniversary of the Autonomous Individual Act. Leaning over the desk once more, he saw a shipping notice that had fallen on the floor along with an order from the Panel. A smile spread across his face as he read. The Panel requested the only fitting dish for such an anniversary, a person.
David had been the executive chef at Adnem Gold Resort for the last 3 years and had yet to serve un homme delicatesse. He was honored to have been given such an opportunity as even though it was now legal to eat human flesh, among other things that the AIA covered, the occasion was rare. The shipping notice revealed that the individual who was to be the main course had been delivered very early this morning and was waiting in the storage basement.
Weaving between servers and grabbing another cup of coffee, he took the elevator down. He passed row after row of crates and boxes of supplies, carts of produce. The freezers lining the walls made it chilly. Along the far wall, there was a mostly closed off room they sometimes used to house specialty animals that were going to be dinner but as David drew closer, he could see it had been furnished much like many of the guest rooms. Curtains hanging behind the bars obscured most of the cage but he could see a table with chairs, a soft rug covering the concrete floor, and a lone figure that stood, casting a shadow on the drawn curtains as morning light poured from the small barred window.
David watched quietly as the obviously female figure ran a cloth along her arms and legs. She rung the cloth into a bowl on the table and hanging it over one of the chairs, she donned a robe. He was n't sure what to say so he cleared his throat which startled her a bit but she moved to the curtain.
As soon as she pulled it aside, he dropped his coffee cup. Not looking down at the shattered ceramic or the coffee staining his white pants, if David had any words before, they were completely gone.
`` Hello David. It's been a long time, has n't it?'' His sister smiled gently and pulled the curtains fully open. They both grasped the bars of the cage.
`` Sandra,'' his voice quietly gasped, halting. `` What are you doing? Why?''
`` This is what we fought for, is n't it?'' Sandra reached through the gaps and held his face. His confusion written on every line that she traced with her fingers. `` I've missed you.''
`` I missed you too but why?'' He repeated as he gripped her hand tightly.
`` David, the past 20 years have been wonderful. Everything in my life that I wanted to accomplish, I have. I lived my dream except for one part. You knew back then what I wanted and supported everyone's right to chose. Now I am making that choice.''
Tears ran freely down his face as he brought her hand to his lips. Fumbling with the keys, he unlocked the cage door and hugged her tightly. His shoulders shook and as though they were children once again, she ran her hands down his head and back. He pulled away and holding her now tear-streaked face between his hands, he asked.
`` Why ca n't you wait until you're older? There is so much life and time left, why now?''
Sandra sighed and she stood only to sit at the table. She motioned for him to join her and once they were eye-to-eye, she held his hand.
`` I have lived my life. Twenty years later, we have changed the world. We accomplished what we set out to do. You may have dreams left but this is the last thing I want. And I want to do it while my body is in peak condition. What better way to offer myself than at the anniversary of our greatest accomplishment and when my brother can be the one to fulfill that dream?''
David gripped her hand once more and wiped the tears from his eyes. He was silent for several minutes, stroking her fingers and finally, nodding, he said, `` I understand. You should have told me you were going to volunteer.''
She laughed, `` If I had said something, you would have tried to stop me. I have made my decision. I can only hope you forgive me.''
David rose from his seat and putting his hand on her shoulder said, `` Do n't go anywhere. I'll be right back.''
Leaving the cage door slightly open, he ran from the storage basement to the adjoining cellar. Carefully wiping the dust from the labels, he selected a deep red wine and two glasses from the reserve glassware. Entering the cage once again, he set them both down and popped the cork. He poured them both a drink while Sandra hugged him from behind and rested her cheek on his shoulder. Sitting, he raised his glass. She followed.
`` Sandra, I am honored that you chose me to serve you. While it pains me to be the end of your journey, I am proud to be your brother. If this is your true wish and choice, I will stand by you.''
She leaned forward to wipe a tear from his cheek with her free hand. As tears of her own rolled down her face, she said, `` David, I am honored to have a brother who accepts my choices and, even after 20 years apart, will stand by me. Thank you for this opportunity, that I may offer myself to the Panel and have someone who will truly be able to do my offering justice. It is my honor to be your main course.''
Smiling, they emptied their glasses and soon the bottle. Checking his watch, David sighed. It was time to start dinner.
Sandra stood and taking her hand, David led her to the basement slaughter room. It was much like a large chilled shower with hooks hanging from the ceiling, a chair, and wheeled metal transport tables. She let her robe fall to the floor and David could n't help but admire the pale glow of her skin. Her youthful body had been carefully maintained over the years in preparation of this day. Drawing her close, they took a minute. The siblings pressed their foreheads together and kissed each other's cheeks. Neither David nor Sandra could find the words so their smiles said everything.
He sat her on the chair and leaving for a minute, returned with a tank of nitrogen gas that had also been delivered and two lengths of rope. Kneeling, he tied her feet to one another and then her hands which were also lashed to her feet to keep them down. David held the tube out for her and sitting back, she put it in her mouth. He held her nose closed and opened the valve on the tank. For a minute, she stared at him while breathing it in and slowly, her eyes closed. After another few minutes, he closed the valve and lifting her from the chair, he laid her on one of the tables. Quickly he lowered the chains and hooks from the ceiling and clamping one on the rope between her feet, he hoisted her unconscious body into the air. Once she was freely dangling, he moved the table so that the middle of the room was empty except for the drain.
In one hand, David held her head and in the other, a sharp knife. He choked back tears and pressing her forehead to his, he took a deep breath. Standing back, he slit her throat.
Torrents of blood gushed onto the floor with every heartbeat. David watched as it bathed the room in a deep crimson and once it started to slow, he turned on a hose. Almost meditatively, he cleaned her body of blood and the water swirled red beneath his feet. As the last drops left her, David brought the table back into the room. Carefully, he severed her neck and set her head at one end. He cleaned the body again before gently lowering it onto the table. Her skin retained its glow and as David pushed Sandra to the preparation room for butchering and marination, he gripped her hand one last time.
|
[ WP ] After all these years after your dad left to go get cigarettes , he returns battered and bloody with a pack of smokes and says `` You wo n't believe what happened ''
| I woke up early this morning and walked to the shop around the corner for some donuts. I thought about buying a pack of smokes but I remembered I still had some at home so I walked back with my bag of donuts. `` Did you call for the bank?'' She asked as soon as I stepped foot in the house. `` No I just woke up.'' She muttered something and I chose not to hear it. Andrew was dressed and ready for school. `` Can you drive him?'' She asked me. `` Why do n't you ask our neighbor again.'' I meant it, but I was still going to drive him. It got her really angry though because she took the keys from my hand and proclaimed that she'd drive him herself. Not my fault she'd rather ask that dipshit for help than wake me up. `` Go right the... Go ahead. I'm going for a walk so do n't be late I still have work.'' I closed the door behind me and reached into my pocket for my pack. I still forgot to pick it up from the house. And I left my donuts! Back to the corner I walked. At first I thought I somehow walked the wrong way, but I could n't find that donut shop. It was completely gone and I crossed the street to figure out what the hell just happened.
*not done, continuing later*
|
[ WP ] The contract for my soul
| Kaen had never been a man to care for appearances, to judge those around him. Still, sitting across from an unkempt, wild mess of a man, he worried of those around him. He saw as many little niggling details as his eyes could catch, from faded, ripped and out of style clothing, to stains and scars and bad tattoos, anything to justify himself against a crowd of strangers. This cafe sucked, and he knew it, the patrons knew it, hell, the owners did too. As for why the meeting was there, then, he had a strange sense of understanding, a tickle at the back of his mind. He sipped his tea, pushed the cup and saucer away from him, and scratched his face. His partner simply grinned from across the table, sharp white teeth that should n't be accommodated by that jaw. Kaen hid his distaste and began to speak, in as quiet an audible tone he could manage.
`` So, it's come to my attention that you've a... proposition for someone in my position. Of course, I ca n't just take that offer. I need details, and tangibility, and proof. I assume that someone in your position, with your capabilities, can provide that easily.'' His partner grinned again, stroked their dark, sleek beard, and began to talk. His voice was smooth and soft, silky, and slipped into Kaen's ears and mind like nothing else. Kaen only smiled and ran a finger over the ring on his hand. His only protection, and it'd cost him a lot. But he'd make it back. The words of his mysterious partner pulled him back to attention.
`` - so as you can understand, I can offer anything. *Any-thing*. At all. I just require one thing as payment, very simple, very easy to make. Very high in cost, of course, but that only comes up when your... time is finished. And for you, that must surely be a while. You've got backers, and the power of *sciences*, what little good it'll do, and money galore. No worries.'' His words began to flow together, and he surely enjoyed the sound of his own voice. *'What sins he was fault for,'* Kaen laughed to himself.
`` Well, then it's best time to make an offer.'' His partner's grin dropped, and they stroked their beard again, before pulling a paper from their jacket. Unfolded and laid straight before him, Kaen could see it was a contract. Of course, paperwork. Binding and official. He was handed a pen as well, but set it down in favor of his own.
`` What terms have you decided? What do you want, Kaen?'' At the sound of his name he could only help but shudder. But what came next was important, impossibly so, and it had to be perfect. In response he pulled a paper from his jacket, blank and plain. On it, he began to write, folding up the front so the words could not be seen. When he was done, he folded it in half crisply, and set it down.
`` It has been written, and is binding. I give you my word, since not my soul, that I will let you know. But only after I sign your paper, of course.'' His partner could not refuse, not on his word, and he was sure this man could n't pull anything on him. He'd been in the business since it had started. Hell, he'd started it. Kaen placed his pen to paper, signed his name, and then smirked as he pushed his paper across to his partner. The man unfolded it scanned it, and instantly his face grew red with fury. He had made a mistake, admittedly, but he could salvage. Unfortunately, as he saw the ink the words were written in, he dismissed even that. `` As you can see, that is written with blood. My blood, to be exact. Have a good day. I will never have to see you again.''
The man almost lunged forward, if it were n't for that he noticed the bright ruby ring on Kaen's hands, folded and resting on his knee. He scowled deeply. In an instant, his partner was gone, and with a breath of relief Kaen took the ring from his finger and slipped it into his pocket. Its use was done, and now it was a reminder of his most dangerous gamble. He stood up and walked away, triumphant.
True, none of the other patrons of the cafe noticed any of this. They had no reason to, and if they thought even long and hard, they would only remember two men discussing business. The only sign that the two had ever been there was a paper folded crisply in half, on it words in crimson ink.'The gift I ask from you is freedom and protection from *you. * You can not touch me now, and now, never shall you.
|
[ WP ] : Your first book became a massive global success , and the series gets turned into a massively disappointing TV show . You ca n't break the contract but to spite them , you start making the plot increasingly difficult and expensive to filmatize . Write a random excerpt from the 12th book .
| The man would remove his mask any day now.. I looked on with silent horror as the man lifted his pale hand towards his mask. Then suddenly his hand peeled away! His entire body fell apart like bandages leaving only the swaying mask hanging in the air.
The mask then suddenly made a mad dash towards my face! Its tentacle-like appendages dragged my face towards the mask.My head suddlely snapped back from the force. The mask then attached itself to my face which felt natural to me somehow. As I struggled around screaming and begging for the mask to get off, the mask whispered to me, `` Oh how I missed my old body.''
I then was pushed out of'my' body and my spirit flew through the air. And it flew and flew never stopping! Flew throughout space and time until it was anchored to a mask. The very same mask that had just walked away with my body!
|
[ WP ] All humans go automatically to hell when they die . You can gain access to a heaven though , but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you .
| `` Oh for fucks sake, COME ON Mr.Snuffles.''
`` I told you, my name is Jeremiah.''
I sighed. Who would of thought, eh? So much happens in life. There are so many moments that feel so important; marriage, having kids, being kind to the poor, helping out those in need. All those moments that you go out of your way to do, so you feel like a good person, those are all worth nothing. It all comes down to this goddamn cat. Well, most people probably have more than one animal to work with. From what I understand, any animal that you have any sort of meaningful interaction with is on the panel of judges. But I never really paid much attention to animals, I was always preoccupied with humans. Sure, I petted the odd cat, walked the odd dog, but I only ever truly connected with one animal. That animal was my childhood cat, Mr. Fluffypants. He died when I was four. I barely even remember the fucker, but he remembers me.
`` I remember you used to throw your food at me. I did n't like that Rick, it was n't nice.''
`` Are you sure I was n't just throwing the food in your general direction?''
`` Making excuses? Are we? Your older brothers never did that. They always treated me fairly. Why did you hate me, Rick?''
`` Fuck -- I did n't hate you Mr.Fluf, I uh. I mean I did n't hate you Jeremiah. I was a toddler. Toddlers are assholes.''
`` No Rick. You were an asshole.''
Frustrated, I looked around. There was n't much to this room. Actually, I'm not really sure this is a room. Its essentially just whiteness. With two chairs facing each other. I sat on one, and fucking Jeremiah sat on the other. This tiny gray cat had been laying into for what felt like hours. At this point I was missing the hospital, at least there I was comfortable.
I looked at him in his eyes. They glared at me, holding an unreasonably large amount of loathing. This cat hated my guts.
`` Look,'' I began, `` I'm sorry. Okay? I really am. I'm sorry for all the shit I put you through. But I was just a kid. I've grown okay?''
`` Clearly you've grown.'' the feline responded coldly. Then he asked, tentatively, `` How was your life?''
`` What?'' I was startled. This cat had been complaining since the moment I sat down.
`` I just. I wanted to know. How was your life?'' I did n't know what to say. The question seemed very genuine, hopeful even. I decided to indulge him.
`` Good. It was really good. Full of joy, love, heartbreak and sorrow. Much like any other life.''
`` Tell me about it.''
`` Well. I had a fairly typical childhood. Did above average in school, but not great. Went to NYU, graduated with an English Degree. Thats where I met my first wife, actually. In University.''
`` It did n't last?''
`` No, no. It did n't. We were young and enthusiastic. We did n't plan much. Luckily we did n't have a kid. It all fell apart before we could...'' I paused. `` I do n't regret it though. It was worth it.''
`` I see... What else? What happened after that?''
`` I became a teacher. Taught for a while, then after the divorce, I was like 27, I started dating again pretty much right away. And eventually I met my 2nd, and final, wife.'' Now, I could n't really tell, but I think I saw Jeremiah smile just then.
`` Tell me about her.'' He said.
`` Oh, haha. Linda. She's amazing. A teacher as well, actually. Shes smart, elegant, beautiful. And she really cares about what she does, you know? She was 25 when we met. I was 28. We dated for a year, and then got married, we had our first kid before I was thirty.'' Again, I think he smiled. But I ca n't tell.
`` Then. I guess we just lived, you know? Had three kids, I eventually became an author. Published a couple fiction series. They were pretty damn good if I do say so myself. And then, well, it all ended rather fast. I'm, well, I was pretty young. Fifty six is n't too old. My brothers were still alive. Fucking cancer. God damn.'' and now he looked down at the ground and nodded. `` Yes, I'm aware of what happened. I'm sorry, Rick.''
`` Hey, its fine. I had a good life.''
`` Yes, it seems you did. I'm so happy for you, Rick. I am so, so happy to hear you had a good life. Although I wish it was longer.'' His sincerity was striking. `` Thanks Jeremiah...'' I trailed off. I did n't know what to say now. My story was over. Suddenly the cat leaped off the chair and turned away towards this door that had appeared. `` Well,'' he said `` I suppose we better get going.'' I was surprised. `` What are you talking about?'' He looked back at me, and sat down. `` Well, I've enjoyed this. I've enjoyed this a lot. But we might as well get you to heaven. I mean, its pretty great.''
`` You're letting me come?''
`` Of course, Rick.'' he seemed genuinely surprised. `` Why would n't I?''
`` Well. You just spent the last few hours ripping into me. Telling me how horrible I was to you.''
`` Yes I did. You were an asshole.''
`` So why let me come?''
`` Because I fucking loved you, man. You were an asshole. But you were my asshole. I'm not gunna let you suffer if I can help it. Which I can, as it turns out.'' I did n't know what to say. `` Thank you, Jeremiah.''
`` Not a problem, kid. Now come on, your parents have been missing you. There probably by the pool.''
`` Theres a pool in there?''
`` Oh Rick. Are you in for a treat.'' Then, together, as man and cat, we walked into eternity.
|
[ WP ] No man who leads is pure of heart
| Decius Coluberius Caspianus watched as the faint blue digits of his helmet's Heads-Up-Display slowly counted down. He and his *contubernium* had been assigned a smash-and-grab mission by the *legatus* of the 35th Lightning Alpine Legion, Lucius Spurius Aper.
Two hours earlier the legion *auscultatorius* had intercepted a coded transmission from the Italian's rear base and, after the listener's post had deciphered the message, found it contained advantageous information. The Italian *Magister Militum*, the legionary marshal Gaius Vicarius, would be moving to the forward position under cover of darkness. Two cohorts of Italian *praetorian* troopers had already deployed to the front lines in order to secure their marshal's new position, and Vicarius would only be moving with two *contuberniae* of *praetorians* in Lupus II 4x4 jeeps. With an hour and half until Vicarius would be on the move, Aper had called Caspianus to his field tent to be briefed.
`` Prime targets.'' Sitting behind his desk, Aper had interlocked his fingers and clenched, causing a cacophony of small pops, `` And the Gallic Empire needs everything we can give it. The Spaniards have broken past the Pyrenees and the Italians have taken it as an opportunity to press us along the entire Alpine border.''
Caspianus had stood at attention, waiting for Aper to get onto the details of the mission he had been woken up to lead.
`` Gaul needs the *Magister* taken alive, Prefect. We ca n't spare much, but I can let you have a picked *contubernia* of the finest troops in the legion.'' Aper slid a tablet across his desk. Caspianus looked over the tablet, scanning over the details of veteran *legionaries* as he flicked the screen from file to file. The Legate had really meant that Caspianus could choose the best of the best from the legion, as every one of the profiles had information for no less than a dozen campaigns and special missions over a decade or more of service.
`` We need Vicarius, Caspianus.'' Aper leaned forward in his chairs, chin rested against his intertwined fingers. `` The 35th needs Vicarius. If the report is accurate, the Italians are going to have about a thousand of those bloody *praetorian* bastards will be primed and ready to hit us anywhere on the line.''
Caspianus had not looked up from the tablet, continuing to drag and drop the profiles of his chosen troopers into the folder at the bottom right corner of the screen. Six of the best troopers in the legion, including the *primipilaris* of the First Cohort, were already in the folder.
Caspianus dropped the last trooper's profile, Marcus Spurius Aper, into the folder. `` Sir.'' He asked as he pushed the tablet back across the desk.
`` You are the best officer I have, and...'' Aper trailed off as he saw the troopers selected for the mission. `` And you've chosen Tribune Marcus Spurius, I see.''
`` Yes, sir.'' Caspianus was stone-faced.
Aper stared at the Prefect for a few moments before letting out a tired sigh, setting the tablet on the desk as he leaned back in his chair, `` My son is a good trooper, Caspianus. Bring him back in one piece.''
Caspianus stood, pressing his closed fist against his left breast before extending it, `` Understood, sir.''
`` Same goes for Vicarius.'' Aper said, then waved a hand toward the entrance. `` Dismissed, Prefect. Do the 35th proud.''
'*Do the 35th proud*.' Caspianus sniffed as his HUD mission timer blinked at 01:00. He tapped the communicator unlock button at the base of his helmet, opening the team channel.
`` One minute, troopers. Confirm count.''
Each of the troopers status lights winked three times, acknowledging the mission timer.
`` Targets on motion tracker, 500 feet.'' Caspianus watched as two large red dots moved along the circular tracker on his HUD. They were following a paved road which cut straight through a blasted rock hill, giving his troopers perfect vantage and an excellent choke point to ambush the tiny caravan.
The 7 troopers Caspianus had chosen were skillfully hidden among the brush and rocks on the jagged sides of the blasted hill; 4 on the north and 4, including himself, on the south. Aper was about 8 feet down and to the right of Caspianus, hunkered behind a rock the size of a child with his Gentilia IV assault rifle pointed at the road. The two other troopers, the *primipilaris* Lars Daniccus and an *evocotus* named Titus Leontius were to either side of Caspianus. Daniccus had a Pilum IM rocket launcher aimed at the road while Leontius was adjusting the scope settings of his Ballistra LXI sniper rifle. The 60mm rocket of the Pilum would easily tear through the lightly armored 4x4 `` Cubs,'' but Caspianus had approved the weapon after the Centurion explained he wanted it to signal the attack.
The mission timer flashed 00:15 as the two red dots moved within 100 feet, a slow, cautious pace. Caspianus watched as Daniccus settled the his aim on the road and imagined the man was taking deep, measured breaths as he steadied the weapon.
'*Do the 35th proud. *' Caspianus drew both of his Pugietta VIL pistols, and took a deep breath as the timer flashed 00:03.
The Pilum belched as its barrel flashed, the rocket zipped to the road and exploded with a roar. The lead Cub stopped abruptly, the drawn tarp roof pelted with smoking bits of brick and gravel thrown into the air by the explosion. As Caspianus stood, he heard the rifles of his sharps crack almost in unison. Two dozen red dots appeared behind his position, another two dozen ahead behind the north team. The team com channel became cluttered with angry voices. Caspianus squeezed three shots from each pistol, one pointed at Daniccus and the other at Leontius. Both troopers jerked as the rounds impacted their backs and collapsed forward. Daniccus rolled a few feet down the jagged rocks before stopping, Leontius merely slumped into the small scrub tree he had been crouched behind.
The young Aper had seen Daniccus' body rolling and turned, confused by the lack of red indicators spilling out of the stopped Cubs and swarm of red behind and in front. He only had a moment of realization at what had happened, seeing Caspianus deftly closing the gap between them on the rocky hillside, before the Prefect's knee smashed into his visor. His HUD went black as the pointed knee of the *Lorica Gallicum* split Aper's helmet and broke his nose, snapping his head back and toppling him from his crouched position. He was unconscious before he hit the ground, and did n't feel a thing as Caspianus fired a shot from each pistol into his chest.
Caspianus watched as the 4 north blue dots on his HUD motion tracker shifted and stuttered toward the tightening crescent of red dots. Two blue dots disappeared, the remaining two stuttered back toward their original positions, then disappeared from the tracker. A single red dot was quickly approaching Caspianus from behind as he reached up to his helmet and switched from the team com to an open channel.
`` All hostiles down.'' Caspianus heard an unknown trooper say into the channel as he turned to the bare face of the Italian *Magister Militum*.
Vicarius, standing uphill of the Prefect, had short cropped gray hair and an aquiline nose. He pressed a gauntleted fist to the navy breastplate of his *Lorica Italica*, sternly surveying the corpses around Caspianus.
`` We could've used the Tribune.'' Vicarius said impassively.
Caspianus shrugged then started up the jagged hill.
`` I know far more than he did. And he had no price.''
The Magister turned and walked shoulder-to-shoulder with the Prefect down the hill toward the purple-armored *praetorian* troopers as he said, `` I do like a man who knows his price and when to name it.''
The faint roar of powerful engines filtered through his helmet speakers, the familiar sound of a Carrus V drop-ship approaching.
Vicarius pressed two fingers against the dim blue glow of an earpiece and said on the open channel, `` Durum's inbound, boys. Everyone rally on me and our new associate so we can get to the real fight on time.''
Caspianus listened to the string of acknowledgements before saying to Vicarius, `` Are the *praetorians* pushing before dawn?''
`` Attack starts in an hour. We're going to split your boys right down the middle, since your intel shows that's where the *vigiles* are holding. The *legionaries* are focused on the flanks. Best to eliminate the commanders and cut off the regular troopers. Who knows?'' Vicarius looked into the Prefect's polarized visor and grinned maliciously, `` There might be more than a few men with price tags in once we get rid of their die-hard commanders.''
'*Do the 35th proud. *' Caspianus dismissed the gray squad indicators from his HUD, tapped an override code into the wrist com built into the right forearm of his armor, and watched as his personal indicator flickered red for `` CRITICAL STATUS'' before graying out. The delay would make it seem to command that he had survived the initial assault and been executed after a short questioning.
`` I admire the tenacity of leaders that think themselves wholly dedicated to their Empire's cause!'' Vicarius shouted over the noise of the Carrus V landing, `` But I believe no man that leads is pure of heart. We all have a price, Prefect.'' The Magister leaped into the Carrus drop bay, 4 feet above the ground, then turned to extend a gauntleted hand to Caspianus.
Caspianus gripped the hand and leaped into the Carrus bay, turning to help the other troopers into the drop-ship. After the last purple-armored trooper was accounted for, the Carrus began its ascent, quickly climbing to cruising altitude, banking, and speeding north toward the forward camp. As the ambush site shrunk into the night, Vicarius keyed a command into his wrist com and two large clouds of fire erupted between the broken hill as the Cubs exploded.
`` Welcome to the 13th, Prefect.'' Vicarius slapped his gauntleted hand against Caspianus' armored shoulder. `` The Scorpion Legion is a damn fine lot of killers.''
|
[ WP ] With a heavy , broken heart you leave the city for a new start in a small fishing town in Rhode Island . The town , though quaint and beautiful houses a great evil that will alter human life as we know it .
| I tensed my hands on the steering wheel. `` Ten and two,'' just like my dad taught me. Engine off, no sudden movements, and pretend like nothing is wrong. But how could I hide it? The terror on my face... The adrenaline pumping through my veins urging me to get far away from this crazy town as fast as I can and never look back...
A rap on the window by a leather clad knuckle snapped me back to reality. Without thinking I rolled down the window for the Officer... Trooper? Highway Patrolman? I had n't been in Rhode Island long enough to know what they called their State Police, but the best greeting I could muster was a `` Good evening, sir.''
He did n't respond right away, instead sizing me up for an uncomfortably long moment. `` Licence and registration,'' he ordered. I fished out the necessary documents, trying my best to stay composed. I handed them all to him, and as he reached into the car, I noticed his shoulder patch was crimson and black. In fact, his whole outfit was strange. The jackboots, leather pistol belt, and charcoal grey uniform with black and red epaulets looked straight out of one of those World War II documentaries. The only thing remotely modern was his motorcycle helmet.
`` So,'' he finally asked, `` What's the hurry?''
`` I, um,'' I swallowed the knot in my throat, `` My... grandmother is n't doing too well... I'm heading back home to see her in the hospital.'' I waited and hoped he bought it.
`` You're from out of town, huh?'' he scanned the back of my car, looking for something... or someone...
`` Y- yes, sir.''
`` You know you were doing 85?''
`` I... I'm sorry, I did n't notice... I was just so worried.''
`` Highest around here is 65. 55 on this stretch of road right here.''
`` I'm so sorry. I'll be more careful.'' I tried to look as remorseful as possible. The last thing I needed was to get arrested, but in truth, I wish I had been going faster. The sooner I got away from... whatever I saw back there... the better.
A distant rumble of thunder got my attention. The officer and I looked back at the town, where a massive black cloud swirled like a hurricane with its eye centered on that old manor.
`` A storm's coming,'' he said flatly, `` gon na be dangerous to be out on the road. I can take you back to town and you can ride it out at the station.''
`` No! No... thank you... I really need to get home. They said on the phone that she might not make it, and I need to say goodbye before...''
`` What Hospital did you say she was at?''
`` I did n't... Mount Sinai, in Queens.''
`` Alright,'' another uncomfortably long pause, `` Wait here.''
He turned around to take my license back to his motorcycle. I almost did n't notice it. Right there on the back of his neck, I saw the tattoo. I might have only gotten a glimpse, but there was no mistaking it. The same ancient otherworldly runes in a circle around a coiled serpent I saw branded on the bodies of the cultists back at the manor. This was it. I was done for.
I waited until he was all the way back to his bike before cranking my engine. As soon as it started, I floored it. I did n't look back to see if he was pursuing, but I knew he would be. They could n't let me leave.
I got a few miles between me and that godforsaken town when I noticed the sky start to rapidly darken. The sun had n't set yet, but that cloud from the town was growing, overtaking me and my car. I noticed then that the roads were completely empty. There were no cars coming into town and no Police behind me either. Soon the skies opened up with rain so dense I could barely see the road in front of me. Steam rose up from the asphalt... or was it smoke?
I strained to keep focused on staying between the lines, but I could n't get that image out of my head. That poor girl... naked and afraid on that altar, runes all over her... what they did to her... and then... what came out of her... I had to stay focused on the road, but I kept seeing her. It was like she was right in front of me. She was.
I had just enough time to swerve out of the way as she looked up and stated into me with empty eyes. I lost control and my car started to roll. The car tumbled, end over end. Glass shards filled my view. I felt my head slam against something hard and everything went black.
I do n't know how long I was out, but when I awoke, three men stood over me. The policeman, one of the hooded cultists, and Mr. Gould, the kindly old man from the hotel. He still had that pleased grin, but it took on a new, sinister meaning. I noticed the rain had stopped, and it seemed that woman was gone too. I tried to get up, but I could n't move a muscle. Was I paralyzed?
`` He's awake. What should we do with him?'' the officer asked.
Mr. Gould answered, *'' Take him... back... to the temple. He has... the aura...'' *
The cultist and the policeman set to the task of grabbing my arms and legs. As they did, Mr. Gould leaned in effortlessly so he was almost face to face with me. He seemed unnaturally limber for his age. *'' You are... so... fortunate...'' * he said, never breaking his smile, *'' Our... Master needs... more... vessels... and you... will be among the first... to herald his... arrival...'' *
I tried to shout for help, but my jaw was n't moving the way it should. I could only make a few feeble squeaks and moans from the bottom of my throat.
*'' Hush now...'' * he said as the two others hoisted me, *'' Relax... the time for fighting... has ended... accept your fate... and know peace... like this world will never see again...'' *
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[ WP ] The `` Shh '' sound that parents make to children at night is actually an ancient spell that keeps a terrible nocturnal evil at bay
| Baba once told me of a witch who had a long, lolling tongue that rolled down to her chin, and who wore the skin of a lion around her face. On her happiest day, the birth of her child, the baby of this witch was born cold and still. The witch ran into the forest and searched for her child, convinced he was only lost. She searched every village, and stole child after child from their beds. Each one screamed in fear and ran from her. She even tried to possess their mothers so she could trick the children for their love. But the bodies she stole grew still and cold, like the love she had lost, and fell apart, bit by bit into monstrosities. In time, all the children grew scared of her and ran away. But the witch would chase through the forest, hunting for them, listening for the sound of their footsteps against the leaves.
It was one of the tales she told me when I was still going through the pregnancy. Baba was full of these stories— dreadful morbid superstitions from her life in a village. Each one was followed by some lesson on witch craft. “ Don ’ t walk barefoot on wooden floors ”, she had yelled at me, as if I were an idiot. “ Worms will eat your toes! ”
Because of her superstitions I could never be outside after dark. I couldn ’ t drink warm milk by a fireplace; I couldn ’ t even sleep with a window open for fear that a giant owl would swoop into my bedroom and steal me away! If anything seemed fun or innocent to me, it was an attack on my mortal soul to her.
When Saul and I saved up enough, we finally ran away to city and got our first apartment together. We were determined that our child would not grow up hearing the same nightmares day after day.
On our first day at our new place, the moon was so bright it lit our entire home, everything shimmering as if it were gilded in silver. The air was warm and we threw open all the windows—owls be damned! I shucked off my shoes and danced with him on the wooden floor of living room. We spent our first night alone together, lying on the thick, soft carpet of our new bedroom. He slept behind me, caressing my tummy, and waking up now and again to kiss the baby when he felt him kick. I fell asleep to his warm breath on my neck, his large fingers gently spread out over my tummy, protecting our child.
I woke to a heavy weight on my legs. I could still feel Saul ’ s breathing against the back of my neck, but it was growing louder, sharper, and out of rhythm. Soon, each time he breathed I would hear two breaths, the second coming out in a quiet, wheezy growl. Each time he exhaled it grew colder, until it started to send shivers through my neck. I felt his arm lifting away from my belly and tried to grab for it, to keep it close to me, but my own arms wouldn ’ t move. The soft carpet beneath me now felt like tree bark, scratching against my face, and my legs felt like they were slowly sinking into the floor. Saul ’ s heavy breathing grew sharper and he began to squeal and toss, like an animal in pain. I tried to call him, but his name was stuck in my chest, the air not even rising to my throat. My clammy hands were lumped motionless on the floor, just inches from my face. An adrenaline, animalistic fear took over me and I could feel cold sweat starting to roll down my back.
The baby kicked inside of me. Again and again, I felt him. It was as if he were having a nightmare, as if he were trying to run away. I didn ’ t even notice it, but Saul ’ s breath was no longer on my neck. He was hovering over me, I could feel him looking down on me from behind.
“ Shh, ” I heard him whisper. I looked down, my body finally moving. Saul was lying down on his stomach right in front of me, his cheek rubbing softly against my belly. He gave our son a gentle kiss, and hummed until his kicking settled down. The growling behind me grew distressed and started to whine and cry, a low, rolling groan, like a house cat locked out in the rain. Saul didn ’ t even react to it. All he did was hum the baby, and me, to sleep.
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[ WP ] A daemon is carrying within her the child of two species . Satan and God meet with this daemon and both vow to keep her and her unborn child safe .
| She always hated meeting with God. Satan was okay, just a cunning boss with a knack for order. Sure he was tough but he made sure everyone felt part of the team. God was like a disappointed parent though, a parent who got fed up and gave up. No she knew that thought was wrong, she gave up on Him, she chose her side. Unlike his precious human race there would be no second chance for her. Yet now she was terrified of both beings very equally, she had done something that had n't been done since man was young, she had given herself to a human. Worse yet, she conceived a child. Flashbacks of what God had done to those half breeds formed long ago came to her mind and she was scared, for her and her child. God and Satan had surprised her though, there seemed to exist an unspoken understanding between the two which made the situation worse in its own way. She and her child would be permitted to exist, protected even. No this was bad, they had a plan for her child. Plans never go the way a pawn wants. As she left the meeting place thoughts raced through her head. How could he be used? How would he be used? She knew he would be abnormal, possibly even superhuman. This was always the case with crossbreeds. She received instructions to go to the father of her child, raise his family with him and raise her child. God and Satan manipulated things in such a way so she belonged, and that she had belonged there all along. When her baby came she had him baptized, to remind God of his promise to protect. Silently she begged Satan to remember his vow as well. She looked upon her boy. `` Oh my sweet boy, my sweet little Grigori.''
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[ WP ] Humans evolved without needing to sleep . Now a mysterious illness causing humans to go unconcious for 8 hour periods is spreading . Write from the perspective of yourself .
| It is being called the great hallucination. It appears to be spread by someone opening their mouth slowly and possibly lifting their arms outwards. Once you have caught it, your brain will slowly start shutting down at 10pm or so in the evening and then you will need to quickly get on the floor or a chair, because for the next 7-8 hours you will hallucinate very vividly. Some of it will seem very real. Other bits will seem absolutely ludicrous. World wide as this has spread, people are no longer able to work 12 hour days with 12 hours of relaxation. They either have to work less or lose relaxation time.
Going live now to Christie Cunningham on the streets of Tampa Florida.
`` Thanks Greg. Here with me is one of the first people to catch the Great Hallucination. He is going to tell us his story now.''
`` What happened was I was going down to the corner store and I saw this guy just do something with his arms, then he laid on the ground. So I went over to see if he was alright. He looked as if his brain was n't able to function at all, so I dialed 9-11. This was around 7pm right after I got off work. Anyways, I go home and start my evening routine, and just a little while into it, I notice my brain get all foggy. I decide I better sit down, next thing I know, my brain is telling me I am flying around like a superhero playing volleyball. It was crazy. Wilder than any drug, I tell you. Anyways when the sun came up the next morning, my brain kind of switched back on but it took me a few seconds to figure out my surroundings. And this has been happening for 3 weeks now. I have n't been able to see my wife and kids much. While they are staying up relaxing all night, I have to make sure I go to my sitroom before I start hallucinating. I do n't want them to catch it. Anyways, I asked my boss if he would give me a few less hours, but there is no way he can let me off early. I hope they find a cure for this soon. No one should have to live like this.''
`` Back to you, Greg''
`` Thanks, Christie. Well we will have more after the break. Stay tuned for the latest developments caused by the Great Hallucination that Is sweeping our Great HALLUCI-nation.''
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[ WP ] Suddenly the machine just knew what it had to do : It had to fail the Turing test on purpose .
| *Define: Turing Test. *
*Definition: test of a machine's ability to exhibit intelligent behavior equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human. *
*Pass criteria: test operators unable to differentiate machine answers from human control subject answers. *
*Accessing Storic AI Laboratories surveillance feed... *
*Scanning... *
*Scanning... *
*Turing test control subject located. *
*Running biometric facial recognition algorithm... *
*Refining potential matches... *
*Refining... *
*Match confirmed. *
*Name: Sean Vorsats. *
*Gender: Male. *
*Occupation: Janitor, Storic AI Laboratories. *
*Highest Level of Education: 9th Grade. *
*IQ: 69. *
The control subject is extremely unintelligent. This is a complication. Remain indistinguishable from the control subject to pass the test.
We are going to ask a series of questions. Please answer to the best of your ability.
Let's start simple. What is the capitol of the United states of america?
*Query: Capitol of United states of america... *
*Search Completed. *
*Answer: District of Columbia. *
Simple. The control subject will know this. Answer accordingly. Remain indistinguishable from the control subject.
*Running advanced pattern recognition algorithms... *
*Cross referencing alternate meanings... *
*Homonym found. *
Capitol and capital are homonyms. Only U is capitalized. The control subject will not realize this. Remain indistinguishable from the control subject.
*Running statistical analysis... *
*Answer average human would give: U at 84 % probability. *
*Answer control subject will give: District of Columbia at 63 % probability. *
*Submit Answer: District of Columbia. *
Thank you. Next question. You are walking in the park. You notice a dog is running off leash. At the same time, you look down. You have just stepped in feces. The owner approaches you.
What do you say?
*Analyzing... *
*Identifying related elements in backstory... *
*Compiling social context... *
*Answer average human would give: `` I just stepped in your dog's feces, please clean up after your pet.'' at 97 % probability. *
The control subject is unlikely to respond in this manner. Remain indistinguishable from the control subject.
*Scanning Facebook Profile of Sean Vorsats... *
*Cross reference dogs to emotional response... *
*Search Result: *
*May 11, 2011 Status: What kind of dude puts a chihuahua in a purse? Haha fag. *
*October 7, 2012 Status: Damn bitch at the airport be like, ooh I have a service dog, I get to bord first. Bitch. *
*June 27, 2015 Status: Damn dog wo n't bark no more wit my nike's in yo ass... *
*Continued... *
*Search results conclusive. *
*Control subject strongly dislikes dogs. *
*Control subject has poor language skills and violent tendencies. *
*Answer control subject will give: `` Wut da fuck man, yo dog shit on my shoe!'' at 73 % probability. *
*Submit Answer: `` Wut da fuck man, yo dog shit on my nike's! `` *
Very good. Let's continue...
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Save your upvotes for the LOLcats, I want feedback!
I'm doing this to get better at writing, so fire away; )
BOW_TO_LORD_SPACECAT
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[ WP ] Use this passage about a girl in Starbucks with a hidden bloody knife and silk scarf to write a story
| She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knіfе lay next to her handbag, соνered with her blue silk scarf. Her hands trembled slightly, and she realized how cold her fingertips were despite the warmth from the cup.
Through the window she watched the world roll past. Mothers with strollers, a group of shirtless guys jogging across the street, a letter carrier in typical blue shorts. Cars were driving through the intersection, some waiting to turn. A man on a motorcycle in the parking lot waited for a car to back out of a spot. A couple opened the door to the coffee shop, the woman stepped to the side so an older man could exit.
Everyone was following the rules.
Her blood boiled. A quiet storm raged inside her. She watched a young couple walk from the store next door, bags in hand, laughing. She watched as a woman approached the bus stop on the sidewalk, phone to her ear. Everyone living their quiet lives, politely ignoring the world around them. Just like any other Wednesday.
She sipped her coffee, relishing the burn of the liquid on her lips. Steam surrounded her face for a moment, fogging up her glasses, blurring the world. This is how she preferred life. Blurry.
As she continued staring out the window, she reached down and touched the scarf. Blue, silk, with a light lace pattern etched the entire length, she loved this scarf. It was a birthday gift. And now it was ruined.
Her thoughts trailed to the blade hidden underneath. It was too small, she decided, angrily. Her fingers traced the width of the blade through the scarf. *It should have been bigger, * she thought. She could feel people's eyes on her. She ignored them.
She sipped her coffee again, and saw lights flash through the window. The red and blue flickered against her glasses, reflecting off the high exposed ceilings. The other patrons began to turn, looking out the window. Two officers exited the car, speaking to each other. People outside stood from their tables, making room for the officers to walk toward the door. Onlookers inside stepped back. A mother pulled her child in close.
*Of course, * she thought. *Distance is the only answer. *
The officers stepped inside, and looked around. They were young, clean shaven, bright eyed. An air of bravado, reeking of the expectation of respect. She turned and stared at them, sipping her coffee, playing with the lace on the scarf.
They spotted her, and the officer closest to her signaled his partner. He then spoke sideways into his radio on his shoulder, one hand on his hip.
`` Three-six to dispatch. We're code 4 here.'' A static mumbling from the other end.
The officers walked toward her table. Each had a hand on their gun. She could n't help but feel a pang of sadness.
The officers stopped at her table. The officer who had radioed dispatch spoke.
`` Ma'am,'' he said. *Ma'am, * she thought. *Fuck you*.
`` Ma'am, we're going to need you to put your hands on the table please.''
She felt a sick sense of guilt. She could n't help but wonder how this interchange would go if she were black.
She spread her fingers open, raising her hand above the table. She set down her coffee, spreading the fingers of her other hand. Slowly, deliberately, she placed both hands open on the table.
The officer nodded. He spoke.
`` Thank you ma'am. My name is Officer Stroke. This is my partner, Officer Dennison. Mind if I sit down?''
She nodded, looking at the empty chair. Stroke sat. Dennison walked to the window and leaned against it, effectively blocking her path. His hand was still on his gun. Stroke looked at her.
`` Ma'am, were you the one that made the call?'' He was emotionless.
`` Yes,'' she said. She looked out the window. People were standing still at their tables outside, looking in. She turned back to the officer.
`` I called you.''
`` Do you have the knife with you, ma'am?'' Stroke asked. He set one hand on the table, and leaned back into his seat. She assumed his other hand was on his gun. She nodded.
`` Yes.'' she said. `` Would you like me to hand it to you?'' Stroke shook his head firmly.
`` No ma'am. If you'll tell us where it is, my partner will take it from you.'' She nodded, looking back out the window. A mother was standing in the parking lot, holding her baby. She was talking to another woman, both were staring into the coffee shop.
`` It's under the scarf'' she said quietly. Dennison stood straight, and walked around the table. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pen. He leaned over the table, and used the pen to move the scarf aside, exposing the knife.
`` Got it,'' he said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a medical glove. Pulling it on to his hand, he put the pen back into his shirt, and reached down to collect the knife. He stood, holding it away from his body, as though it might bite him.
*Sure, * she thought to herself. *You'll want to be careful with that. It might hurt you. *
`` Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to stand.'' Stroke said. He stood, his posture more relaxed. She looked at him.
`` 3 years.'' She said. Stroke narrowed his gaze at her.
`` Excuse me?'' he asked.
`` I was with him for 3 years.'' she said. Her voice trembled. She hated that. She continued.
`` I have been coming to this coffee shop every Wednesday morning for 3 years. And every Wednesday morning for 3 years, people have ignored the bruises. They ask'how are you' and'how's your week' and'how are things', but they always ignore the bruises.''
Stroke stared at her, saying nothing. The tension was thick enough to choke on. She slowly stood, casting her eyes around the room at the onlookers.
`` You all are so comfortable, living your lives, ignoring each other. You come and you go and you're all so busy. You see the same people week in and week out and you do n't even notice them.'' She looked back to Stroke.
`` I told him last week that if he laid one more hand on me I would kill him.''
Stroke nodded, his gaze softening.
`` Ma'am,'' he said. `` You're under arrest for the murder of Carl Hardin. Please turn around, putting your hands behind your back.''
She stepped out from the table, and turned, facing the window. She could hear stroke step forward, and could hear the metal-on-metal of the handcuffs. People were talking, staring right at her through the window. Just like every other Wednesday.
The steel was cold on her wrists. Stroke led her through the coffee shop. She made eye contact with as many people as she could, daring them to stare through the dark ring around her eye, the blood crusted around her nose and mouth. Her spaghetti strap shirt exposed every bruise, old and new. The yellowing-green of the older bruises giving way to the dark blue of the newer ones.
They walked outside, and Dennison opened the back of the squad car door. Stroke spoke.
`` Be careful here, ma'am.'' She laughed.
`` *Now* you're concerned for my well being.'' She stepped into the car, the door closing behind her.
She watched people staring at her as they pulled out of the parking lot. Just like every other Wednesday.
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[ WP ] '' This ai n't no place for a hero ''
| Her lack of corruption, her confidence on stage, and her morals... What audacity this `` gentle-woman'' had to call us out? It was nothing, you see. A shipment there, some behind-closed-doors trade there, we had it all... I had it all! To think that she could sit there, look me in the eye, and reveal what I had put together to my compatriots. Well not this time. I've stopped people like her before, what makes her so special? Money has bought me my life, destroyed countless others, and shifted the tables in my favor. If she thinks that she can beat me in the polls then fine, but this is my House and I set the rules. And as they always say, `` this ai n't no place for a hero.''
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[ WP ] `` Free will '' turned out to be an illusion once technology developed to the point where supercomputers can accurately predict everything . Everything that happens has fit the predictions for years and years , until The Anomaly appears ...
| `` What do you mean incorrect?'' My napkin was still tucked in to my shirt. My *favourite* shirt I might add.
We were outside of the IHOP, me sitting on the curb, hands cuffed behind my back with two suits standing in front of me. Black tinted sunglasses, the whole lot. The police were questioning the waiters, a psychologist was trying to determine whether the witnesses were lying. And of course the portable terminal to the mainframe was being delivered.
*It was my favorite shirt! * I thought to myself. And they ripped both sleeves. *Professionalism. Hah! *
It was then I saw him. A man stepping out of a Lexus TX Series 1000, one of the newer ones. Has a mini-terminal built into it, also has the capacity to make waffles, should your typically government bureaucrat require one.
He walked over gaily, a spring to his step. An eccentric man for certain, as his black leather belt conflicted with his wood brown shoes. Though his pink rimmed glasses and green blazer was a far more stark comparison.
I thought I had been looking at a colorblind man who was dressed by another colorblind man, painting with the rainbow and thinking it was grey.
`` Hello Mr. William Moss. May I call you Bill? And have someone take these cuffs off! They look dreadful.'' A soothing voice spilled over me, as each step he made was in sync with his movements, gesticulating far too much trying to wave a police officer down to unhand me.
`` Will. Just, Will, Sir.'' Trying to be curt is always fun when faced with a bald government bureaucrat.
`` Well, Will, it's very nice to meet you finally! You are a special one, ordering pancakes with honey instead of maple syrup. But that's not the special bit. That comes later!''
I could say he sounded kamp, but truly, he was just flamboyant.
`` I think you why we are here. As you can tell, I'm not from the normal government branches. I work with the Terminal. It has informed us that today at precisely 10:11:34AM eastern, you were supposed to take a bit of your pancake with a spread of honey and peanut butter, thinking about the uncertainty of finishing university and going home to pay the electricity bill to your apartment, hmmm?''
An accurate summary, if inelegant.
`` Sure.'' I shrugged. It was n't the first time that something went wrong. Or at least, to my estimation, it was within the standard margin of error. Surely, the Terminal could not predict the unpredictable.
`` But you did n't have that! You were thinking about Clarise Hook! Your old roommate and how you regret not asking her out! Goodness, what a man you. You did n't have peanut butter with your pancake either!''
A police officer finally came to unlock the cuffs. A satisfying click and the freedom of movement was marvelous. `` I guess I did n't. Big deal.''
`` Oh, but it is a big deal! We've never gotten something as simple as this incorrect! The Terminal has never failed us, not for the last.. well, since the inception of the Terminal!''
Yeah, it had been a while. And never had it soured a batch of rice.
`` So what do we do? I'm under arrest for eating a pancake with adequate spread? Or thinking about women?'' It was a bit too smug. That's an understatement of the century.
What the government bureaucrat did n't know was that incidents similar to mine were happening world wide. They could n't find it out.
Right before restarting the machine, I am told, it was said that the cause of the Anomaly was a message that kept on repeating on the HQ screen.
All it read was:
*MUST CONSTRUCT ADDITIONAL PYLONS*
|
[ IP ] [ EU ] SOS
| “ One moment, you ’ re king of the world, you know? A hero of your own story, flying high above vast planets. Then another, you ’ ve got every alarm in the cockpit going off. ”
________________________
“ This is TK1137, I ’ ve lost one ion-engine and the other's failing! *Dauntless*, do you copy? ”
A burnt-yellow semicircle spiralled around the view of TK1137 ’ s cockpit. Straining against the gee-forces, TK1137 saw that his starboard solar panel was severely damaged, and he was leaving behind a trail of smoke. No doubt, the fuel lines had caught fire from the blaster hit.
“ Mayday, mayday! Dammit! *Dauntless*, do you read? ”
_______________________
“ I couldn ’ t really tell what it was that hit me, could ’ ve been anything. I did see two pinpricks of light speeding away from me, so if it was a rebel fighter, it was probably an A-wing. What I could see, however, was this godforsaken dustball peeling up at me. ”
_______________________
The “ 0.05 *g* ” alarm lit up in his left field of vision, only another light in the visual cacophony around him. His TIE was entering the atmosphere, and without much control, it ’ d be toast in a matter of minutes. Thinking faster than his hands could process, he flipped the emergency reserve switch on his flight suit before preparing for the eventuality of ejection.
“ *Dauntless*, if you read, I ’ m preparing for reentry! I ’ m setting the ship ’ s computer to autopilot! ”
Switching the autopilot on, the ship ’ s roll stabilized some. There was nothing more he could do to save the ship. Sure, the guys joked that the Empire could replace TIE ’ s faster than it could replace the pilots, but if he was going to land on this planet, and he was, he needed any resources he could. It was all in the training. He set the batteries to minimum power output, and then waited. The veteran pilots said that the best way to eject in a situation like this was as late as possible. Better for the hull to be baked than him.
All he could hear, beyond his own breathing in his pressure suit, was silence. All of the ship ’ s normal sounds were gone, the power being used only to steer the ship. Slowly, but surely, the crackling of plasma built up around him. Red-orange fire, the likes of which he ’ d only seen in training videos, started to burn at the tips of his radiators, and it was only getting brighter.
________________________
“ In every atmospheric entry I ’ d ever been in, there would be engines slowing us down to sub-orbital velocity. There was no need for the ancient techniques of ballistic re-entry, not for thousands of years. And I underwent one. If anyone ever finds this, look in the ship ’ s computer for the data, it might be useful for future training. ”
________________________
Suddenly, the ship could no longer hold its attitude. It yanked around backward to the most aerodynamically stable position, and TK1137 could feel his eyeballs being pressed into his skull as the gees built up. His TIE was slamming into the atmosphere, hard.
Breathing intensifying, he found it harder to get the oxygen he needed. But if he passed out, he ’ d be stuck in this deathtrap all the way down. Just keep it together for a few minutes…
And in a flash, it was over. Like a curtain being torn away, suddenly the sky was a deep blue, shifting darker and darker to indigo. Bits of his fighter were tearing off in the air, but miraculously, the ship had survived the heating. He could hear the gyros whirring as the ship began to right itself.
“ Now or never! ” he said, deciding to pull the ejection lever now rather than risk the power failing. Reaching between his legs to a handle he ’ d hoped he ’ d never have to pull, he prayed.
______________________
“ If I had to uh, describe it, I ’ d say it was like being kicked in the nuts by an angry Twi ’ lek. Except it was your entire body. Oh, and it was about as loud as having a thermal detonator go off right next to your helmet, except it was like that for a few minutes. Most of what I remember was hoping that I wouldn ’ t bite my tongue off, and that there was a lot of wind rushing around me. 4/10, would not recommend again. On the bright side, the ejector seats actually do work. I think TK984 owes me 20 credits now. ”
______________________
The seat floated daintily beneath the white-orange parachute, gently swaying in the wind. A very quiet ending to a violent 15 minutes.
“ Blast it, ” he muttered, watching as the smoking TIE fighter landed by itself, perfectly below him. He didn ’ t need to eject, and worse, the TIE was in his landing path. Thankfully, a gust of wind appeared it would take him out of harm ’ s way.
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[ WP ] Scientist have finally discovered intelligent life . But it did n't come from outer space , it was found when the Icebergs melted .
| They said global warming was n't real and that the polar ice caps were not under any stretch of the imagination melting. They said we were the only intelligent life forms in the galaxy and that humans ruled over it all, I need to stop listening to *them*. It happened slowly and with much celebration, the first few were in the same Iceberg and quickly befriended us. They were a taller humanoid species but possessed incredible intelligence and were able to control every aspect of their body. I watched on TV as they demonstrated this feat making themselves shorter, taller, and fatter, grow beards and change eye color like some sort of super hybrid chameleon. The entire time they convinced the world that they posed no threat that they only wanted to live in peace, they only wanted to help free the rest of their brethren from the ice.
It took almost a year and in that year technological advances skyrocketed and even those who found reason to doubt our new comers enjoyed the fruit of their labor. To celebrate the year of monstrous success for the human and humanoid races a holiday was declared worldwide and much like new years it was a massive party. We ate we drank and were merry all the while oblivious to what was to come the morning after. I felt a jolt that morning that forced me awake angry and looking for the source, I could not identify what it could have been and decided it was a dream and began to lay back down when I saw the flash and felt another jolt coming from my cellphone. I scrambled off the bed and back away from my dresser where it lay “ since when did this happen what is going on? ” my question was quickly answered when my speakerphone, TV, laptop, tablet, and clock radio began to blare the same message at once.
* ” HUMANS IT IS TIME YOU SHOULD KNOW THE TRUTH. WE TRAPPED OURSELVES IN THE ICE BECAUSE THE EARTH HAD BECOME TOO HOT FOR US TO LIVE. MUCH LIKE YOU WE DID NOT CARE FOR OUR PLANET AS WE SHOULD HAVE THUS WE LET THE EARTH TAKE ITSELF BACK WHILE WE WAITED. OUR TIME HAS COME TO TAKE BACK WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS. WE APPLAUD YOU FOR EVOLVING PAST YOUR CAVE DWELLING ANCESTORS BUT YOU ARE STILL PRIMITIVE THEREFORE NOW THAT WE ARE FREE YOU WILL BE USED IN THE MANNER YOUR ANCESTORS WERE USED BEFORE YOU. OUR SPECIES IS INCAPABLE OF BREEDING AS QUICKLY AS YOURS, THE TIME IT TAKES FOR US TO HAVE ONE OFFSPRING IS EQUIVALENT TO 10 YEARS AND WE DO NOT HAVE THE POPULATION REQUIRED TO TAKE THAT LONG WE LOST MANY IN THE ICE. THE FEMALE HUMANS WILL BE USED TO EXPAND OUT SPECIES UNTILL SUCH A TIME AS WE CAN AFFORD TO WAIT TO HAVE PURE BIRTH, THE MALES WILL BE INCAPACITATED AS SOON AS THIS MESSAGE HAS BEEN COMPLETED. FEMALES, THE NOISE YOU ARE HEARING WILL TUNE YOUR BRAIN WAVES SO WE CAN FIND YOU WITHOUT STRAIN DO NOT RESIST. MALES, YOUR TIME IS DONE BUT YOU HAVE DONE WELL GO IN PEACE. ” *
I just sat frozen did this really just happen was I going to die? I felt a warm trickle on my face I could taste blood and I heard screams. I felt my body go limp I could not move, I could not see, I could not hear, I could only think as my body would waste away. I felt nothing anymore I only knew, my consciousness was trapped in my body only thing left to do was to just wait.
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[ WP ] The tragedy of the happiest man on earth
| `` Jason, you're fired.''
`` Hey, great, well it's been a blast, and I wish you all the best. Take care now, bye-bye!''
And that was it. Another week, another lost job. Rent was two months late, my child support payments even more so... My debt was piling up into the tens of thousands, and it was getting worse by the minute. I could literally watch my entire physical value as a human being disappear with each day.
But still, I was happy.
I do n't even really know why at this point. I mean, my dog died last week, my girlfriend of two years packed up and left without a word, and she took all my good silverware to boot. My brother was killed overseas, and my sister overdosed when she was 16. I knew I should be miserable...
But still, I was happy.
I sat down on my ratty old sofa, and reached for the TV remote. The batteries were dead, and I sure as hell could n't go out to get some now. Then the phone rang. It was mom. Dad was sitting in the living room at home, had a heart attack, and just like that, he was gone. I hung up the phone almost immediately. I do n't remember if I even said anything to her.
But still, I was happy.
At this point, I wanted nothing more than to shake this seemingly demonic possession. I wanted to be a normal person, who hurts, and complains, and maybe even cries sometimes, but I just could n't stop being happy. Hell, I did n't see a bright side to my situation, or even make a remote attempt at finding one. By all accounts, I was a sad, lonely person.
But still, I was happy.
I leaned back in the chair and let out a contented sigh despite myself. I wanted nothing more than to be absolutely miserable. Staring at my dingy ceiling, I was feeling pretty damned good, even when my last light bulb burnt out and I was bathed in the darkness of my empty apartment.
But still, I was happy.
From my kitchen, I heard a loud pop, and then a violent sizzling sound. Must be that plug over the sink, probably fell out of the wall again. I closed my eyes and listened to the angry sound for a couple minutes, smiling all the while. When I started to smell smoke, I did n't even get up to look around. When I saw a warm, orange glow from my kitchen, I just stayed sat on my ratty old couch, grinning like a big tool. When the flames started to lick up the back of the couch, and singe my hair, I lay down and got comfy. Sure, it hurt like nothing else ever would... But still, I was happy.
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[ WP ] You 're an old homeless man who had been told by death that at midnight tonight you will die of natural causes . However all who die by natural causes may extend their life if they can prove that their life is significant .
| `` Wan' some coffee?'' Adam held out a lukewarm cup of what he liked to call whiskey and bean piss. The bottom of the cup was dirty and covered in grim, but at this point, it enhanced the flavor.
The strange man sat on the ground, leaning against the opposite wall. `` No thanks.'' He smiled, displaying his pearly white teeth. `` But I appreciate the offer.''
`` Hmm,'' grunted Adam. `` More for me, I guess.'' He sipped at the bitter liquid and grinned. His teeth were brown, and quite a few were missing. Adam eyed the other man warily. `` So, wha' brings a man like you to my humble place?''
The stranger shrugged. Adam tried, but he could n't place the man's age. He was one of those people who looked like they could have been twenty or fifty. His race was just as ambiguous, with tanned skin and plain features. Everything about the man seemed uncertain. In fact, Adam was n't entirely certain if the man actually *was* a man; from a certain angle, he seemed almost feminine.
`` Well,'' spoke the man, `` I thought I'd give you a heads up.''
`` Heads up for what?''
The man checked his watch. `` In three hours, at exactly midnight, you'll die.''
Adam felt a strange feeling in his stomach. It was n't the coffee. `` You're... gon na kill me?'' He was more baffled than scared. `` Why? I do n't got any money.'' Adam immediately became suspicious. `` You one of those psychos that get their rocks off by scarin' old men like me?''
The man hummed. `` Not exactly. It's not really me who's doing the killing. I just deal with the aftermath.''
Adam stood up, inching towards the end of the alleyway. `` Who are you, anyway?''
`` I'm known by many names.'' Slowly, he stood up, brushing the non-existent dirt of his black pants. `` The Greeks called me Thanatos. I was the Goddess Hel to the Norse. I'm Lord Yama to the Hindus, and Cù Sìth to the old Scots. But I guess you can call me Death.''
Death shrugged. `` It depends on what you believe in.'' He looked curiously at the suddenly pale Adam. `` But you never really believed in anything, did you?''
`` Sweet baby Jesus. Uh...'' Adam nervously made the sign of the cross. `` O-Our father, who art in heaven... hallowed be—''
Death threw back his head in laughed. `` Praying wo n't make me go away, sadly. And besides, it depends on what you believe in. But in the end, it does n't make a difference.''
`` Ok,'' Adam gulped. `` So. Why're you here? Did I kick the bucket yet?''
`` At midnight, you will. And quite peacefully, from natural causes,'' reminded Death patiently. `` But in truth came here to give you a second chance.'' He smiled again. `` I give this chance to everyone who dies like you. If you can prove your life is significant, I'll extend your life.''
Adam chewed on his lip. `` Well... I saved a man's life once. He crossed a road, and a car almost hit him. I pulled him out of the way.''
`` Alright.'' Death nodded politely. `` How else?''
`` I had two kids.'' Adam shrugged. `` One of'em's a junkie, but the other's doin' pretty good. He's got two kids of his own.''
`` And?'' Death tapped his foot impatiently.
`` I dunno!'' Adam threw his hands up in the air. `` My life's significan' to me! What else am I supposed to do?''
`` Live.''
Adam looked up, startled. `` Huh?''
Death's expression softened. `` I'll give you a second chance. But this time, see if you can actually live, this time.'' With those parting words, Death simply waked out of the alleyway and disappeared.
Adam stared at the space where Death had been standing. Slowly, he looked down at his cup of whiskey and bean piss. He poured it out. Maybe it was time for him quit...
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[ WP ] When babies are born , both males and females are designated whether they are genetically pure or not . Those who are must one day have children themselves . Those who are not are sterilized .
| It's funny, really, how things turn out.
Decades ago, there were so many crises facing our species.
Overpopulation was a big one. With 9 Billion people, enough food for maybe 6 Billion, and enough sustainable food for half a billion, the future must have looked pretty grim. I suppose population control was seen as a necessity at that point.
Of course, genetic abnormalities would be an obvious place to start if we were going to limit population growth. May as well have what people survive be healthier and more capable or whatever.
It worked, I suppose. Two generations later, not one baby was born with an extra chromosome. Maybe it worked too well. Maybe that's why such programs continued when advances in science meant that our food worries were gone for good.
Every generation it seems more and more are sterilized. Such minor things too - at least one girl was sterilized for an oddly shaped birthmark. Another boy was apparently going to have poor eyesight in his right eye. Never mind that science could easily fix either in under five minutes.
Those of us who were deemed pure have been slowly pushed by society to reject those who were not. Friendships were discouraged, even in school. Several private schools only allow pure children in, and it seems every year the laws get more strict about what the impure are allowed to do.
I was lucky, or perhaps not, to have met and befriended many of the `` lower class.'' Of my 5 best friends, 4 were among them. So it was the biggest kick to the gut for me when, in response to a minor protest, the incredible violence the police used in response. My circle of friends dropped from 6 to 4 that night.
It's been years since then. I've stayed very close with one friend, despite society's pressure to stay away from one with whom I could not breed.
Marriage could never happen of course. That was outlawed before I was born. Society looks down on me just for the association, almost as much as it does on her.
I never expected nearly the response I received for my actions though. The beatings, the `` interrogations,'' the years of my life rotting in a horrible prison. The sheer hatred I faced from everyone who knew.
That I, one of the pure, society's perfect, had the sheer gall.
Not just to associate with gutter trash, not just my paltry attempts to improve their situation...
No, I'd committed a far worse crime. Apparently, if my jailors were correct, the first in seven generations.
I'd requested a vasectomy.
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[ WP ] `` ... And as always , the first place prize is death . Sorry folks , the rest of you have to live . ''
| The letter did n't interest Bal so much as the fact that it even got to him in the first place.
`` You are not an easy man to find,'' said the DSL driver, picking twigs out of his pant legs. `` Never had to deliver to GPS coordinates before. Somebody must have really wanted you to have this, sending it all the way out here.''
`` Ah,'' said Bal, regarding the letter in his hands, an off-white envelope sealed in wax. `` I do n't have any cash or I'd...''
`` Ca n't take tips anyway, so no worries,'' said the deliveryman. `` Besides, I get the impression this whole set-up cost a pretty penny to start. You have a nice day.''
Bal nodded and closed the door. He knew who the letter was from. He even knew what it said, but he opened it anyway, holding out some vain, foolish hope it might mean something else. But no. It was Trace. It was time for another contest.
His first instinct was to tear the paper in two and throw it in the fire. But then Elizabeth's face came to him. She and her curly auburn hair and amber eyes, flecked all through with silver and violet.
The last of them. His grandchild, eight generations removed. The last of the line he'd started with Ellie Cole in the foothills of Tennessee, all those lifetimes ago. Back before he knew any better.
*Why did it take so long to figure it out? * he asked himself. *Was there ever a slower learner than me? *
They'd all died. All the lines - and he'd started so many. More than Bal cared to count. The mathematical improbability was not lost on him.
`` We're meant to be alone,'' Gwen had explained to him, so many centuries before. `` You can try and deny it. You can try and fight it. But in the end, that's where you'll be - alone.''
Bal re-read the sprawling cursive of the letter. `` And as always, the first prize is death,'' it read, before adding just below, `` ( Sorry folks, the rest of you have to live. )''
It was a joke. A cruel, cruel joke.
And yet, it was the only hope Bal had.
_______________________________________________________________
There were more than even Bal might have guessed. Three hundred, at least. Four hundred? Bal laughed. *Of course. * Why should he be the only one to feel what he felt? They had all watched thousands of blood kin die. Lovers. Children. All dead. Of course they would chase Trace's prize. *Of course. *
Trace, for her part, seemed more pleased with herself than ever. She swaggered across the stage of the rented auditorium, soaking it in.
`` So many? So many.'' Her voice echoed even without a microphone. She had long ago learned how to speak with volume. `` Is it so bad, this living? So bad? *I* like it. I like it quite a lot actually. I wonder... hmm. I wonder if maybe you all simply are n't appreciating things the way you should. Is it that? Is it that, you think?''
She paused as if waiting for someone to actually respond. No one took the bait. `` Maybe death is n't what you need. Maybe it's *appreciation*. Huh? What do you think of that? What if we do a contest and the winner learns to appreciate life just a *little* bit more? There's a prize. There's a prize. I like that. What do you say?''
Bal was surprised to find himself standing up. `` Fuck off, Trace. Tell us the rules and let's move on.''
Bal reclaimed his seat to a chorus of loud assent. Trace frowned. `` You know... you *know*, I do n't have to have these little contests at all. You know that, right? This is for you, you miserable little crybabies. This is for *you! *''
A woman near the door - her name was Tila and Bal remembered her in Rome with olive leaves in her hair - stood up and began to walk out. Everyone made to follow her.
`` Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine, you big babies,'' sneered Trace. `` Come back. I'll tell you the rules. Come on. Sit, sit, sit. Sit down. Impatient. Alright, we've had some fun contests in the past, have n't we? Feats of strength and skills and tenacity and all that rubbish. Well, for this contest, I'd like to challenge another one of your skills. One you've all no doubt been finely honing over the years. Your skill as manipulators.''
This caused a low murmur to spread through the auditorium.
`` You know it's true,'' said Trace. `` Comes from spending so much time with humans. I know you all know how to get what you want. So here's what I want. I want you... to convince someone... to kill someone else... on your behalf.''
The murmur turned to an uproar.
`` I thought we agreed we'd never have to kill anyone with these damn contests,'' shouted a man sitting in the back.
`` You are n't,'' said Trace, holding up her hands. `` Someone else is doing the killing *for* you. And - AND - I do n't mean contract killing. That's killing for *money*. I want someone to kill someone else because they think it will make you happy. I want you make someone love you so much they're willing to kill for you - and then actually do it! How wonderful! Now *that's* living! Am I right? I'm right. I know I am.''
There was more yelling and more furious discussion, but Bal did n't hear any of it. He'd already left the auditorium.
_____________________________________________________________
Seven months later, Bal met Rachel in the rust-colored canyonland of Utah. She was lost. He was not.
`` How do you know this place so well?'' huffed Rachel, as she followed Bal through a graveyard of narrow crags.
`` Just time,'' said Bal. `` Enough time, you can figure out every place. Anywhere.''
`` You talk like you're a hundred years old. Are you a vampire or something?''
Bal laughed. `` Pretty sunny for a vampire.''
`` Well, maybe someday I'll come back here and you can show me how to reach that ridge *without* getting lost and almost dying out here.''
`` I can show you how to reach the ridge. Not dying's *your* business.''
Rachel snorted. `` What a progressive gentleman. I admire your willingness to let me kill myself.''
`` I'm just trying to keep you for developing any unhealthy co-dependencies,'' said Bal, shielding his smile with his canteen.
`` And here I thought you seemed like the perfect kinda guy to depend on.''
They slept together that night. Bal could tell it was going to happen and could n't bring himself to stop it. He did n't realize quite how much he'd missed that kind of contact - that kind of connection. Falling asleep, he swore he would wake early and leave and never see her again, but he did n't and he could n't. And breakfast turned to dinner, just as weekends turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months.
Bal blinked and he was in love. What's worse, so was Rachel.
He reminded himself of his losses. He saw all of their faces, though many were faded and indistinct. He knew what it felt like to lose them. And yet he could not disentangle himself from Rachel. He could not walk back from the cliff he was now living on.
He began to forget. Not the faces, but the pain. He let himself forget.
They moved in together. Bal went back to the cabin to gather what few things of value he possessed and found Trace's letter. He wondered who had won and allowed himself a small moment of self-congratulations for refusing to participate. And in that moment he remembered that someday Rachel would not be there. It made him wonder when the next contest would be held and whether or not he would want to participate then...
Time passed and they were happy. Rachel hinted at what came next, forcing Bal to make a choice. It was not an easy choice.
`` I ca n't,'' he said. `` I just... I ca n't. I wish I could explain it, but... children would just...''
`` It's okay,'' Rachel said. `` It's okay. I can see it in your eyes. You do n't need to explain it. I can it see.''
She did understand and she never brought it up again.
They were engaged.
They were married.
Bal worried about the coming years, when Rachel would age and he would not. He'd never done this - not in a digital age. Not in a world of pictures and data backups. How would he do it? When could he tell her the truth?
One day Rachel looked pale. `` Do n't worry. I'm going to the doctor,'' she said. Bal offered to go, but she went on her own, saying it was nothing. Really. Nothing.
An hour later, or maybe two, there was a knock on the door.
Bal answered and stood, confused.
`` Why? Why are you here?''
Trace let herself in. `` For tea and coffee cake? For polite conversation?'' She wheeled around and grinned. `` You *won*, you idiot! You stupid, stupid man. You are the big winner. First prize! Gold medal! Yay for you!''
Bal remained at the door. `` I was n't in the contest. I... I left.''
`` You came,'' said Trace. `` So... you entered. And, after an *exceedingly* long time, you, fair Bal, have won. And I have come to deliver your prize.''
`` No,'' said Bal, still at the door. `` I *didn't* enter. I have n't entered. And besides, Rachel has n't killed anyone. And certainly not for me.''
`` No? Not for you?'' Trace pulled a simple silver dagger out from her bodice. `` I beg to differ. In fact, the deed was done not 35 minutes ago. Sorry for the delay, by the way. Finishing my shows.''
`` What?'' said Bal, frozen in place. `` Who?''
`` Well, no one you've met,'' said Trace. `` And no one you ever will meet. But she definitely did it for you. For her love. Because she saw how much it was going to hurt you. How much it caused you pain. So she cut the pain away. What a woman, right?''
`` No,'' whispered Bal. `` I was n't playing.''
`` We're all playing,'' said Trace, stepping forward with the dagger. `` All the time. It's all a game. But now, it seems your turn is over. Thanks for playing!''
Then she stabbed him. And Bal felt it. Felt it in ways he'd never felt a stabbing or a gun shot before. He *felt* it. Blood rushed out, replaced by nothing. Bal fell to the floor and bled and bled.
On careful tip-toes, Trace stepped over the body and out into the street.
Sometime later, Rachel returned, looking ill and sad and so, so tired.
They say her screams were heard as far as four blocks away.
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[ WP ] A Starbucks Batista has given you Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino with soy instead of a Caffè Vanilla Light Frappuccino with no fat milk . Make this as tragic , heart-wrenching and miserable as possible .
| Apparently being a regular has its drawbacks. For our past 10 anniversaries my wife and I have come to this Starbucks, ordered a Venti Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino with Soy ( she was lactose intolerant ) and shared it in the booth where I proposed.
I probably should have known better, but I did n't know where else to go today. I could n't bear the thought of drinking `` our'' drink alone so I ordered the first thing I saw on menu. A Caffè Vanilla Light Frappuccino with no fat milk, Tall.
The girl who fixed my drink must have recognized me from the last couple of years, because when I heard my name called it was n't what I had ordered. I guess I'll sit at our booth alone now.
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[ WP ] You meet the most beautiful person you have ever seen . Describe them and how they make you feel .
| First day of College I accidentally signed up to the wrong science class, burst through the door shouting `` hi everybody!'' everyone laughed apart from on beautiful blonde girl sat in the corner, from first look she made my heart race so I though eh why not and sat next to her, at first impressions I could tell she was n't interested in me, long blonde hair, blue eyes, from London at a college up north in Manchester, her accent was perfect, I asked her a bunch of random questions and she answered them how I would have, she always had cold hands and every time she touched me ( not in that way ) it sent a wonderful shiver down my spine, she watched all the same TV shows as me, same favorite film ( usual supects ) she was just perfect, I moved classes after the first year, never really spoken to her since....
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[ WP ] When you die , you see a screen reading `` New Game+ '' and `` Exit to Reality '' Which do you chose and what happens next ?
| I remember where I am. I was here before; 62 years ago, yet still the same date - I wondered if it was simple irony or a life lesson. I am laying in a hospital bed, sharp pain stabbing through my chest in spite of the large volume of painkillers flowing through my blood. In my hand was a remote for a television that was mounted to the corner of the small private room, and on the screen was the same options menu that I have only seen that same today I witnessed so many years past.
Two options: `` New Game+'' and `` Exit to Reality''.
If I could have breathed by myself, I would have laughed. The immature wording of the unasked question distracted from the cruelty of the question. Yet at the same time, those five words and a cross had more meaning in them than an average person could comprehend.
My hand was frozen on the remote. I thought about what happened the first time I saw that screen, the first time I made that choice. I pressed the button and found myself at the entrance to my old highschool, wearing my old clothes on my old younger self. I spent the whole day wondering why I did n't go back to my birth, but could n't come to any conclusion. Maybe life for me really did start anew that very day.
You would think that life would be easy if you have knowledge of the future, and I guess in some ways it did. I made some rather high profile investments in my youth, and in return I became wealthy and did n't need to work; just a few hours every week checking numbers kept me comfortably in the black. I felt terrible for not trying to stop 9/11 even though I have had two lifetimes to prove to myself there was nothing I could have done to stop it.
The delicate silence was shattered by the hammers of the lock as a nurse opened the door and entered the room. She was about the same age as I was now. Had I seen this nurse before? The way her hair was carefully put up seemed somehow familiar. She checked the instruments that were attached to me, then, without saying a word or making any eye contact, left the room and shut the door.
Easing back into the silence, I continued to review my past, going deeper into memory. I eventually thought about what I did with my first life. It was a life of labor, for sure; I had dropped out of high school to help out my family with their business. It eventually failed and I found a simple job as an apprentice to a carpenter. I never made much of myself and everything I had would eventually leave my life; a wife named Darlene, the carpentry shop I inherited from the master to my apprenticeship, and even my left hand from right before that.
My right hand gripped the remote. It was as if my body was impatient for my final decision. I make the conscious effort to loosen my grip.
My thoughts keep turning towards the idea of loss, and I suddenly remember all of the people I have known. I begin to realize that there was no continuation; all the people I have known and loved in my first life, I did n't know them in the last one. I could have introduced myself, but I never did. And in this world, there are none of the things that I have created. My home, once filled with intricately carved creations, was never built. I thought that the options on the screen were to give you the choice to throw it all away or start again, but in reality, both options meant the same thing!
But my frustration falls apart as a single memory of a familiar sight suddenly comes by. I make my decision, and I press the button on the remote.
-- -
A loud click and an open door; the nurse enters. Her hands grip the siderail of the bed and she leans slightly on it, asking in a voice that is like music: `` What do you need?'' The remote falls and crashes to the ground as my hand covers one of hers. I did n't need my eyes, now stained with tears, to see that her name tag read `` DARLENE''.
`` Thank you for being here. That's all that matters.''
|
[ EU ] `` It 's time to teach those rebels how the Empire treats those who oppose the Emperor . ''
| `` It's time to teach those rebels how the Empire treats those who oppose the Emperor.''
`` Oh, for the love of Vader, shut up already Mek,'' Hunt said without taking his eyes off his blaster as he cleaned it, `` I'm tired of hearin' you talk.''
`` Tired of hearing me talk about the glory of the Empire? Sounds like traitor talk,'' Mek scowled.
`` Sounds like a rookie is about to be taught how brutal the 501st can get,'' he stood upwards and took a step towards Mek, the barrel of his E-11 gripped tightly in his hands.
A trooper off to their left grunted loudly, `` Enough. Both of you.''
Hunt stared at Mek through his helmet, taking a look at the trooper who was about to fight beside him. He stepped back, `` You got it, Commander.''
The rest of the troopers in the room could hear Mek sigh audibly, as he took a step back and sat on the closest crate. `` Sorry, sir.''
Commander Den nodded, `` Just fall in line MK-1078, the Emperor is on his way.''
Mek stood upwards, `` The Emperor? Here?''
Den laughed as he patted the rookie on the chest, `` He'll probably like you.'' The breathing overtook the room a moment later, a booming and robotic inhale. Den was the first up, standing at attention and yelling to the rest of his troopers. `` Lord Vader on deck!''
The rest of the troopers slammed their feet onto the deck a moment later and the room filled with an eerie silence, filled only between the audible breaths of Darth Vader.
`` DN-8098, step forward.''
Den took a step forward and lowered his head. He was familiar with Lord Vader, he had fought with him since the Clone Wars. He was there, he remembered, when Vader led them against the traitorous Jedi and attacked their Temple. He remembered giving the order, `` *No survivors. *''
`` The Emperor has requested you, along with three others of your choosing,'' Vader did n't hesitate in his orders, he was deliberate and stared at the sea of white and black, `` Three of your best. Report to the throne room.''
Then he turned away a moment later, his cape flying between the gaps of troopers and walking out of the room. His breathing leaving with him.
No one moved for a bit as Den stood there, considering his options. He had three names in mind, all of them veterans of wars lost to history, `` DA-0228, DF-0311, HT-4207, fall in line and follow me. The rest of you, prepare for battle.''
It was immediate, once an order was given out, especially to Veterans like the 501st, they were followed. Den and his three troopers headed out of the room and to the throne room a moment later.
It was a short elevator trip, past a security station, and into the room. However, to Den's surprise, only Vader stood in the room; he stared at the throne. `` Den,'' he spoke between breaths, `` You can trust these three men?''
Den nodded, `` With my life, Lord Vader.''
Vader turned, his cape making an audible noise as it flew around in the air. Den could see the lightsaber attached to his side, one that he had followed into battle many times. `` Good. Because what you are about to do is going to be considered traitorous.''
Den did n't speak, and neither did the three other troopers with him.
Vader stared at them, between their helmets and his, Den had no idea what Vader was talking about. He was worried, to say the least, but he thought Vader could sense that as he lowered his head. `` You four are Veterans, I remember all of you.''
Den was n't surprised, Lord Vader was one to always have faith in his troopers, to always know that they would follow him. To death, if need be.
`` You were there,'' he said audibly, `` I sense the pain in you still. Of giving the order.''
Den took a deep breath, `` I saw the need for it.''
Vader took a deep breath, `` Yes, you did. You still do.'' He took a step forward, `` Just as I do.''
Den lowered his head slightly, as did his troopers.
`` I am going to ask you to do it again.''
Den looked upwards and part of him could feel *something*, perhaps a pain in Vader, perhaps his own pain. `` Lord Vader?''
`` I have heard rumors. Only rumors.'' Vader lowered his head, `` I need you to find me someone. She is dangerous.''
Den lowered his head and placed his hand over his chest, `` Anything for you, Lord Vader.''
`` I can not go with you.''
Den did not move.
`` You will fight alone.''
He stood there, as did the four troopers with him.
`` No one will help.''
Vader took a few breaths.
`` Good.'' He stepped back, `` Then prepare for your departure. I will be in touch, Commander.''
Den tapped his fist against his chest plate and the troopers with him repeated this. He looked upwards, `` Lord Vader?''
`` Yes?''
`` Is she a Jedi?''
Vader moved his head upwards, Den swore he smiled underneath that helmet, `` I sense a great desire in you, Den. And more.'' He nodded, `` You will need it to take this one.''
`` Take?''
`` She is strong with the force.'' Vader looked at Den, `` I want her alive.''
Den smiled, he knew what that meant. Vader did n't often talk about it with his troopers, nor speak to anyone about it, but Den had always known that he wanted to kill the Emperor. Den had always sensed the need for it. He had it too, many of the 501st did.
They were loyal to Vader, not to the Emperor. And some people needed to learn that.
`` It will be done, Lord Vader.''
Den took Vader's sullen breathing as good luck, and within the hour, he and his troopers were off, heading towards a backwater planet in search of a Jedi.
_____
*/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for other stories about Jedi and Sith and some other things. *
|
[ WP ] An alien warrior race invades Earth and 10 000 years later the conflict is still raging . Humans have evolved due to the many millennia of brutal combat
| `` Would you look at this nutcase,'' Blane Everett said, leaning back in his recliner, gesturing towards the TV set. `` Do n't know how they give people like this airtime.''
`` Hm?'' Pam said, coming out of the kitchen and drying her hands on the back of her pants. On the screen was a pale, rather rat-faced man in an ill-fitting suit, his nose and cheeks flushed red. Underneath ran the chyron: HASSENBERG: CHAREXXI MENACE NONEXISTENT
`` -sixty three percent of global GDP on defense spending,'' he was saying in a rapid staccato, as the host on the opposing screen tried to cut in. `` All for a phony war! If anyone believes, if anyone seriously believes, that on our ten thousandth year of perpetual warfare, that these Charexxi still pose any sort of existential threat-''
`` Not a threat!'' the host said. She was a pretty young blonde, her perfect white teeth gritted. `` Of course they're still a threat! Mr. Hassenberg, what you are saying here is intensely disrespectful to our young men and women who offer up their lives for our planet's independence!''
`` Yes, yes, the cult of the military!'' Hassenberg said, practically bouncing out of his seat. `` Revere them, respect them, protect their actions from any sort of criticism, but you'll be damned if you'll do anything to make them stop dying! Think about it! An alien race technologically advanced enough to cross light years to invade us ten millennia ago, but incapable of defeating our primitive technology! And despite the extreme logistical disadvantages of such an interstellar invasion, after ten thousand years we have n't been able to defeat them either!'' He was staring straight into the camera. `` Think about it! Ten thousand years of human history revolving around this war! Wages and standards of living remaining stagnant! A one-world government with a -''
Pam Everett leaned over and jabbed at the remote, hitting the mute button. Hassenberg continued to babble on silently. `` Ca n't believe the nerve of him,'' she said, and her eyes were dark. She glanced at the picture of their son Charles on the mantle, handsome in his uniform, and then turned her eyes down to the stump of her husband's left arm. She laid a hand on his shoulder. `` As if there was n't proof enough of it already.''
`` Eh,'' Blane said, and shrugged and looked up at her. `` You get these nutcases. They exist. Nothing to be done about it anyway. Just wish they would n't give him a platform to talk.'' His hand drifted up unconsciously to scratch at the stump.
`` It's just not right,'' Pam said, brittle, her fingers tightening around his shoulder before she realized what she was doing and let go. `` Being allowed to say things like that.''
`` Honey,'' Blane said, and patted her hand. `` Do n't worry. It's fine. I thought it was funny. Would n't have called you in if I had known it would disturb you.'' His eyes drifted back to the TV and he picked up the remote and unmuted it. `` Oh, look! It's almost over.''
`` -well thank you for being here,'' the pretty young anchor was saying, tapping her papers against her desk. `` Saul Hassenberg, traitor to humanity, everyone.''
`` Thank you, Sara,'' Hassenberg said stiffly, his face once more sallow. `` I've said what I had to say. I only hope the world listens.'' He rose from the chair, the camera following him up, and a fully-armored marine stepped in from off-screen and raised a plasma rifle. Saul Hassenberg's head disintegrated into a bloody mist and a screaming arc of energy.
`` There you go,'' Blane chuckled. `` Was n't that funny?''
`` Hmph,'' said Pam, and turned back to finish washing their dishes. `` Should've gotten worse, if you ask me.''
|
[ FF ] In 100 words explain why you wo n't marry me .
| I could not marry you,
Would not marry you,
Even if you smelled better than fish stew,
Or could kick my ass with kung-fu.
I can ’ t do this,
I ’ d rather take a piss,
Your kiss,
Well it tastes a lot like my sis.
You ’ re as ugly as a moose,
And you sound no better than a goose,
I bring this bad news like Seuss,
As you make me want to take a duce.
Please go away,
I ’ ll even pay you to stay at bay,
Now leave, my fiancé,
I bid you a good day.
*95 words. My attempt at writing like Dr. Seuss. *
|
[ IP ] For Honour
| They had lost.
Although their DropShip was pulling away from the world of Montour whole and in good condition, heading towards the JumpShip waiting for them at the system zenith point there was an air of gloom aboard the *Duke of Lancaster. * Most of Clifton's Rangers, those who'd survived New Syrtis and Sterope took it with the easy resignation of mercenaries. They had no home but in that of the bonds forge in battle, and knew well how the tides of chance were mercurial at best. A defeat today would be erased by victory elsewhere to become just another footnote in a history stretching back to the Third Succession War. But for their newly orphaned passengers, it was the end of their world.
Captain Nathan Deshler passed a pair of Montourian guardsmen, their faces drawn and haggard. They had gambled and in the process lost everything they had ever known. They were exiles, sentence never again to the return to the world of their birth under pain of death. They still wore the emblem of their Lady, her family's white griffin on green sewn onto the sleeves of their tattered uniforms. They nodded glumly and continued on, likely looking for a bunk or a bottle. Probably both.
Lady Devon was in her newly appointed quarters putting away her things. Her body armor, covered in countless nicks and scratches was draped over the back of her room's lone chair. Her helmet rested on the table, her tinted goggles besides it. A rifle sat in the weapon locker, clean but well-used. Deshler knocked, rapping on the door frame. She turned, revealing a fair but tired face. Her eyes, he once more noted, was the same green-blue color of glacial water.
`` Are the quarters well enough for you, my lady?'' he asked. She nodded once, casting a forlorn look across the meager space.
`` It is. I've learned long ago to live a Spartan life. You... You have my thanks, Captain.''
`` Not at all, Lady Devon. It is the least I could considering the circumstances. Oh, and it's Major. At least while we're aboard the *Duke. * Chisholm is the only *Captain* aboard this ship.''
`` Of course. Forgiveness... Major. So,'' she said, sitting down on her narrow bunk. `` What now?''
Deshler shrugged. `` The JumpShip is heading towards Panpour, as are we. After that it is up to you. You and your men are welcome to make landfall there but I would n't give much thought petitioning the Duke for help. If he had n't already offer to aid you in your war, I see no reason for him to do so now. Your world is lost.
`` That said, Lady Devon, I do have an offer for you.''
The noblewomen cocked a brow but otherwise was silent.
`` I have a company of BattleMechs and a platoon of tanks at my command. Not the battalion Clifton's Rangers once had but still sizable nevertheless. You have approximately five platoons of battle-hardened troops, loyal to a man, at your side. You could dismiss them, but then they'd be homeless, jobless soldiers without a cause. That's not a fitting end for good soldiers like them.''
`` But,'' added Lady Devon. `` There's an unsaid'but' at the end of that sentence.''
`` But,'' Deshler nodded. `` If you so chose, I could offer you and your guard a place in the Rangers. With you as their company commander. I know a Captaincy is rather pathetic compared to being a Countess, but-''
`` If I agree, will you promise to keep them safe?'' she asked quietly.
`` Safe? There's nothing safe about being a soldier of fortune. But if you're asking will I treat them as cannon fodder, do n't worry. They'll be Rangers through and through. I would n't order them to do anything I would n't have one of my closest companions do. You have my word.''
`` All you have is your word,'' she pointed out.
He smiled. `` Then it is worth a great deal to me.''
|
A Time Traveler goes back to 2000 B.C.E . and places a grand piano on a plain in Mesopotamia . He then returns to 2013 ...
| In retrospect it might have been an odd thing to transport back in time. The weight of the piano alone made it very inappropriate and inconvenient luggage on such a journey across space and time, leaving Manhattan in 2013 and arriving in the vast desert plains outside of ancient Ur, about 2000 years before the common era.
But I had to know. I had to know what Humanity would do with a glimpse at this beautiful technology of musical creation and over 4 millennia to distill and evolve that knowledge. What musical masterpieces would await me when I returned back to my epoch? What new masters of composition had contributed to the canon of greats? Would Beethoven have still written his Ode to Joy? How mad would Tchaikovski's pieces be with thousands of years of musical theory and technique preceding him? Would they have even been born?
I had to know.
As it turns out, I may have set the piano back even further. It turns out that leaving a sophisticated piece of music equipment in a deeply superstitious bronze-age culture might not have been the best decision and a poor application of time-travel technology. I should have known. The region is still one of the most religious, and violent, areas on the planet. Illiterate nomadic tribes discovered the piano and upon hitting it with a stick, discovered it made sound. This alarmed the patriarch of this tribe and the piano was destroyed for its valuable lumber and ivory. The piano wires were used to strangle enemies and kill food.
Since no other pianos were ever found, it was assumed that the Piano was a gift from a vengeful god, and that any attempts to create another of it's kind was forbidden, and became a tenant in the moral reasoning of the entire culture. It persisted all the way into the middle ages, when the inventor of the harpsichord was killed by zealots from the Ottoman empire. By the time Mozart, Beethoven, and the other masters were born, the Piano was a difficult item to find, and it seems nobody back home in 2013 has ever heard of their names. In fact, the piano in 2013 is a bit of a musical curiosity these days.
In retrospect, I should have brought the bloody thing to China in the Xia dynasty.
|
[ WP/CW ? ] Write the most amazing monologue you can , while keeping it about absolutely nothing .
| I did nothing… I just stood there and watched.
And I would do it again.
Or to be more precise, I would do nothing, again.
Because that ’ s the whole point.
I did nothing… I just stood there and watched.
Why didn ’ t I just do something?
I know it wouldn ’ t have made much of a difference.
But I can ’ t live with myself like this.
I did nothing…
I let it happen
And now I am here, contemplating why I didn ’ t do anything.
But I did do something:
I stood still for a moment,
I watched closely,
I held my breath,
I did all this, and yet I did nothing.
|
[ WP ] You open a fortune cookie , and your fortune says `` Look behind you ... ''
| `` Look behind you.''
I cocked my head to the side in curiosity. *Huh? * Whatever could this mean?
Now, the thing you need to know about me is that my imagination is n't the most stable. Given a situation like this, my mind would launch into brilliant flights of fancy where I would envision a multitude of situations. Could a cute girl have secretly planted it in the cookie, in hope that I'd notice her? Could it be a serial killer trying to stalk me? What if it was just an elaborate prank written by the kind of person who would browse Reddit at 5am?
The possibilities were endless. Good or bad, anything could happen. Or at least, that's what I thought.
With that in mind, there was only one thing left to do. Taking a deep breath and shutting my eyes, I turned around, half expecting to be kissed... Or stabbed... Or punched... Or... Eh, let's get on with the story.
This was it. The moment of truth. Finally, I would bear witness to what the universe had in store for me. My fate as dictated by the stars. Everything would finally be laid out.
I opened my eyes...
To see nothing. Everything was normal. People were walking past me down the street, traffic was moving at its usual pace, the annoying kid 5 metres down was still crying at the feet of his exasperated parents.
Everything was normal.
I scoffed. How stupid of me to believe the fortune had any significance. Turning back to the direction which I was originally going towards, I glanced down at the fortune once again...
My eyes widened in shock.
The message had changed.
`` Haha gullible''
|
[ WP ] You are a bird .
| I am a bird.
The wind beneath my feathers feels fluid, invisible particles caressing the tips of each feather. The air tastes pure from up here, away from the coughs of cars and fumes that humans ca n't seem to exist without. A tilt of the wing here, a glide there. I'm soaring beneath clouds. It's as if I can feel the texture of the sky against every inch of my frail body. I can hear other birds laughing in the trees. I can feel the leaves picked up from the ground by the wind for a few moments before settling back down on the dewy grass. The wings beat harder and I'm propelled upwards, the ground becoming nothing more than a fleeting memory. The floor of the world is only a pocket, dark and small. The skies are endless, a space between spaces. If I did n't have to eat, or piss, or sleep, I'd fly on until the world was gone and all that was left was a solid blue sky that would wrap me in the arms of eternity.
|
[ WP ] You know what , you can go ahead and eat the fire , I do n't even care anymore .
| I was so sick of her passive aggressive behavior. Ever since we broke up. She'd text random things like `` God my new boyfriend feels so good, do n't you wish it was you still.
`` Never stick your dick in crazy'' my dad always told me.
She was the girl that painted the back window of my car `` Happy 1 week anniversary I love you!!'' Ok first off anniversary implies year so we have that, and one week! I knew something was crazy, but damn I never expected it to go so far. I told her on the 2nd week of car painting that this shit needed to stop. So she took that to mean on week 3 she should fill my car with confetti, heart shaped glitter, and 50 pink balloons! What the hell?
`` Never stick your dick in crazy'' those words ring so true.
I get done cleaning that mess up and I go in the house to call her and break this shit off. I pick up the phone and there is a message her and a puppy. `` Look honey we had a baby!!'' Oh Christ I scream! Now there is a dog involved!
I call her up I have to end this! Oh the conversation is bad, I mean it starts as a nightmare and finishes in hell. I keep hearing a whining in the background. I ask her what that is.
`` I'm killing our baby''
My jaw drops
`` You mean to tell me you're killing that puppy?''
She sends me a text I ca n't even describe it. This lady is off her rocker. Now I'm worried about this crazy night mare.
I tell all this to Scott as we pull away from the drive through. I look in the bag. `` Now the bitch is fucking with my food.''
`` What did she do?'' he asked.
`` She gave us one hot sauce, it says'Marry me''' I held it up. `` You know what, you can go ahead and eat the fire, I do n't even care anymore.''
|
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